#this will be the last 'copying the game' moment for a long while

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Maybe [Soap x Fem!OC]

Summary: Soap finds a kindred spirit during a trying time

Author’s Notes: This is a little of a long intro, feel free to skip it! I’ve been reading fanfiction for years, and I’ve started dozens of fics. This is the first one I’ve ever finished. (11.8K words!!!) It started off with me wanting Soap to get some medical care for his unaddressed injuries after Alone, and just exploded from there. I wanted to really highlight the bond he and Ghost formed, and then I wanted to give him love (because he deserves it!). I know it’s a bit sparse on the Price and Gaz side of things, but I feel like their bonds with Soap are sort of assumed going into this game. This game, to me, is about Soap learning that sometimes the right thing to do isn’t always so obvious, and Ghost learning to work with a team, thanks to Soap. I loved this campaign dearly, so I have a lot of dialogue carried over from scenes I really wanted to set. That being said, I changed some stuff to better incorporate my OC, Daniela. Writing reader-insert fics is a skill I just do not possess. If you’re reading, I hope you enjoy it!

And to my dear @uselsshuman, who is the furthest thing from useless, thank you so much for your encouragement to write this. Your writing and support really inspired me to get this done. This one’s for you. ❤

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content

Soap tucked himself behind a door, braced his back against the wall, and did his level best to breathe as silently as possible. He could hear the Shadows’ footsteps and radio chatter nearby.

He pulled back the hammer on the desert eagle he’d found in the café safe and held his breath. He didn’t want to get into a gunfight, not here. Not with them. He had decent cover, but his arm throbbed where a bullet was lodged, his ribs stung where his plates had kept him from another, his whole body ached from his jumps and falls in the city, and he was almost certain he’d damaged something in his left hip the day before. 

That particular injury came from running along cliff faces to escape the cartel, which was bad enough. Adding the Shadows to that? That was terrible.

As the footsteps faded, Soap let out a slow, low breath and slumped to the ground. He let his eyes drift shut, just for a moment, taking stock of his ability to get across the plaza to the church. To Ghost. As if he knew that he was being thought about, Ghost’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Soap?“ he asked softly.

“Ghost,” whispered Soap.

“You alright?”

Soap opened his eyes and took a deep breath, peeked around the door, and answered “Think I found a way through, LT.”

“Shadows are everywhere. I’ll hold ‘em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil.”

“Roger that.” Soap crept up through the shop, taking care to stay low and move quietly.

“Give ‘em hell, Johnny. We’re almost there,” rumbled Ghost. After a moment’s pause, he added “Listen, I picked up an ally. Should help us get out of here a little easier. You’ve just got to us and we’ll get to a vehicle.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. Ally? In Mexico? Only two people came to mind, and they were both “detained”.

“Is it Price?” he asked after a moment’s thought.

“No, one of Alejandro's Vaqueros. Wasn’t on base when Graves moved in. Showed up, realized something was wrong. We found each other killing Shadows, decided to team up.”

Soap chanced raising his head to peer out of the shop window. Seeing no Shadows, he moved for the door. “And you trust ‘im?”

“Enough, at least for now.”

“Copy that, LT. I’m on my way.”

He wiggled the door handle, but of course, nothing could be so easy. It was locked. So he pulled out the last of his makeshift pry tools, braced it in the door jamb, and pulled.

Lots of things happened all at once, then.

The door swung open. Soap yelled “Fuck!” while the Shadow said “what the- GET DOWN!”, and hit Soap with the butt of his rifle. The Shadow called his position, Soap heard “kill him!”, and then the Shadow dropped to the ground. Soap scrambled back, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye and groaning. His vision swam and his ears rang and he couldn’t get his bearings. Two more Shadows, running for the building, dropped to the sharp report of silenced sniper fire.

“Holy hell. Ghost, was that you?” Soap asked.

“Who else?” snapped Ghost’s rough voice. “Now go!”

He scrambled to his feet. And ran.

He ran as fast as his bruised body would let him, ducking behind cars and spraying with an SMG he’d picked up. He heard gunfire coming from ahead of him and cursed, grabbing for his radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Johnny, got company in the church and they are not here for forgiveness. Get to the steps, we’ll be there!”

In the last few meters, Soap saw Ghost come careening out of the church doors, followed closely by a much smaller figure dressed all in black. They both turned to shoot at their followers as Soap and Ghost called out to each other. Ghost vaulted over the wrought iron fence, followed by their ally, and the three ran back the way Soap had come.

“We need a vehicle. On me!” Ghost barked. “Stay sharp. They know we’re here and they know it’s us. They’ll send more.”

Minutes that felt like hours later, after a brief firefight, the three piled into a pickup, panting and on high alert. 

“Alright, Johnny! You made it.”

“We made it, LT.” 

After ramming two Shadows with their stolen pickup, and nearly losing Ghost to another, they peeled off down an alley. Soap sagged against the seat, closing his eyes again. His heart and head were pounding.

“How’s that arm, Johnny?” asked Ghost.

Soap raised his head. “I’ll live,” he answered. He shivered violently, once, and Ghost cast a concerned glance in his direction.

“You sure it’s not infected?”

“Of course I’m not sure,” snapped Soap. Softening his voice, he added “But I think it’s just the cold. Between the tunnels and the rain, LT? Feels like I’m back home.”

Ghost nodded slowly. For a long moment, the two just basked in each others’ presence, grateful to have made it back together. Then, Ghost said “Daniela, would you take a look at the Sergeant’s arm? Can’t have him dying on us.”

Soap’s head snapped around to lock eyes with the ally he’d forgotten. Later, he’d remember this moment as an indication of his quickly deteriorating state. In the moment, though, he couldn’t wrap his head around anything but the woman in front of him.

Sometime between their getting into the truck and down the street, the black balaclava and hood had come off. The woman staring back at him had light olive skin and a mass of shiny black curls plastered to her head by rain. A thin, jagged, silvery scar ran from her cheekbone to her jaw, and her full lips were pursed in a barely-there smile. Soap thought he saw scarred flesh at the collar of her jacket. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. They were the bluest blue he’d ever seen- dark like the ocean, clear like the sky on a cloudless night, and as sharp as glass. Familiar, somehow.

He hadn’t necessarily had expectations of how this ally would look, but this was as far from expectation as possible. He had pictured a man, but even the fact that she was a woman wasn’t most shocking of all. It was her beauty.

He flinched when her hand landed lightly on his right shoulder, pulling gently.

“No, we can’t,” she said. Her voice was soft, musical, lightly accented. The lilt of just those three words had Soap’s head spinning for, at least he thought, completely different reasons than it had been spinning earlier. He adjusted his body so that rather than leaning with his left arm over the seat, his right arm hung over. The woman looked straight to the wound, gently prodding the flesh around the bullet wound, and Soap bit his tongue to keep from hissing in pain.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

Soap tried to be nonchalant. He shrugged and said “Not so much.”

Ghost snorted. Soap didn’t blame him. The words sounded strained even to his own ears. And based on the older man’s jokes about not watching the cartel’s videos of his death “more than once”, this seemed like just the kind of thing he might find amusing. The thought made Soap smirk. The woman rolled her eyes, setting them on his again.

“What’s your name, hen?”

“I am Daniela. You are Soap, yes?” Soap nodded. Daniela nodded as well, focusing back on his arm. “Your Ghost, he told you that I am with Los Vaqueros?”

Soap and Ghost exchanged a look at “your Ghost”. Now Soap really was smirking, and he imagined that Ghost was grimacing under his mask.

“Aye, that he did,” he replied. He watched as Daniela unzipped her tactical vest and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt. She began winding it around his bicep, grimacing slightly at the wheeze of pain he couldn’t hold back.

“Well we have a safehouse. We’ll get there, stock up, get you patched up a little better, and come up with a plan.” After carefully tying a knot in the makeshift bandage, she raised her eyes to Soap’s again. “It’s the best I can do right now.”

“I appreciate it,” he replied. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to face Ghost. “Alright, Ghost?”

Ghost glanced at him again. Even behind the mask, Soap could see his expression soften. “Alright, Johnny. You did well back there.” Soap grinned, and could tell by the crinkling around his eyes that Ghost was grinning, too.

“All thanks to you, LT.”

The rest of the ride was filled with soft chatter about Alejandro, Los Vaqueros, Graves, and the safehouse… and Soap trying, and failing, not to feel Daniela’s burning stare on the back of his neck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap thought he was done for when Ghost shouted for him not to move. His feet had just touched the safehouse floor and Ghost was perched in the window. Before Soap even had time to react, a throwing knife flew past his head, embedding itself in the column just a meter away. Then he recognized Rodolfo’s voice. 

“Quién está ahí?”

“Rodolfo!”

Rodolfo rounded the corner. “Soap, Ghost! You’re alive!” Soap could see the moment Daniela mounted the window. Rodolfo’s face crumbled, his whole body seeming to sag with relief. “Daniela!”

“Rodolfo!” She leapt from the windowsill, surging forward to wrap her arms around Rodolfo’s waist. His own arms came around her shoulders and the two rocked back and forth, holding each other, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish that Soap had no hope of understanding. Rodolfo kissed the side of Daniela’s head, holding her to him tightly. Soap looked away. His eyes met Ghost’s and the two shared a slight shrug.

While Rodolfo and Daniela chattered away, Ghost stepped toward Soap.

“Daniela should be able to fix up that arm,” he said. “She’s not a formally trained medic, but she has lots of field training and experience. She told me she’s been patching up Los Vaqueros for years.”

“Aye. How’d you say you found her? Fighting Shadows?”

Ghost looked her way, nodding. “Just a few minutes before I got you on comms, I heard a scuffle. Thought it might be you, so I went in to assist. Lo and behold, I find that one slicing up a Shadow. ‘Nother pair showed up, though, and one got her in a choke-hold. Would’ve carried her off to who knows where if I hadn’t shown up.”

Soap nodded slowly. He didn’t need any more explanation. He knew the implications of what Ghost was saying and it made his blood boil.

Ghost shrugged. “She trusted me enough since I’d just saved her life, and I trusted her enough since she was fighting them and didn’t raise her gun at me. Plus, I think she’s as dedicated to the cause as Alejandro and Rodolfo.”

“Why’s that?” asked Soap. But before Ghost could answer, Rodolfo cut in.

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run,” answered Ghost.

“I was on the run,” corrected Soap. “Ghost waited for me.”

Rodolfo nodded. “Of course, no?”

Dread sank in Soap’s stomach. “No-” he began. But Ghost cut him off.

“Yes,” he said firmly, locking eyes with Soap again. “We’re a team. All of us.”

That stunned Soap into silence. He’d known they’d bonded trying to escape Las Almas with their lives, but for all of his teasing about Ghost taking a shine to him, he hadn’t actually believed that Ghost would say the same thing.

He was touched.

Maybe even more touched by the fact that the legendary lone-wolf Ghost considered him part of his team. It was likely the highest compliment he would ever get from him.

So while Rodolfo and Ghost started in on their plan to get into the prison, Soap settled down against the safehouse wall with an MRE from Alejandro’s supplies. The adrenaline shot he’d managed to get his hands on in Las Almas was waning, and he could feel every sore muscle, the bullet in his arm, and his likely sprained hip sharply. He tried to tune in to the conversation, but his attention was immediately lost when Daniela approached him with a med kit.

She grinned a bit wryly at him. “Mind if I take a better look at that arm?” Soap nodded and braced himself to stand, but Daniela jumped forward, holding out a hand. “No, don’t get up,” she said. Soap settled back to the ground as she crouched by him, reaching for her makeshift bandage from earlier.

Soap studied her as she worked. Her hair had dried and now sat at least a few centimeters higher on her head, tight ringlets falling to her shoulders. Her eyebrows furrowed just a bit as she carefully removed the bloodied fabric. Her movements were calculated, washing the wound and looking at it closely.

“How did you join Los Vaqueros?” Soap asked. For a moment, Daniela didn’t acknowledge him. Then she raised her gaze to his.

Instead of answering his question, she said “I need to get the bullet out. It’s going to hurt. Think you can handle it?”

Soap nodded once, sharply. Her gaze softened. “I don’t have any painkillers. This isn’t going to be some… little pain. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

Soap cocked a wry grin back at her. “Just so long as my screaming doesn’t bother you,” he teased. A wicked spark lit in her eyes at that.

“It won’t bother me. Maybe I’d like to hear you scream.”

Soap’s jaw dropped. It was exactly the type of thing he’d say, but having it said to him was dumbfounding. Who was this woman?

Her smile only grew as she watched him try to compose himself. He was grateful when her gaze dropped back to the task at hand, sterilizing a pair of forceps. He was sure his face was flaming red.

“Los Vaqueros saved my life when I was sixteen,” she said softly. “My village leader refused the cartel’s demands, so El Sin Nombre set to burning the village down. I was one of three survivors.” That explained Ghost’s certainty of her dedication.

She moved to his right side, between his leg and outstretched arm, and gripped his bicep below the bullet wound.

“My whole family died that day.”

She set the forceps at the wound’s entry. Soap took a deep breath.

“I have burns all over my body from our house burning down.” That explained the scarring at her neck.

Soap lurched forward, gasping, when she dug the forceps in. The pain was so blinding that he nearly missed Daniela cursing softly in Spanish before sitting on his right leg, leaning her body against his to keep him from moving. Nearly missed. But didn’t. 

“Lo ciento,” she whispered, sparing him a concerned glance. He grit his teeth and leaned his head back against the wall, chest heaving as he took deep breaths through his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

Daniela shrugged. “Alejandro pulled me out of that fire,” she continued. Her tone was light, but seemed forced. Soap wasn’t sure whether it was her attempt to calm him or to pretend her story didn’t bother her.

He felt the moment that the forceps grasped the bullet. Took a deep breath. Steeled himself. Nothing prepared him for the feeling. He’d been shot before, multiple times. Bullet removal wasn’t a walk in the park, but he hadn’t realized just how much the painkillers mattered.

Soap was not proud of the whimper he let out when Daniela yanked the bullet out in one clean motion. She dropped the forceps onto a medical tray and lightly patted his cheek before inspecting the wound closely, muttering about infection and pointedly not meeting his gaze. She poured antiseptic over the wound and reached for a bottle of pills. 

“Here, take these. Antibiotics,” she said. After watching Soap swallow the pills, she picked a needle and thread up out of the med kit and continued. “Rodolfo threw a wet blanket over me. They put ointment on my burns and fed me. They offered me a home. They taught me to fight. They’ve been my family ever since.” 

Soap felt a pang of kinship at her words. He flinched slightly when the needle pierced his skin, but the pain died to a dull burn as Daniela kept stitching.

“Now that, I do understand,” he said. 

“You have no family?”

“No. Just the 141.”

After a few more strokes, she tied off the thread and laid a hand on his chest.

“They are my brothers. We must get Alejandro back.”

Soap reached up to cover her hand, belatedly hoping she wouldn’t be able to feel his heart pounding when she met his gaze. “We will, hermana.”

The smile she gave him was small, but her eyes were warm. It lasted for a brief moment before she arched an eyebrow. 

“Hermana?” She leaned forward until her mouth brushed Soap’s ear and he was sure that she could feel his heartbeat stutter. “I certainly hope not.”

With that, she picked up her medical kit and sauntered away, leaving Soap to stare after her in shock.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting into the prison compound was easy enough. 

“Trash bin on your right, time to take out the trash.”

“Shut up, Soap, fucking hell.”

A giggle from Daniela.

“Shoot him.”

“No, got something else in mind.”

“Fucking beautiful, sir!”

Impressed mumbling from Rodolfo.

“Cut and paste him, Ghost.”

Soap and Ghost’s banter amused Daniela to no end, even though Soap was sure he’d never been so anxious in his life. Having Ghost’s life almost solely in his hands was a responsibility he never wanted to feel again. But working with Rodolfo again helped to ease his mind.

Nearly being killed by Alejandro was less than ideal, but made worth it to watch him reunite with Rodolfo and Daniela.

“Alejandro! Al- it’s me, hermano!”

“Coronel, relájese somos nosotros!”

“Soap, Rudy, Ghost! Daniela!”

“Didn’t think we’d leave you, did ya?”

“What took you so long, pendejos?”

Getting out wasn’t quite as easy. 

“Exfil vehicles are set. Ghost planted charges to help us get out.”

“With Johnny’s help.”

“Eh, I can’t call Soap ‘Johnny’.”

“Don’t. Only Ghost can pull that off.”

“Aww, really? Only your Ghost? What about me?”

“Yes, Johnny, what about Daniela?”

“Can it, LT.”

But between Los Vaqueros and the 141, they made it. Soap couldn’t put into words how much relief he felt upon seeing Gaz and hearing the old man’s voice. After being hoisted to the top, he and Daniela ended up shoulder to shoulder, her covering him while he detonated the Shadows vehicles.

“Have you been with the 141 long?” she shouted over the sounds of gunfire.

“The 141 hasn’t been around all that long,” he shouted back. “But yeah, I’ve been with ‘em since the start.” He raised his rifle, picking off three snipers with three shots.

Daniela raised an impressed eyebrow. “I can see why!”

Soap grinned wide, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he raised the detonator. “Would you be impressed if I told you I rigged the explosives for these things, too?”

Daniela returned his grin full force. “I would be.”

Soap’s grin only widened before he pressed the button, eyes locked with Daniela’s. He lowered his voice and said “Ka-freaking-boom, baby.” She’d giggled when he said it earlier, and as the APC exploded, she let out another delighted squeal.

“Handsome and clever? This is a good combination, Johnny,” she said. Soap was grateful that shooting was such second nature to him because in that moment, all coherent thoughts ceased to exist. When he managed to look back to Daniela, she was smiling slyly. She picked off a sniper from across the yard and Soap shook his head. Witty, intelligent, beautiful, and a good shot. 

When the door to their right crashed open, Soap threw himself in front of Daniela to cover her as they each shot one of the men inside. Ghost barked at Soap about weapons, and he came back to the wall with a grenade launcher. He released several grenades before the last of Alejandro’s men mounted the wall top, and then made sure that Daniela went down the other side before him.

When he stumbled getting to their transport out, he chalked it up to battle fatigue, which he told both Ghost and Daniela when they asked whether he was okay. Neither looked convinced, but neither questioned him. They did sit on either side of him for the ride back to the safehouse, though.

Daniela leaned close to him. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Never better,” he lied. His whole body throbbed in varying levels of discomfort and pain. At least his head had stopped throbbing. Daniela leveled her gaze at him, and he returned a wide grin. She rolled her eyes and dropped it. Instead, she said “Thank you for covering me. You didn’t have to do that.”

Soap’s grin softened. “I know,” he said.

Back at the safe house, lively music played softly in the garage as Los Vaqueros cleaned weapons, loaded vehicles, and fed themselves. Soap felt slightly out of place, like he and the rest of the 141 were walking into someone’s home. Everyone either had something to say or shook hands with Daniela and Rodolfo as they passed, and they both smiled warmly at their friends.

Soap and Ghost made their way to an unoccupied pair of cots in the corner, observing their newfound comrades. Price had disappeared with Alejandro to formulate a plan, ordering the two to sleep. But exhausted as he was, Soap wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

He couldn’t get comfortable. No matter which way he turned, something ached or stung. He tried relaxing his muscles. He tried breathing deeply. He tried counting sheep. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the fire and the blood from the streets of Las Almas. He could hear the screaming and the pleading and the gunfire. He tried covering his eyes, and his ears. Eventually, he rolled to his side, facing Ghost. He was startled to meet the Lieutenant’s eyes. 

“Simon?” Soap asked softly. 

“Johnny,” said Ghost, equally as softly. 

Soap chewed his lip. “Do you ever forget?”

Ghost held his stare, unflinching. “No. You don’t.” Soap hadn’t realized before, but Ghost’s eyes were bloodshot. He looked tired. He’d learned quickly that he slept infrequently, and for short periods of time. It made a lot more sense, now. Ghost rolled over, huffing out a soft breath. “But eventually, you’ll learn to sleep anyway.”

Soap stared at his back, wondering if he would. Wondering if Ghost ever had. He didn’t know how long he stared at his teammate, but it felt like hours later that someone sat gently on the end of his cot. He flew up, grabbing for the bowie knife he kept in his tactical vest. 

Daniela raised her hands, offering a tired smile. “Mind if I take a look at that arm?”

“Sure.” Soap swung his legs off of the cot, resting his hands on the edge. Daniela turned toward him, reaching out and carefully pulling off the dressing she’d applied that early morning. 

“How does it feel? Any sharp pains or itching? Any dizziness, fever?” As soon as she said fever, Soap realized he’d been sweating more than usual. He’d absolutely been feeling dizzy since that harrowing night on the run, but it seemed to have died down throughout the day. And now that he actually paid attention long enough, it was quite itchy.

“No,” he lied. Once again, those ocean eyes seemed to pierce his very soul, challenging him. She knew. But she didn’t say anything, simply reached into the med kit for the same bottle of antibiotics and handed him two. Soap took them gratefully. The team couldn’t afford to be without him, and Ghost would surely order him to stay back if he thought the Sergeant was at all compromised.

Again, she washed the wound with antiseptic, then applied a fresh coat of salve before covering it with a fresh bandage.

“Why are you awake, anyway?” she asked suddenly. Soap’s head snapped up, eyes flying to hers. She looked nearly as exhausted as Ghost, all bloodshot eyes and frazzled hair and sagging shoulders. Still gorgeous.

Soap shrugged uncomfortably. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

She shrugged back, offering a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep either. It makes sense, though. You’ve been through a lot the last few days.” The last few days? When Soap cocked an eyebrow at her, she fidgeted a bit. “I, uh… I was there in the cartel house. When Valeria interrogated you.”

Several things clicked into place for Soap very suddenly. Alejandro had taken him to the elevator once he got into the cartel house, and another guard had escorted him out and down to the basement. Small, with ocean-blue eyes. Then at the oil rig, Alejandro had sent one man with Soap and Graves to the ship. Dani.

“You’re strong for your size,” said Soap in awe. Daniela had shoved him repeatedly through the hallway, even tapping the side of his face with the butt of her gun when he had begun to look over his shoulder.

She smiled wryly. “Sorry about that. We had to make it real, and we couldn’t risk any more comms than we had.”

“No, no, it’s okay. You did good,” said Soap. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Daniela shifted again. “I don’t do so well the night before big missions. I usually bunk next to Alelandro or Rodolfo, but they’re both… occupied. So, I came over here instead. To you.”

Soap’s heart melted. He was so drawn to this woman, and to know that she felt even a fraction of that bond made his heart swell with gratitude. “You can bunk with us,” he said quickly. Then, glancing around, he realized that there didn’t seem to be any available cots. “Take my cot. I can sleep in a chair.”

Daniela’s face had washed with relief when he spoke, but some tension returned as she looked down at her hands. “Don’t be silly,” she mumbled. “I’m not putting you out of your cot after the week you’ve had.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to share it with me,” teased Soap. He held his breath when Daniela’s head snapped up. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say anything so bold, but he’d taken it and run with it. “There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

“If I sleep on top of you, maybe,” snorted Daniela. Soap wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Daniela giggled.

Soap softened his voice, speaking more seriously. “I really don’t mind sharing.”

She contemplated for a moment, sighed, and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t complain if I crush you.”

Now it was Soap’s turn to snort. He lay down carefully, his back to Ghost’s cot, and raised his right arm. Daniela lay down beside him, turning onto her side and tucking herself under his chin. A perfect fit. Soap gently let his arm come down over her waist, laying his hand on the cot rail.

“This okay?” he whispered. She nodded. Soap nodded, too. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t been close to someone like this in… well, a long time.

The 141 was his whole life. There was always work to be done, and without a family to go home to, there was no real reason to take leave. On the rare occasion he did, he just ended up in his home town in Scotland. He’d flirt, constantly, but he seldom brought anyone home. He longed for something deeper, and sex alone could never fill that void. Plus, no one wanted to commit to someone who could be gone for months at a time.

But this? To be close to someone? This was filling the void just fine. Soap had to fight the urge to pull her further back against him as her breathing evened out, her body naturally leaning more on his own. As he dozed, he was proud of himself for staying still. He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming empty dreams and feeling her shift against him.

As he finally woke up the next morning, he felt his hip aching fiercely. He started to shift to take some pressure off of it, and froze. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Daniela’s wild hair. He groggily remembered that they’d shared a cot the night before. All of his pride at his self-control dissolved instantly when he realized that his arm was around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. She must have turned over in her sleep, because her leg was thrown over his hip, pulling their bodies flush together. 

He could already feel a problem, and this was not the time or place. He had to get out of this cot without waking her up. He shifted back, then froze as Daniela’s hand ran up to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his mohawk. Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers pulled lightly at his hair, and her leg tightened around his hips. Soap’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed a groan. Fuck. When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him sleepily.

“That’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in months,” she whispered. Soap nodded, desperately trying to get his body under control before she woke up any more. To his dismay, she nuzzled closer to him, nose rubbing under his jaw and hips shifting back and forth for a moment. Her eyes snapped open, eyebrows arching. “Feels like you slept pretty well, too, eh big boy?” Hells bells, this woman. Soap barely suppressed a full body shudder as she beamed at him.

“I didn’t, I’m not, I-” he stuttered. But Daniela placed her fingers over his lips, silencing him. Her eyes were full of mirth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she teased. Then she languidly stretched, pressing against him as much as humanly possible before climbing out of the cot and sashaying away, tossing a wicked grin over her shoulder at him. Soap turned to Ghost’s cot, which was blessedly empty, and then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, still fighting for his body to cooperate. Hells fucking bells.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Alejandro called his men, all sound stopped. The place became a real base in that moment. Los Vaqueros and the 141 gathered around a makeshift operations table, listening intently as Price spoke.

“This is a fight against our own. We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We’re a team. Ghost team.”

Soap’s eyebrows shot up when the Captain dumped out a bucket of masks, then his eyes snapped up to Ghost. Ghost was staring at him, and Soap was almost certain he was steeling himself. Their silent conversation lasted only a moment before Ghost reached up, pulling off his mask, pausing before reaching for one from the table. Price reached a hand up to his shoulder.

“Good to see you again, Simon,” he said.

Soap carefully schooled his features in an attempt to soothe Ghost’s nerves, but he felt a distinct surge of pride in being one of the few to be allowed to know the Lieutenant. As the older man adjusted the mask over his face, the two shared another weighted look. Soap quirked up one corner of his mouth, shaking his head. Quite the opposite, indeed.

Alejandro laid out the plan to get into the Los Vaqueros facility. “We’ll infiltrate the base with two Ghost teams. Team one is Captain Price, Gaz, me, and one pilot. Team two is Ghost, Soap, Rudy, Dani, and Los Vaqueros.”

Ghost and Soap looked to each other and nodded. Then Soap turned to Daniela, raising an eyebrow. He mouthed “Dani?” 

She smirked, mouthing back “Johnny?”

Soap grinned. He looked to Ghost, who was shaking his head. But his eyes were crinkled with mirth.

“While Gaz and me locate and secure Valeria, Ghost team 2 will find Graves… and kill him.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ghost team 2 fought their way through the base to the HQ building, then fought their way through that. Soap and Ghost moved together like they’d fought together for years, and Daniela and Rodolfo effortlessly slotted themselves into their dynamic. Between the three of them, no Shadows made it more than a few steps into the open.

Watching Price’s helo go down had Soap’s stomach sinking. “Steamin’ hell!” Soap shouted. He and Ghost shared a heavy look while Daniela and Rodolfo cursed softly. Rodolfo quickly recovered, clambering up the wall with Soap’s help. Daniela followed after, lightly stepping into Soap’s linked hands before joining Rodolfo in straddling the wall. The two of them pulled Soap up quickly, who turned to Ghost.

“Ghost, you comin’?” he asked.

“No. Price and the pilot need help. You three finish this.”

Soap’s head whipped back and forth between Ghost and the other side of the wall until he saw something that made his stomach drop even more. “Look!” he shouted.

“That’s not ours!” shouted Rodolfo.

“Holy shite. Graves brought a fuckin’ tank!” growled Soap, dropping to the ground. He glanced at Rodolfo and Daniela. “You ready for this?”

“Hell yeah!” answered Rodolfo. Daniela nodded curtly. Soap motioned for the three to split up.

“Looks like the hunters are getting hunted now, huh?” came Graves’ sneering voice. “Ain’t that a kick in the ass?”

“Can’t wait to bake this bastard,” grumbled Soap. He, Daniela, and Rodolfo had run into different buildings. Rodolfo tried to call out C4 stashes, Daniela threw grenades as she could, and Soap gestured for both of them to stay down and inside. Then he ran for his life.

“You and your mexicano friends fucked with the wrong hombre, MacTavish!” yelled Graves.

“Come on out and let’s talk about it,” quipped Soap. Daniela snorted, and despite the severity of the situation, Soap found himself smiling.

Graves seemed altogether less pleased. “You think this is a fucking game out here? You wanna play war? Let’s play some fucking war, chicos! One of you dipshits needs to die last. Who’s it gonna be?”

“Go fuck yourself, Graves.” Soap threw a brick of C4 straight into the tank’s path, silently congratulating himself when it blew.

“You got a healthy disrespect for authority, Soap. I like that about you!”

“You’re Shepherd’s lap dog. You get paid to break the rules.”

“There’s only two rules here, boys. Walk away… or win. Guess which one I choose?” Soap vaulted through a window. It wasn’t high, but the landing still made his hip throb in protest. He grunted softly. “Shoulda gone home when you had the chance, Soap- you and that asshole with the mask, hiding behind that uniform.”

Soap’s temper instantly flared. “You wore that uniform,” he ground out. He was crouched by another C4 stash, trying to judge Graves’ location.

“That uniform was a limitation!” shouted Graves. “I shed that skin!”

“Like a fuckin’ snake,” Soap hissed.

“Like a fuckin’ soldier, son.”

“You had to make your own little army ‘cause you couldn’t hack it in the real one.” This time, Soap managed to stick the side of the tank with C4 as it passed. He ran, detonated, and silently cheered again when he heard the second explosion.

Soap managed to tune out most of the rest of what Graves said, until he turned his attention to Rodolfo. His Spanish wasn’t great, but he picked up the general idea that Graves was saying the 141 were no friends to Los Vaqueros.

“Oye, pendejo!” Daniela’s voice suddenly cut through the radio. Most of what she said was lost to Soap, but she sounded furious. He picked out the words “friends”, “assholes like you”, “good people”, and “brothers”, and “death”. Hermanos hasta la muerte.

Graves must have understood more than Soap, because his driving became erratic and he shouted back to Daniela in what Soap did recognize as poorly pronounced Spanish. 

Her distraction gave him enough time to sneak up behind the tank and lay one last brick of C4 between the tank’s body and tread. But just as he started to back off, the gun began to swing in his direction. Soap braced himself to run, and then froze. 

“Graves!” Daniela shouted. She had leapt up to stand in the window of the building directly ahead of Soap. As the tank's gun swung back in her direction, Soap scrambled to his feet, racing forward. 

“Pinche tu madre,” she sneered. 

Soap could hear the tank’s gun spinning up.

“No!” He shouted. Daniela’s head snapped in his direction. Her face fell when they locked stares, eyes flashing with anxiety. She took half a step toward him, but Soap launched himself through the window. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arm around Daniela’s waist, yanked her against himself, and pulled them to the ground. He landed hard on his shoulder as he heard the tank fire and rolled her under him as fast as he could, tucking his head against hers and shielding them both with his arms. The building crumbled under the impact, sheetrock and dust raining down on them. Several chunks of sheetrock landed across Soap’s back. That’ll be a few new bruises.

As it began to settle, Soap raised his head just enough to look down at Daniela. They were nose to nose when she opened her eyes, hands coming up to run over his covered head. 

“Y’alright?” Soap whispered. She nodded frantically. 

“You?” He nodded. As he shifted his shoulders, bits of rubble fell off and cracked against the ground. He winced. 

He looked up and around. Graves’ tank was rotating, looking for them. He glanced to the stairs, then looked back down at Daniela. 

“Hold onto me,” he whispered. Daniela cocked an eyebrow, but wrapped her arms around his neck. Soap grabbed one of her legs behind the knee, wrapping it around his waist, and she smirked before wrapping her other leg around his back as well. As serious as the situation was, their position wasn’t lost on Soap. Twice in one day? He swallowed hard. C���mon, MacTavish.

As quickly as he dared, he crawled for the stairwell. He could see Graves’ tank through the doorway on the opposite wall, facing away. In the last meter, he leapt to his feet and ran up several steps, stopping midway to lean against the wall. Daniela slid down his body, resting her hands on his chest. Soap shivered. They were both panting slightly. Her eyes shone as she looked up at him. 

“Gracías, guapo,” she said softly. Then her hand snapped up to her earpiece. She started down for a moment, then looked back up at Soap. “Rodolfo moved to Los Vaqueros private channel. He says there should be an RPG downstairs,” she said. 

Soap nodded, clicking through channels until he could hear Rudy’s voice. “I’ll get it,” he said.

Daniela grabbed his arm as he moved, stopping him in his tracks. “Be careful,” she said. He nodded, clasping her arm. 

“I will.”

He crept down the stairs, peeking around the wall to where he’d last seen Graves’ tank. It wasn’t there. Staying low, he rounded the corner, eyes searching frantically for the RPG.

“Check under the counter, hermano,” whispered Rodolfo. When Soap glanced up, he could barely see the other man peeking around a doorframe across the yard. He crept to the bar counter, slid open the door as quietly as possible, and grabbed the RPG inside.

“Siiick,” said Soap, raising the RPG to his shoulder. With his back to the wall, he slowly made his way to an opening, searching for Graves. Not seeing him, he stayed. And breathed. And waited.

He could hear the thing driving around outside, searching for him or the others. He just hoped they were well hidden.

His radio crackled. “He’s heading your way, Soap,” said Daniela quietly.

“Rog’,” he replied. “Stay down.”

Carefully, he crouched and turned, ready to fire as soon as the tank came into view. He didn’t have to wait long. With a deep breath, he stood, pulled the trigger, and dove behind the cabinet again. The explosion from the tank seemed to rock the very ground. He realized that he’d never detonated the last brick of C4. Double trouble, then.

Slowly, Soap stood and leaned around the corner. Graves’ tank was a ball of fire, smoke and flames billowing into the sky. He heard Daniela step down the stairs, then felt her small hand on his shoulder blade. Rudy peeked around the corner of a doorway, looking around before stepping outside. Soap and Daniela did the same, cautiously walking forward.

“You did it, Soap,” said Rodolfo softly.

“You two and me, hermano,” said Soap.

“Brought a gun to a tank fight.”

Soap chuckled, smiling under his mask. “Yeah we did!” He reached for his radio, clicking back to the main channel. “Soap to Ghost- I’m with Rudy. Graves is KIA. How’s Price?”“Angry. Lost a good cigar in the crash. Pilot’s okay, too. Out.”

Rodolfo relayed the message to Alejandro. They all took a moment to breathe. And then they moved out to meet Ghost Team 1.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soap’s head was spinning. They had all known Valeria was a wildcard, but he didn’t think any of them had expected her to drop the bomb of information that a missile was in Chicago. Not even Alejandro. Price handed her off to Los Vaqueros almost immediately, the threat in his voice clear. Soap wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t expect to ever see her alive again.

He was surprised when he had to lift Daniela up and out of the container after she lunged for Valeria. He dragged her out kicking and screaming in Spanish, all curses and threats. Rudy followed them out first, trying to calm her down, but there was nothing for it. The other woman was single-handedly responsible for the deaths of all of her family and friends. Soap couldn’t fault her rage.

Gaz came out next, raising his eyebrows at Soap in a silent question. Soap nodded, affirming that he was alright. Daniela had stopped thrashing, but her chest still rose and fell quickly against his arms. He’d had to lean back against the wall, lifting her feet off the ground to keep her from beelining to the container. Now she stood, back against his chest, hands gripping his tactical harness where it crossed his thighs.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling,” Gaz began softly. He paced slowly back and forth in front of them. “But I do know that she’s not worth throwing your life away.”

“She stole my life!” hissed Daniela. “She took my family. She took everything from me! And now she’s doing it all again! More people will lose their lives, lose their families, if she isn’t stopped!”

“But she gave you a purpose,” said Gaz firmly. He’d stopped pacing, staring directly at Daniela now. “You’ll never let that happen to anyone ever again. We are going to stop her. And I know it’s not the same thing, but she gave you a family, too. Hell, she gave you two families. You, Alejandro, Rodolfo? Los Vaqueros? You’ll always have a family with the 141, now.”

Soap squeezed her just a bit tighter at that, his own silent affirmation. After a moment, Daniela’s hands released his harness and lay flat against his legs. She seemed to sag back against him. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

“Gracias, hermano.”

Gaz simply nodded before returning to the container. For several minutes, Soap and Daniela said nothing. Then, very softly, she said “You can let me go.”

“Aye? You won’t kick me in the shins and run off to kill her anyway?”

Daniela snorted at that. “No.” With one final squeeze, Soap let her go. As he did, Alejandro came storming out of the container, followed closely by Rodolfo. He moved straight for Daniela, gripping her shoulders.

“We’re going to be hunted men, Dani,” he said. “I’m not letting her get away with this. Rodolfo and I will handle her, and we’ll handle the cartel. But you…” He looked up at Soap, then back at Daniela. He pointed to Soap with one finger. “You need to go with them. I don’t want you to be a part of this.”

“Alejandro, no, soy-”

“No,” he growled. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, and Soap realized when he looked at Daniela again that he was tearing up. He lowered his head to her level, staring at her intently. “What did I tell you the night we found you?”

Rodolfo had turned his head away, shoulders stiff. Soap couldn’t see her face, but he could hear in her voice that Daniela was tearing up, too. “You told me you would always protect me,” she whimpered.

Alejandro shook her gently. “This is me protecting you, hermana.” He pointed to Soap. “That man will protect you with his life. You told me so yourself. Rodolfo told me.” He glanced back to Soap, who nodded, stunned. “And I can see it when I look at him, and the way he looks at you. You have to go with them. You have to get that missile, and you have to stay out of Mexico until this dies down. And then you know we’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

Rodolfo turned, reaching out a hand to hold Daniela’s. “This has always been our fight, mijá,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to be yours. And I know you chose it, but this time… just let us do this for you. Sabes que te amamos.”

Price and Gaz had come out of the container again, Price holding Valeria. They both nodded to Soap, who nodded to Daniela when she looked over to him. Her gaze dropped, and then she looked back to her men.

“Yo sé que tú,” she whispered.

Alejandro moved to Soap while Rodolfo hugged Daniela.

“Go. You have work to do,” he said. Then he pulled Soap closer, and softly said “Take care of her.”“You know I will,” whispered Soap. He backed toward their plane. “Keep fighting the good fight, hermano!” he called.“To the bitter end, my brother!” said Alejandro.

“Good luck, amigos,” said Rodolfo.

Price shoved Valeria into the backseat of Alejandro and Rodolfo’s vehicle while Soap, Ghost, and Daniela moved to board the aircraft Gaz had already started up.

“Ghost!” called Alejandro. Ghost turned back, cocking his head slightly. “No te pierdas, hermano!”

Whatever Ghost said back, Soap didn’t understand. But Daniela smiled, blowing a kiss with two fingers that Alejandro caught out of midair and held to his heart. Then they turned, boarded the plane, and were away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap had long since abandoned his fear of heights. Walking down a 60-story building didn’t make him nervous, but the hostage situation did. Ghost’s calm helped him keep his cool, though, and soon enough, Daniela was getting hostages out of the building while Soap and Price moved on Hassan. They cleared entire floors of the building in record times.

“And that’s why they call him Soap,” mumbled Ghost. Daniela’s answering giggle warmed Soap’s heart. Upon hearing this, Ghost added “Did you know he’s the youngest one of us? Got in with the SAS at sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Soap, you get more and more impressive the more I learn about you!”

Soap’s face flamed.

Despite the hostages, the mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly. Then, Laswell announced that Hassan had the controls. Ghost confirmed visual on floor 46, and back out they went.

“Soap, we find those controls, it’s up to you to disarm that missile.”

“Copy that… done it once before.”

The RPG could have ruined the whole plan, but Soap and Price were both lucky that it missed them. They moved into the building as quickly as possible, clearing yet another room in record time with Ghost’s sniper support.

When Gaz called that they had the target cornered, Soap and Price raced in his direction. Then came Laswell saying that the missile was launching. Everyone was speaking at once.

“No, no, no!” screamed Price. 

“Fecking hell,” growled Soap.

“Watcher, where’s the target?” yelled Price.

“Unknown, we’re working on it.”

“Copy. We’re going for Hassan. This way Sergeant!” he yelled to Soap. Then, “Gaz, where’s Hassan?”

Price and Soap were rounding the corner when Gaz answered. “End of the hall! Hassan’s holed up behind those doors.”

Price’s response was furious. “Let’s clear this out and bag him, then.”

When they got the snake cam under the door, the whole thing went to shit. 

The door blew. Soap and Price flew back and Gaz collapsed like a bag of rocks. Soap’s ears were ringing, he was bleeding, and he could hardly breathe. Only Gaz’s quick recovery saved his life. He was dragged into cover before Price took a bullet and Gaz went back for him, too.

Everything after was a blur. One moment, Soap was leaping down a falling elevator shaft. The next, he was running from the man he stole the laptop from. Then hiding. Then detonating the missile with Laswell’s help. Then, running for his life, again. 

“Nicely done, Johnny. Now for the hard part,” said Ghost.

“That was the fuckin’ hard part, LT.”

“Let’s find out. You need to stay alive, take out the guards, and kill Hassan.”

Soap looked around frantically. “I just need a weapon,” he said.

“Make one,” Ghost replied. He sounded so nonchalant. It made Soap huff out a laugh.

“Aye. Like old times, huh LT?”

Ghost’s voice was fond when he said “Seems like yesterday.”

Soap replied with equal fondness. “It was yesterday.”

He hid. He ran. With Ghost’s help, he fashioned some makeshift weapons. Then he ran headlong into Hassan. Before he could react, his world went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Soap came to, he was being dragged by his foot. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was. Then he recognized the office he’d been chasing Hassan through.

Hassan. It was Hassan dragging him along.

Sluggishly, his mind went through his team. Ghost. Overwatch. Price. Holed up trying to recover. Gaz. Unknown. Daniela.

Daniela.

Alejandro had sent her with him and he didn’t even know where she was, whether she was safe. His heart twinged painfully. He didn’t have time to think, though. Hassan was yelling about fire and thinking they could stop him. Soap couldn’t focus on it.

Ghost.

“Ghost,” he whispered into his throat mic.

“Soap!”

“Watch… the window,” he managed.

Something exploded.

Hassan dragged him to his feet. Still going on about invading, not attacking.

He thrust Soap in front of him, pushing him toward the window. Soap desperately tried to keep his footing.

“Soap,” said Ghost. Soap vaguely recognized panic in his voice. “Soap, I see him, but I can’t-”

“Take the shot, LT,” mumbled Soap.

“What was that? What are you saying?” Hassan had him by his vest now, shaking him violently. 

“Soap, I can’t get a clear-”

“Take. The shot.” Soap’s jaw was clenched. It took all of his power to hold onto Hassan’s wrists enough not to fall back. Hassan was still pushing forward, shouting, and Soap was fighting a losing battle. Hassan was going to push him out of the window.

And he couldn’t stop it.

“I’m sorry,” said Ghost.

Then, just as Soap’s heels touched the ledge, searing pain shot through his chest. He lurched forward with the impact, falling into Hassan.

Hassan’s eyes were wide. Soap thought he saw blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His rattled brain couldn’t make sense of it as they both fell to the ground.

“Johnny, MOVE!” roared Ghost. With the last of his energy, Soap shoved as hard as he could, rolling off of Hassan’s body. Another piercing shot rang out and Hassan’s head cracked backward against the ground. 

Soap blinked at Hassan’s body. Ghost was shouting for him through his earpiece. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place.

“You shot me,” he said dumbly to Ghost.

“Oh thank God,” muttered Ghost. He could hear Daniela shrieking in the background, too.

“You saved me,” he said. The whole room seemed colorful and soft. Spinning. Like a carousel.

Soap smiled, head lolling down.

He could vaguely hear Ghost and Daniela and Gaz yelling, but he was too tired to listen. Just a wee nap. That’s all I need.

Footsteps pounded nearby. With great effort, Soap turned his head. It didn’t hold where he wanted it to, just flopped onto the ground on the other side. He watched a small black pair of boots race across the floor toward him.

“No no no no, hijo de puta. Por favor, Dios, no.” Suddenly, Soap’s head and shoulders were being lifted. Then he was dragged back against something soft. He looked up. Daniela was running her hands over his head, his chest, clawing at his tactical vest. “Por favor, Dios, no,” she repeated. Her voice shook as badly as her hands and tears streamed down her face.

“Hey,” Soap said. He grinned up at her. “Whassa matter? Why’re you crying?”

He reached a hand up to her, wiping her cheek with his thumb. He couldn’t keep it raised and it flopped back to his side.

“John Soap MacTavish, you’d better not die on me,” she muttered. She had gotten his vest loose and was pulling his shirt up roughly. 

“Hey, bonnie, at least buy me dinner first,” he slurred. He chuckled. It was silly. It was all so silly. He could hear Ghost yelling faintly, but he wasn’t sure why. Daniela was leaning heavily on his chest, and he wasn’t sure about that either.

Suddenly, he felt as though he’d been sat out in snow for a good few hours. “Hey, are you cold?” he asked Daniela.

“Hey,” Daniela said sharply. She gripped his chin between her fingers. “Look at me.”

Clarity hit Soap like a ton of bricks. He’d been shot. He was bleeding. Cold from shock. That’s why Daniela was crying and Ghost was yelling. He’d been knocked out. Likely had a concussion. He looked up at her solemnly, grabbing her wrist with his hand. Don’t die on me, she’d said. He was dying.

They’d talked quite a bit over their few days together. Talked about their hopes and dreams, and how those fit into their dangerous lives. Talked about their dedication to their teams, their values, their futures. Talked about growing up, their families, how they’d gotten there. 

She’d asked him if he’d ever been in love.

He’d said he hadn’t. But he wasn’t so sure that was true, any more.

When he’d asked her, she’d said “maybe” with a sly smile his direction, all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

He blinked, hard. He wanted to know what that meant.

“What did you mean… when you said maybe?” he panted out.

For a moment, Daniela just blinked at him. Then her eyes softened, tears slipping down her cheeks as she understood his question. “I meant I might be,” she whispered. “I’m not quite sure yet. You’ll have to give me some time to figure it out.”

Soap hummed, eyes drifting shut. “I’m pretty sure,” he breathed. Daniela gasped, but he reached up to touch her cheek before she could say anything. “You,” he began, voice a whisper. “You are the most… the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman that… that I’ve ever-”

Daniela didn’t let him finish. Her lips were on his before he knew it. He was kissing her before even registering that she’d leaned down. Her lips were soft, just like he’d imagined. She tasted like strawberries and mint and salt. Tears. She kissed him desperately, and he kissed her desperately back. His hand slid back to tangle in her curls. So unbelievably soft.  He could hardly move his head, but she tilted her own to deepen the kiss. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and he moaned, low in his chest. He weakly tried to pull her closer. No point hiding it now. Besides, if he was going to die, what better way to go? More footsteps pounded in the door. He could vaguely make out Gaz and Price’s voices.

And then, above them all, nearly a full octave up in his panic, Ghost. “Johnny!”

Daniela’s teeth lightly grazed his lip. Soap sighed, then everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap woke to a gentle beeping. His head and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton. His body felt like one big bruise, but with shards of glass sprinkled throughout it. He couldn’t open his eyes. There was light pressure against his right hip.

He breathed deeply. Ouch.

Slowly, his eyes cracked open. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed in through a window out of the corner of his eye. He could see that the ceiling was bright white.

“Johnny?”

Slowly, he turned his head toward the familiar voice. As he did, Ghost rose to his feet from his chair, taking two quick steps to the bedside.

Soap opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ghost scrambled to pour a cup of water, then gently helped Soap lift his head to drink. As he did, Soap realized what the pressure on his hip was. Daniela.

Her head lay at the junction of his torso and legs, black curls shining in the moonlight. The bags under her eyes were nearly as dark as Ghost’s grease paint. Her right hand gripped his thigh, and her left hand held his. She didn’t stir.

Soap swallowed several times. “What happened?” he finally asked.

Ghost’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Do you want the short or long story?” he asked. His voice sounded exhausted.

“How about the short one, for now?”

“I shot you,” said Ghost. For a moment, Soap thought he wouldn’t elaborate. Then, Ghost looked up to meet his eyes. “I shot you, Johnny. Because you told me to. Because you’re the best of us, and you’re clever.”

Soap nodded, eyes drifting shut, not processing Ghost’s words.

“You’re lucky I’m such a good shot,” Ghost added, grumbling.

Soap chuckled softly, wincing as he did. “That I am,” he said. “Hassan?”

“I shot him, too. Twice, actually.”

“Through me the first time, eh LT?”

Ghost looked unamused. But when Soap grinned at him, his eyes softened. “That’s right, Johnny.”

“Perfect shot, LT.”“You called it, Sargeant.”

“The best of us, huh LT?”

“Can it, Sergeant.”

For a moment, the two shared a companionable silence. Then, Ghost spoke so softly that Soap thought he may have imagined it. “I almost didn’t take it.”

“The shot? Why not?”

“There was no shot. He had you directly in front of him, and he would have thrown you out that window before I had time to move.”

“You still got him, LT. I’ll call that a win.”“We got him, Johnny.”

“I’m starting to think you really have taken a shine to me, Simon.”

Ghost hung his head before looking back up. “Maybe I have.” He turned, picking up his chair, and sat it right by the bed as quietly as he could. “That one has, for sure.” He nodded to Daniela.

Soap looked down at her. “How long have you both been here?”

“Since you got here,” Ghost mumbled. Soap’s head snapped back to him.

“And when was that?”

Ghost shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Four days, give or take.” Soap stared at him. Finally, he threw up his hands. “You, Sergeant, should have died.”

He lifted one gloved hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “You have a field-treated gunshot wound to your right arm, which was in fact infected. Thank your lucky stars that Daniela saw through your idiocy.” That explained a lot of little things he’d missed. Like a passenger in a getaway vehicle. “A bruised bone in your hip. Three cracked ribs. A grade four concussion. Multiple hairline fractures in your legs. And a shredded left pec from a 50 caliber bullet. Might I add that last one only missed your heart by centimeters?”

Soap snorted. “Well, that explains a lot about how I feel. Hell, how I’ve been feeling.”

Ghost just shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Thought we lost ya. Again.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, LT.”

“Good,” grumbled Ghost. He looked toward Daniela. “I had to pry her off of you,” he said softly. 

Soap looked down at her again. She looked younger than before, peaceful in her slumber. But he could see the exhaustion plainly on her face. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” murmured Ghost. “Could hardly get her across the hall to shower.”

Soap let his eyes drift shut, exhaustion washing over him all over again. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Amsterdam. Laswell has friends here. We’re in a private hospital.”

“Price? And Gaz?”

“They’re trying to find a lead on Shepherd.”

Soap nodded sleepily, relieved that their squad was still intact. “She kissed me,” he murmured. 

“Doctors say she saved your life with that.”

Soap hummed, cracking one eye open to peer at Ghost. He shrugged. 

“Something about the adrenaline helping to push off the shock.”

Soap hummed again, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Sleep, Johnny.”

He did. 

When he woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window. He shifted slightly, and felt Daniela spring up when he did. 

When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him anxiously. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Soap murmured. 

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. She squeezed his thigh, standing and reaching her hand up to cup his face.

“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he said. He reached up a hand to hold hers against his cheek. “I’m right here.”

She shifted a leg up onto the bed, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m right here,” he whispered again. “Ghost said you saved my life.”

She made a strangled sound, half laugh and half sob. “I couldn’t let you go like that.”

Soap shifted his hand to her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well,” he said. “If you remember, I was a bit out of my mind.” He tilted her chin up gently, whispering “Care to give me another taste of those lifesaving powers of yours?”

Daniela lunged forward, sealing her lips to his. Soap eyes slid shut as he grinned, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened against his, and he ran his tongue against hers. When she whimpered into his mouth, the primal need to have her close overcame him. He leaned up as far as he could, cursing the sling on his left shoulder, chasing her mouth. His hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her against him. She straddled him carefully, elbows coming to rest above his shoulders. 

Her whole body shuddered when his hand came to rest on her hip.

His eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” she cut him off, panting. She reached one hand up, threading her fingers through his mohawk. “There’s no reason.” Soap groaned when her nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“Woman, the things I would do to you if I wasn’t stuck in this bed…”

She shuddered again before she leaned down and kissed the place that his jaw and neck met. His whole body involuntarily arched off the bed, hand moving from her hip to the small of her back to pull her against him. She gasped at the contact. However light she was, her weight on his hip hurt. But he was too far gone to care. He leaned up again, gently sucking her lip between his as she sighed into his mouth.

His mind was clouded with the desire for intimacy with her. He wanted all of her. First in their single shared night, and now in their kiss, Soap saw waking up to her every morning, cooking together, trips to the stormy Scottish coast and the sunny Caribbean. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her, and he knew from the way she looked at him that she’d been drawn to him just as much. He’d tried so hard to remain professional. To keep distance. To be a gentleman. To pretend he hadn’t fallen in love with her the moment he heard her speak.

Then she’d slept in his cot and he’d had to know what it was like to have her in his arms. Having tasted her once, there was no going back to professional and distant. Having tasted her twice? She owned him. There was no pretending, now.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sharp cough from the doorway. Daniela sprang up, scrambling off the bed with one hand covering her mouth. Soap’s head whipped toward the door. Ghost was there, finding something very interesting to look at in the ceiling, along with a pretty nurse who was smiling widely.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Sergeant,” she quipped. Soap grinned wryly first at her, then at Daniela. “My name’s Cat, I’m a friend of Kate’s. Mind if I take a look at you?”

Soap nodded, Daniela sat herself in the corner, and Ghost continued to pay close attention to the ceiling and walls. Soap narrowed his eyes, watching the Lieutenant closely. 

Cat turned to Daniela and Ghost. “Would you two-”

“They can stay,” Soap cut her off. Cat turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. He smiled. “Nothing they haven’t seen already.” When she helped him sit up and lift his gown off, Soap got his first real look at the damage. At Los Vaqueros safe house, and then later at their base, he’d been too rushed and too tired to really look at himself.

Purple bruises so dark they nearly looked black covered his ribs. Just above his boxers, he could see more bruising on his hip that was nearly green now. Scrapes and cuts covered his knees, his arms, his sides. The bullet wound in his right arm was healing nicely, but the skin around it was still pink and tender. He was grateful that his chest was wrapped tightly so he couldn’t see the damage from Ghost’s sniper.

Soap looked away.

“So Cat,” he asked. “How did you meet Laswell?”

“Oh, she and I met probably fifteen years ago. She was still on the field, back then. I was still in training, working in a field hospital. I patched her and John up after a rough mission. I guess she decided she liked me, because as soon as I graduated, she snapped me right up.” She turned to Ghost, who had finally looked her way, and smiled. “Good thing, too. I’ve fixed this one up more times than I can count, and Kate tells me he won’t let anyone else touch him.”

Ghost looked away again so quickly that he missed Soap’s gleeful expression. “Oh, is that so?” teased Soap. Ghost shot him a warning glare. Something to ask about later.

“I trust her,” muttered Ghost.

Cat beamed at him. She looked back to Soap, smiling conspiratorially. “Quite the compliment, eh?”

“That it is,” he answered smugly. Ghost held his stare, unamused. Soap looked back toward Daniela, eyes softening. She smiled back at him, looking tired but content. Cat was wrapping up her check, talking about physical therapy and taking it easy. Soap couldn’t wait to have a moment with Daniela again.

“Alright, well I’ll be back tonight to check in with you again. Simon, would you walk me out?” Soap’s eyes shot back to Ghost at that, but Ghost refused to meet his gaze. Definitely something to ask about later.

When Cat and Ghost had gone, Daniela came back to Soap’s side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently took his left hand, careful not to lift it or otherwise disturb the bandages.

“Take all the time you need,” Soap said softly. Daniela lifted her eyes from their joined hands, cocking her head. He held her gaze. “You said I’d have to give you some time to figure it out. Take all the time you need.” Now it was Soap’s turn to look down at their hands. He grinned, lopsided. “I’ll be here.”

Daniela reached out, lifting his chin with her fingertips. Her dark eyes watered slightly around the edges. “I’m pretty sure,” she whispered.

“Oh, now that sounds familiar,” chuckled Soap. He leaned toward her, eyes flitting down to her lips. “C’mere, you.”

Their first kiss had been desperate. Their second quickly turned heated. This one was soft, slow, gentle. Exploratory and sweet. Soap stroked her cheek, looking up at her from under hooded eyes. “Tell me you feel it, too,” he whispered.

Daniela nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. “I feel it.”

“Yeah? Not just ‘maybe’?”

Daniela smiled wide, smacking his shoulder lightly. Soap laughed, loud and full, and immediately regretted it. Wincing, he smiled back at her. 

He was anxious to hear from Price and Gaz, and nervous about what would happen when Alejandro and Rodolfo called Daniela back. They’d have to go after Shepherd, and she might have to go back to Mexico. Maybe nothing would ever truly have a chance to start with them. Maybe they’d die. But maybe not. Maybe everything would be alright.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗔 𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris has the idea of doing the famous TikTok trend "fighting my girlfriend in front of my brothers" with Y/N, just to see Nick and Matt's reaction.

WARNING: Fake fighting, yelling, crying.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a typical sunny Sunday afternoon. The family of four were at home, enjoying the weekend to relax after their recent trip to Boston.

Nick and Matt were in the living room, playing video games on the big television, loud sounds of car and guns accompanied by laughter and swearing echoed through the large room; while Y/N and Chris were in the kitchen, the girl cooking lunch for them while her boyfriend was leaning against the closed refrigerator, enjoying the light cold that the stainless steel surface provided for his body.

His hands were holding his phone, where he was absentmindedly watching videos on TikTok, scrolling mindlessly, his blue eyes occasionally looking up at his girl, watching her with passionate and careful eyes.

Y/N was cutting some vegetables when Chris quickly approached out of nowhere, surprising her by suddenly touching her back, a wide smile already resting on his face.

"Babe, look at this!" The brunette shouted in a whisper, raising his right hand and resting his cell against his own palm so that the screen was facing Y/N, touching his thumb to the softly lit surface.

Y/N put down the pointy knife momentarily, focusing on the video on low volume that showed a couple pretending to fight each other over something silly in the presence of the boy's parents, apparently waiting to see the reaction of the elders. She had already watched some similar videos on her own app, vaguely remembering the new and already very known trend.

Her confused eyes looked up at her boyfriend's face after the video ended and went back to the beginning automatically, seeing him already looking back at her with a euphoric gaze.

"That's cool, baby, but what does it mean?"

Chris explained his plan in detail in a hushed tone, keeping an attentive eye to his brothers, not wanting them to see his actions.

He would go to their room to "get something" and seconds later, he would go back upstairs pretending to be furious, holding a broken mug that he would also pretend that was his favorite. He would accuse Y/N of breaking the dishes and say horrible things to her in front of Nick and Matt, all to see his brothers' reaction.

"Do you think this is a good idea? What if they take it too seriously?" Y/N watched him explain in detail, her teeth capturing her bottom lip in a light grip momentarily, feeling hesitant.

"Relax, it'll be so cool! Nick and Matt will understand when we explain it after. Plus, it'll be funny to see their reaction." Chris explained quickly, pushing his girl's right shoulder with his own before gluing his hands in a praying gesture.

After a few moments of reflection, Y/N agreed, rolling her eyes playfully at his happiness before picking up her knife again and going back to cutting the vegetables, watching from the corner of her eye as Chris opened one of the cabinets above the stove and fished a dull, white mug from the bottom of the triplets' collection.

The boy showed the piece to his girl excitedly, receiving a laugh and shaking of head as a response. He leaned slightly towards her, sealing the top of her head softly before turning around, walking in discreet steps to the stairs that led to their shared room.

It didn't take long for the sound of footsteps to be heard again, this time firmer and faster. The boy quickly went up the last steps, already getting into character. When he entered the double room, his face was red with "anger" and he held the shards of the mug tightly.

"Y/N!" He shouted, his voice echoing through the house. "Did you do this shit?" His hand, which was holding the broken mug, rose into the air, rudely showing the pieces. "You broke my favorite mug!? How could you be so careless?"

Nick and Matt, who were sitting on the couch, looked up quickly, stopping playing instantly, focusing their widened eyes on Chris. They had never seen their brother so upset, not with his girlfriend.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Y/N dropped the knife on the counter with a dull thud, turning around slowly in fright, a fake expression of surprise resting on her face.

"Chris, I swear I didn't do it on purpose." The girl said, her voice slightly shaking as she raised her hands in surrender. "I was just cleaning up the mess, trying to help..."

"Help? You messed everything up! As always." Chris retorted, walking quickly towards the kitchen table and throwing the broken pieces of the mug against the wooden surface, the sound of more shattering ceramics echoing through the room. "That was my favorite mug! Do you have any idea when I got it? Years ago! You're useless, Y/N. Honestly, I don't even know why I'm still with you!"

Nick and Matt looked at each other, visibly uncomfortable and shocked. Nick shook his head, trying to understand if this was serious, while Matt bit his own lower lip, seeming to have an internal struggle between intervening or not. The sound of the video game coming from the television sounded muffled to their ears.

"C-Chris, I'm sorry, I can try to find another-"

"There's no other like it, Y/N! How could you?!" The boy growled, his features tightening more.

"Chris, hey, that's enough." Matt finally intervened, rising from his seat on the couch and approaching with cautious steps. "It's just a mug. You're overreacting."

"Overreacting? You don't understand, Matt. She always does this! Always ruins everything!" Chris continued, walking around the table and advancing towards Y/N, who took a few steps back until her back was against the counter, pretending to be scared. "Look at her! She can't even do a simple task without ruining it!"

"I'm so sorry, Chris. I didn't mean to do that..." Y/N made her bottom lip tremble slightly, forcing her own eyes to water. "Maybe it can be fixed-"

"Apologies aren't gonna fix it, Y/N! I'm sick of your messes!" He shouted as he gestured furiously, moving even closer.

Nick stood up from the couch abruptly as he saw his brother getting closer and closer to his best friend, his own fists clenched.

"Enough, Chris. I'm not going to let you talk to her like that. This is ridiculous! You're losing your temper." The oldest triplet shouted angrily, approaching Matt and glaring at Chris, who completely ignored him and continued advancing.

Matt realized within seconds that his brother wasn't going to hear Nick, sending a look towards the older triplet, who quickly shook his head. Nick approached the girl with quick steps, feeling Matt's eyes on his back, moving closer to the couple and placing himself in front of Y/N, crossing his arms firmly, his eyebrows knitting together in an angrier expression.

"Get out of the way, Nick. This is none of your business." Chris imitated his posture, crossing his arms and glaring at him, taking a quick look at his girl behind his brother, seeing her slightly wet face below the light of the room, feeling like crying himself. He hated seeing her upset.

"Oh, but it is my business, yes. She doesn't deserve to be treated like that!" Nick replied, his voice firm. "And if you scream one more time, I swear I'll shove all these mug pieces in your mouth and make you swallow them."

"You're crossing the line, Chris. It's just a mug, man. That's no reason to act like that. She's your girlfriend and a woman, have some respect, Mary Lou didn't teach you that." Matt joined Nick, nodding as he walked over as well, standing close to Y/N, casting a quick look of concern in her direction.

"How can you defend her? She broke my favorite mug due to lack of attention! I'm so sick of-" Chris's sentence was rudely interrupted by Nick, who took a step closer to him, his right hand coming up quickly and his fingers grabbing the tip of Chris's exposed ear, pulling it down hard. "Ouch! Are you fucking crazy? Nick!"

"You will see crazy if you insult my best friend one more time." Nick quickly responded, shrugging and looking down on him.

Chris held his glare for a few more seconds, his blue eyes darting from Matt - who was stroking Y/N's right shoulder lightly, asking in a hushed voice if she was okay - to Nick and back again, his ear starting to burn with pain, until he finally couldn't take it anymore and started laughing.

Y/N stopped pretending to cry and smiled, relieved, quickly wiping her face as a tearful laugh escaped her throat, jokingly pushing Matt lightly.

"Surprise!" Chris said, still laughing. "You've been pranked."

Nick and Matt broke their tense postures within seconds, Matt lowering his arms so they were straight at his sides before turning, looking at the two, confused for a moment.

"You two are such idiots!" Matt exclaimed, raising his right hand and running his fingers furiously across his face, trying to ease the tension that had settled there. "I almost had a heart attack here!"

"I really thought you were out of control, Chris." Nick said, letting go of his brother's ear, rolling his eyes at the wince the younger let out. "Don't ever do that again!"

"You almost got my ear off!" Chris exclaimed, massaging his ear and casting a look of fake horror towards his girlfriend, who laughed quietly at his reaction.

"You'll see what I'll really get off if you do that shit again. You too, Y/N." Nick pointed at the girl, receiving a look of false shock.

"It was his idea!"

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[anantaru]

cunt destroyer wrio 👹

cw. mean & dom wrio, petnames used: baby, doll fem! reader

with his lips parted, jaw slacked, wriothesley's eyes glimmer down on your juddering legs holding on to his hips for their dear life.

how absolute pretty of you to give him such desperate signs that you were so close to your climax— yet his utmost favorite must be your perfectly arched back that made it almost too smooth to fuck you in that precise way.

slow and steady, with his thrusts emphasizing on the slow.

he grips at your chin, his eyes barred on your dizzy expression as he lifts it to make you look up at him with a whimper, "you sure you can last as long as you claimed you would?" wriothesley raises a curious brow before smothering over your giddy thighs with his palm, practically forcing the air out of your lungs.

"because it doesn't look like it, doll," he sneaks out a grumble as he begins to move again— although feel it deeply now, concentrate on how agonizingly slow he slid his cock out of your warmth before greedily grinding it all the way in, easy, again— slow, unhurriedly rubbing over your flaring walls.

"wriothesley, p-please don't tease me now," you mewl, "just a little faster," before taking a moment to swallow the growing lump in your throat as you moan at yet another sizzling thrust— fuck, you're shaking, hot and smoldering at each time he makes you take his dick.

because you can feel it all, his swollen tip breaching through your hole or his lengthy veins pulsating over the flickering skin.

simply all of it. you can feel him more intensely now.

your eyes flicker to your lower region to watch wriothesley on how he's doing it, how on earth he could manage to turn you into this babbling, drooling mess of a person with his slow thrusts. how he's nonchalantly guiding his cock in and out of your hole until you're huffing out hasty breaths of his name, his hips moving lightly as he rests his body weight on top of you.

"hah, please don't tease me now," wriothesley mocks you as he laughs breathily, his dripping erection capturing inches after inches of your walls as you split and part just perfectly to his size. he was so warm inside of you that it rattled your body with goosebumps the more you squeezed and milked him.

you could taste the curves of his length that paraded themselves with one thick, massive vein, the raw feeling of it making you stammer over your precious, cute sobs.

"hey," wriothesley squeezes your thighs, "keep looking at me, doll," he adds and rests his forehead against yours, all the while driving into you with such ravenous slowness that made you experience sharp twitches all across your body, "just don't take your eyes off me," he rasps with one side of his lips pulled up, revealing his white canines.

moan after moan, you fold until those sweet, innocent thrusts that genuinely cracked you apart— and with your body trembling from head to toe, wriothesley suppresses a sudden, rasping groan when you press your heels into his back to have him deeper in you.

just something that would make him snap out of this game.

the duke chuckles, crowding you thickly so you'd be full of his shaft, "don't worry, okay?" he notices your face growing hot as he puts a sickly sweet kiss on the tip of your nose, "i'll take care of you baby, fuck— just trust me, yeah?"

"it will all be worth it in the end."

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[kooyabooya]

SUITS, (STOCKINGS), & TIES

m reader x minju // 9k words

For the record, there aren’t any fingerprints seen underwater. Nothing to tie one to a crime. The trial itself is already a rapid current, pulling you and everyone around the bullpen into the endless sea of papers, payment record documents, video recording transcripts, then more fucking papers, and you absolutely hate it.

Files boxed in dating back to even before taking the damn job, the amount of trips to and from the copying machine, getting the materials right. Avoiding any fuck ups; that too, was always the end goal - staring at the blue folder sitting on your desk until–

Your fucking intercom’s ringing again. 

It’s always a trip, that’s how it usually flows around here: a turn to the left, round the front desk of the floor, hook right down the insanely long walkway, glass windows giving you this nice view of the city skyline. Pretty, at around one in the morning of another late night of work stacked upon your desk. 

Easy enough to also: take a moment to admire the view, since it’s the kind of view that you’d never get over no matter how many times you look at it. You sigh at the playback in your head, something that Chaeyeon talked to you about while hiding away from the pressures of work in her own office, bumping coffee mugs and wishing that the building had sliding windows to let the high breeze through. 

They would never allow that. You tell her, keeping the vibe lighthearted with a laugh. I mean seriously, even if we did, it’s all fun and games until someone in one of the conference rooms below us sees a body hurling down towards the ground at a hundred miles per hour. Chaeyeon complains that the air conditioning doesn’t even reach her office sometimes, and tells you that she’s jealous, wanting to switch places with you since the sun hits her back during the work hours. 

Sweeping past her office, since she’s gone for the day, the carpet gets pressed down by your loafers, tilting your head to see that the office at the very end of the walkway has the lights on, and you do notice the gap where the door should be; meaning that it’s open or someone stepped inside. 

This was the end point of this overbearing yet brief journey. The office that was considered to be base camp, the command center, the brains, one would say. One of the firm’s most well known figures with how she leans back into her chair with a leg across the other, showing that she means business, and knows how to look good while doing it. 

Prior, you loop around the pane entering the room- 

“You’re saying that I should sit back and do nothing?” Minju asks, finger tapping the peak of her nose, clearly pressed. 

“I’m not telling you to,” the woman standing across her with a left hand fastened to the hip with a lean to her right side, “We’re backed into a corner and all I’m saying is that we have to draw back and take this at a new angle.” 

“But you said that last time! And look where it’s got us.” Minju shoots back, both feet on the floor now, drawing herself closer to make a point. You’re trying to not make your presence known, seeing where this exchange is headed, fighting the urge to not butt in and make a fool of yourself. “Cutting a deal with the very same person that is trying to come back and rip everything from us was all part of your plan?” 

“Minju, I know you’re angry but–” 

Minju slaps her hand down on the desk, “We’ve got them right where we wanted, pulled all the stops, and now you want to just back off?” 

“I’m not backing off, I’ve managed to buy us more time.” the woman says, pressing on the rim of her glasses, sighing when Minju doesn’t even bother to look back at her in the eye, flipping through a packet with a pen in her hand to check and see if there was anything that was usable to help the situation. You’ve seen the packet on her desk earlier that way, ran that by Hyewon, her secretary, and now she’s finally looking at it. 

“Two days. That’s all I got until we fall back with the judge.” she says to Minju, “Unless you have something for me on my desk later today, I’m officially and unofficially grounding you.” 

“Dahyun-” 

“Zip it.” Dahyun says, mimicking a pulling motion with her right hand to her lip, “You’re already stretched thin as it is, this case is already taking a toll on all of us and this would be the last thing I need on my mind.” 

A tap to the glass on the entryway, “Is this a bad time?” 

The two women look at you in suspicion, both of them not even realizing that the door was open the entire time, listening to the conversation, “How long have you been standing there?” Dahyun asks, pointing at you while you’re leaned against the glass, foot pointed to the floor all relaxed and everything. 

“I’ve been here long enough, but a little over five minutes.” you answer, blue folder in hand. “Didn’t want to interrupt the usual bickering on a casual Thursday evening.” you also add, stepping inside Minju’s office where it opens up.  

The great Kim Minju, one of the firm’s best lawyers, and Dahyun’s right hand woman, one of the key people sitting at the high table; also your handler of these different cases and adventures that she usually sends you to do or help her with. Her office was classy, a row shelves off to the right side filled with an assortment of vinyls and picture frames of the people that she holds most dear to her heart. A record player was next to this trolley that had a kettle and a bowl of candies (though she doesn’t like to admit that she’s got a sweet tooth); there’s also her violet couch in velvet that you’ve also passed out on multiple times, drunk on the sweet scent that you still have to figure out which one she uses for that. 

“This is the last file for the case I managed to scrounge and put together.” you tell Minju, sliding it over across while her inky eyes dart at you, prompting a questioning eyebrow out of both of you while Dahyun’s gaze falls on top. “Everything in terms of deals within the last year from our target man should be all in there. Though, we had a minor hiccup earlier this week with–” 

“Don’t remind me,” Minju vexes, “That was my screwup with the family and now I’m paying for it.” 

“After I told you not to jump the gun.” Dahyun jumps in, hand on the corner of the granite. She sounds annoyed; after all, she was technically the ‘fall guy’ in all of this with her hiccup also in mishandling the exchanged information, not her fuck up though, since she was set up from the beginning after a hidden clause she signed a long time ago. She also swoops in to grab the file, opening it to skim through the papers, slightly nodding at what she could read for a few seconds. “Impressive,” Dahyun nods, “this is good leverage.” 

“Thank you,” you say, smirking while Dahyun hands you back the file for Minju to look at, pulling it out of your fingers to flip through. “Had some help from Hyewon, but didn’t want to take all of the credit.” 

“Well I appreciate you both.” Dahyun adds, “I had my doubts when I got the call to come back and see what all the fuss was about. Now, I can breathe a little more easily knowing that we have this in the bag, I hope.” 

“I’m still here, you know.” Minju huffs, rolling her eyes.

“Hush,” Dahyun scrunches funnily, taps your shoulder, causing you to shrug nonchalantly, “Thank you for hanging back to help me take care of this while I’ve been dealing with my moving situation. God, it's been a back breaker for me.” 

“How’d that go?” 

“We finally settled in, I had a small housewarming party about a few weeks ago or so, but I’ve been keeping in touch with–” 

“You said that your friend Sana was living in the area too, right? From college?” Minju suddenly asks, pen flat on the paper and fully invested in the life update. Dahyun nods to this while you’re pursing your lips at the news. You’re not one to lend an ear to these things, but you just can’t help yourself when they’re being talked about in the open. Talk about separating privacy and professionalism. 

“Yeah, it’s been good to see her, if it wasn’t for this fucking cas–” 

“Dahyun, it’s fine. We got it.” you tell her, slowly nodding to ease the stress, “You’re already doing so much by coming back from leave to deal this along with us. It shows that you do care about this firm and the reputation that it has.” 

“Look at you being a kiss ass.” Minju deadpans. You pay no attention to that. 

“And not taking this ordeal would've put the firm into crisis mode having the last thing I’d want to happen.” Dahyun scoffs, “Besides, the value is way more than that once all of this is over.” She starts to make her way out of Minju’s office, turning around to face both of you with eye contact, “I assume that you two will close up shop when you’re done?” 

“Don’t even need to remind us.” you tell her, Minju looks up with a soft smile across her face, lightly waving at Dahyun before she gives you two a quick goodbye, leaving shortly after. “She seemed a little more dismissive than usual, like she wanted to give us alone time don’t you think?” 

“I can’t stand her nosy ass sometimes, trying to veer the way how I want to do things.” 

“Ouch.” 

“I’m serious,” Minju shoots back, flipping through the packet, not giving an ounce of care through all of the blacked lines or different clauses in the suggested proposal that would settle this whole case. “I love Dahyun - I mean - she has the spare set of keys to my damn apartment since she moved away, that’s how much she means to me.” 

“Didn’t think you’d be sappy over your boss, especially after the shit show that we’d–” 

“One more word out of your smart mouth and I’ll stop looking through your documents to stall time.” 

“You already signed it, though.” you say, pouting with a frown, “Which also means that this should all officially end by tomorrow.” 

Minju sweeps through the row of open and unopened files spread across her desk, eyes canvassing between the texts and dried ink of signatures, vying for some sort of leverage that would go against Dahyun’s wishes. It’s natural for her to be extremely nitpicky - highlighted with a small curtain of hair falling in front of her forehead, pulling the side of her index finger back while her pretty eyelashes flutter about. She’s refined and very sophisticated, the kind that makes you stop in your tracks one day when she waltzes in the office on her own time, and not that she’s thirty minutes late in the morning. 

Throw the law degree away bucko, maybe that avenue of studying art and architecture would’ve been the better option considering how much you’ve been staring for the past five minutes. 

To fill in, here’s the brief rundown of the position. 

A lot of people would’ve killed to be Minju’s associate. I mean, the woman seeps in ‘getting what she wants’. You could consider yourself lucky, but Minju already had eyes on you from the first second you stepped into her office for the interview. The interview itself wasn’t all that glamorous: renting one of your best friend’s designer suits that would’ve been more usable for a fucking award show spritzed with a cologne that was way out of your league in terms of scent let alone price, a typo on the fucking resume that she looks with an eyebrow for an explanation, and a lasting impression that whatever happens would deem only to be the best going forward. 

Minju wanted someone who excelled both in book and street smarts, be able to get a grasp on the situation faster within the first few seconds of receiving the case or news, and most importantly, to steer Minju’s level of thinking where even the most irrational decisions would be reasonable. 

You hit all the marks, and qualified to be associate. End of story. 

“Everything that we all have here is solid substantial evidence,” Minju cuts in with a paper flipped back to the top of the page, pen flat on her fingers as if she’s fed up with playing reviewing proctor, “Nothing would change with what we already have on the case.” 

“But the conclusion would be different,” you reply, sitting opposite to her, respectfully doing nothing but twiddling a pen between your fingers, considering that you were pretty much done with your bout in the file room earlier today, finding the last bits of documents from the archives that would help into comprising the settlement. “After all, it’ll be you and Dahyun in that conference room tomorrow closing the deal. I’m just passing papers.” 

“I suppose that you’re afraid of taking credit where it counts. Because why put in much effort for this case especially when someone else could’ve handled it when I asked?” 

“Dahyun insisted on coming back to oversee this. Had it been anyone else, the firm would’ve been up in flames if it wasn’t for her quick thinking pulling up the memos and signing payments from all those years ago.” 

Minju closes your blue folder, sliding it off to the side, flipping open her laptop without a flinch before typing away. “You know,” she starts, giving you this quick gaze that has you nicking your head a few millimeters, catching the pen in between your fingers to highlight that she has your attention, “I could’ve done this myself with Hyewon’s help, give you at least some days off after working you down the bone.”

“Now why would you do that?” you ask, four fingertips on the back of Minju’s laptop, closing it slowly while you’re rounding the fine corner of her obsidian desk, thumb wrapping underneath when her chair meets square with your hips. “That’s not very work-efficient for you to do that to me now, is it?” 

“You want to lecture me on how I should make you operate?” 

“She knows about us…by the way.” you tell Minju straightforward, smirking when you see that high arch of her brow, grimacing at the faulty accusation that she already knows by way of presentation. Doesn’t take long also for the different neurons firing in her brain that’s filled to the brim by the way of the law - only for that to be completely flattened out in one of those lobes replaced with various details of what you’re talking about.

“What are you talking about?” Minju asks, tilting her head upward that makes the sight of the high ground utterly so familiar. 

“Dahyun can easily tell that we have something going on,” you remind her, “She can easily read the both of us like a children’s book and–” 

“Bullshit,” her face crinkling with a tone more deaf the the simple drone of a dead phone line, “You know damn well that there’s nothing happening between us, so stop with the conviction.”  

“I’m not saying that you’re being convicted of my point,” you start, pushing her chair away to leave you space when you’re leaning over, seeing her back hit the cushion of the chair where she wiggles more comfortably with both hands on the armrests, “if anything, you’re just simply denying that there was ever really a thing between you and I.” 

“And that should be the end of that, no?” Minju coos, tipping her head a little bit higher, “Can you concur that there is nothing happening between us, especially in the workplace?” 

Minju is a professional, on par with the same archetypes like Dahyun. She’s witty, calculated, knows a lot more things from her experience compared to you, and blowhards herself way too much for anyone’s own liking. Every argument with her always starts with her leading the charge, to make you feel smaller right off the bat so that you’d have no way to counter unless your point seems fit to her points of focus. 

Okay, it may not be every verbal exchange with her on a day to day basis, considering that it’s also filled with witty banter and small inside jokes that could totally fall within the implications of the term ‘flirting’, but nothing ever really escalated from that. 

You also stuck your ears in between conversations during various corporate events and coworker mixers. Hell, even the pool of associates away from the main quarters of partners and senior partners all gave you the necessary praise for the chemistry that you’ve developed with Minju. Some days she wants to have your head on a platter, other days the talks were good, and you two managed to get things done around the office. 

Except for one day, and the details are still a bit murky for you to put up in recording: another workday in the office, maybe a little slow for Wednesday transition from morning to an afternoon -  but a free flowing circulation of phone calls, fax reports, conference appointments with clients, and a running order of Hyewon’s go-to latte from the coffee shop on the first floor. 

Bouncing back and forth between Dahyun’s office and Yuri’s, you make a quick detour towards Minju’s office who happened to slot herself on the left side of you while matching your walking pace. Expecting a quick quip from her like any other morning, you were waiting for it, but she hits you with the ‘file room, now.’ order that has you in-tow right behind her on the way there. 

Though your mind was already in overtime mode with the workload that was dropped to your desk roughly about two hours since arriving, it had already been nonstop and maybe Minju’s time could be quick if it was related to saving the firm from being purged by pulling some old papers in the filing room. Somewhere along those lines, your mind gets blanked out from the cramped space of the metal shelves, those dusty boxes, compounded by dim lighting in the room already. 

What you do remember: 

The small little gasps and hums when you’re sucking along the line of Minju’s neck, gripping the fistfuls of her dress and sliding your hand along her thighs. 

(So much for keeping it professional with the woman who’s also technically your primary boss.)

“How do you want to go about this?” you ask, “Do you want me to persuade you into telling Dahyun that we need a little more time?” 

Minju hums, pensively, as the question itself is rather a tempting decision that’s also actionable at best. You could see the small lump from the inside of her cheek before she shifts it across her upper lip to the other side, twisting her chair forward to place both elbows on the desk with fingers intertwined like she’s praying for the Lord’s insight from above. “We’ve been on the nose with this thing for too long now, I think it’s about time to cut our losses before things get ugly.” 

You don’t say anything, leaning yourself onto the obsidian while your arms bridge themselves together, flexing the wool in the threads when she makes eye contact with you, flicking her eyes back onto the paper where there’s a few blank lines that still need to be written in ink. 

With a simple lift of her signature ballpoint pen by you, she takes it, twirling it around like you were doing a few minutes ago to imply that your point finally got through to her, fingers grazing along the fine paper to fill in the gaps. 

But the vantage point where your ass is pressed against the edge is proving to be some sense of uncomfortability, so you change course, from left to right, vacant chair adjacent to the desk in your hands in a fraction of a second, scooching closely while Minju scoffs at the prying during the task, “Didn’t think it’d be that easy for you to be cooperative with the demands.” 

“Stop,” and Minju sings this with the better facade of her naivete, “Unlike you, I’m willing to actually listen to what's being asked from the first try, and not have it repeated to me through different remarks.”  

You get too close, too soon, when the ends of her hair brushes against the front corner of your lips and cheek, she could hear the air close at the bottom of your throat when the tip of your nose barely grazes her cheekbone. A moment like this occurred before, you could say it’s in the sense of deja vu: Minju invites you out for some quality time between partner and associate, a few drinks were on the table, and Minju challenges you to a simple game of pool. 

Sounds pretty mangable and straightforward, right? 

Wrong. 

You get shafted by Minju the first game, pull yourself back the next round. There’s this back and forth like usual banter between colleagues, dishing out trash talk for some good ol’ competition. The count of drinks gets lost along with the perception of time, and this happens on impulse when you’re backed into a corner with the eight ball being the last one for Minju while you’re behind on three solids. She rambled about you being always two steps behind and you can’t blame or deny the fact that she’s also way out of your league, so what do you do? Take the pleasantries of hums to your advantage, molding your hips along with hers, calloused hands lightly clinging onto the denim while your chin nestles into her collarbone, saying carelessly with intent of taunting, don’t you think you should call the last shot if you do make it? 

Minju nips her lip triumphantly, turning her head, catching on with what you’re incessantly doing, whispering her call: left corner pocket. The attention to the black ball slips out of your mind when she presses your lips onto your cheek, a fatal blow while the space opens up between you again, tipping her head back also lets you know that you lost the best of three series, which also meant that the loser has to pay the bill. 

(You pay your dues, but also add the pay up by making your own call: pocketing yourself into Minju’s cunt on her bed later that would only serve all the wiser.) 

A flashback in your mind that took minutes, only to be reeled into the real world by merely seconds, “You missed one more claus–” 

That gap could be filled after, because this deal on the agenda was more important to deal with. 

Minju grabs you by the tie, leveling your head with hers. Your hands are quick to smooth out her skirt from behind, letting the various files and dossiers rest across the desk or on the floor, depending where her hands land for a proper hold. Some lights stay on long after hours, to serve as a subtle ambience that no matter what time it may be, someone’s still hard at work on a case, or waiting for their personal driver on the ground floor. Though, some other cases include a well-spoken conversation, or even just chatting between colleagues - this chat about work with Minju however, was anything but that. 

Right off the bat, you’re reminded of how Minju is so easy to break down, despite her having a front that has every possible contingency of shutting herself away from others because she’s not that kind of character to be soft and open, until where your fingers are dancing alongside the slope of her bottoms at the hips, thumb rounding the hard end with a slow pull of her chair to reel closer until you’re at the edge of your seat. 

The move itself is so subtle, setting her on the desk in a similar position that you were in while she was signing through the documents with her ass pressed against the desk, scooching back while dancing with her tongue, lips parted with her head tilted. You’ve also managed to get your hands underneath Minju’s perfect thighs, lifting her up to the tabletop, spreading her long limbs much like to that excerpt of Moses parting the Red Sea, dipping your hand underneath to get a feel of her lace. 

Minju’s breaths become slightly erratic, nearly short-circuiting the more your fingertips dance along the line of her skirt; inner thighs pressing along the side of your hips while you cater your mouth and fingers in her hair, her neck, the growing heat rising in the skin when she whimpers through your teeth given how cold it was in the room. How your fingertips graze along the slightly damp fabric with one- maybe two tips, you chuckle softly at how she’s very responsive to the touch, the small clutch around your neck and back from her arms to serve as a safeguard. 

This is something that you’ll probably take to the District Attorney, let alone have Dahyun in the loop, in the specific case where you find yourself with no other option, a last resort to drown her into the ground: 

“Let me ask you this again,” you prompt with another received kiss to the growing swell of your bottom lip, “Are you sure that there’s nothing happening between us? Especially in the workplace?” 

Minju gasps out before you shut her up with your lips, channeling the moan when you increase the intensity of swirling around her clit, putting her hips out forward to sate that ache for at least something, anything. 

“You’re certain that you can say with full confidence that you have no kind of interest in me, whatsoever, admit to me right now that I’m correct.” 

You could tell from the look on her face and the moan she lets out, vocal cords open and freely flowing with the heavy tone while crumbling at the touch, all hot and wet and losing most of the plot at this point before even getting to the real business. It’s really wicked, how this woman as your boss flaunts around the floor, knowing that she won’t let anything get in her way for getting the case done, doing whatever it takes to see it through to the end and even if the methods aren’t within the boundaries. 

Like you could handle the boundaries yourself, playing nice isn’t always the way to go. 

While your hand hikes up the smooth skin of her thigh, feeling an unfamiliar ridge, a weave, something that hugs her leg that probably deserves to be there, to help with the appearance and everything- maybe not or maybe so, you’ll assess when the moment gets there. She grips around what she could touch in terms of your blazer, hips pushing forward at the flex of muscle when you’re scratching the surface of her clothed cunt, the ripple effect shown in her body as she arches first, then sighs into your collarbone the next. 

“Mmn, pretty–” Minju groans out, letting a small hiss through the porcelain cracks of her teeth, “so well, so, so amazing.” 

You’ll seek out the wants, the needs, the odds to break even, testing out the very little restraints in patience left while this cold-hearted woman is melting into your touch, giving you the benefit of having free reign over her body, when she’s murmuring these little hums and broken phrases that switches back to yours with more perversion. 

“I need an answer from you.” Playing prosecutor against the defense wasn’t always ideal unless it’s a mock trial, but you’re always one to challenge Minju, getting her to see your points on a day to day basis, proving her wrong when you know it’s impossible to. She can see right through you, always letting you take the loss, never accepting a victory that you rightfully deserved. You’ll be good, go to her when you’re in a rut, she expects it to happen, that’s how loyalty works. Though, there’s nothing wrong with being defiant. “Don’t make me ask again.” 

It’s all a tease, the way you let the lace dip underneath the slit with the extra press of fingers, toying with the soaking walls and fighting the urge to tug the strings the more you repeat the same fucking routine–

“Baby,” she croons, it’s pathetic. You’re about to get worked up too if you play the waiting game, dragging your thumb across her clit so delicately that she’s quivering, squirming, feeling the tense in her shoulders through the button up, hanging onto your forearm when the hold gets a little too tight. Those breathy gasps get your mind ahead to what’s coming, the natural instinct of what you’ll do to her in her office, on top of her desk, and maybe even on that stupid velvet couch if need be. 

You can hear the huffs more clearly down your ear, the rise and fall of her upper body when you coax her for a few seconds; she’s spiraling out of control, a whine gets suppressed with a press of lips to her throat, and she stumbles back on her arm, spreading wider in mirth. 

She’s shaking her head, eyes screwed shut, like wincing, the whine too - holy hell - it’s reminding you after that night at the bar with her, a moment coming full circle. 

A hand sweeps through her hair, fingers carding, you kiss that sweet spot just underneath her earlobe, a lick from the tip of your tongue to get her more fitful, bring the desperation and sluttiness out of her lips. 

“Do you have- “ she’s sputtering out the letters and consonants, intertwined with hitches and moans, “any idea of what you do?” Minju can’t stay composed while the nips at her jaw and neck close the distance between her mouth–

“Haven’t had the slightest.” you whisper, hiking up the last bit of her skirt to see the new piece to untangle, “God, Minju- lacy stockings? Really?” 

The laugh she lets out should set you off in annoyance, almost like a border that’s meant to be there and never to be touched - let alone cross, fingers clasped around the nape of your neck to keep you trapped while she smiles to the small victory, “You sound surprised. I always come to work with these pairs from time to time, but you don’t leer when I want you to.” 

Her eyes flutter shut once again when you tend to her pulse point, mouth gaping open when you’re doing two things at once: soothing the warmth on her neck while your fingers work teasing her clit and walls, a punishment of sorts when she’s reeling back onto the desk with a slipping hand, her other limp gripping your forearm to not stop - but keep going. 

“How long–” Minju asks while she’s practically sliding off of the polished bark, “have you waited to do this…to me?” Strands of hair falling forward ever-so slightly in front of her forehead, hand tangled to the back of your head while your ear is pressing against the hard line of her collarbone. You don’t pay any attention to her subjective inquiry, replacing it with another strand of moans leaving her lips when you skate her ass across the table again, the bottoms of her thighs meeting yours, melting a bit more when her core rubs against the emerging bulge from between your legs. 

She knows what she’s doing, it’s a trade off of pushing buttons. Trying to get you to lose all the sensible urges just to give her what she exactly wants. 

You let your hands map out the case: her hips, the flat plane of her waist, where the peak of her hips meet at the hint of her obliques, only for your digits to spread out behind on the curve of her ass, feeling the lacy panties that might go against dress code policy because of how too fucking thin they were. Minju grins against your mouth, the exchange of hot air serving to be this addicting oxygen that you can’t get enough of. “Who knows how long I’ve wanted to have a crack at you. I just put myself off to the side because I knew that I’d never stand a chance.” 

She laughs, and you hate to admit how much you like it. The image of her being disheveled in front of you, just inches away from the fingertips; legs spread out wide on her own desk, waiting to be ruined. 

“What’s going through your head right now?” Minju asks, tossing her arm on the lower section of your waist, seizing you while failing to meet her glazed eyes. “Have you…fantasized about me? Tell me all about it. I’m intrigued. Want to know what gets you off after work.” 

And there it goes again: the banter. She’s always quick for a couple liners, sayings and slang that you’ve shared with her day in day out. Minju isn’t the kind of person to greet you with a ‘good morning’ or ‘want to get a quick drink or bite from the cafe downstairs?’ - but rather: right down to the dirty business of what she needs you to do in the long, extensive hours of the workday, dealing with clients, putting up with her and Hyewon’s bullshit, getting the necessary paperworks, and having some random beef with Yena in the break room. Minju is always quick to give you insight on what needs to happen, you also supply your own opinions and takes where Minju does accept some of them (most of the time). 

Except for this, when her cropped blazer is barely hanging off the shoulders, skirt hiked up past the peak of her thighs, displaying that wet spot in between her unbelievable legs, pulling you by the tie because she doesn’t have time for you to fucking daydream saying: “C’mon, pretty boy. You’re basically drooling in front of me and we haven’t even got to the fun parts yet–” 

She stops short when you lay the rough palm of your hand against her pussy, hushing through the cuff of her ear, grip tightening and muscles tensing in her body as if something snapped within you - which it did for a slight second - before you draw yourself back, finally looking her in the brown ambers of her eyes. 

“I had a dream once,” you finally built up the courage to start, “about being here, in your office.” landing a kiss to the corner of her lip to keep yourself focused. On a night just like this, where you’re sitting nicely on top of your desk. Your legs were spread apart like so. Minju coos when she sees you lightly licking your lips. It would’ve been better if you were already out of your clothes, naked for me. Her head dips forward when she feels the languid circles rubbed across her clit, I fucked you right here, on this desk. And then, I ruined that pretty little couch that you love so much apparently. 

“God, you’re insane.” She’s acting innocently like she too hasn’t been teasing you out and around the workplace before this. 

Insane? It becomes a little bit more deranged where Minju’s jaw drops to the floor when she hears the sinful sound of her lacy panties being ripped away from her hips. 

“Oh, I could do a lot more for you right now, and believe me, I will.” You assess the drainage when your finger plunges into her cunt; the sharp inhale she takes in while saying ‘shit’ is only brief when you’re thrown off by her walls tightening around you, her hands working the buckle of your belt and slithering past the pants. 

“And how do you suppose you’ll keep your word?” she asks, fingers coiling your cock, the reaction easily readable judging from the loss of breath through your windpipe.

“Consider this as wet work.” 

“Wet work?” 

This attractive woman who’s posture could rival classy models, with those perfect lips in both sets, the image now being unraveled like an item being auctioned off to the highest bidder: how her legs open enough for you to fill the space, the way her bra sits across her chest once the blazer is finally discarded onto the floor. (She’s pretty now, she’ll be even prettier when you have your way over her, helplessly letting these soft sounds out, coming undone over or underneath, it won’t matter either way, because that’s always the endgame.) 

“You’ve got your skirt on still,” you observe, pulling her closer to the edge of the slab, “I don’t know if-” 

“Ignoring the double entendre you made?” she gasps, struggling to keep composure when the ends of your fingers, tightening her grip around your cock while the other arm is thrown around your shoulder, “just-please-like that-fuck-oh fuck-” 

Minju sort of hides away from the immense pressure in her cunt and her clit, seeing the usual features on her face show a little more crease to them, slacking with her words, lost, feeling every bit of you, huffs of poor syllables and consonants, octaves going up in keys. You’re loving how needy she’s getting. 

What’s the matter? You whisper against her chin. You don’t seem too well. Body burning up? Too hot for you to handle? She’s gone too far off to answer, only by huffs and light nods of her head, the flex in her knees, hands across your broad back, working herself around your fingers, groaning when it gets all too much. 

The idea of staying at the firm for the night doesn’t seem that bad of an idea to do. 

“Fingers, babe,” she whines, rasping in moans at the ends of them, “fingers are too fucking good, want it- so bad-give me a–fuck-” 

Her eyes are screwed shut, clinging onto your body desperately while she starts to work the buttons off your shirt; starting in the middle rather than the top or bottom because she can’t think straight. But she diverts her hands instead to the loops on your sides, wiggling you out of your pants more - keeping herself moving while trying to ignore the throbbing that’s happening between her legs. 

“Tell me what you need, boss,” you say, a little tinge of sincerity behind the professional title. “Maybe put some solidity to this little affair?” 

Minju gives you this glare, scattered ends of her hair covering the little blush that’s all too apparent across her cheeks, failing fantastically the way she lets out this wail when your two fingers fill up her cunt completely, pulling her over the edge of the desk one last time as you mesh your hips right in the underside of her thighs, body leaning back with the arch bending a whole lot deeper, head back while you lean yourself forward that tips over a few trinkets across the desk; some picture frames fall face flat, that one pendulum set you’d always mess around with in the morning briefings nicks around in disarray, and her nameplate kinda just gets hit in the crossfire by Minju’s stray hand and onto the floor. 

“Call this,” she sputters, gasping, heaving most likely, “a hot and steamy affair.” 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” you retort, “don’t get smart with me now.” 

She just looks at you with that same sly smirk she’s been wearing whenever she teases you about anything. You find it annoying at times because of how effortless she does it, this time her breaking smile doesn’t match up with her eyes and how they are dead, sincere with a desire waiting to be fulfilled, a craving that’s been long overdue simply because you know that Minju is not an easy person to break down, though that’s been proven to be the complete opposite now. 

There’s this priming for a second, your own hand wrapped around your cock, getting close, until you nudge yourself from the first few inches inside her cunt, feeling the small press to push more, replaced with the easy glide inside the compact, yet addicting heat. It’s also kinda cute how you and Minju share this quick inhale - a hiss would be better to describe it - then you see her blown out irises, that sly smile getting more lazier, lost completely when you drag the half of your length out, slowly, steadily. 

“Wait, fuck-” she mumbles out, laying flat across the top. Her chest rises and falls a little more erratically, eyelids fluttering shut when you sink back right in, deeper this time, delicately, a little tease with the pullout before feeling her out completely. You learn for the first time ever since stepping inside that one room that day for the interview: that small thought of how it would be so easy to slot yourself right into Minju would be nothing but a pipe dream, becomes too real to relish in the feeling now. 

Then she mumbles again: “holy fucking shit.” 

You give one good snap of the hips for good measure, and the ripple effect of Minju’s body sliding across the desk, the wiggle in her perfect tits, her hands hold fast to yours around her thighs as if she’ll do the fucking all by herself while you just stand there in awe. 

But you’re good as fucked if you weren’t already, so you snap your hips back into her again, harder. Then again, filling up her perfect cunt each and every time you bottom out. You’ll take this image to your grave, let this be the last piece of evidence submitted to the judge who’ll sentence you do a much safer place in hell: MInju’s pretty body, with stockings around her perfect legs, tits sliding across her chest in every stroke, cock disappearing inside her cunt as her pretty lips fit around them with ease. 

“Minju, I - God,”, you try to tell her, the promise buried in your throat, buried underneath the air that flows right above the words, as your hips meet hers, the audible smack of her thighs filling up the office, how amazing she’s massaging your length well deep inside her, all slicked up and smooth for you to keep going. “I’ve been waiting for this- dreaming how to get you all stretched with this tight pussy. Your cunt, baby. Minju–” 

“You’ve shown me why - why I chose you, out of everyone else - show me again how good you can-” she breathes. When her mouth trails off again, because of the strokes, the clench in her pussy, hands clinging onto your wrists as you cast your own hands onto her waist. 

Eventually, nothing sounds better than the noises she makes against your collarbone, angling deeper where - you find out on the fly, and maybe something to keep in mind for later. It’s all coaxed out when you’re working her to the wall, holding her carefully while she can just keep herself stretched out, working all of the bundle of nerves across the spots inside her cunt. 

“More, honey,” and the pet names just seem to escalate as they come, do they? She sets herself up on a wobbly elbow, seeing the flex of muscle across your arms and stomach each time you rip into her, fucking her with a steady pace, but teetering on the subtle rawness, that hidden potential that sets yourself apart from the other talents you have working as one of the top employees. “Love it when you- fuck me to pieces.” 

"Anything else you want to say to me?"

“What’s also nice is that,” she continues to ramble (another thing that you’ve heard make rounds through the wings), dizziness shown in her eyes, the continuous clapping of her pulsing cunt, tightening around you, molding her into the perfect shape of - “how you continue to surprise everyone here, including me-” 

A string of curses spill out your mouth, Minju can’t help with the mix of laughs and moans at how good you feel inside her, the sight of your cock vanishing between her legs, putting one past the degree where her knee nearly touches her clothed tit, and that gets her wincing for a quick second. You’ll probably put this in a mental file, how you’ll get her to molten cunt more creaming until she cums, cums, cums and cums-

“-you’re like me, but only as a handsome guy who continues to impress-” 

Anything else that comes out of her mouth in lieu of praise will only feed that ego in your mind to get one over her, to say that you’ll always be two steps behind her while she’s five ahead. She doesn’t let you off easily, so why would you do the opposite for her? Rocking your hips towards hers makes the legs of the desk mirror the motion of your tempo, thumbs pressed up against the mold of her ribs just underneath her breasts, deep into the skin where you could also bend the bones beneath them while they rebound off of the smacks. 

You’ve got your hand over her mouth, to shut her up, eyes squinted tight to where her brows could meet in the middle, grasping onto your wrist while the muffles of your name reach higher in octaves, sobbing in her moans while she’s suffocating against the roughness of your palm.

She can’t keep focus for any moment longer, eliciting shorter gasps when you tease by slapping your cock head on the nub of her clit, gritting her teeth at the shameless tease you’re giving. 

“Can-” it’s a little sweltering to notice that she’s reduced to helpless one word blurbs, slipping inside of her once again to make her chest freeze off of the flares in her waist. “harder- i need you to-” 

The shiver that erupts through your fibers sends you in limbo, feeling Minju’s ankle anchor behind your back, serving as the reins when you stutter in pace, ass hanging off of the desk to completely bottom her out, and your cock is constantly getting soaked with a new layer of her slick each time you pull back. 

That low groan she lets out meshed with the word ‘fuck’ undermines her whole persona. Once known for being straightforward with her words, now lurching you in to keep pounding into her, slaps bouncing off the windows when she tries to perch her head upwards to see the damage, but slowly losing tension in her neck, deprived of focus when she lolls her head back to the original spot, sucking in air, sobbing even more loudly. 

“Please, like that, keep doing that, I’ll let you anything to me, just–” You could see her lip wobble a bit slightly, cunt shaped to every minute detail of your cock, “i’m so- so fucking close, you fuck me so good- so well–” 

“So tight,” you say, deep of that desired well. Minju is past the point of where the obscene words and demands can’t even be verbally said anymore. She’s whimpering, lazy wrist over her mouth again, the little strands in her hair bouncing along as one of the ripple effects caused by your length. “Gonna have you aching for me long after-” 

It’s all royally fucked. 

The way that she, oh- 

How she clamps well around you, the new coat of her arousal soaking your crotch. When you’ve edged her out past the bar and how her whole body spasms in strain and ease, she’s clutching for something within arms reach - your hands and fingers, or anything that she can grasp - while these sinful sounds unravel her from her vocal cords. Her eyes look like they can’t open at all; with the small stream of stray tears falling from her cheek. You’re also crinkling your own features, jaw hung low with the bellowing moan leaving your mouth along with hers. 

You could easily get lost in the reveling of Minju cumming over your cock, but you’re not seeing this through to the end not just yet. 

In one swift motion, you flip her over, hook her waist, pull this one party trick of stripping her bra away from her chest, pushing her back down to which she giggles slightly. “Here.” you tell her, mouth well above the lobe of her ear, hanging her ass off the desk again. “I’m just getting started.” 

Minju puts this lazy smile on her face, eyelids still closed, using whatever energy left that you haven’t dicked out of her to catch her breath, sliding her palms across the desk downwards to set herself in place. “God,” she says this as a revelation, “you are so fucking good.” 

A low chuckle is all she hears while you pull her back up against your stomach, twisting her head up to your lips, pressing them to her cheek, while she traps her bottom lip between her teeth. 

You say this as a serving rebuttal: “I’m better than good.” 

Minju can be selfish at times, always willing to put her own personal interests over yours or anyone else’s (most of the time). But when you’ve broken her down to this: knees apart, your back flush with hers on her favorite couch, pushing well past the limit, driving your cockhead down the deepest depth to where you could get it, cupping the crease where her leg and hip meet, clasping with the pads of your fingers, dragging and impaling her what could be a punishment for her - or a reward to the limitless amounts of things that she wants and receives on almost every occasion. She’s the kind of woman to play the long game, hard to get, make someone like you grind your way in order to rail her in the most intense-rough fuck that she loves (but won’t admit), or the excruciating delay of feeling every nerve binded inside her walls, where the veins of your length just graze slightly enough to feel the tense in her muscles, her hands; going limp while lazily whining at the slide of your dick inside her cunt, playing with her while she’s whimpering at you to finish the job. 

“God fucking dammit,” she manages, laying herself flat while you’re hovering right on top of her, taking your cock while she can only grip the seat covers. It’s all there, bare back and ass, the set of stockings still on her majestic thighs. You’re hitting her hips hard and heavy, the stable and slow strokes while she fills your ears with these strings of babbles that aren’t really conceivable to decipher or understand. She got a little to excited, bouncing her ass back against your cock while you just drop your arms and admired the show, before pushing deep with your balls nicking the clit at the end of every thrust, and that earns you these thick gasps, only taking you whole with every slam of your weight against her nimble body. “God, I- fuck- need you all the time, please.” 

“Whatever you want,” you hush against the crook of her neck. That is something that you’ll take to heart under oath. She croons at how you're spilling all of these filthy things in her ear, a guarantee of sorts to the promises that have already bent the both of your minds into obliviion. "If it helps to stop you from fucking those other scumbags you call 'your clients' on a weekend basis, then I'll give it to you, sweetheart."

The self-control went off the rails a while ago, this was just free real estate with the endless cantations of moans coming out of her. "Need me to cum inside this sopping cunt so badly?" you ask, pulling a handful of hair that lifts her by the neck, "love using this pussy to get myself off."

She's giggling at the action because it's necessary. You could imagine the grin on her face for the entire world to see. "Words baby, or I'll cum-"

“Fuck- just, do anything- I want you.” Minju gasps with a whine tinged behind the words. It’ll be in the records, spoken into existence. She could care more less than a fuck of what others think after all of this is over. Pace slowing down, feeling that throb tremor against her walls when you’ve held out for this long, an overdue reward in itself. 

It just took one more good hit to bury your cock into that perfect pussy, spilling everything, sending it deeper in the trenches of her cunt, fucking yourself in while she’s putting some effort to say your name, only for it to be overpowered by the gluttal moans you’re letting out while the shackles of tension finally come loose. Her head is pressed enough to leave a visible print on the cushions, crying before the shudder translates to her noises when you drive all the way in for one final time, letting the pulse die out; every heartbeat, every drop. 

Your nose is pressed into the side of her head, taking in that sweet scent from her hair, showered in bliss, tangling and untangling until she takes rest in your arms, straddling your lap, chin forming alongside the small dip in your collarbone. 

Minju offers this lazy smile, matching your rise and fall of breaths in your chest, blowing this hint of cool air to your neck that makes you twitch slightly from the sudden sensation, lips against the line of your throat: 

“A hot and steamy affair, huh? I think I can let that pass by.” 

“You really want to call it that?” you inquire, hands sliding down to the plush of her ass. 

Minju simply laughs while you shake your head at the rhetorical question. “All honesty though, I thought that you and-” 

“We are not going there.” you tell her, leaning back when she sets herself straight in your arms, hands along broad shoulders with the curtain of her hair falling towards one side. Definitely something that you’ve had in a wet dream before - talk about having deja vu. “Absolutely not.” 

It’s when she trails her fingertip across the chiseled form of muscle across your chest, elevating her hand higher to cup your face. She gives you this look in her eyes, the kind that would make anyone keel over because as you’re reminded: Minju is someone who always gets what she wants. And when she rubs her thumb across your cheek, your cock jumps a few millimeters underneath her hips to which she notices, and seizes the opportunity presented to her. 

Leaning forward with a purring whisper in the act, and you’re suspended in time while she moves. “I think I should repay you for treating me right just now.” 

Minju has never owed anything to you. For the most part in your career, it was her that has given you these chances to make a name for yourself, to prove that you could go toe to toe with the best in the court, to prove to her why she chose you out of countless others to be her associate. If anything, you owe pretty much everything to her. 

But maybe-

Maybe just this once-

“My little pretty boy needs to have his cock all cared for, right?” she asks when she sinks down to the edge of the disgraced couch, spreads your knees apart, eyes trained on you, lowering her head to swipe her tongue across your balls and the base of your shaft, feeling that same twitch in your cock when she gets a dainty hand across the length, well trained with the languid strokes that she’s giving you; it’s not hard to give in to that searing heat of her mouth while you’re trying to find the right words to respond. 

(The options here are very limited: considering the fact that you have your hips forward with your friend / partner / new love interest slobbering all over your length, rubbing the head of your cock across her pretty face until she drains you out completely, painting her cheek white and bathing in the taste of your cum while you’re struggling to stay awake. 

After all, you could just spend the night here at the firm bearing in mind how late it is. 

Or better yet, have Minju stay at your place to not give Dahyun another headache to deal with the next morning.) 

[yandere--stuck]

would u ever write more for stanley.. its so dry out here.. stanation is suffering in a drought……….

You're so right, I'm so sorry, Stanation!!!!

---

🎱 Stanley's obsession for you manifests into rocketing between pitiful internal justification for his possessive feelings for you and deep, deep self-loathing and disgust with himself while trying to distance himself from you. Oh, and who could forget, Stanley allowing himself to indulge in fantasies of you returning his feelings and living out happily ever after together. Ha, like that'll ever happen! … But, a man can dream, can't he? Just nice, sappy, romantic stuff, you know? Cuddling together in bed, making the kids breakfast with sleep still in both your eyes, watching the sunset together on the porch, and scaring off any lousy creep that tries to take what's his with one of his many guns. In fact, he may already be doing that last one.

🎲 Talks a big game and acts like a tough guy around you, but it couldn't be further from the truth - at least when it comes to you. In reality, when Stan's around you, he feels one second away from breaking and acting like a lovesick puppy. He feels like a kid with a crush! He hasn't felt this way since he was a young man! It'd be embarrassing if it, if you, didn't make him so happy. He just feels lucky he hasn't turned into a babbling, blushing idiot in front of you or the kids. That's for when your backs are turned. There have been some close calls, though. Like the time he got so lost in listening to you speak that he hadn't realized he'd started resting the side of his face on his hand while staring at you, hearts practically in his eyes. The moment he realized, he'd run off from you with a shout of, “Nonspecific excuse!”

🎱 Stan is a bit of a collector, and that certainly doesn't stop with you. He loves snatching little keepsakes from you. Nothing you'd miss, or nothing you'd miss for long. Discarded doodles, forgotten gloves, change that had fallen to the floor unnoticed, and occasionally, your phone, to make sure he didn't have a competition. Everything he keeps goes into his study. He also likes swiping your unfinished snacks or drinks and finishing them himself - he thinks of it as an indirect kiss (yeah, he's gross, what of it?) And it's hard to admit even to himself, but he gets a certain thrill whenever he snaps a candid shot of you from one of the polaroid he swiped from stock for “store use.” That's not all, though! He goes through security camera footage and rifles through it for cute videos of you - ah, but hey, you're always cute, aren't you? He saves them all and watches them religiously. He also may secretly go through Mabel's scrapbook to find pictures of you and make copies of them for his own personal collection, always making sure it gets returned to Mabel seemingly untouched. It's probably the most organized collection he has! And, of course, he's put a framed picture of you right beside the one of Mabel and Dipper in the laboratory downstairs. It makes Stan think of an imagined, impossible world where you and he raise the two together. Your own little family.

🎲 Another fantasy he indulges in is drugging you up and keeping you hidden in the laboratory. It'd be so easy. You're so trusting of him when you really shouldn't be, when he doesn't deserve to be. It'd be so easy to steal you away all for himself. Gravity Falls is a weird town. Strange things happen, and they either go unremembered or unspoken. Sure, you'd be missed, but it's not like the police force in town would get very far. Heck, he'd put more faith in his grand-niblings cracking the case than Blubs and Durland! And, well, you stole his heart first. It's only fair. And Stan would take such good care of you, he knows it! He'd keep you all nice and drugged up. Maybe you'd be euphoric and clingy, or your brain too foggy to escape or do much for yourself, or maybe he'd give you something so that you're too sick to even consider leaving for the hospital lest your condition worsen any further. You'd need him. That's all he'd ever want.

🎱 Stan is very protective of you. He tries not to be so obvious, but his temper had such a short fuse when it came to you. You were just so sweet, so nice, even to a scumbag like him! You were so good with the kids, always such a help around the shack, even going so far as to visit on your day off just because you liked the Pines’ company. Liked his company. I mean, how the hell could anyone think they're good enough for you? Nah, nah, nah, he's not letting any mouth-breathing idiots in this town try to make moves on you just because they're too stupid to realize you're outta their league! And if he even thinks he hears someone a bad word about you, he'll be up in their face, cussing them out and making threats (as well as very rude hand gestures.) It's embarrassing for him afterwards, though. He doesn't want to think he's losing control and becoming more obvious, but with how Mabel claims it was ‘so sweet’ of him to be so protective of you, he can't help but worry.

🎲 Stan gradually becomes more physically affectionate with you. “Accidentally” brushing his hands against yours, leaving a hand on your shoulder or arm for a bit too long, nearly embarrassing himself by wrapping you up in a hug in front of everyone. He just can't help it! He's… He's in love! He's in love with you, and he wants to be with you. You make him happy just by being near him. You make his life better just by being in it. He wants to hold you, hug you, kiss you, be with you, and keep you with him forever. But, Stan also knows he can't. You'd never agree to it, surely. No matter how much Stan wants to think otherwise. Old bastard like him, he wasn't good enough for you - but then again, he thought no one was. But he could take comfort in you just being near him (if you ever tried to leave, he doesn't know what he'd do…) That way, at least, he couldn't screw anything up. That's all he'd do, anyway. It'd fail, just like all of his other relationships and all because of him. He should know better. He should know that he's a fuckup, that he destroys everything he touches, and that everyone he's ever known has suffered because of him. He just… He just wishes he could be closer. He knows he's not good enough for you to love him or need him and that he never will be, but God, does he wish he was.

[choerypetal]

Envy and Passion / Coriolanus Snow

summary : being the daughter of Casca Highbottom had its advantages and challenges. As long as one maintained a private and noble demeanor associated with the family name, there were benefits to enjoy. However, the downside came in the form of her father's deep-seated animosity towards the Snow family. despite this, the Coriolanus Snow devised a plan to reunite her, foreseeing a journey towards greatness, enduring purity, lust and a lasting legacy.

ps ; read part two!!

english isn't my first language, so i excuse for small typo or error mistakes. ps : please don't copy my work or use it without proper credit! thank you

You experienced contentment as a student at the Capitol's Academy, all thanks to your father's insistence that you become involved in his work until graduation. It was during your final year that the announcement for the 10th Hunger Games came unexpectedly early. While you had expected to work alongside Dr. Gaul as a Gamemaker, you found yourself assisting during the reaping ceremony. It was there that you first encountered Snow. 

"No distractions." Your father emphasized, implying a prohibition on interactions with your classmates. Despite the difficulty in ignoring the palpable tension between him and Snow, a part of you harbored a wish that, without the animosity, a friendship could have blossomed. That's what you longed for—a connection you could deem as friendship. To everyone’s surprise, Highbottom's daughter being chosen among the mentors became the talk of the Academy, thrusting you into the limelight against your wishes. Being the center of attention was something you despised the most.

"Miss Highbottom." Dr. Gaul greeted you as you entered the room designated for the impending reaping ceremony. The enthusiasm in her voice hinted at some special arrangements for your role and, perhaps, your involvement in a specific aspect of the Games. However, such expectations shifted when you observed Snow's silhouette standing beside her. A brief exchange between the two suggested an ongoing conversation, making you contemplate to excuse yourself of interrupting further. Despite this, Dr. Gaul, with her customary smile, welcomed your presence and inquired. "Have you met Mr. Snow?"

Did you meet him? Undoubtedly, you had. Given your father's openly declared animosity towards him, it was clear that some past conflict existed between your father and Snow's. Yet, the perplexing part was why such strong feelings were directed at the son, who was merely alive and fulfilling the responsibilities of a dutiful citizen. That remained a mystery to you. "Certainly, I have. My father never stops talking about him. How he 'adores' him." you replied with a touch of irony. In the peculiar logic of your father, adoration seemed to coexist with complete disdain. 

Snow's demeanor appeared uneasy in your presence, yet he quickly regained confidence when he noted your affirmation. Whether you were suggesting this to please Dr. Gaul or for some other reason, he intended to assert his dominance once alone, especially with a member of the Highbottom family. However, instead of confrontation, he simply smiled and acknowledged the subtle comment. "I can't say I'd be eager to hear what Y/N's father thinks of me, let alone my family's name." He remarked. 

"Don't take it personal." You suggested, a smile playing on your features as you attempted to lighten the moment while conversing with Snow. It was intriguing to encounter the Snow your father so vehemently despised, and yet, here he was, appearing composed and not entirely matching the description your father painted. "My father has always had a soft spot for pretty faces." You added with a hint of irony.

In the realm of subjective beauty, Snow found it almost amusing to consider that you held your own private entertainment. Embracing your father's comments, you became a figure easily envied, yet the tension shared between them made it difficult not to be stirred. Fairly speaking, you stood out as one of the most attractive girls in the class, alongside Clemensia; the two of you complemented each other seamlessly. Described as cold as the winter’s snow due to the striking contrast between your fair skin and dark locks inherited from your mothers, you and Clemensia exhibited a captivating allure. Snow entertained the notion that if he delved even further into the profound depths of your eyes, he might lose himself completely—in love, that is. And he hated every bits of it. 

"If I were you, I'd be on my best behavior, sweetheart." He advised, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Dr. Gaul was observing. You could almost swear you saw her smile transform into a devious smirk, a subtle admission that she relished the spectacle before her—a spectacle of envy and hatred entangled in a mutual trap. "And what will happen if I don't?" You countered, striving to maintain control just as your father made his entrance, signaling the commencement of the reaping ceremony. His eyes fell upon you and Snow in close proximity, prompting him to be the first to assert authority. "Snow, to your seat now." He commanded. It was evident that Snow's disdain for your father resurfaced as he shot you a final glance before begrudgingly taking his seat.

Fortuitously, you found yourself seated next to him. In all honesty, you had orchestrated this arrangement, intending to be by his side even before your father's disapproving gaze hinted at a switch. However, it was too late by then; the ceremony had commenced, and your father's attention was fully absorbed in the mentors and assigned tributes. This provided you with the perfect opportunity to approach Snow once again. Leaning in, both eyes fixed on the screen to maintain an appearance of focus, you remarked. "You know, if it weren't for my father's animosity towards you, I'd be eager to get to know you."

Snow's piercing blue eyes shifted from the screen to yours. He blinked twice, as if questioning whether he had heard correctly. Highbottom's own daughter appeared to be permitting their adversary to draw a little closer. Or perhaps, in her eyes, he wasn't an enemy at all. He chuckled ever so slightly at the ironic situation. “And if it wasn’t for your father’s constant reminder that my own father was an asshole, I’d say that his own daughter is the most prettiest and fuckable girl I have ever laid my eyes upon.” 

A blush crept beneath your features, a delicate balance of beauty that Snow took pleasure in accentuating. You shared the same acknowledgment as he did, though you maintained a touch more class, unlike him. He tended to be straightforward and always in control, a demeanor he effortlessly displayed as he rendered his fellow classmate completely vulnerable with his words. Leaning in further, his fingers traced along your thigh, causing a tingling sensation at its touch and making your blush more evident. "To be fair, I've always had my eyes on you, you know?" He confessed. "Dr. Gaul wanted to make a proposition earlier and suggested that we work together for the whole semester, even having the lab all to ourselves…" 

“Meaning?” Of course you knew. Having the Lab to yourselves meant that Snow was going to make sure that he had every bits of fantasies piled through him just to have you all too himself. “Meaning, I’ll be able to fuck you endlessly. Maybe a distraction is what I do need after all. Can’t say that especially having the luck to be with Highbottom’s most gorgeous daughter.” 

That wasn't until Snow himself became entranced by your beauty, especially when it was his turn to learn about the tribute he was about to meet. "Coriolanus Snow." Your father's voice echoed with the same undertones of hatred and boredom, his disdain evident at the mention of a name from a generation he feared would worsen Panem. "District 12. Girl." Snow's gaze shifted from the screen to the captivating performance you were putting on. Yet, his current fixation remained on you. Leaning in further, he let his breath linger in the crook of your neck, his lips gently brushing your skin, and you could've sworn you felt a few pecks too. Fortunately, your father remained oblivious, continuing to list the remaining mentors. Suppressing a silent giggle, you pretended that Snow had said something amusing. "And how about..." He continued, placing a few more pecks on your neck. Delicately, you tried not to make your blush too obvious. "After the ceremony, I have to get some paperwork done at the lab. It would be a shame if I didn't have something to keep me focused." 

“Why of course, Mister Snow.” You admitted it so effortlessly, causing Snow's smile to transform into a cunning smirk. It was a smirk filled with desire, and longing. Snow yearned to experience the taste of you and hear you utter his name, just so your father could discover that his own daughter had unknowingly fallen into Snow's snare. From this moment forward, you belonged completely to him.

“Then, I’ll make sure to know who you belong to. Princess.”

[coco-loco-nut]

Miss Americana

Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader

Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend

TW: AMERICA! RAHH🦅

a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.

requests are open! masterlist part two

—————————————————

Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.

“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.

“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.

“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.

“Oh… I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.

“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.

“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.

“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.

———

“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.

“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.

“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.

“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.

“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.

———

Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.

“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.

“Either college football or pro football,”

“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.

“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.

“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.

Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.

“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.

“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.

“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.

“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.

“Are you always so… American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.

“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.

“I hate you all,”

[little-diable]

May thy knife – Feyd-Rautha (smut)

This is y'alls fault, all your comments made me write this. So, here we go, psychotic reader is back, but with a somewhat loving relationship. It felt only right to twist this famous scene – I'm sure this has been done before but I haven't read a fic that takes on this twist just yet, so I'm in no means copying any fic out there. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: What if the reader, who is married to Feyd-Rautha, didn't know that Paul, her brother, was still alive? What if it was her fighting against him instead of Feyd – all for revenge, to make her brother feel the same pain he had forced her to feel with his faked death?

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, oral (m), willingly rough loss of virginity, choking, dom!Feyd, degrading, spitting, fighting, passing out, blood licking, knife licking, reader is a psycho fitting Feyd, yet there's some form of love between the two, and no, I ain't killing us so we survive the fight

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x fem!Atreides!reader (4.2k words)

The hatred she emanated was felt by all people surrounding her, people who didn’t dare meet her icy gaze – not even the emperor dared to turn towards (y/n). It was a wise decision, for the sake of all their lives, knowing that she could rob their soul and their last breath even without any weapons on her. 

It had only been a few minutes since they had been taken prisoner, and while (y/n) could have easily fought her way out of the tight grasp, she hadn’t been able to move. Frozen to her spot as she had never been before, unable to move as her eyes followed the frame of the Muad’Dib. Paul Atreides. Her brother. The man she had believed to be dead for endless weeks. The prophet who hadn’t spotted her in the small crowd. 

Not even Feyd-Rautha’s closeness had managed to rile her up at that moment, the man she had been forced to marry, the man she hadn’t allowed to touch her, not even on their wedding night. It hadn’t taken him long to accept that she’d cut off his hands should he touch her, speaking lies to the Baron to answer private questions that had left (y/n)’s insides churning. Feyd had protected her even when she went against a simple contract, lured closer by the darkness she carried deep within herself. 

She had made too many sacrifices for her brother and their mother’s lies, tossed away for a strategic marriage she hadn’t been prepared for. All to mourn her brother who was still alive and breathing, guiding those who saw the prophet in him.

“You’re quiet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this, wife.” Feyd’s breath teased her neck, he stood with his armoured front pressed against her back, hands resting on her waist. It was a dangerous game, a game she didn’t buy into, too focused on her racing mind. Feyd gave (y/n) another moment to push him away, just like she had always done – but she didn’t, she kept herself pressed against him as if he was an anchor saving her from drowning. “What are you planning?”

“How I will kill the Muad’Dib.” Not one ounce of love thumped through her veins, an emotion she had once held onto, at least for her older brother; a love that had frozen in her system the second she had heard his voice ring in her ears minutes ago. Feyd’s raspy chuckles left her skin tingling, adding fuel to the fire simmering deep inside of her. 

For a moment, (y/n) allowed herself to focus on her husband’s touch, how he held onto her, tight enough to send a clear message to wandering eyes. He may have not claimed her behind closed doors, addicted to their game of back-and-forth, but to all those eyes, she was his as he was hers, a ruthless husband to a cunning wife. 

“You know, I am always excited for a fight.” She wanted to reply, wanted to tease him for fighting against drugged prisoners who never stood a chance against him, but the second his cold lips met her throat, her words were lost on her sharp tongue. Her heart roared in her chest, not used to being kissed by Feyd, not after their first and only kiss in front of their wedding guests. 

“You won’t fight. This is between my brother and me.” (Y/n) turned in Feyd’s grasp, letting her eyes wander over her husband’s features. He was handsome, she had always been drawn to him, and yet something had always held her back – the fear of being tied down by a man who perfectly matched her ruthless ways, a man who would rather kill himself than back down from a fight, just like (y/n). They were too similar, a scary realisation she had been forced to face many moons ago. 

“I will let you fight, wife, but for that, I get to claim you tonight.” The mischief twinkling in his bright pupils pushed anger through her, anger clashing against lust. Her mind didn’t get to interfere as (y/n) shifted her weight onto her toes to press a kiss to his lips. She pulled away before Feyd could deepen the kiss, heart roaring in her chest as if it was communicating with his. 

“You’ll have to lick my brother’s blood off me before you get to touch me.” Her words were meant as a warning, a warning Feyd clearly found enjoyment in. And with his raspy laugh echoing through the room, she found herself thrown back into her darkening mindset, preparing for a fight against her brother. 

……

“How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me?” Paul’s voice filled the room. She didn’t see much of his frame, standing behind Feyd to shield herself from her brother’s and her mother’s eyes. She hated the way her fingers trembled, urged on by her anger, by her sadness, emotions flushing through her like poison set to kill her. “They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don’t you think? I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis.”

She wanted to shoot forward, wanted to throw herself against her brother’s frame to force him to his knees. But the hand Feyd pressed against her stomach to hold her back was enough to stay glued to her spot. The time wasn’t right just yet. 

“Gurney, send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all spice fields.” Paul’s words left most of the people surrounding (y/n) tensing, words that were about to force a laugh out of her. She could feel and see her mother’s influence on Paul, forming him into the son she had always dreamt him to be. 

“You’re out of your mind.” The Emperor’s slightly trembling voice drew a smirk to both (y/n) and Feyd’s lips, they got a taste of the chaos soon unfolding in front of them, drawing a sick sense of satisfaction and anticipation through the couple. 

“He’s bluffing.” She couldn’t stop a soft laugh from leaving her at her husband’s words, urged on by the need to stand even closer. Her body was guiding her without giving her mind a chance to protest as her hand found Feyd’s. She was still covered by his tall frame, and yet she felt him freezing for just a second as she interlaced their hands. 

“Consider what you’re about to do, Paul Atreides.” Within seconds, the voice filled their ears, forcing the Reverend Mother to lose her balance. No longer could (y/n) focus on the exchange between Paul and the Emperor, no longer could she focus on Feyd whose hand she had dropped once again. (Y/n) knew that the time was finally right, it was now or never, a fight that would end with either her’s or her brother’s life on the line.

“Stand or choose your champion.” Those were the words that ripped (y/n) out of her trance, pushing past her husband. She didn’t see how Feyd’s fingers twitched, having to stop himself from reaching for her, to stop (y/n) from fighting a battle he had been destined for. 

“I’m here, Paul.” (Y/n) spoke the words with venom dripping from her voice, watching her brother’s bright pupils widen. From the corner of her eye, she could watch her mother shoot to her feet, and yet (y/n) didn’t dare let her gaze wander, enjoying the realisation that began to widen on her brother’s panicked features. “I need a blade.” 

“Accept mine.” She didn’t rip her eyes from her brother’s to look at the Emperor, seizing the chance to read Paul well enough to tell her that he fought an inner battle. Paul whispered her name as he slightly shook his head, begging his sister to step away. Her tongue kissed her teeth as a blood-curdling smile widened on her lips, she didn’t need to speak up to tell Paul that she’d try everything she could to kill him, a simple act of revenge for leaving her, for forgetting her, for playing her. 

With a slow nod thrown her way, seemingly accepting her will to fight, Paul turned from (y/n) to walk back towards his people. Only Feyd’s hand on her waist managed to rip her gaze from her brother’s frame, “Make me proud wife. Kill him.” 

Feyd squeezed her waist as he pressed a harsh kiss to her lips, a clear signal for all those who were watching their interaction. He’d kill them all should she die, avenge her death as if it was his own life they tried to take. Without speaking another word, (y/n) pushed Feyd away from her, she tightened her grip on the Emperor’s blade, and let her feet carry her towards her brother. 

“(Y/n),” Paul’s choked-up voice drew a humourless chuckle out of her. For a moment, she allowed her gaze to stray, to look at their pregnant mother and the unreadable expression she wore. (Y/n) had never been the favourite child, even though she was the girl Jessica had been asked to birth. She had always been too ruthless, too cold, too cunning for their family, the outcast who had been married to Feyd at the first given chance. 

“Say it.” (Y/n)’s words were venomous, spat at her brother whose pained expression made him appear even more pathetic in her eyes. She wanted Paul to speak the words, words the siblings had spoken as mere children whenever they challenged one another into a play fight. Paul kept quiet, unable to part his lips until she almost screamed her words, “Say it!”

“May thy knife chip and shatter.” Paul’s voice trembled as he spoke the words, momentarily closing his eyes as if he struggled to accept their fate, to accept that he was expected to kill his beloved sister, unable to back down from a fight like this. She repeated the words much slower than Paul had, with a dangerous smile tugging on her lips – no longer did (y/n) care about her own life, about the mere chance of dying in her brother’s arms. She was hungry for revenge, to make him feel the pain she had been forced to carry deep within herself these past weeks. 

And then everything began to blur, one attack after another, one strike after another, one stumble after another. She felt all their eyes on them as they fought, but (y/n) couldn’t give into the temptation to study the crowd, searching for Feyd’s eyes that were glistening with adoration for his wife. A woman fighting like a snake, slithering along Paul’s body to squeeze him to death. 

Only as Paul’s knife cut (y/n)’s skin for the first time did her world begin to slow down, momentarily stopping its spinning motion. Paul seemed to freeze just like she did, focusing on the blood pouring from the wound. Perhaps he expected her to back down, to leave the circle to search for her husband’s protection. But (y/n) did something she had studied her husband do one too many times: Her fingers found her wound, picking up the drops of blood to suck her fingers clean, high on the coppery taste. Feyd’s laughter rang in her ears as she attacked her brother once again, faster this time, even more ruthless than the rounds before.

With blood sticking to her lips, (y/n) and Paul kept circling one another – all until she seized her chance to ram her knife into his side. Paul’s gasp forced their mother to her feet once again, searching her daughter’s eyes to shake her head, a silent warning not to kill her brother, a silent gesture that they wouldn’t mourn her death, only Paul’s. But while her mother’s eyes carried a clear warning, Feyd’s carried encouragement, asking his wife to end this right there and then. 

A moment of distraction that gave her brother the chance to slice his blade through her skin, forcing it to nestle inside her stomach. Both siblings held onto one another, glassy eyes finding back together as neither loosened their grip. 

“Do it, kill me. Feel the pain you’ve forced me to feel, feel the grief that has almost killed me.” Tears dripped from (y/n)’s eyes as she choked on her blood, knowing that she’d pass out any moment now. And even though she felt the darkness creeping through her veins, telling her that it was time to bid this life goodbye, a smile began to widen on her lips. 

This was the moment she had imagined all these weeks, it was finally upon them. 

Slowly Paul sacked to the ground with (y/n) clinging to him, holding onto her as he lifted his teary gaze. She didn’t see the way her brother's panicked gaze looked around the room, didn’t see the way his eyes found Feyd’s rage-filled ones, luring her husband closer. All she could focus on were the tears dripping from Paul’s bright eyes, holding back his sobs as Feyd kneeled next to them. 

“Do whatever you must, save my sister.” 

……

She woke with a gasp, eyes shooting open. It took her a moment to focus on her surroundings, the grey walls, the dim light, and the figure standing close to her bed. Pain shot through her as she tried to move, forced to plop back down onto the mattress with a curse clawing through her.

“You’re finally awake.” Feyd’s raspy voice drew a whimper from (y/n)’s chapped lips, eyes momentarily fluttering close to try and remind herself of what had happened. “You almost died, killed by your foolish brother who has never fought fair before. I should have killed him for hurting you.” 

“Come here.” (Y/n) ignored her husband’s words, not daring to think of her brother, of their fight, and of the blood she had lost. Wordlessly, Feyd came to a halt next to her, staring down at her to wait for (y/n)’s next command. With another gasp roaring through her, she shuffled around on the bed, making space for her husband to lay next to her. “If you tell others of this I will kill you.”

His chuckles filled the room as he carefully placed himself next to her. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, giving the married couple a chance to be close to one another for the first time, without any eyes on them, without hatred urging words to leave their cold lips. 

Feyd’s hand slightly trembled as he reached for her no longer bloody fingers, slowly interlacing them. Never had he done this before, reaching for her without any further message to communicate, holding onto her for the mere chance to be close to her. 

“What happened to Paul?” Pain clawed through her at the thought of her brother. Anger had forced her to act, anger she hadn’t been able to swallow until now, unsure how to accept that her family had lied to her. 

“Don’t worry about him for now.” Feyd didn’t tell her how he had left the planet with her, how he had brought her away from that place. Feyd didn’t tell her how he had sworn to Paul that he’d avenge (y/n)’s death should she die. Feyd didn’t tell her how Paul had told others to let them go, not knowing where Feyd was taking (y/n), not knowing if he’d ever see his sister again. 

And at that very moment, (y/n) didn’t find the strength to ask another question, the strength she would regain soon enough to find her path back to her cunning self, set on ending the ruleless game between her and her family. 

…… 

“Fight like a Harkonnen for fuck’s sake!” Anger pushed her words past her clenched teeth. Sweat was pooling on (y/n)’s forehead as she stared at her husband with spite swimming in her pupils. She knew Feyd was holding back, not trusting that (y/n) had regained her full strength just yet, the strength she’d need to force him to his knees in a training session like this. 

“Wife.” It was a warning he spoke, a warning not to rile him up even further, knowing that he’d lose his patience soon enough. (Y/n) darted at her husband, her body collided with his to throw them both to the ground. She straddled his waist with a grim expression tugging on her features, knowing that in any other scenario, she wouldn’t have been able to attack Feyd like that. “Fine, this is your own fault, darling.”

Feyd harshly pushed her off him, momentarily robbing his wife of her breath as her back collided with the cold ground. He rose to his feet with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists – the version of her husband (y/n) desperately had tried to trigger. They circled one another, holding onto their blades with twitching fingers, set on regaining the upper hand.

Now it was on Feyd to attack first, his blade met hers over and over again, until he cut her cheek, drawing a hiss out of (y/n). She was heavily panting as he chuckled, bringing the bloody tip of his blade up to his pale lips to lick it clean, moaning at the taste of her blood. 

Something began to shift at that moment, something that forced her to drop her blade, to throw herself into his grasp and to kiss him. Both fell back to the ground, allowing Feyd to cage her between the floor and his frame. His hand found her throat to keep her pinned down beneath him, all while their tongues fought for victory. 

(Y/n) tightened her legs' grasp around his waist to pull him even closer, moaning at the way he ground his hips against hers, making her feel his hardening cock straining against his tight trousers. Everything about this moment was new to her, unsure of where to go from there without any experience guiding her, not knowing how to touch her husband. And yet, everything seemed to come almost naturally to her, trusting her body and Feyd to push her through the soaring waves of heat filling her trembling body.

“I should have fucked you months ago. You had your chance, but now I won’t be gentle with you, I will fuck you as a woman like you deserves to be fucked.” His words shot heat straight to her core, words that forced her to hold still as Feyd kept manhandling her, cutting her shirt open with his blade. The groan that left him at the sight of her naked chest made (y/nn) back arch, desperate to feel his hands on her. “I should tie you up, keep you as my toy to claim whenever I am hungry for you. I bet you’d enjoy that, wouldn’t you?”

“I hate you!” It was nothing but a lie, a lie both easily saw through, but at that very moment neither Feyd nor (y/n) cared about pleasantries, urged on by their desires. He cut open her trousers before another curse could leave her, exposing her arousal-covered folds to his darkening eyes. Tonight he’d litter her in bruises. Tonight he’d force her to follow his rules. Tonight he’d show her his most ruthless side. 

“Hate me all you want, wife, your body still craves the touch of your husband. You’re dripping for me.” He didn’t warn her before he plunged two fingers into her tightness, feeling her walls flutter around his digits. Feyd held eye contact with her as he spat on her cunt, rubbing his saliva against her pulsing bundle. (Y/n)’s moans rang in his ears, urging him on as if he was high on spice, blurring out their surroundings, blurring out the calmness they were now disturbing. “I can’t wait to rip you open with my cock, make you feel pain you won’t ever forget.” 

Her mind was silenced, fogged up by the lust thumping through her veins. Feyd fucked her with his fingers, he pushed her closer to the high she had only allowed herself to feel whenever she had been desperate for his touch but too proud to search his closeness. But her body wasn’t ready to give up the chase just yet. Her hand found her blade, moving without gaining Feyd’s attention, who was still fully focused on her cunt.

With quick movements, she brought the tip of her blade to his throat, stopping him in his movements. The chuckle leaving Feyd left her smirking, looking even more psychotic with the blood still dripping from the cut on her cheek. She barely put up a fight as Feyd ripped the blade from her hand, as he shifted them around to bring her to her knees and up against his front. 

The blade teased her throat as he held her to him, even as he freed his aching cock, ready to disappear deep inside of her, “You had your chance, I would have prepared you for my cock, would have given you time to adjust. But that kindness is no longer among us. Now you’ll take my cock like my own personal whore.” 

He forced his cock into her cunt, groaning at the tightness engulfing him. Tears ran down her cheeks, tears of lust, of pain, of desperation – finding an unfamiliar sense of enjoyment in Feyd’s rough touches. His name rolled off her tongue as he fucked into her from behind, dropping the knife to choke her with his cold hands once again. 

Feyd was treating her like his pet, treating her like he had been raised to treat women – momentarily forgetting about the love he fostered deep inside of him. And she loved every second of it, finally able to give up control for the first time. 

“It brings me great pleasure knowing that no other man will ever get to have you like this. Your body is mine, you’re my whore, you only listen to my commands. And you will kill whoever dares to touch you should I not be fast enough to do it myself.” His words left her choking, forced to claw her fingernails into his pale skin as her mind began to race. Even though the words didn’t sound like it, it was the most sincere love confession Feyd had ever spoken, words that cut deeper than any blade ever would. 

“Feyd.” She whimpered his name as his free hand found her clit, rubbing the bundle of nerves to push her towards the edge. The first of many orgasms was awaiting her, set on ripping her from this place into another dimension, led by her husband. (Y/n) felt his black teeth run along her neck, biting the spot where her neck met her shoulders, close to drawing some more blood from her weeping body. 

She came without another word clawing through her, calling out his name as her orgasm momentarily robbed her of her vision. Feyd kept a strong hold on her throat, his hips kept meeting her behind, forcing his cock further into her clenched tightness. He gave it a few more thrusts before he pulled out of her and rose to his feet. 

With his hand finding her hair, he forced her towards him, making her scalp burn from the strength of his touch. His cock was shoved past her parted lips, letting (y/n) taste herself on his cock as he fucked her mouth. The corners of her mouth began to burn within a few moments, once again making tears fall from her glassy eyes. 

She had never seen her husband like this, trembling for her, with his head thrown back, and his eyes closed, fully focused on the pleasure thumping through her. No longer did she feel the need to fight, no longer did her fingertips ache for the feeling of her blade, no, for the first time since knowing Feyd, she wanted to give her everything to satisfy the man. 

“You’ll swallow every drop of my seed, and then you’ll lick me clean.” It was a simple command, a command that left her moaning around his cock. Feyd came within a few more seconds, releasing himself down her throat and on her eager tongue. The two held eye contact as she swallowed, as she ran her tongue up and down his twitching length, following his every command. 

“Where are you going, wife?” She froze in her movements, her heavily panting self had turned from him, set on plopping down on the ground to catch her breath. (Y/n)’s wide eyes were drawn back to his like spice forced up into the air, following the wind’s call. “That was only the beginning. I won’t be done with you for a while.”

[demensrage]

g for get some fun ⚊ • . with itachi and shisui uchiha

summary: training can be fun, but it's more fun when your favorite people decide to give you their full attention. under their care, training will always be fun.

cw: threesome, double penetration, oral (f/m. receiving), fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk, tits sucking.

wordcount: 6.6k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit.

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

Your body trembled with pure rage, so intense that even your muscles hurts. You watched the sun rise on the horizon as you kept ranting, hurling shurikens over and over at the tree in front of you, as if those small weapons could tear away the burning anger from that public humiliation. The scene with your instructor was still seared into your mind.

"No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be anyone." Those words stabbed into your brain like a sharp kunai. How dare he say that to you? He was just a fool consumed by envy. Sure, you hadn’t awakened the Sharingan yet, but your life had been relatively peaceful. You hadn’t faced the darkness needed to activate those eyes that defined your clan.

After throwing the last shuriken, you let out a deep sigh and raised your hands to the sky, stretching. Waking up early to train hadn’t been the best idea, but you felt that need, that urgency to prove your instructor wrong. It didn’t matter that he thought you were destined for mediocrity. You knew your future would be different.

You were more angry than exhausted, and just as you walked to pick up the shurikens embedded in the tree, you realized there was nothing in front of you anymore. You frowned, puzzled, and quickly glanced around. No one was there. You clenched your teeth, biting the inside of your cheek, and cursed quietly.

Suddenly, you felt a soft tap on your head, a playful pat. You spun around quickly, ready to defend yourself, but the shurikens reappeared stuck in the tree as if they had never disappeared. And there, standing right in front of you, was Itachi, looking at you with an innocent expression, but his activated Sharingan told a different story. That intense crimson, with its perfect black tomoe, stirred a mix of admiration and envy in you. The power you so longed to have was right in front of you, and in him, it seemed so natural, as if it required no effort.

"You keep falling for the same trick," said a familiar voice behind you, full of amusement.

When you turned to face him, it wasn’t Itachi who moved, but Shisui, who in a swift and carefree motion, stole a kiss from you. It was fleeting, almost ethereal, but it left a burning spark on your lips.

Your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you with a playful smile, while Itachi stood still in front of you, calm, as if it had all been just another prank between friends.

You couldn’t understand what had changed that suddenly both Shisui and Itachi had started behaving in this strangely affectionate way. Shisui, usually playful but reserved, was now stealing kisses as if it were a regular thing, and worst of all, Itachi, who had always been colder and more calculating, didn’t seem upset or surprised, but... almost complicit.

When did it start being like this? You felt confused. It was as if overnight the dynamic between the three of you had changed without warning, and you were left stuck in the middle, not understanding the new rules of the game. You had trained with them for years, shared missions, laughter, and moments of tension, but they had never dared to cross that line.

You decided not to overthink it, letting it be, because for some reason, it felt... right. As if everything had finally fallen into place, as if this, what was happening between the three of you, was meant to be. It was a strange feeling, but comforting, as if you had been resisting something inevitable for a long time, and now, by letting it flow, everything felt in harmony.

"Did we miss something?" Itachi asked as he picked up your shurikens from the tree for you. His tone was calm, but his words snapped you back to reality. "You seem distracted." His gaze softened, and then he added, with a comforting calmness, "You know, you shouldn't pay attention to what your instructor says."

You watched him approach slowly, and before you could respond, Itachi smiled at you with a tenderness he rarely showed. With a simple but familiar gesture, he gently ruffled your hair. The usual coldness on his face had completely vanished in that moment.

Your breath caught for a moment when his lips brushed against yours with a softness you hadn't expected. It was a kiss so gentle yet deep in its intent, as if he'd been watching how you'd sought the same from Shisui and was now offering it to you on his behalf.

Your thoughts, still a bit disorganized by the sudden change in his behavior, quieted completely. Itachi's kiss had something different. Where Shisui was playful, Itachi was measured and sure.

The question surged back into your mind, like an echo reverberating in your thoughts. You had lost count of how many times those small, intimate gestures had become so commonplace. It had all started in the privacy of one of their rooms, stolen moments that now seemed not to matter at all. The brush of their hands, the glances that lingered a little longer than usual, the silences filled with meaning… Everything had evolved into something much more open, and intimacy had ceased to be a secret.

It was as if they were claiming you as part of them, as if you somehow belonged to their world. You were theirs, only theirs. Right? You always had been, hadn’t you? On reflection, there had never been another friend in their lives besides you. They never talked about other girls with that kind of closeness, and you never saw them interact with other women in a romantic way. Really, they were always where you were.

The realization clicked in your mind immediately, like a gear perfectly fitting into place. You weren’t theirs; they were yours. That idea, once vague, now shone with clarity. They were your friends, your confidants, but also something more. They belonged to you just as much as you did to them.

Itachi was only older than you by less than three months, but that had never been an obstacle. You had known each other since infancy, sharing laughter and tears in a corner of the world that had always belonged to the both of you. Then came Shisui, who joined the friendship you and Itachi shared. He fit in instantly, as if he were the missing piece of a puzzle that had always been incomplete.

Now that you thought about it, they had always orbited around you. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but every gesture and every word took on new meaning. The way they protected you, how they comforted you in difficult moments, or how they allowed you to sleep on them when fatigue overtook you. It was a subtle but profound bond, built on years of trust and loyalty.

You could remember those moments when they carried you in their arms when you asked for help, those instances of vulnerability where you allowed their closeness to envelop you like a warm coat. You tried to recall a time when they weren’t by your side, and it was like searching for a shadow in the dark: it simply didn’t exist. Not even the one time they had denied you something felt real.

They were always there, always ready to offer their support. You were the center of their world, and they were yours. With each revelation, the feeling of belonging grew stronger. It wasn’t just friendship; it was a bond that transcended simple companionship. You were important to them, and the idea that they also belonged to you began to settle deep within your soul.

With every look you shared with Itachi and every laugh exchanged with Shisui, you realized you had never been alone. And now, as you accepted that the love and intimacy they offered you weren’t just gifts but a promise, you felt yourself opening up to a future that had always been there, waiting to be claimed.

"You’re distracted again," said Itachi, frowning as if he could see through the façade you were trying to maintain. "If it’s because of what the instructor said…"

"It’s not that," you replied immediately, letting out a radiant smile that lit up your face. The sunlight seemed to reflect off your cheeks as you tried to downplay his words. "It’s just that I woke up really early."

You couldn’t simply admit that, more than ever, you liked the idea of being part of what they had agreed upon in private. It was a secret that pulsed between the three of you, a connection that felt more intense with each little gesture, each shared smile. Now that you thought about it, the idea of what was happening, though it still lacked a defined name, filled you with a warmth you couldn’t ignore.

Shisui, who had been a step behind, moved a little closer, his smile full of complicity. "Maybe we should train together," he suggested, with that playful air that was so characteristic of him. "That way we can make sure you don’t get lost in thought for too long."

The idea of spending time alone with them, training and joking around, filled you with a barely contained excitement. It was a perfect moment, an opportunity to explore that bond that was forming, that connection that felt more natural with each passing day. You knew you liked what was happening, and now that you were starting to accept it, the possibility of it all becoming something more filled you with anticipation.

You nodded immediately, feeling the excitement grow inside you. "That sounds perfect," you said, carefully taking the shurikens from Itachi’s hand, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment that sent a pleasant shiver through you.

Shisui watched you, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Are you ready to be defeated?” he asked, his playful tone contrasting with the seriousness of the training.

“Defeated? I think you’re mistaken,” you replied, feeling the adrenaline start to flow. “I’m not going to let that happen.” With every word, your determination grew stronger.

“Come on,” Itachi said, his voice firm but filled with a strange warmth. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

With a confident smile, you got into position, feeling the solid ground beneath your feet. You knew your strength lay in hand-to-hand combat, and you were determined to use that to your advantage. However, part of you was aware that, with Itachi and Shisui as your opponents, the odds were against you. Both were prodigies, and while training with them made you better, you knew you’d need more than strength to take them on.

With a swift movement, you launched yourself toward them, knowing the key would be staying unpredictable and taking advantage of any opening you could find.

You let yourself fall heavily onto the grass, exhaustion taking over every muscle in your body. Drops of sweat trickled down your forehead, some lost in the grass while others continued their path down to your jaw. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, desperately seeking oxygen to calm your body’s frantic rhythm after the intense training.

“Just five minutes, okay?” you gasped, covering your face with the back of your left hand while the other rested on your stomach. The contact with the cool air helped you recover, but you knew those five minutes would likely turn into more if you didn’t get up soon.

From your position on the ground, you heard the calm footsteps of Itachi and Shisui approaching. Itachi crouched down beside you with his usual calmness, while Shisui plopped down heavily next to you, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Five minutes, you say,” Shisui commented, clearly less exhausted than you but pretending to be amusingly exasperated. “I’m surprised you’re not asking for ten yet.”

Itachi looked at you with a small smile on his lips before gently lowering himself onto the grass as well, although remaining more composed. “You’ve improved a lot,” he remarked in his calm tone, as if the combat hadn’t affected him as much.

“I have the best trainers,” you replied with a tired smile, still covering part of your face with your arm. Even though you were exhausted, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of inner satisfaction from Itachi’s words and Shisui’s complicity. After all, training with them was a privilege, and every day made you improve just a little more.

Shisui chuckled softly, gazing up at the sky. “Of course, we’re a marvel,” he joked, though there was a hidden sincerity in his tone.

“It’s not just because of us,” Itachi retorted, looking at you warmly. “You have talent, and you know it.”

Those words made your heart skip a beat. You had heard compliments before, but when they came from them, the impact was different, deeper. You knew both of them were honest with you; they would never tell you something just to make you feel better.

You moved your hand away from your face, feeling the slight coolness of the air as you absentmindedly played with the hem of your leggings, which fit your body like a second skin. “Thank you,” you murmured softly, not taking your gaze off the clouds beginning to cover the sky, trying to maintain calm amid the intimacy of the moment.

The light weight of Shisui’s head settled on your stomach, and a shiver ran across your skin when he left a brief kiss on your thigh, his warm breath marking every touch. You didn’t say anything; you just began to tangle your fingers in his hair, playing with the softness of his strands. The movement of your hands felt almost instinctive, as if they had always been meant to touch him that way.

Itachi, for his part, was equally serene in his actions. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, using his knuckles before taking your chin between his fingers, leaning closer to you. His deep gaze captivated you, as if he were asking permission for what would come next. There was something in his eyes, a mix of tenderness and restrained desire that always managed to disarm you.

You nodded softly, barely a movement, but enough for him to notice. One of your hands left Shisui's hair, gliding down his neck, while your lips met Itachi's in a kiss that shifted from soft to intense in a matter of seconds. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, seeking entry, and without hesitation, you allowed him in, opening your mouth to feel the kiss deepen, becoming more demanding.

Shisui began to leave a line of soft, teasing kisses on your thigh, his mouth slowly advancing while the warmth of his lips spread across your skin. You felt his skilled hands lift the fabric of your top with the same calmness with which he placed each kiss, until his lips found your abdomen. A shiver ran through your body as his warm breath touched your exposed skin.

Each kiss that traveled up toward your neck heightened the anticipation in your body, until finally, his lips reached your collarbone, lingering there with a longer kiss. Itachi pulled away with his characteristic control, leaving space for Shisui to continue, but not without looking at you one last time with that intensity that always disarmed you.

Shisui's lips finally reached yours, capturing you in a kiss that was as heated as Itachi's, but different in its own way—more playful, more wild. The differences between the two had always fascinated you, the way they could complement each other, and now more than ever, you realized how surrendered you were to the delicate balance they shared.

Everything began to take a different path, one that blurred the lines between friendship and something deeper. Itachi's hands found their way under your top, his fingers soft and determined squeezing your breasts through your sports bra, creating a sensation of warmth and desire that made you hold your breath.

“You can say no if you don’t want to,” Shisui murmured against your lips, his voice low and tempting. He gently tugged on your lower lip between his teeth, sending a pleasurable shiver through your body, before licking it with a sweetness that left you yearning for more.

“You don’t have to agree if you’re not comfortable yet,” Itachi added, his tone firm but understanding, as if he were genuinely considering your feelings at that moment. His gaze remained fixed on yours, searching for any sign of doubt or discomfort, making sure you didn’t feel pressured.

“Yes, I want to,” you said, feeling the decision flow clearly in your voice. You exchanged glances with them, a mix of excitement and anticipation filling the air between you.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Itachi said, helping you to your feet with a firm yet gentle gesture. His hand felt warm around your wrist as he guided you. Shisui followed, his presence close to you reassuring, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

Itachi led the way, while Shisui stayed by your side, ensuring you felt comfortable.

Finally, they arrived at a small clearing, secluded and tranquil, surrounded by trees that offered a sense of privacy. The place was illuminated by the soft light of the sunset, creating a magical atmosphere.

“Is this okay here?” Itachi asked, looking around to make sure it was the right spot.

You turned to look at him, feeling a knot of nervousness forming in your stomach. God, they were fucking beautiful; the sunset light illuminated their faces in an almost ethereal way. “Yeah, um…” you began, unsure of how to articulate your thoughts.

Itachi, ever perceptive, noticed you had more to say. With a slight smile, he tilted his head, encouraging you to continue. “No one comes here, just the three of us, and now you,” he said, his voice calm and confident, like an anchor in the midst of your confusion.

You felt a little more relaxed at his assurance. You knew there was a shared trust between the three of you, an understanding that went beyond words. Gathering your courage, you decided to speak.

“Just… I don’t know exactly how… how to proceed,” you admitted, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or for this to change what we have.”

Shisui stepped forward, his expression gentle. “No one is pressured. We want you to feel good and safe with us. We’re here for you, no matter how you want this to progress.”

Shisui’s words were like a balm, soothing your anxieties and allowing you to open up to the possibility of what was to come.

You gathered the courage to approach Shisui, your trembling lips pressing against his as you nervously took Itachi’s hand, not wanting to leave him behind. The contact was electrifying, and although your nerves were on edge, you felt it was time to let go.

Itachi’s hands moved firmly, finding your breasts and squeezing them over the fabric of your top, his fingers sinking into you with a mix of desire and possession. Heat built up quickly, elevating the tension in the air.

Shisui broke the kiss, but only to tilt your face toward Itachi, forcing you to look into his dark, deep eyes. “Kiss him,” he murmured as he began to leave kisses and nibbles on your neck, his hot, wet lips trailing sensations that made you shiver. It was as if each touch ignited a spark of desire within you.

You let yourself go, feeling how Itachi responded to your body, his hands gripping you with an intensity that made you gasp. The pace became more frantic, the air thick with a mix of sweat and desire, and you found yourself caught in the whirlwind of their caresses.

The next thing that happened was instantaneous: your shorts and panties disappeared, leaving you completely exposed. Itachi gently pushed you to the ground, and as he removed your top and bra, you felt a chill run through your body. Your hands instinctively closed around your breasts, and you squeezed your legs together, a blush flooding your cheeks as the reality of the situation hit you.

It was the first time you were completely at their mercy, vulnerable and exposed. But as their gazes met yours, a spark of trust ignited within you. They weren’t just men; they were your friends, your protectors. With a trembling breath, you decided it was time to let them take control.

Carefully, you began to uncover your breasts, feeling the cool air caress your skin. Both of their eyes shone with a mix of desire and possession, and although their expressions were dark, you felt them consuming you with their gaze. They shared a brief knowing glance before leaning in, and in a simultaneous movement, each took one of your breasts in their mouth.

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt the warmth and wetness of their mouths on you. Your hands found their necks, pressing their heads closer, binding their lips to your body with a need you hadn’t anticipated. Each suck, each caress, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you lose touch with reality, leaving only the fire that burned in your chest.

Your breasts were a delicacy between their lips, each suction resonating in your mind like an echo of pure pleasure. Shisui focused on one while Itachi alternated between biting and licking the other, creating a rhythm that made your body respond with a ravenous desire.

Itachi’s hands slid down to your waist, exploring your skin as his lips moved with devotion, each kiss leaving a mark of his hunger. “You look so beautiful like this,” Shisui murmured, the vibration of his voice sending a wave of pleasure straight to your stomach.

As both of them dedicated themselves to you, desire took over, filling you with a need you could barely control. You arched your back, seeking more contact, more of them.

The way Itachi cheekily nibbled on your nipple and then licked it to soothe the burning sensation was pure lust. You let yourself go, feeling the pleasure intensify with every movement.

Meanwhile, hands began to make their way between your legs, and the feeling of two fingers parting your folds made you gasp. Shisui’s smile was mischievous, his mouth still busy with your breast, and you felt the tension building. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmured against your nipple, his words sending a wave of heat that made you shiver.

Itachi, wasting no time, joined his hand with Shisui’s, their fingers working in perfect sync as he moved up to kiss you with a possession that made you feel like you had no escape. His lips took over yours, filling you with a mix of desire and urgency, while his other hand twisted and caressed your nipples between his fingers.

Shisui gave your clit a pinch, eliciting a cry of pleasure to escape your lips. Before you could process it, he dipped a finger inside you, making you moan as your hips arched to receive him. “You like that, huh?�� he whispered with a mischievous grin, as he began pumping in a slow, teasing rhythm.

Itachi, not missing the opportunity, began to stimulate your bundle of nerves, his fingers moving expertly as his dark eyes focused on you. “Look at you, so soaked for us,” he murmured, his voice filled with desire. The heat inside you increased as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“See how that makes you feel?” Shisui continued, adding a second finger, increasing the intensity. “You can’t deny how much you like it, can you? Let it all flow out.”

The words made it even more intense. With each thrust, your body responded with a mix of moans and sighs, the pleasure building up more and more.

Itachi leaned closer, his lips barely touching your ear. “You want more, sweetie? Tell me,” he said in a seductive tone. “We won’t stop you, I want you to moan our name.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed as Shisui added another finger, curling it inside you and pressing that sweet spot that made you lose your mind. The pleasure intensified, and your legs spread wider, wanting to be filled even more.

Itachi’s hands gave one last tug to your nipples, a gesture that left you even more turned on. When he pulled down his pants, you couldn’t help but stare brazenly, your eyes fixed on his crotch, ready to discover what he was hiding.

“Sit on my face, sweetie,” Shisui said, his voice thick with desire. The command was a tantalizing whisper, and you couldn’t resist. Without a second thought, you moved, placing yourself on top of him as your body vibrated with anticipation.

With one movement, you dropped down, feeling his mouth find you just as you settled in. Shisui's fingers continued to pump inside you, and the combination of his mouth and hands brought you to the edge of ecstasy.

Itachi watched you, his gaze filled with desire, and that only made the situation even more intense. "That's it, that's how I like it," Shisui said, keeping up his pace as your hips moved, enjoying the pleasure they gave you.

Itachi brought a hand to his cock, fucking his fist as he watched you ride Shisui's mouth, who had his hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you pinned down on him.

You bit your lip as you felt his tongue tease your entrance, an overwhelming heat running through your body. Your gaze connected to the sight before you; fuck, your mouth was watering just watching it. "Open that pretty mouth for me," Itachi said, his voice thick with desire.

You couldn't resist the temptation. With a brazen gesture, you opened your mouth, ready to please him. The mix of sensations, of pleasure and desire, enveloped you as you let yourself get carried away by the moment.

You took him like a good girl, wrapping your lips around his length, slowly, feeling every inch as you kept eye contact with Itachi. He watched you with overwhelming intensity, his jaw tense as you let your tongue run along his length.

Shisui's muffled moans against your center only increased the pressure in your body, your legs shaking as he devoured you mercilessly, his tongue moving skillfully. Itachi let out a low growl, his hand tangling in your hair, gently guiding you as you sank deeper into the rhythm they both set for you.

You rolled your hips harder as you felt Shisui's hands squeeze your ass, forcing you even closer to his mouth, even though you already felt like you were as close as you could be. His tongue worked relentlessly, finding every spot that made you shiver, while his fingers dug harder into your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

The wet sound of his tongue moving in you and your own moans, muffled by Itachi's pressure in your mouth, created an intoxicating mix that made you lose yourself in pleasure.

You sucked harder, following the rhythm Itachi set as he looked at you with desire in his eyes. His moans were soft but deep, and every sound that came out of his mouth motivated you to keep going, to give him more. Your tongue brushed his skin with precision, tasting every part of him as you took him deep, letting yourself be guided by the heat and urgency of the moment.

"You're doing so well," Itachi whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you gently. His caresses on your head were a contrast to the intensity of the moment, filled with a strange kind of tenderness as he watched you with his dark, piercing eyes.

Shisui, beneath you, increased the pressure of his tongue, causing a moan to choke from your throat, vibrating against Itachi. “Fuck, keep it up,” Shisui growled, his voice muffled by your skin, as his hands gripped your hips tighter, controlling your every movement on him.

You were so close that you couldn’t help but sob in pleasure, the sounds escaping your lips in the midst of your work. Every caress, every brush of Shisui’s tongue, and every thrust from Itachi brought you to the edge, and the heat in your abdomen grew, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“That’s it, let yourself go,” Itachi murmured, watching intently as you lost yourself in the pleasure they both offered you. His soft voice was like a balm, and even though you felt exposed, there was something incredibly liberating about letting yourself go in the moment. The combination of his words and Shisui's actions had you wanting more, more and more, as the pleasure built up inside you.

You felt it coming, that boiling point where the pressure became almost unbearable. Your hip movements became erratic, the need to release all that tension intensifying. Still, you tried to continue your work, holding yourself on the edge as you rode the rising wave of orgasm.

Moans escaped your lips, each sound becoming an echo of the pleasure flooding your senses. Shisui, sensing your struggle, increased the pressure of his tongue, while Itachi looked at you with a fire in his eyes that made you feel even more alive.

"That's it, let yourself go," Itachi repeated, encouraging you. You let yourself fall into the abyss, the wave of pleasure crashing against you, taking you with it. Euphoria enveloped you completely, and in that instant, everything else disappeared.

Itachi pulled away from your mouth, gently caressing your cheek with his fingers, his gaze filled with complicity and desire as your head rested on his thigh. The warmth of his skin was comforting, like a refuge after the storm of pleasure.

Shisui, for his part, caressed your ass before pulling away from you, leaving you with an empty feeling that contrasted with the recent satisfaction. His absence was palpable, but the way they both looked at you, with a glint in their eyes that promised more, filled you with anticipation.

“Are you okay?” Itachi asked, his voice low and soft, as he watched you carefully, as if to make sure you were comfortable after the intense experience. “Yes,” you whispered, your lips swollen and wet, voice shaky from the mix of exhaustion and desire.

Itachi smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, stroking your hair before looking up at Shisui. “Ready for another?” Shisui asked, his tone playful and teasing. “Because I see you ready for more.”

With a slight nod, you braced yourself for what was to come, the air thick with anticipation and desire. You felt the electricity between them, the way they both shared this moment, and you couldn’t help but feel anxious for what was to follow.

“Stay like that, baby,” Itachi said, moving closer until he was behind you. His hands found your wetness, two fingers sliding gently, feeling every response from your body as Shisui settled in beside you.

You felt Itachi's presence behind you, his lips and teeth leaving soft bites on the skin of your neck, the combination of pain and pleasure lighting up every nerve. Itachi held you against his chest, his hands firmly on your thighs, controlling your movements with ease.

As Shisui aligned himself with your entrance, the atmosphere was charged with palpable tension, and with a deep inhale, your body braced itself for what was to come.

Shisui's thrust was firm and deep, slowly filling you as your walls tightened around him, instinctively squeezing him. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt him push his way inside you, stretching you in a delicious way. Your hands gripped his shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist tighter, trying to adjust to the sensation invading your body.

Itachi, behind you, continued to place soft bites and kisses on your neck, his hands running up and down your sides, fueling the fire already burning within you.

Each thrust from Shisui made your body tremble with a mix of pleasure and need. His movements were slow, but each one was deep, filling you completely and stretching the time between desire and satisfaction. Your breathing became erratic as your head rested on Itachi's shoulder, who continued to spread soft caresses over your skin, his lips tracing a path of heat on your neck.

Shisui's lips found your breast, his tongue teasing your nipple as his hips continued to thrust in a deliberate rhythm. The feel of his mouth combined with the deep movements of his hips made you moan, your body trapped between them, every inch of your skin being claimed by them.

You felt each movement with overwhelming intensity, completely filled by both of them as they moved inside you with such precise synchronicity that it left you breathless. The slow, calculated thrusts seemed to have a purpose, allowing your body to adjust to the intrusion as the pressure inside you grew with each second.

Shisui held you firm against his chest, his hands sliding up your thighs with a contrasting softness to the strength of Itachi, who behind you controlled the pace with measured movements. Each time they thrust, a moan escaped your lips, as you felt them rub against each other inside you.

“More, please.” you gasped, rolling your hips in search of more. The plea that escaped your lips echoed in the air, a sound of desire that motivated them both even more. Shisui smiled against your skin, understanding your need, and began to increase the speed of his thrusts.

Itachi, sensing your impatience, adjusted his pace, causing the two of you to move in perfect harmony. The heat inside you intensified, each deep stroke causing sparks of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“That’s good, baby,” Shisui murmured, punctuating each thrust with a possessive touch as his mouth moved between your breasts, licking and nibbling at your skin.

Itachi, ever attentive, brought a hand down to stroke your clit, adding a new dimension to the wave of pleasure washing over you. “You like it like this?” he asked, his voice soft and commanding. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whimpered in pleasure.

Your response was almost a cry of need, and that only fueled the desire that burned between the three of you. Shisui held you tightly, his movements now more intense, hitting that sweet spot that made your body arch towards him.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he murmured as his hips slammed into you, producing a wet sound that filled the air. Itachi, noticing your growing pleasure, increased the pace of his caresses on your clit, his fingers moving with precision and firmness.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Itachi said, watching as you writhed and moaned between them. The combination of their bodies, the pressure and the friction made you feel like you were about to burst, pleasure building in your belly as they both continued to take you higher.

Heat built up inside you, each thrust intensifying that feeling of fullness that was driving you crazy. Your legs wrapped around Shisui’s waist, clinging to him as Itachi continued to stimulate your clit with forceful, precise movements.

“You’re perfect,” Shisui murmured, his raspy voice filled with desire as his hips moved harder. Your body responded to his every move, feeling your walls tighten around both of them, causing a strangled moan to escape your lips.

“Give me more,” you begged, feeling the pleasure begin to consume every corner of your being. Both men looked at each other, a spark of complicity passing between them as they intensified their pace, bringing you to the edge.

“I’m so close…” you breathed out, each word laden with need. With every hip thrust and every caress of Itachi’s fingers, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You let yourself go, and in that instant, you decided that the only thing that mattered was this approaching ecstasy.

The waves of pleasure swept over you mercilessly, your body shaking violently as your climax washed over you, drowning your moans in an almost primal scream. The contractions inside you intensified, squeezing both men with each wave, bringing you to a place where time and space seemed to fade away.

Shisui held you firmly, making sure you didn’t collapse as Itachi continued to thrust deep, taking every moment of your ecstasy. The mix of sensations was overwhelming; The heat, the pressure, and the kisses they both bestowed upon you, all came together in a whirlwind of pleasure that left you breathless.

They both filled you, you felt your walls being stained by warm jets of semen. When Shisui and Itachi pulled out of you, you felt their seeds dripping from your pussy.

The warmth of his lips on your skin made you feel even more connected to them, as if each kiss was a silent promise of care and devotion. His hands moved slowly up your hips, drawing soft circles that sent shivers of pleasure through your still sensitive body.

“Are you okay?” Shisui asked, his voice low and full of tenderness as he looked at you with those dark eyes that seemed to understand you better than anyone else.

You nodded, feeling the mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Yes, more than okay.”

Itachi leaned in to kiss you again, his mouth so soft and tempting. His warm breath on your lips made you want more of them, more of that connection that had grown between the three of you. In that instant, everything that had happened before faded away, leaving you with only the desire to be here, with them, forever.

[unmaskthewriter]

The Night We Met {Arthur Morgan x F!Reader}

Summary: After Arthur’s passing, you visit his grave to find closure but instead, you find quite the opposite. Inspired by The Night We Met by Lord Huron.

I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, published and/or translated on any platform including Tumblr.

A/N: Apologies for the absence, dearest readers! I’ve had a bit of a mental block, so I’ve put out this small piece of writing to perhaps get back on track! Mainly Arthur x Reader but small Charles x Reader if you squint really hard.

Warnings: Mentions of Canon Character Death

Word Count: 660ish

A cool, spring breeze traveled through the mountains of Ambarino. Patches of bright, dewy grass covered the ground on either side of the dirt path. Luckily, it was not nearly as cold as last year.

“Almost there, girl.” You gently patted your horse, Gypsy, soothing her as she made the climb upward towards a clearing. Carefully dismounting your horse, you hitched her to a nearby tree and slowly made your way closer to the other side of the clearing towards the edge of the cliff. Your eyes came upon what you were searching for: a wooden grave adorned with a variety of fresh flowers.

It almost felt as if your feet were being weighed down, dragging along slowly. You tried to ignore that weak in the knees feeling as you approached. Removing your leather riding gloves, you knelt alongside the freshly dug dirt.

‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness’

“… for they shall be filled,” You speak softly to yourself, trying not to give into the sadness, “you’re supposed to be here with me.” Defeated, you give into the onslaught of hot tears that escape the corners of your eyes, trailing down your cheeks and dripping off your chin. You feel your heart ache for what was, and what could have been. A moment of silence passes.

“When we met, I had beat you at a game of poker.” You sniffled and pulled something from the pocket of your goat jacket, carefully placing it amongst the flowers.

A single poker chip.

“Some say it’s luck, some say it’s skill. Whatever it was, it led me to you. I’ll never regret the years we had together, even if we spent them as outlaws.” You hiccuped, quickly wiping your tears away as you felt anger take over. Clutching the newly grown grass beneath you, you look to his grave. Feeling suffocated from the sadness, you knew you had to leave.

“I won’t let Dutch and Micah get away with this… I promise. I love you, Arthur. I always will.” You swiftly speak, standing quickly and turning back to return to Gypsy.

As you did so, you spotted a wild buck standing in the clearing. The animal makes eye contact with you, as if connecting with you, before slowly sauntering off.

I had all and then most of you

some and now none of you

take me back to the night we met

Returning to camp at Moonstone Pond in a daze, you see someone sitting near the fire. Approaching slowly from behind with a hand hovering over your holstered revolver, you try to get a closer look.

It is Arthur, holding the daughter you share together in his arms, singing softly to her. Such a tiny thing in his arms with dark hair and bright eyes to resemble his.

“I ain’t got no father… I ain’t got no father… I ain’t got no father… to buy the clothes I wear.”

“A-Arthur?” Your voice breaks as you take in the sight. He looked just as he did before he was sick. His soft blue eyes gazed at his daughter adoringly while his thin, chapped lips formed into a rare smile. His stubble was just barely coming in on his cheeks, and his hair was long, but tidy. You wanted to hug him, kiss him, tell him how hard things have been without him but as quickly as he appeared, he is gone, and you are alone again. Charles, who despite his own problems and has been your rock since the gang had fallen apart, is at your side with your daughter in his arms as you fall to your knees, sobbing. You tried to find peace in knowing Arthur had done better than most in his final days and moments, but that was of no consolation to you as your grief had come undone.

“Shhh… it’s alright. I’m here.” He sits alongside you, holding you close with one arm while rocking your daughter to sleep with the other.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do

haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

[loveandleases]

THIRD ASK (honestly, I'm not sure if you'd even wanna answer this XD I can feel the sins on this one):

Okay, this is a reaction for each RO, in rela stage, to highlight a comeback of how they had their first meet with MC and/or one of the highlighted moments. (You'll see why below)

Cam: He just came home, probably pent up (?) and he just comes home to see MC looking at him knowingly and suggestively licking the cream off the oreo before smiling adoringly and say "I bought Oreos.", a reminder of the last time they used that phrase.

G: Remember that ol'sweater that was once 'taken' and now returned all those times ago? Welp, imagine G walking into the bedroom to find MC wearing it. And only it, with the end of the sweater just above the mid-thigh (or somewhere close to it, given the possible height difference). All the while, MC is sitting there with a little grin, like a cat that ate the canary.

Kara: Not only did she help with starting up the business, she even saved MC's ass by providing them one of the shirts for the mishap. So imagine that shirt popping up again, this time on MC - with a collar that says 'Kara's' too, just to 'remember naming' this time. (I wish I can think up better, I am so sorry for the Kara-mancers out there (；′⌒`)

M: Ah yes, the writer. The one who gave you a signed copy of their book! Then MC comes up to M, asking if they could read them a 'bedtime story'. For some compelling reason, M allows it - and turns out, MC ends up reading the book in a sultry tone, maybe even close to M's ears if they allow it.

Isaac: (Honestly, I don't have much interaction with them). But maybe MC ends up in a delivery uniform, carrying a surprise gift as the delivery package for Isaac? Could be something sweet or something spicy, either way, it's something to set a mood. (Again, I'm sorry to all I-mancers /(ㄒoㄒ)/~~ )

Ardent: The walking 'wall' himself. Obviously, the easy thing to do is probs Ardent walking into MC naked with no more than pieces of cake on them - but for the sake of preventing ants on the bed, it could be something else. Maybe MC surprised Ardent with a cake, a similar one to when they first met...Except the words on the cake is probs something teasing, like 'Happy Birthday, old man', 'Happy Anniversary, Balloon Man' or even 'Worth 30 Minutes?'. (And yes, MC did wait in line for 30 or more mins for this cake).

SO, WHAT WOULD EACH OF THE ROS DO WITH THEIR RESPECTIVE SCENARIO (AND I AM SO SORRY THAT THIS IS LONG ASF ಥ_ಥ)

The sins are there!!! (how could I forget the oreo...) (some of these are short some long but all below the cut!

❤️ Cam - First he would think oh yay Oreos...until it clicks in his head about the last time MC said they bought Oreos. His pale cheeks will blossom with color in an instant. Ruby red. He knows MC is doing it to tease him, and two can play this game. Cam would walk over, taking the Oreo from their hand and simply say, "I guess you couldn't wait, huh? You know I have a much better filling if you're so hungry." (sometimes he's just too ballsy)

💙 G - They nod their head, blowing a breath between their lips that have pulled into a grin. "I fucking knew it." They knew MC took it, just like they kept something of MC's. G pops their hip out, hand held out waiting for what's rightfully theirs. "Give it." When MC doesn't budge G will walk over ready to take it off. Of course, MC will gladly let them try, intent on using the sleeves to keep G in place later.

💚 Kara - (that's actually super cute.) "What's this?" Kara runs a finger along the collar, leaning into MC's personal space. "Mine." She giggles pressing her lips against the collar and leaving a print of her lipstick behind.

"I honestly hope you forget more often, who knows where I can kiss next."

💛 M - "With a feather-light touch, his lips ghost along her spine. Her breath hitching as he goes lower."

M gulps loudly, hands pulling their blanket to the top of their cheeks. Their eyes are shut tight, and their breathing heavy. "Wh-why did you choose this book?" They stammer out, their brow pinched together.

You lean closer, blowing a stray hair from their forehead causing their eyes to open and stare at you.

"Do you not like it?" You ask, your voice low and inviting. Your lips pull into a slow teasing smile causing M's eyes to fall on your lips.

They nod fervently, using a hand to cover their eyes. "I-I..fuck."

"I'll stop here then."

Before you can close the page, M reaches forward grabbing your hand. They don't dare meet your gaze; instead, they focus on your legs, which are brushing against the side of their bed. "Not yet."

💜 Isaac - You knock rapidly on the door, listening closely as Isaac comes to open it. "Listen I don't have an- Oh." They catch on your appearance, shorts yanked high showing off your thighs.

"I need your signature." You motion to the pen in your hand, cocking your hip out as Isaac leans against the door frame.

"Is that so? What's the package?" He asks, quirking a brow as he glides his hand along your own and plucks the pen from your hand.

Once you see the pen is firmly in his grasp you turn, allowing him to read the writing on the back of your shorts.

Isaac chuckles, pulling at the bottom hem so the writing is easier to read. He grabs your arm pulling you against him, allowing his arms to wrap around your waist. "I don't need to write my name on your butt to know your mine. You decided that when you chose to stay."

🖤 Ardent - "You be good, alright? I have your cat nip toys and treats. You just, I don't know don't come clawing his back when he gets here." Cupid stares blankly at you as you set the cake on the bed.

She meows nuzzling your hand as you go to pick her up, "I promise I'll play with you when he's feeling better, okay?" Cupid flicks her tail at your hand and makes her way out of the bedroom.

The door opens not long after and you decide to get comfortable, leaning back into the pillows allowing Ardent's t-shirt to hang from your frame. Once he gets closer you light the candle on top. Grinning at the writing, "Worth 30 minutes?"

The door is pushed fully open and there he stands, his hair half up and his brow raised in question. "You didn't." He says motioning to the cake on the bed. A lone strand of wax runs down the candle.

You lean over, allowing the shirt to gape and show Ardent your chest as you pull the candle out of the cake and use your hand to wipe the wax off it. You then use your tongue to lick off the icing that clings to the bottom of the candle. "I did."

His eyes darken watching you, yanking the tie out of his hair and pulling off his shirt. "What's the occasion?" He asks as he goes to sit on the bed near you, taking the candle from your hands. His rough hands stroke your cheek lovingly, as his thumb moves to swipe the icing along your lip.

"What is it too soon to get you a cake reminding you of how we met?"

Ardent groans, his hand rubbing along his face as he looks down to read the red writing. "I'd say you're worth more than thirty minutes."

"How much?"

"What?"

"How much am I worth to you?"

Ardent leans forward, his hand cradling the back of your neck as he rubs his nose against yours, his lip pressing softly into your own. "Everything I have and more."

[https-genesis]

my baby, my baby | dad!jake x daughter!reader

Synopsis; Jake Sully wishes he did more when you were there. Now that you're not, he's losing a part of himself he didn't know he had in the first place.

Contents; angst no comfort haha, mom neytiri & siblings sullys, major death, depiction of gore, general avatar stuff, jake being a bad father, brief mention of suicide, long fic NO INCEST

Dictionary; Olo'eyktan - Clan leader, Tsahik - Interpretor of Eywa, Ikran - large winged creature, Sa'nok - Mother, Sempul/Sempu - Father/Daddy, Kuru - queue, tsaheylu braid, Tsumuke - sister

A/N; sad cries

At first, you were the best thing to happen to Jake and Neytiri. Their eldest child, eldest daughter, future Olo'eyktan/Tsahik. Neytiri found out she held you in her womb shortly before the Sky People attacked Home Tree. She had told Jake only after, fearing he wouldn't want her to fight with the rest of the Omatikaya. After they won the war, Neytiri gave birth to you, their beautiful little babygirl.

During your first connection with Eywa, Mo'at heard the latter whisper about how you were destined to be a great, mighty woman. The first few years of your life, you learned everything you were taught faster than most Na'vi. At two, your sa'nok gave birth to your brother, Neteyam. He was a carbon copy of Neytiri, while your father's face was printed onto yours. With Neteyam by your side, you learned to speak the language fluently at three, and by four, you learned English. Jake taught you how to hunt, how to craft blades and how to carry yourself like a leader. Neytiri taught you the ways of the bow, the traditions of the people and how to cook the game you hunted.

Though it seemed picture perfect, after Neteyam's birth, your father became distant. He was erratic and he had trouble sleeping at night and the only way you could tell he was awake is because of his rushed breathing. Kiri came next, being a byproduct of what seemed to be Eywa and Grace, but she was a good child. More resilient. And a few days after Kiri's birth Lo'ak arrived, slightly unexpectedly. Having four children with the woman he loved made Jake ecstatic, but you felt you were slipping through his fingers as you watched him be a marine before being a father. Tuk was the last straw for him. He completely detached himself from whatever relationship you two had before and the only time you'd hold conversations longer than ten minutes made you feel sick with envy.

Even with the familial struggles, you still exelled in what you trained. When you turned thirteen, your Iknimaya was near perfect. Jake had told you stories about his, for it took more than a dozen minutes before his ikran, Bob, had calmed down. You approached the ikran's den slowly, with a rope in hand (your father had said it would make the task easier) and slowly crept your way inside. One by one, they flied off the edge of the cliff until one stood its ground. She was a striking turquoise color with stripes of deep marine blue, and Neytiri whispered to Jake how it resembled Seze.

You were a fierce hunter by the age of sixteen, and your siblings cherished you as much as you did them. You kept Lo'ak out of trouble and had a major influence on his behavior. You, Kiri and Tuk often gossiped about boys and you always tended to Neteyam's wounds alongside Mo'at.

The group stood and walked back the way you came from. Tuk ran in front of you again. "Come on, it is almost eclipse!" A hand then reaches out towards her right arm, then her left, and she's pulled towards a taller figure. The shriek she let out made your instincts act before your brain and the bow tou held tightly in your grasp came in front of you. You noticed five fingers and markings on their blue skin, but most strikingly was their off-green clothing and the heavy guns they carried.

The moment that you realized the Sky People had came back was deep in the forest, with Lo'ak, Kiri, Spider and unwillingly Tuk. As you walked, you could hear them bicker about each others presence until Tuk came to a slow halt in front on the group. You had accidentally came close to the abandoned shack your father had told you to never, under any circumstances, approach. There were other Na'vi, taller, bigger and covered from head to toe in fabric. Lo'ak reached Jake through his comms. To say Jake was appalled was an understatement.

You pulled your bow forward and reached for an arrow when the hand reaching behind your back was grasped by a much bigger one and you were pulled to the ground. Spider willingly dropped his, knowing whatever fate was left for him if he didnt drop the weapon would be worse than yours. The loud thud your body made against the forrest floor chocked you, and your bow fell out of your hand. A heavy weight was pressed against that arm, and you turned you head to see a boot. Kiri was grabbed by her kuru and her right arm, and you could see her wince in pain from it being pulled too hard. Your eyes shifted to Lo'ak, who was on his knees also held by his queue, as one Dreamwalker approached him, his hand resting on his firearm. You couldn't listen to their conversation, your focus being primarily on Tuktirey. The poor girl was too young to be here- you should've never let her come with you.

You had waited for what felt like hours, the sky was now dark. You knew that they were looking for your father, ex-human and ex-marine who came onto Pandora and disobeyed about ninety-nine of the hundred rules they had put in place. Rain poured heavily on your hair and down your shoulders and you shivered as you felt Tuk cower into your back. Momentarily, one of the Avatars glanced at you and you bared your teeth at him before giving him your most threatening hiss.

He grinned, wide and sadistic, and pulled your back to his chest. He held your arm so thight that it went numb and the tip of your fingers felt as if they were covered in small bugs. He brought a blade to your neck and pressed slightly, blood gliding down your collarbone. You heard your mother's call then, your ears perking up and your head turning in its direction.

"Demon! I will kill you as many times as I have to!" As the first arrow hit the first soldier, the one holding you in place tightened his grip on you before lifting the blade high above his head, very clearly planning to stab you. Another arrow pierced his arm as he fell backwards and even thought you saw a flash of long braided hair, probably your mother's, you didn't want to run. You turned and grabbed Tuk while your hand reached for Kiri's and you ran to a nearby tree. Pushing them to safety, Tuk climbed onto Kiri's lap and you smoothed down her soaked hair. "I will return, tsumuke. I have to find Lo'ak." You ran back near the shack and grabbed your bow that had been tossed aside. Three arrows. Eywa knows how many soldiers. Peeking from a bullet ridden tree you spotted Lo'ak in the same position he had been before, held by a Dreamwaker taking cover behind the large shack. Your drew your bow back and hit the Avatar in the shoulder and Lo'ak was pushed forward by its body. You ran towards him as quickly as you could and shoved him behind you, instructing him to run where Kiri and Tuk were hidden. You drew your bow again but this time quicker and shot another Avatar in the chest.

Unfortunately, you were too pumped by adrenaline to notice the blood pooling down your ribs and onto your loincloth, and didn't notice the sharp pain in your shoulder blade from your arm having been bend ways it shouldn't have been. When the forrest quiet back down you limped back to the tree you had left your siblings and saw the rest of your family, safe. A sigh was pulled from your noticeably bloody lips and you stumbled closer to your family before stumbling to your knees with a sharp wince. Jake's head lifted quickly thinking there was another round of soldiers, but the only thing he could see in the darkness was your form hunched over and breathing too heavy for comfort. He dropped his gun and tripped running to you while Neytiri turned to see her firstborn daughter laying on the forest floor, covered in grime and gore and whatever your wet skin came into contact with. She came to her knees next to your head and gently placed it onto her thighs while Jake tried to apply pressure on the bullet wound on your ribs. You couldn't see you siblings then because of how blurry your vision became.

"No... No, No, No... No Great Mother No. Please, not my child, Great Mother, Please!" Neytiri pleaded. Kiri had gripped her arm to stop her from ripping out her own hair. Jake pressed the wound so hard that you jerked away from him screaming in what could only be agony, and he weeped. You sobbed for your sempul to help you, to save you, to make you feel better. "You're alright babygirl... You're alright- It's.. It's alright." As you lost and gained consciousness, you could feel what seemed to be Neteyam's hand in yours and Lo'ak gently squeezing your shin. Tuk still laid in Kiri's lap and gently sobbed into her neck. You looked Jake right in the eye as you took your last breath, and he didn't even get to tell you he loved you. He wanted to shoot himself in the head that night.

☆

Because they weren't in the comfort of the forrest anymore, your funeral was short and bitter. Since they couldn't bury your corpse into Home Tree, Mo'at suggested you be wrapped into blessed shawls woven from the finest fabric in Pandora, and your corpse be tucked into a large coffin-like basket. Every single Na'vi in High Camp attended your funeral and had even covered the casket with beautiful ornaments, while the children put sliced fruit and small wooden toys for your spirit to rest peacefully.

Each of your siblings had a gift for you. Tuktirey had her favorite Toruk toy, one Jake had carved himself and that was passed on to the other children. Kiri covered your casket with her favorite beautiful hand woven blanket that she had growing up. Lo'ak wasn't sure what he would give you. In all honesty, he didn't want to come to your funeral. He wanted to cry into his hammock and scream into his hands and pray for you to just come back. He ended up giving you his blade to remind your spirit of your fierce nature, how you never gave up and always protected the people. Neteyam was too in a dilemma. You were his big sister, his guide in this world and now seeing your cold and still body be lowered into a basket made him sick. He couldn't bring himself to come close to it, so he asked Neytiri to put his gift (which was one of the two arrows you had shot the day you died) onto your grave.

Neytiri had crumbled to her knees with what started as a whimper and now the rocks of High Camp absorbed her flowing tears. Jake held her close to his chest and held a firm hand to her head and while he felt anger and rage from seeing your covered body be dropped into a handmade shawl, he also felt guilt. He was so caught up in being Olo'eyktan and so caught up in being a warrior that he wasn't there for you. For his beautiful mate or for his children. You were only a year older than Neteyam yet you held yourself like a mature Na'vi woman and he started wondering (still holding a weeping Neytiri close to him) if it was because he was cold to you. Towards the end, Neytiri held your songcord to her heart and whispered its melody which painfully reminded her of you. How delicate yet strong it left her lips.

Jake thought he had felt it all. As a human, he had lost his brother and his legs, his entire life had flashed before his eyes too many times but this... this was different. He had lost you. His first child. His babygirl. That night, he decided with an unwilling Neytiri to leave the forrest. Leave far, far away were no human or Dreamwalker had been. He'd never see you again. Not in his dreams, not at the Tree of Souls, not today and not never. He'd lost you. You were dead.

Oh how he wished he had held you a little bit longer, and a little bit tighter.

if me watching james cameron movies can't be happy, jake in avatar twow can't be happy

[bengals-barnesbabe]

FYS (Babe's Version)

Pair: FB! Joe Burrow x Black!Nurse Reader

Descr: Just the reader's view of the events in 'Fuck Your Status,' no major changes to the plot. But more insight on how she feels about their "relationship.” Also it doesn’t matter which one you read first :)

TW: MDNI 18+ | smut, protected sex, p-in-v, jealous and possessive traits, bratty behavior, drinking, self centered!Joe.

OG Version | Main Masterlist | SCS

WC: 1615

‿̩̥̩ ‿̩̩̥͙̽ ‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You got Higgins’ text when you were sitting on the couch binge watching ‘Living Single’ with a glass bottle of wine. It was a simple, ‘come celebrate wit us’ text, but it meant so much more. It meant along with seeing one of your closest friends, Joe Burrow would be there. 

Ugh, just the thought of him made your core clench.

That name brought intense, lustful downright nasty flashbacks to your mind. It’s been a while since you hooked up, but all the memories are still there, engrained in your brain as some of the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. 

Walking into your closet, you knew there was only one choice for tonight. Joe’s already seen most of your party dresses, so the new lacy black skintight dress that you got at the mall last week was the winner. It fit like it was painted onto your body, and the low v-neck did wonders for your rack. You paired it with black red bottom pumps and a glossy red lip. Then rubbed some shimmery body butter into your skin. Spritzing yourself with a sweet musky Arabian perfume, you were smug looking at yourself in the floor-length mirror.

Your hair was already done, so you just took it down from the bun you had it in a few hours ago for work. Today was one of the rare days that your supervisor sent you home because of a scheduling error and you were not complaining. 

Since the dress you were wearing didn’t require a bra, you just switched out your boy shorts for a pair of lace panties that matched your dress. Not that they’d last very long.

Drinks plus you and Joe meant they wouldn’t stand a chance, they’d either get too wet or he’d tear them off. You didn’t mind either, he’d be paying for new ones if he wanted to keep this little arrangement up.

Since black was already the night’s theme, you picked out a cute little clutch to go with the fit- not forgetting to slip some protection in there as well. It’s that kind of night, there’s no shame whatsoever. It’s time to have some fun.

You beeline straight for the bar once you get past the bouncer. Being friends with the starters has its perks. 

Apparently, because they won a big game all the drinks were based on the Bengals. Which made sense, if you were into that type of thing, which you aren’t.

You asked the bartender for something fruity but strong, with a non-medicinal cherry flavor. You didn't need much after the half empty bottle of red wine you left at home. Your drink was delivered at the exact moment you locked eyes with him. It was like he was your prey, when by the end of the hour it’d definitely be the other way around. 

A flirty smirk pulled at your features and you held the drink up. He copied your gesture and knocked back the entire glass.

You took this time to admire his casual fit, like most guys here he keeps it simple. Dark jeans, plain white tee, a jacket and probably a nice pair of sneakers- maybe even Jordans. But the thing about Joe is it doesn’t matter what he walks in with, his aura is unreal. He always has a pair of glasses on, and his face card never declines- unless he’s mid throw.

Don’t get started about his legs, you could shiver just thinking about his meaty thighs and how good they feel rubbing against your pussy. He’s fucking different alright. If he took off the damn jacket you’d just drool at his arms all day and his fingers- its getting really hot in here. 

You left the bar and found an empty restroom that luckily only had one stall. Leaning your arms on the sink you chuckle at the mess you started, but have no desire to finish. 

Has it really been that damn long since he was inside you? Yes.

Are you about to lure him into this nasty ass bathroom? Hell yea.

You slide the lingerie down your legs and let out a sigh as the cool air blew over your wet folds. The crotch of the panties is soaked all the way through, you should feel ashamed for letting him affect you this strongly, but you don’t. 

Your close friends that aren’t Bengals, think you’re just using his fame to get free shit out of him. Sometimes you let them think that, because the truth is much worse.

You went from not needing a man for anything to needing him in order to relax. You were always the type of person that took their work home with them and after your last breakup, that work consumed you. Somehow hooking up with him allowed you to reach deep and lose yourself in the immense pleasure he was giving you. He could make you forget about all the horrors of nursing, being the first-born daughter, and all of the other anxieties you faced. It truly was some magical dick.

You swapped the panties for your phone and dropped the lace in your bag on the floor. Then shot him a quick text. 

To: JB🤤

Miss me

Like always, the short thread consisted of him being a dick and you teasing the shit outta him, actively trying to piss him off. By the end you give him your location and prepare to relinquish all control to him.

Thankfully you didn’t have to wait long, as soon as you heard that strong knock you pulled him in. You were very pleased to see he did in fact abandon the jacket, the veins on his arms presenting themselves beautifully on his ivory skin. Looking up you smirk at his inability to bring his usually cocky self back at the moment.

“I did not invite you here so you could just stare at me. That’s what Instagram’s for. I already know how fine I look, Higgins beat you to it.” 

The quarterback’s eyes finally meet yours and you feel flutters in your stomach as he stalks up to you. You bite your lip as he traps you between his body and the porcelain sink. His big hands clutch your waist and his mouth leans down to the shell of your ear. “If I hear his name come out of your mouth one more time, I’ll make you choke on it.” 

Your eyes flutter closed at his husky voice, knees threaten to lock up and give way to gravity if he didn't already have you in his grasp. Your hands clench on the sink as you begin to regret taking off your underwear so soon. All you can feel is the heat radiating from his body and the slick threatening to drip down your thighs.

A dark chuckle snaps your eyes open. “Not so talkative now are you? Now who’d you wear this dress for?” 

You take deep breaths to calm yourself. “No one- myself.” It doesn’t work.

He took a step back and tsked. “Yea I don’t think so.” Suddenly he’s manhandling you around to face the mirror. You stare at his reflection and his hands fondle your hips then drag your ass against his hard bulge. 

Not helping my own arousal at all. 

“Joey!” 

If only he’d just move his hands down.

He smirks at your complacent figure and palms your ass. Well it’s a start.

“Just tell me the truth, did you wear this-

His smirk turns into a clenched jaw as his eyes darken. You look up at him through your lashes in the mirror.

You let out a silent laugh as the dress is pushed up, now his breathing is getting harder. “Where are your damn panties?” He grumbles.

You lean over the side of the sink and retrieve the lace from your purse and wave them in his face. “You mean these? I got tired of them.” He caught them as you threw them at him and hesitated for a second before pocketing them.

“You’re just asking to be punished aren’t you?”

Yes, precisely.

“You must really want someone to find us here.”

Fuck public exhibition sounds hot as fuck.

“Wanna get caught fucking Cincinnati’s best quarterback?”

You scoff rolling your eyes and lift up your arms. “I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about your damn status.”

Got me fucked up.

“Then why are you here?” He chuckles, shoving me back down. Rude. At least he’s starting to get rid of those jeans.

“So I could get fucked in the bathroom of a club by Cincinnati’s nerdiest white boy.” You say locking eyes with his reflection. “That’s your real status.”

The boy I see after getting fucking tens ways to Sunday. 

“Well you’re right about one thing.” He groans.

While your body covers most of his groin, you can tell he’s stroking himself by the way his veins flex and turn. You grab a condom from your bag and hold it out to him. Biting your lip to suppress the moan in your chest as he rips it open with his teeth.

“I’m always right.” You tease wiggling your ass as against his length.

He rolls his eyes and lays a smack against your cheek. “Ow!” You gasp in surprise. 

“Shut the fuck up.” He warns rubbing the tender muscle then kicks your legs apart. 

“Make me.” Mischief shines in your glare while repeating the motions with your hips, shaking the fat on him some more.

He humors you for a bit before halting your movements with a strong hand. “Gladly.” 

“Ahh.” You moan when his finger spreads your slick over your clit and cunt. Looking up at him, you feel him replace it with something much thicker. “Wait.”

His grip on your hips deepens as his cock impales you. “Fuck.”

So fucking worth it.

﹥*:ꔫ:*+ﾟ

A/n: so which one did you prefer??

OG version or Babe’s Version

Edit: there were so many grammar errors in that, whoops.

[cas-backwards-tie]

The Graveyard

TF141 x Reader

Summary: A discussion of the Base’s upcoming Halloween celebration leads to the suggestion that Ghost actually participates this year. The question is… will he?

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: None(?)

A/N: for @vikki-tikki-tavii 💕 thanks for the request! This definitely felt appropriate for this time of year. I also meant to keep it on the shorter side but ahhh!!! I got so caught up in their back and forth, and the whole vibe of it all! 🙈 I hope you like it! Divider by @kodaswrld ❤️

“Any hints as to what you’re goin’ as?” Kyle asks Johnny from across the room.

“I’m not tellin’! No doubt you’d try an’ copy me,” Johnny responds.

“Maybe he just doesn’t wanna show up wearing the same costume,” you joke. Watching the way Kyle’s eyebrow quirks in that telltale way you just know he’s getting annoyed, meanwhile Johnny’s got a wicked smirk on his lips that can only mean he’s up to no good.

“Yeah, right,” Kyle scoffs. He turns back to his paperwork, the three of you in the Command Station respectively doing your menial work. It seems whatever conversation Kyle had tried to stir up about Halloween was fruitless, the room quieting as everyone refocuses.

The familiar sound of heavy footfall matched with the faint squeak of sneakers signals who’s approaching. “LT!” Kyle perks up. The work-related focus didn’t last long, you think. God only knows when the paperwork will finally get done. “You celebrating this year?”

“What? Halloween?” Ghost questions, turning to offer the Captain, who’d only just entered with him, a look. The Lieutenant shakes his head.

“I take it you’re looking forward to this year’s party?” John asks, placing down his water bottle on the counter by the doorway. His brow is still covered in sweat, the two senior officers having been scheduled for their quarterly assessment earlier this afternoon.

“What’s not to like? Handing out candy to the kids, seeing their little costumes-” Kyle leans back in his chair starting to list off all the reasons he loves this holiday.

“Still can’t believe I’m the only one who got Chase from Paw Patrol,” Johnny interrupts, muttering under his breath as he crosses his arms and turns to face the doorway, officially joining the conversation.

“Not all of us have nieces,” you quip, sending him a sarcastic look over your shoulder.

“-The costume contest, and the games? I’ve actually been practicing my apple bobbing the past few days. I’m going to win this year, guarantee it!” Kyle continues.

“Scaring the wee ones takes the cake though,” Johnny chimes in. “Surprised you haven’t signed up to volunteer in the graveyard, LT. Figure you’d like dressing up, all considering,” he jokes.

Every year the Base puts on a Halloween celebration for the community, and while there are different stations where volunteers hand out candy, there’s games, contests, and of course, the makeshift graveyard. It’s akin to that of a haunted house, only, it’s outside, and decorated in mostly lame attempted cardboard headstones, plastic ghosts, and bats. The fog machine certainly adds an eerie element, but what makes it are the volunteers who sign up. While it’s technically only another station to hand out candy, some of the soldiers like to add to the ambiance and scare the people walking through. Johnny definitely seems the type.

Unconsciously, a shocked look crosses your features. Johnny might not be wrong to think so, but to say it?! To Ghost’s face? Oh, hell no. While you look back at Johnny over to Ghost, you find you aren’t the only one shocked. John’s eyes are a little wider than usual, but no one comments.

“Yeah, and what should I go as?” The response from the LT elicits a quiet sigh of relief. You’re glad another physical blowout hadn’t ensued.

A visage of curiosity displays itself across the group’s faces, but it ultimately only takes a moment for people to pitch in.

“Ghostface?” Johnny proposes before shaking his head. “No… too on the nose?” A chuckle follows.

“Thor?” You offer something different.

“Shrek!” Kyle comments.

“I’d rather keep the mask on, if possible,” Ghost mentions.

“Devil?” The Captain questions.

“Death?” Johnny adds, to which you all look at him before looking back at the Lieutenant.

“The Grim Reaper!”

“Grim Reaper,” both you and Kyle voice at the same time. A jovial look is shared before you turn back to the Lieutenant waiting for a response.

“That’s actually quite good,” John approves, arms crossing as he leans against the counter.

“We’ll see,” the Lieutenant responds, not offering up any morsel of rejoice as he takes off his tac-vest and heads over to his locker.

It’s only a week or so later when Halloween finally arrives. And while it’s not the most commonplace celebrated holiday in Europe, it’s one that many have chosen to adopt in favor of its fun and creative festivities. You’d decided to dress up as a cat because it was easy. Draw on some whiskers and a nose, find a headband to go with it, and you’re still abiding by dress code even during the festivities.

Stationed on candy duty with Markowski from the Foreign Intelligence Committee, you both sit by the garage which had been opened up, cleaned, and civilian-proofed for the event. While you’d been chatting with your buddy in hopes of catching up, you spot movement from your peripheral. “Let me guess,” Markowski says, turning on his stool to eye the incoming pair of children. “Rapunzel, and…”

“Pasquel!” The other child shouts excitedly. A smile envelopes your lips as the family approaches and you hand out the candy. “You’re a kitty,” the little girl says to you.

“I am,” you reply. “Have you been having fun?” You ask her in response, yet still attempt to engage the whole family as well.

“Yeah!” Both little girls respond, thankfully. You don’t know what you’d do if they weren’t.

“It’s definitely a lot spookier than last year,” the dad chuckles, “Becca here almost cried because of that Skeleton in the Graveyard,” he teases.

“I thought that was the Grim Reaper,” the mother states, and you laugh despite not knowing exactly. You hadn’t seen all the decorations that the Base had put out this year, but while they never spent the most on extracurricular things like holidays, you know they do tend to upgrade things when the original gets damaged and needs a replacement.

Nevertheless, the family thanks you for your service and heads off to the next group of soldiers stationed at a candy point. It’s only once the night’s getting later that the people start to die down in numbers that you’re able to tag off with Markowski and have a break. Wandering through the grounds you spot people lining up for the costume contest, the cookie decorating station, and the apple-bobbing table.

You decide to go there since you know Kyle happened to get stationed there. Even if he’d been preparing for a few days in advance, you wouldn’t put it past him to keep trying when the line died down. To your surprise, the Captain is there too. “What’re you doing here?” You question, smiling up at the old man. Sure, he didn’t necessarily enjoy these events, but you wondered why he was here instead of watching the game on the telly at home. It’s only so often you all get time off, anyhow.

“I thought I’d pop by after I was done to see what my team’s been up to,” John answers, smiling behind the cup of—no doubt *spiked*—cider in his hands. Part of you wants to chastise him for working on a holiday, while the other part is simply glad to see him. Choosing the latter, a smile graces your features. It’s momentary to, however, as his words dawn on you.

“Wait, Riley’s here?” You ask. It was rare that the Lieutenant would show up to an event, at least that’s what they’d told you. Once you’d joined the team he seemed to make more of an effort, according to the guys. And it was sort of true from what you’d seen. Any time an event would come up, especially a formal one, you’d all have to beg Ghost to join you all. With the promise of free food, drinks, and an early getaway was the only way you’d be able to get him to go.

“You didn’t hear?” Kyle asks excitedly, with a shake of his head. He’d clearly just been dunking his head in the pails considering water flicks off his hair in droplets, hitting your forearm. His eyelashes are wet, and there are still a few beads of water dripping down the side of his face. “He took our advice and volunteered for once!”

“Apparently he’s quite the hit,” John muses, subtly shaking his head at the Sergeant’s silliness. “Did you even manage to get one?” He eyes the pails tacitly.

“Actually, yeah. Won the contest, just like I said I would,” Kyle confesses, holding up the little plastic trophy he’d gotten.

“Guess those kids need to practice more,” you joke, eliciting a laugh from the men. As the quiet settles between the three of you, the sun finally dipping under the horizon leaving you all in the relative dark, your thoughts wander back. “I thought we were meeting at your house to catch the end of the game though?” Even if it isn’t your favorite thing to watch, you enjoy the guys’ company.

“We are, the boys said they’d meet us back here once they cleaned up,” John informs you. With the sun having set, the festivities were definitely coming to an end. It shouldn’t be too much longer.

“I’ve already got it all cleaned up here! Just need to put these back in the garage, if you two wanna go ahead and find them?” Kyle encourages. Considering your station really only had a candy bowl, you’re more than sure Markowski can handle it. Kyle’s partner joins you all, and with the quick emptying of the three pails and a collection of the apples into one, it’d only take the breaking down of a foldable table for them to clean up.

A quick glance at the Captain tells you he’s waiting on you, his brow quirked in that questioning way. He has his answer when you peel off, heading toward where you know, at least, Johnny is. The fog machine is still clearly on as you have to wave your hand in front of your face, the weird somewhat chemical smelling fumes emanating from it turning your stomach. The small plastic fencing is still in place, and while there are maybe one or two fake headstones still sitting around, it doesn’t take long to find Johnny.

“Nice costume,” you compliment, unable to help the teasing smirk from settling on your lips. Eyeing him up and down, he really did put a lot of effort into his costume! He’d clearly cut off the bottom of a pair of jeans, the frayed edges giving it away. Besides the homemade shorts which he’d stuck a tail out the back, he’d left his plaid flannel halfway undone exposing his unruly chest hair, adorned a headband of ears, and a snout tied around his face with a string.

“Why, thank you, Lass,” he responds, sitting the decorations he’d picked up on his hips. “Weren’t we supposed to meet you at Kyle’s though?”

“Yeah, but we got done early, so the Cap’ and I came to get you,” you relay him in on the information. “How was it? Scare a lot of kids this year?”

Johnny chuckles before his eyes light up at the mention of the evening. “Yeah! We actually-”

“Ready?” The Captain’s voice cuts off Johnny’s story as he’d finally caught up. You’d supposed he’d been admiring the details in the decorations.

With a split-second glance over your shoulder you respond. “Yeah! Just gotta find the LT first and then we’re good to go.” Refocused on Johnny and wanting to hear the stories from tonight, his eyes aren’t on you, but over your shoulder on the Captain.

“Found him,” Johnny announces nonchalantly.

“Where?” You ask rhetorically, turning. It’s then that the closeness of a body looming over you sends you reeling back, stumbling, almost falling on your butt. While Johnny tried to catch you, and an embarrassing yelp had left your mouth, you can’t help but purse your lips out of embarrassment as the three men before you cackle.

“Behind you,” the Captain finally answers, coughing in between big breaths of laughter.

Johnny had dropped the cheap decorations, bent over with his hands on his knees as he wheezes in laughter.

However, it’s the loud boisterous laughs coming from the hunched over Grim Reaper before you that does it. The Lieutenant really had taken your advice and dressed up. He’s got a hooded cape on, a plastic scythe, and dawned his usual mask. It’s amusing, really, the way you’d never seen him laugh this hard before, and you can’t help but join in.

“Sorry, I just had to,” the Lieutenant finally apologizes, to which you accept immediately.

“It’s okay, Riley. I’ll just have to get you back,” you taunt. There’s a pat on your back, and you look over your shoulder.

“Good luck with that,” Johnny says down to you before taking the lead on continuing to pick up the last of the decorations.

It’s only as you’ve just helped them get their decorations ready to haul back to the garage when Kyle shows up. Despite it still being a bit foggy, it was easy enough to spot the lot of you. “Did I miss something?” He asks, turning to watch the Captain carry some of the headstones past him.

“Nope,” the Grim Reaper says just behind Kyle’s ear. This elicits the same response it did from you, and you can’t help the laughter that tumbles free.

“He did it to me too, don’t worry,” you finally manage to get out. It’d almost caused you to drop the fog machine you’re carrying in one hand. “Johnny! You’ll never guess what just happened!” You shout after the men a few feet ahead of you, trailing after them. The sooner you’re all done, the sooner you can head to the Captain’s and the usual festivities will ensue. All in all, though, it was a pretty good Halloween, you’d say. It’s not everyday Ghost dresses up, let alone scares half the team.

~~~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo , @ohdamnadam , @penelopepine

[starberry-cupcake]

Hello!! This is an update but also not completely an update, it's somewhat in between, but I thought I'd share these things.

I haven't been able to start Nona because holiday preparations are taking all of my time. However, one of said holiday preparations involves making a gift that is tlt themed and I thought I'd share it (hopefully it doesn't end up looking too bad).

I was asked (it's a gift for my brother's partner) for a book-shaped vase-like thing for placing in a shelf to put things inside it, especially bookmarks and such. I was requested to do it Gideon-themed, so I've already made the foundation with mdf, sculpted the book over it with cold porcelain and I'm painting it in installments, before I varnish it. No polymer clay involved for this one, yes for the other craft I'm working on.

I was given three notes: 1) the cover has to feature the ninth house skull and a design made of bones, with the cover's title in its classic font, the design of where to put the bones and which bones I choose is up to me, 2) the spine needs to have all the nine houses skulls (that will be the end of me, I've already rearranged the design twice) and 3) I have to make up the blurb of the back in the style of my recaps.

So, I thought I'd share the blurb I've been working on as an extra recap and also to peer review it with those interested. I will have to see if it all goes in because I need to freehand paint this, but I'll do my best to make it work. I'm also making a miniature ornament scene at the same time, so painting little things is the name of the game this week. Here's the blurb:

She has thicc arms, aviator glasses and no idea of what's going on. Meet Gideon Nav, a horny gal with a knack for getting in deep shit. While trying to get out of a Bad Situation, she will get into a Worse One and land an unintended audition to accompany the Ninth House necromancer, Harrowcita Nonagesimus, into the latest edition of The Nine Houses' Next Top Lyctor. And, just like Tyra, the Emperor has set some Very Normal challenges along the way. We will meet smart friends, future enemies, strange twins and nasty traitors, creepy leech guys, kick ass girls and also Judith. Hold on to your rapiers and keep your bones accounted for, because things will get freaky up in Canaan House. One flesh, one end, bitch.

Added to this, I did read the Nona blurb! Because it's the first one I have a paper copy of, so I didn't get the blurb experience from the other two. I will react to that accordingly:

"no one expected nona to exist" I don't think the editor expected nona to exist either

I was advertised another book, but here we are

surprise book pregnancy

@lady-harrowhark pointed out there was a burger in her tshirt, this was something I hadn't even looked at before, I should point that out

I'm always looking at her face

she looks so happy, it's disorienting for this series

good for her tbh

living her disney channel sitcom moment

probably won't stay like that for long

"the zombies are coming back"

the what are what now

"all nona wants is a birthday party" very disney channel sitcom of her

"an unexpected young woman growing up in someone else's body"

we got some wei wuxian energy up in here

who's body tho??????

I'm scared

"resistance fighters and besieging necromantic forces" it checks out with the pov we last heard and allegedly camilla, regina george twin and judith acting like coaches for someone who doesn't know who they are

and last we heard the unoccupied body was gideon's but cover girl (put the bass in your walk) doesn't look like gideon so idk

"nona lives a temporary life" oh man, I don't know her but I like her and that makes me sad :(

she looks likeable idk

Extra commentary: I have a bookmark that I think works really well with this book: my sister gave me a lenticular bookmark of the second, third, seventh and ninth sisters from star wars that she got with a zine she received and it fits in a lot of ways

[sapphicseasapphire]

Miscellaneous Cryptid au lore bits that are too short/too specific to make it into individual posts!

If you want more information about any of these, feel free to ask! I’m always willing to ramble about my Little Guys haha!

(In no particular order)

• Sky’s wings are too big to fit through doors. He will 100% for sure run into people in a crowded street. Because of this, he stays behind when the others go to villages. This gets incredibly lonely for our friendly little bird boy so eventually it’s decided that someone has to stay with him. This leads to one on one bonding between Sky and everyone in the Chain! (Except Time)

• Four can control water, earth, fire, and air, but not particularly well. Jack of all trades is a master of none. That being said, each individual color is a master of their element, so when separated, they are a FORCE to be reconned with. Their diminished power as a whole is a huge source of frustration for them, but I can’t let them be too powerful.

• After the their adventure is over, Time lives out the rest of what would have been his mortal life with Malon, then he takes care of his children, and his children’s children. But eventually he’s just… lived too long. His humanity falls away and he becomes more and more of a God and stops interacting with mortals almost entirely. Except when the other Links are born in their own eras, Time looks after them Father Time style and if they fall, he rewinds to before they were injured (their last “save point”) and pushes them to a better path. (Game over. Continue?)

• Even if someone is born with the blood of a God, their powers need to be awakened. This usually happens in a moment of desperation. For example, during Time’s adventures, he meddled with the flow of time so much that it became his dominion. Twilight’s powers awakened when he was like two years old. His parents had been killed by monsters- monsters that were now looking for him. And in his desperation, he looked to a squirrel in the tree above and he copied it. The monsters lost track of him, ignoring the animals of the forest. Time was gifted, well… time… because against a falling moon, it was his last hope. Twilight was gifted shape shifting because he had no other chance of survival.

^ Hylia doesn’t count because she was one of the original Goddesses. Many of the Zeldas, while they do possess the blood of the Goddess, have not had their awakening. Yet.

• Warriors will sometimes blurt out random sets of data without being prompted. He’ll ask to run calculations on things that no one has ever asked him to. And while the others might find this confusing, it’s his way of expressing his interests. Of learning more about the things that he likes, of telling people about the things that he likes. This happens rarely, but when it does, Sky drops EVERYTHING to talk with him, so excited to see him opening up.

• The Legend of the Godkiller is a very idealized and not very accurate retelling of Sky’s final battle against Demise. It paints him as a very confident, willing knight of the Goddess. Full of righteous anger and absolutely thrumming with power. In the story that Time knows, Sky wasn’t even scared. He knew he was capable of killing Demise, and he wasn’t even surprised when he was cursed. This is… far from the truth.

• Yeah, Time knows about Sky’s curse. But what’s he gonna do? Confront him about it? Tell the others? And risk drawing the wrath of the Godkiller? Absolutely not.

• Wild is more sentient than he lets on. He understands more than the others might think. He’s a little chaos gremlin who gets so easily distracted and acts more like a wild animal than a person, but he’s very smart. He couldn’t do long division but he can tell that… something’s not right with Sky and the Master Sword. The others haven’t caught on yet.

• Wild KNOWS THINGS. That he SHOULDN’T.

• Hyrule is so incredibly timid by nature. He’s used to being hunted: first as a fairy, sought for his healing magic, and then because of his blood curse, sought by monsters to bring about the revival of Ganon. Because of this, he’s incredibly shy. Until one of his companions gets hurt!! Then he’s ALL BUSINESS and he speaks with the authority that one might expect from a fairy so powerful.

• Speaking of that! At first, no one knew he was a fairy! He was afraid that they’d bottle him (they had other bottled fairies in their pouches when he’d first met the others, so it was justified). He kept up his glamour until he physically couldn’t anymore. The others knew he was a magic user- he tended to fight less with a sword and more with his spells and had an affinity for healing, but they didn’t know JUST how powerful he was until his glamour fell apart.

• Hyrule’s glamour can change the way that people see things, but it cannot change the physical shape of something. (Except himself, because his body is mostly magic anyway). For example, he could hide Four’s horns, but if you were to touch the top of Four’s head, you’d still feel them! He can make Wild look like a Hylian, but that doesn’t make their antennae go away. This is why Sky can’t go into towns: his wings may be invisible, but they’re still there, they can still feel pain and can still bump into people and walls. So… he can’t fit, unfortunately.

• The best swimmer (aside from Legend, Ravio, and Wind) is Sky. Which is weird, right? One might think that those massive wings would slow him down. But he has the Water Dragon’s Scale! Everyone’s so surprised when he starts racing people and WINNING. When he jumps out of the water in a spiral spin. Legend can call him a cheater all he wants, but he’ll be a hypocrite for it. He can’t say anything about using magic items to bolster abilities.

• Legend and Wind go from enemies to best friends in the course of like a month. They bond over a war and the ocean, and their connection is strengthened by the conflict that they’re both familiar with. Honestly a big reason that Legend warms up to Wind is that Ravio is fond of him. Also it’s actually impossible to hate Wind. Also he went to Outset that one time and was ablel to better understand Wind’s perspective.

• Wind dies a little bit inside every time Aryll or his grandma call themselves a Sea Monster. But he doesn’t have the heart to correct them.

• Ravio was never really afraid of Wind himself. More so… afraid of the monster that he had the potential to be (Ku). When Wind was never corrupted, Ravio had no reason to hate him! So they became friends during the War of Eras.

• Ravio joins the Chain very late. But we love him anyway.

• Twilight has little nicknames for everyone. If he calls them by their actual name/their title, they’re in trouble.

• Four only splits around Sky, Warriors, Hyrule and Twilight at first. Actually, the first person they split in front of was Sky but that was an accident. Once they determine that it’s safe, they start doing it around the others… slowly but surely…

• Post God Reveal, Legend and Four join Sky in the “distrust Time” corner

• Time wields Wars’ sword because Wars has deemed him the most powerful. Because of this, Warriors will go with Time when their adventure comes to an end. (This way, neither of them have to face eternity alone).

• I know I made a whole big long post about what happens to Mer if they don’t soak, but I neglected to say that all that will happen to Aquili too, just to a lesser extent. Wind needs to soak as well, just not as often as Legend and Ravio do.

• Mer cannot assume their natural form if they have anything on their legs/feet where their tail would go. Ravio’s… not wearing anything under his robes. And Legend… isn’t wearing anything under his skirt. Being barefoot definitely isn’t ideal but it’s better than the alternative: being unable to soak and drying out. Now, they could simply remove their shoes/pants, but they’re traveling and often in battle and they don’t always have the time to shed their clothes. If they need to jump into the water? They jump into the water.

• During Legend’s adventures, him being Mer was a secret. (The Zora were already antagonistic- imagine what they’d do if they knew he was a war mongering Mer!) This is why he needed flippers or a magic item to be able to swim- something on his feet or something magically imbued to keep him from transforming.

• For Sky, Link and Aepon are generally completely fused, but there are certain events that can force an imbalance between their influence over him. For example, if he’s hurt and takes a heart potion for healing, the body is healed, his Link half is healed, but is Aepon half is still weakened. The others might notice that he acts differently after taking a potion and he just seems very… unwell. Distressed, panicked. But also, he has both Aepon dreams and Link dreams. And depending on their frequency and severity, they can affect how he acts when he wakes, at least until both halves are sufficiently awake.

• When Sky’s Aepon half is more dominant, he is actually legitimately a bird. He doesn’t speak, he just chirps and squawks and trills like a bird. He looses all sense of personal space. And he’ll LOOSE IT if his feathers are touched.

• Sky can’t see well at night but he has a much greater endurance for looking at bright things.

• Hyrule hangs out around Sky as much as he can because Sky can’t take heart potions and also his bones are literally hollow and can break a lot easier than the others’

• Hyrule is a GIFT to this world and I don’t draw him enough.

I have a LOT MORE to say about these guys but this is just off the top of my head right now. Also I don’t want to spoil story elements! But let me know if you have any questions or want more context! I have short stories written about like half of these.