#you can tell where i gave up and stopped taking the skulls seriously | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lostintransist · 2 months ago

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Tears from Dreams and Memories

Cross-posted from AO3, check out the tags over there but reader beware. I kill everyone in this little one-shot, and if I don't kill them they wish they were dead.

Check those tags out here.

Seriously, if you didn't check out the tags I kill everyone or they wish they were dead. Readers beware

You shouldn’t be running down the halls of the base. You know you shouldn’t be running. But fuck all if they weren’t right on your heels. The men had come back on base drunk and the creepy ones had searched you out. You choked down the sobs that threatened to escape. If you could just get far enough away you might be ab—

You slam into something hard. You had taken the corner fast, a hand still behind you on the wall to help you pivot. You look up, and up, and up. A hard skull mask stares down at you. Blackout paint hides everything beyond the whites of his eyes.

Maniacal laughter starts up from behind you. You can’t stop the flinch that wracks your body. Shifting you aim for the pocket of space between the man and the wall, your socks shift ever so slightly against the inside of your boots. His hand shoots out, grasping your arm before you pass him.

“Wait.”

The tone reeked of a command. No one gave commands on a base like this unless they knew they had the authority to back up the demand. The thump of steps against the thin carpet has you letting out a high-pitched keen and pulling against the bear paw holding you in place.

“Please, please, please let me go.” You barely understand the words tripping off your tongue.

Barbed wire is wrapped around your spine, it pulls tight when two men appear at the end of the hall.

“Ho ho! You found her! Our friend here owes us a good time tonight for bailing on drinks off base.” The blond sways only in his eyes, shifting over your breasts and ass.

The man with the black hair just leers, it’s almost worse.

The man holding you makes no move to let you go or tell off the men who followed you over half of the base for their ‘fun’. A change in the air occurs, a pin of a grenade hitting the dirt.

The hand on your arm tightens. The British accent surprises you, the base had been briefed that a unit on loan from the UK would be joining them for a few months. The line repeated to every man and woman below a certain rank is to leave them alone and if you have any questions submit them to the liasons.

“Get back to your rooms, you have two seconds to get out of my sight or I will be having a chat with your base commander in the morning.”

They gape at skull man, their drunk minds stumbling trying to catch up.

“What?” The blond questions.

“One.”

Both men start to back up, the menace in that single word tightens around your throat. You escaped two predators only to land with a stronger one.

“Tw—”

The soldiers take off, the threat finally process past the alcohol. You pinwheel your arm as their boots disappear behind the corner. You break free of the grip on your arm and start forward away from this new evil. One step is all you can take before arms wrap tight around your chest. He caught your arms too, fingers dangling by your thighs.

All the fight in your body leaves, your brain deciding to there is no escape. Your head rolls forward, you don’t even have the energy to blink.

When you position changes your mind starts recording new memories. Looking around you find yourself on a chair in the kitchen connected to the mess hall. The beast of a man stands in front of you slowly adding hot water to a cup. Your breaths pick up speed, fingers curling on the edge of the chair.

Skull face turns and drops a knee in front of you. He looms close but doesn’t touch any part of you.

“None of that now, I am not here to hurt you. We are just having some tea and then I will walk you to your room.” He speaks with a slow tone, as if coaxing a feral cat from beneath a car.

You can’t tell where is accent is from, England for sure but not the common one associated with the country in your mind.

“I..I…I don’t..don’t…like tea.” You stutter at him.

You see his brows draw down despite the mask.

“Well I will give you a warm cup to hold while I drink my tea then.” His voice is deep as it should be with the breadth of his shoulders.

He stays on his knee, looking you over until at some point known only to him, he stands. He removes the tea bag from both cups. He adds a splash of milk to both cups and an ungodly amount of sugar. He gives both a quick mix and hands you one. He pops a hip on the stainless steel counter. He’s so damn tall he has his left foot flat on the floor and and still comfortably sit on the counter his right foot swaying slightly.

“Can you even,” deep shuddering breath, “call that tea with how much sugar it in it?”

“Can’t call it anything if you don’t try it,” he slips a finger below his mask lifting it enough to fit the mug to his mouth. He wears gloves too.

Once the mask cleared the edge of his jaw you slam your head down. You stare at the tea, the milk slowly swirling into water. You turn away and take a sip. The idea of milk and water as a drink still didn’t compute but the sugar masked any issues you might have had.

You sip at the drink finishing only about half when the sounds of movement bring your head back to the scary man in the room with you. His hand is stretched out to you. Glancing up and down it you slowly place your cup in his hand. You don’t feel so adrift after the quiet company.

You stand, awkwardly holding your elbows while he rinses the cups and spoon, leaving them in the empty sink. When he turns back to you he motions with his fingers for you to head out of the kitchen. You do as instructed. He picks up the chair on his way out. You hold open the swinging door, manners ingrained from childhood. He nods his thanks, tucking the chair just so below the table.

You don’t move until he looks at you. You let the door swing shut and begin to lead the way back to your room. Once you clear the doors of the mess hall he falls into step with you. You walk the brightly lit halls, walls dotted with darkness for windows. He remains a steady presence at your side until you stop in front of a door that looks exactly like the others.

“Thank you for your help,” you stare at your boots, curling your toes inside your them.

“Lock your door tonight.”

With that final command he turns and walks away. You don’t know where the UK team is staying but it is nowhere near the dorms you slept in. You do as instructed, locking the door behind you after you confirm that your roommate is already in bed, snoring lightly. Sleep comes slowly, a skull mask haunting you behind your eyelids.

✮✮✮

Price stares down at his tea, blinking slowly. He sat in an empty officers room. The base commander was courting the 141. He had yet to come out with the goal of this collaboration. He wonders absently if a tip of a flask would make the morning meetings easier to handle.

A file is slapped down on the table in front of him. Ghost sits down, a seat between them.

“I want this one.”

Price blinks at the file, his cup, and then finally his lieutenant.

“It is to early for this. Speak clearly. What do you want?”

In lieu of answering Ghost reaches over and flips open the folder. It’s a personnel file. A neutral faced woman stares out at him from the small photo.

“I am not helping you get a girlfriend, Ghost.”

His joke doesn’t land. Ghost snatches the mug of tea from his hand.

“Don’t be crass, I hate the team the base commander has given us to work with. I want this one.”

“You want a soldier right out basic who knows next to nothing about this base and has probably never even met the commander to be our new point of contact?” Price can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Ghost slurps at the tea. Price sighs and massages right above his eyebrows. This would be a hard sell to the base commander.

“I’ll see what I can do, now get the fuck out of my face. I don’t want to see you until lunch.”

✮✮✮

The wrinkles on the base commanders face absorbed light like a black hole. Price stood before the man’s desk, face neutral.

“You want to change from the team of our hand chosen soldiers to accommodate any need you have on base for a baby? Am I understanding that right?” He flipped through the file Ghost had dropped on the table just this morning.

“My lieutenant has a tendency to eat anyone he doesn’t tolerate.”

“He eats people?” the commander cut in.

“I have no confirmation of if he actually eats people, commander, only that he will chew through any team you give him until they all beg for reassignment. To avoid that strain on your teams I am asking that you give us this one soldier who has been requested.” Price lays the facts out reasonably, tone hinting that the commander would be an idiot to ignore this request.

“How did they even meet? We have strict orders for most of our people to not interact with your team at all,” he tossed down the file on this desk.

“I tend not to ask questions that will only result in a dead eyed stare. He won’t tell me even if I asked, I’ve learned to roll with what he gives me.”

The commander steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of his office chair. Price noted the power move but was more concerned about what the mess hall would be serving for lunch. He wondered if he could put in a request of a clam chowder, the warm creamy soup would hit the spot.

“Alright, I will reassign your current team and give you this one soldier. The paperwork should be done by dinner. I will have her also move to your section as she will need to be on hand for your team.” The commander leaned back in his chair, “Is there anything else your team needs right now, Captain Price?”

“No sir, everything has been satisfactory. I have a few things to finish up, I will see you at the 1100 meeting.” Price extracts himself from the commander’s office, closing the door behind him.

Soap pushed off the wall falling into step.

“So we getting a new aide? Because Ghost requested one?” He grousued. “Ghost who would have bit the aide from the last base if it didn’t mean removing his mask?”

Price smirked, “In all fairness that man was an areshole.”

“Aye he was, but why the request?” Soap pushed open the door they had come to. They were near the training grounds.

“Don’t know Soap. Why don’t we find out?” Price aimed for someone who looked to be in charge.

✮✮✮

You pause, looking around. You were almost sure that someone had just called for you. You look around and see a man waving you down from the edge of the training area. You check that you are clear to cross before jogging over.

“Good, come with me.”

You follow. When you finally slow you are presented to two men. They had to be members of the 141 with skull face. One man, taller than you but not by much kept a trimmed beard, crows feet around his eyes. The other man towered over you, almost as tall as skull face, the mohawk added several inches to his height.

“This the recruit you were looking for?” The man who walked you over pointed a thumb in your direction.

“Think so,” bearded man said. He stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Price.”

You shake his hand, twice up and down with a firm pressure. You had to learn to ‘shake like a man’.

Mohawk man sticks out his hand next, “Soap.”

You shake his hand and nod, turning back to the man who walked you over.

“Is that all, sir? All of us low ranking members have standing orders to not speak to any of the 141,” you infuse your words with a ‘I’m just doing my job’ tone.

Soap snorts out a laugh, covering it poorly with a cough into his fist.

The man before you stutters before Price jumps in.

“Thank you, that will be all.” He can’t help but smile as you nod and turn on your heel heading back to your task.

As you are walking away you hear Soap’s comment.

“I can see why ‘e wants her, much more spunk there than anywhere else on this base.”

✮✮✮

The news comes down the line of your reassignment to become the sole attendant of the 141. You scarf down dinner, they wanted you presented to the team at 1800. You speed walk to your room, the clock showing a measly twenty minutes to pack your life up to move halfway across base.

You make it, squeaking through the door exactly the time you were requested. The base commander stands, hands tucked in one another behind his low back. He stands looking out the window over a group of training soldiers.

He ignores your presence for a moment before turning towards you.

“Ah, come in. We have a few things to discuss before I introduce you to the team. One question before we start, do you know why you were requested to be our liaison?”

You answer honestly, “Sir, I have not even a singular idea as to why.”

He hums, “We need this to go well. We need to borrow from the 141 from time to time and can only do that if they agree. Your job is to do whatever is needed to secure their agreement.”

Your stomach turns sour at the word choice, do whatever is needed. The military is no different than a pimp, only difference is one gets cheers and free meals at IHOP.

“Of course, sir, I will do my best.”

“Good, now here is what you need to know…”

The meeting takes another twenty minutes, your brain a bit fried when you lift your bag to follow the commander.

You take stock of the nicer flooring and art as you enter the building just beside the commanders. He lived on base since his wife passed nearly a year ago. You enter a room, you would still call it a living room despite all the time in the military.

Soap and a man you haven’t seen sit on the couch intently focused on their game of Mario Kart. They raced along the Rainbow Road. Price and skull face sat at a table near the wall. Price worked away on a laptop and skull face held an e-reader. A fifth man reclined in a chair near Soap, clearly asleep. Feet spread wide, head tipped across the back of the chair, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“This is where you will be staying. Captain Price will be in charge of you until they leave in a few months time. I will leave the introductions of the team to him.” The commander claps a hand on your shoulder, knocking you forward a step.

Price looks up at the motion, pulling a small headphone from his ear.

“Ah, Commander. Thank you for delivering our new aide, we will take good care of her.” He stood, striding over and offering a hand again.

You shake it again, focused on the retreating sounds of the commander. Once the door clicks behind him you feel the tension release slightly from you shoulders.

“Welcome, lets get you introduced to everyone and then get you settled.” Price smiled at you warmly, the crows feet showing it to be a common state for him. “You’ve met Soap, next to him is Gaz.”

Neither man acknowledges their name, to focused on the game. They are on their third lap, neck and neck for the lead. Gaz drops back slightly and throws a blue shell, effectively taking first. Soap jumps to his feet, shouting.

“You feckin’ cheatin’ son of a whore! Not even mother Mary will save you after this!” His accent came out thick in his anger.

Gaz just laughed as he crossed the finish line. Soap rolled in at fifth. With their outburst done Price continues his introductions.

“The sleeping man is Roach, he doesn’t speak much so don’t worry if he doesn’t respond to you. And then we have our L.T., Ghost,” Price gestures to the masked man.

You can’t stop the words. They escape, your brain slowing down the embarrassment to exacerbate the stress.

“Ghosts don’t have bones.” Such a matter of fact tone. Fuck a duck, why are you like this?

Ghost stands. You swallow hard. He clears the space between you in three long strides. Mother-fucking giant of a man.

“What?”

He asks as if he hadn’t heard, not as if he were offended.

You roll your lips between your teeth, answering a bit louder despite his now closer position.

“Ghosts don’t have bones, so your mask is a bit of a silly choice.”

Every man awake busts into laughter except Ghost. You glance over and Gaz is hanging off Soap, struggling to breathe. Soap is curled forward hugging his stomach. Price smothers a chuckle next to you.

You look back at Ghost, his eyes squint slightly at you. You give an awkward smile.

“L.T. how has no one ever thought about that before?” Gaz is out of breath and falls back into laughter after his question.

Ghost blinks once at you.

“Follow me, I will show you to your room.”

You wince at his back, throwing a glance at Price.

“You’ll be okay, he won’t hold it against you,” the laughter in his voice didn’t reassure you.

You scurry after the man you insulted by accident, wincing at every sound you make. The only sound Ghost makes is the slight swish of his pants as they cross with each step. He leads you down a short hall, turning right at the first choice. There are two doors down this short hall. He taps the second one.

“This is your room. Mine is next door.”

“I am really sorry, I didn’t mean to make a joke of your mask,” you stumble over your words.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a funny thought and the men will take to you easier after the joke,” he replies evenly.

You wince again and look at the door.

“Is there anything I need to handle tonight?”

“No, other than we have a nightly debrief at 2000 in the main room.”

You blow out a short breath. “Okay, I can do that.”

Stepping into the room you are surprised at the single bed, dresser, and a desk. Still all military issue but nicer. You drop your bag on the bed, looking over the space. You hadn’t truly been alone since you signed up, this might be an adjustment.

Turning back to the door you startle, Ghost is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes on you.

“Can I help you with something, lieutenant?” you ask, curious as to why he is still stood in the doorway.

“No. Feel free to join us when you are ready.” He turns away, this sound of his steps quickly fading.

You sit down on the chair at the desk. You put your head in your hands, elbows propped on your knees. How the hell did you end up here? Last night you were running for your life and now you are helping court a specialty group from the UK for the base commander. The only person from the team you spoke to last night had been Ghost. Did he have something to do with this change?

You eventually join the team back in the main room. The 2000 debrief had just been a fancy way of saying they all have a cup of tea before bed. Roach pulled out a deck of cards and you soon found yourself in a game of poker you would lose. You laugh more at the table with these men than you had in all the months you had been in the military. You fell asleep that night a soft smile on your face, the door locked tight.

✮✮✮

The months passed quickly, you became texting buddies with everyone on the team beyond Ghost. He watched you. You noticed but ignored it. He happened to be a grown man and if he had something to say he would have to buck up and use his words.

Roach comes alive through your text conversations, he is full of observations and quirky sayings. He is your favorite texting buddy.

As the time for the 141 to return come crept closer without a hard yes or no from Price about working with the base in the future the commander crept further up your ass. After a particularly unhelpful meeting where the commander ended up yelling at you, you stormed into your room. Throwing yourself face down on your bed, muttering curses.

“Can I help you?”

You eyes blow wide in the darkness created by your face being compressed into the mattress.

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. You had missed your door and landed on Ghost’s bed. You pushed up from the mattress on hands and one knee. The other foot already searched for the ground.

“Nope, sorry Ghost. I just had a bad meeting and missed my door,” you can’t help the blush overtaking your face.

One foot on the floor you pull your torso up, ready to turn and race out of the room once your second foot touches the carpet.

“Pause.”

You freeze finally looking up to see Ghost working at his desk. He has a soft balaclava on today, still a skull painted on but much more inviting than the hard mask. He has no darkening makeup on today, you can see dark brows and light, fair skin of England showing through the hole in the mask. You devour the peek into him.

“Sit,” he turns from you pulling open a drawer of his desk.

You shift to do as you are told. He has never been unkind to you, just the opposite actually. The two men who chased you across the base had been reassigned across the country shortly after you joined the team. Neither of you said it out loud but you know that only Ghost had been aware of what happened.

He spins his chair back towards you. He holds out his e-reader. This thing goes everywhere with him. Ghost could be called a voracious reader. You glance between the small device and his face, not touching the offering.

“Pick anything you like, feel free to stay until you feel better.”

You reach forward, fingers slow to grasp. Once you have a firm grip he lets go and turns back to his work. Starting the device a book opens halfway through. You back out to the main page and scroll through the options.

Several of the titles garner a raised brow.

“Didn’t take you for a smut reader, Ghost.”

The only response is a creaking of the chair as he shifts. Your lips twitch with a smile. You choose a title vaguely familiar and start from the beginning. You read sitting on Ghost’s bed until the nightly debrief. The next day you find yourself knocking at his closed door. You’re just going to ask to borrow his reader until you can finish the story.

When he opens the door what could be called a smile reaches his eyes. The edges of them shift together the barest hint.

“It’s on the bed, right where you left off.”

Bashfulness overcomes you, forcing your gaze to swing down to your boots. You slip past him, sitting against the wall feet dangling off the bed. Once the story has well and truly sucked you in you reach down and remove your boots, eyes not leaving the words as they thud to the floor. Ghost doesn’t say a single word as you end up stretching across his bed feet swinging through the air.

A knock at the door jolts you out of the story. Price’s voice comes after a knock slightly farther away.

“Debrief will be a bit late today, 2030.”

You lock eyes with Ghost, remaining silent. As Price’s footsteps walk away you flip to a sitting position and shove your toes back into your boots. You set the reader down, focused on getting the ties just right. Once they feel tight enough you stand.

“Thanks for letting me read, I guess I will come back when you have a moment you can spare it.” You can’t keep your fingers from digging into your pockets. You can’t believe you rolled yourself all over his bed while reading.

“You are welcome any time. If you are close why don’t you take it tonight and return it in the morning?” his head tilts ever so slightly.

“Really?” Your brows rise as does your voice with the question. “If you don’t mind. I can finish the book after debrief and return it before lights out.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he raised a brow as a challenge.

“I’m not saying you do,” you glare at him. “Confirming your level of seriousness is not doubting you.”

“If you say so.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful with that thing, some could take it as an invitation.” He turns back to his desk as you gape at him.

Did Ghost flirt with you?

You snap up the e-reader, holding it close to your chest as you leave the room. You let the door hang ajar, knowing it bothers him.

You wander into the main room, tucking the small tablet into your side pocket. Setting the kettle to boil you prepare a cup for each man, dropping a preferred tea bag in each. As everyone settles in around the table you finish adding milk and sugar to mugs and passing them out. Ghost sits last.

“Sugar with tea for you,” you place the cup down in front of him and take the seat to his right.

Soap chuckled, “Go’ta say L.T. she’s got you pegged.”

“To bad we can’t throw her in our luggage for when we head home,” Gaz chimed in.

Price leaned back in his chair, “Well now there’s a thought. How long do you have left?”

You finish your sip of hot chocolate, “Only about a year, but I am not planning on re-upping.”

“Wanna come work for the 141?” Price lifts a brow at you.

“Put that offer in writing so I can get a visa and absolutely,” you grin. With how much Price griped about paperwork you doubted he would follow through on getting you a work visa.

He glared at you, “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Have you known me to do anything less?” you challenge.

“Do the paperwork Price, or I will.” Ghost dropped the statement like a smoking gun to a criminal case.

You smirk down into your cup, taking a sip to avoid a comment. Ghost hates paperwork more than Price and is so meticulous with it because he hates when he has to redo the ‘fucking devil’s work’.

The men leave the table as their tea is finished, rinsing the mugs before settling into the final activity of the night. You stay at the table and pull out the e-reader. The book sucks you back in.

“Is that Ghost’s reader?” Soap’s shocked voice rips you from the climax of the story.

“What? Uh, yeah.” You settle back into the battle, your main character taking a knife to the ribs.

“Did he let you borrow it or…” he lets the question hang, a noose swinging in the wind.

Irritated, you put the tablet down. Turning to look at Soap you reply.

“Of course he let me borrow it. I’ve been using it for a few days.”

Soap’s brows shoot up his forehead, nearly touching his mohawk.

“Really? Well that’s an interesting development.”

“I guess? Now my character just got stabbed so if there is nothing else I am going to finish this before lights out so I can return it.” You turn back to the table and get absorbed back into reading.

You return the reader to Ghost before bed, and only use it in behind the safety of his door until they leave.

✮✮✮

The anticipation of pain has never once made the pain hurt less.

They are leaving, your friends are heading home to the UK. Price is the one who sat you down and gave you the dates. Two days, in two days you would walk them to their plane and have to move on like you didn’t find family in some of the scariest men you have ever met. You hold it together until you get out of his sight.

Tears slip down your cheeks, a silent testament of the love that has grown for them. You slip into Ghost’s room. He should be out right now, off training with Roach. He isn’t.

Asleep with his boots on, Ghost is sprawled out across his bed. One hand dangles out over the edge. You sit against the bed, his arm draping over your shoulder. You hold his large hand in both of yours. You know he is probably awake, but he does you the kindness of staying still. He isn’t wearing his gloves today. Ghost had many healed scrapes and scars to explore. You let your fingers drift over his hand, bumping over every ridge.

You sniff as tears continue to flow down your cheeks, splattering against your shirt. It’s hard for you to believe that you can love these wacky guys to the point of pain at their departure. You slid right into the dynamic of the crew as if they had held a place for you. Cutting off arguments between the 141 and everyone else had become your primary job. You could talk down any member from retaliatory action for both minor and major slights. You toed the lines between both Price and the base commander to find common enough ground for their agreement to be settled. You still didn’t know why there were here, only that an agreement had been reached with you as a go-between more often than not. Now they were leaving. Leaving you behind. Knowing they have jobs waiting for them, for missions to be completed doesn’t ease the ache in your chest.

You stay like that, fingertips drifting over the skin of his hand until the storm in your chest has petered out and the only signs it ravaged your soul is the tracks on your cheeks and the tears drying on your shirt.

You sniff once, sliding your fingers to fit between his.

“I know you’re probably awake, but thank you for letting me use you for comfort.” You squeeze his fingers once before standing.

Scooting out and away from the bed you take care to not look at him. This private comfort you stole from his sleeping form could only be that, private. Seeing his eyes would shatter the flimsy barrier to your heart and you couldn’t afford to lose any more of that worn organ to men across the sea. Your fingers stayed locked with his as you stood, reaching, touching until at last the kiss of his fingerprints whispered their goodbyes.

You close the door softly behind you, heading for the bathroom. Standing before the mirror with the bright white light illuminating your blotchy face you tuck away your pain to deal with in the dark. You scrub your face with cool water and redo your hair. When the a soldier with a job looks back at you instead of a woman losing her family you leave the bathroom.

✮✮✮

Two days later you say your goodbyes. Your number is entered into so many new phones and you are repeatedly asked which secure platform you will use to chat with them all. Their flight is scheduled to leave at 0320, at midnight you are scouring the rooms they used confirming everyone has packed everything.

Ghost finds you ass in the air while your hand stretches for a book Gaz had been missing for three weeks. It had fallen between his bed and the wall. When you snag it you pull back triumphant. You see his legs first, glancing all the way up at his face.

“Oh, hi, Ghost. I am just checking everyone got everything before you all leave,” you smile up at him.

He doesn’t respond, just offering a hand down to you. You take it gratefully, pulling yourself up. Taking a step back you look him over. He is wearing his soft balaclava today, he tends to wear them when he needs to be more comfortable than scary.

“All ready to go home? I bet you are going to be glad for an overcast day and a good cuppa,” the happiness in your voice isn’t faked. Ghost has complained to you a few times about the terrible tea here.

“Ready to be home, not looking forward to the flight.” He looks you over scouring your face, his gaze scrapes like steel wool over your nerves. “Close you eyes and hold out your hands.”

The husky tone of his voice catches you off guard enough that you comply without thought. Gaz’s book is lifted from your hands, leaving them empty.

As you stand you hear the buzzing of the bright light above you, the sound of Velcro opening, and the quiet sounds of breaths, both yours and Ghosts. The fingers on your cheek are a surprise, the callouses marking your skin as they trail from your jaw to your eye.

You push your face into the touch, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your lips. You flick the tip of your tongue against it , tasting the ridges unique to that finger. He slides away from your mouth, thumb and fingers curling around your jaw and tipping your face up. He kisses you then. Riots start inside your body. Part of you yearns to open your eyes, devour him, touch the breadth of his flesh. The other, stronger part of you screws your eyes shut tighter, taking the gift as it is given and demanding nothing more.

He kisses as if he bottles his kindness and doles it out only for you. The press of his lips against yours will keep you going. He pulls back ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in a year dove, stay safe,” he says the words against your lips, pressing them together once more. He puts something in your hands as he steps away, his fingers still on your face.

You keep your eyes closed, waiting for some sign it would be safe to open them again. His thumb taps your jaw before drifting away.

“Open your eyes already you silly bird,” the smile in his voice is unmistakable. His fingers slip away as your eyes open.

This mask is down again, you smirk up at him.

“Why am I a silly bird for respecting boundaries you big oaf? If you wanted me to see your face you wouldn’t have asked me to close my eyes.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t think you would let me kiss you if you saw it coming.”

You can’t stop the full belly laugh that erupts out of you. “I don’t know how to respond to that!”

Shaking your head you look down and pause. Your head snaps up.

“You’re giving me your e-reader? Why?” your brows draw together as you look at him.

He shrugs again, shoulders shifting just enough to indicate he didn’t have a real reason to share.

“It’s still logged in, feel free to buy any book that piques your interest.” His hands lift to your face, cupping your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter closed at the contact. His forehead connects with yours, his warm breath kissing your face as it filters through the mask.

“Don’t die before I get there okay?” You open your eyes, staring straight into his. This close you can see the variations of brown striping through them.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll do my best.” He sounds sincere.

You give into the urge to hug him. He hesitates before returning the gesture. You stand with him, listening to his heartbeat until you have soaked in the pressure of his presence. You pull back first, wiping at your eyes.

“Let’s get you to your ride, Price will come looking for you soon.”

You grab Gaz’s book, tuck the e-reader in a side pocket and walk with Ghost to the hanger. The silence between you is comfortable, and tinged with the moments you have shared in silence before.

As you get close you wave the book at Gaz who jogs over.

“Where did you find it? I looked everywhere,” he takes the book gratefully.

“Everywhere but under your bed obviously.”

Ghost snorts, walking past you to join Price near the gangplank of the plane. You’ve said all your goodbyes at this point. You only stay to see them off. Everyone but Ghost gives you a hug or a pat on the back as the board the plane. You wave until the door shuts and watch until the dim lights of the wings are swallowed by the darkness.

You blow out a breath and speak into the darkness.

“One year, you can make it one more year.”

✮✮✮

Six months in you can tell things are getting bad for them. It takes longer and longer for replies to come in to your messages and when Soap is willing to share whats happening it is summed up in a single word.

Mole.

They go dark for another three months. Your days are filled with a background of worry and a foreground of doing what you are told.

Ghost is the one who breaks the silence.

>Your paperwork is through, you visa should arrive soon.

The cheer you give in the mess hall has every eye on you. Pinching your lips between your teeth you clean up your tray and slip outside.

>Anything special I should do after it arrives?

His reply comes quick.

>Pack.

You laugh. Some would miss the dry wit with which he pokes at you. You miss him, them.

>I have a few months left before I am out. Should I fly into Heathrow?

>Yes. Send Price your flight details and someone will come get you.

You send a kissy face emoji in response, imagining the eye roll that this would incite.

The final three months slip by like water. Your off time is filled with nailing down travel details and fighting with Price via email over the contract he sent you. He set up a fair contract, but he wanted you on his team so why not ask for a few extra vacation days?

✮✮✮

Soap is the one to pick you up when your flight lands. You drag your achy bones through customs, the clash of accents all around you weighing on your brain.

You set your bags down to hug him. He laughs.

“Miss me bonnie lass?”

You mumble your reply into his chest.

“I’m not anyone’s ‘bonnie lass’.” You nearly match his accent on the words.

“I donne believe you, but tis good to see you back. Let’s get you to HQ.” He looks down at your bags, “This all you have?”

You ignore the prick of judgment the question causes in you. There is nothing wrong with a transatlantic move that only has you bring a carry on and a backpack.

“That’s it, I pack pretty light. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He gives you a heavy side eye.

“Never said there was.”

Conversation falls back into familiar territory as Soap fights his way out of the airport, car inching forward until they are at last out of the city. You don’t fight the pull of your eyelids to meet in sleep as Soap sings along to the radio. A hand on your shoulder wakes you. Soap smirks at you from the other seat.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

You roll your eyes and focus beyond the windshield at an old barn. You glance at Soap, confused.

He chuckles as he replies, “England is old, we have to reuse what we can.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” You step out of the car, feeling odd to be leaving the left side as a passenger.

You leave your bags in the car. Soap wanted to introduce you to the full team before showing you to the shared flat you would be living in until you could secure your own lodgings.

He is talking about the area, waving his arms this way and that pointing out the range and the picnic tables. He pulls open a person sized door beside the massive barn doors.

“We’re ho-” his shout into the building is cut off.

Something wet sprays across the side of your face. You snap your gaze to Soap. His face is gone, just a mass of bloody tissue gushing blood to the floor.

The scream that erupts from you is genuine. You had managed to avoid combat with the army and had never seen what a bullet could do to someone’s face. He falls slowly, almost as if his body is still fighting against gravity.

A hand claps over your mouth, unfamiliar voices yelling at you to ‘hush up or end up like him.’

You are dragged further into the building before your wrists are secured behind you. You are hurled into a large, windowless room landing next to the gasping body of Gaz. He can’t see you since his eyes are gone.

You vomit, doing your best to aim it away from him. When all the acid has been purged from your body you look around between dry heaves. Roach is hanging by his hands to a hook coming from the ceiling, Price’s face is slowly being peeled away as questions are being shouted at him. Ghost is missing, but you can’t decide if that is a good or bad thing.

Gaz starts to choke, bloody spittle dotting the floor in front of him. You scoot closer to him and lay your head on his. You can’t save him dammit but you can at least let him know he isn’t alone as he goes.

“It’s okay Gaz, you can go. Just stop fighting, rest.” The panic flooding your body makes it hard to talk.

He calms at your voice though, one final cough splattering the knees of your jeans. Gone.

You are wrenched upwards by your hair. You scream and stand, anything to relieve the pressure on your scalp. You are forced to stand before Price, your friend.

You can see a silver molar wink at you from his mangled face.

“Who is this Price?” The question comes from a calm voice.

How could anyone be calm at this time? Your eyes can’t settle on a single thing, flicking from person to person looking for a way out.

“No one, just a new liaison. Just flew in.”

The fact he answers the question tells you there is no way out of this.

A commotion at the door draws everyone’s gaze. Ghost is being dragged in by the back of his shirt, head lolling.

“Look what we found hiding in the rafters, a ghost!” All the men standing laugh as if this is all some big joke.

They tie him to a chair right next to Price. When they rip off his mask you look away.

“Ah lads, she is shy about his face. Good thing there won’t be much to see after we are done with him,” the man with his hand in your hair chortles.

They torture him, making you watch. Each scream from your friends snaps a tenuous hold on reality. Something deep in your brain stem seems to break when you see the bullet enter Price’s skull then hear it blast through Ghost’s. You aren’t anything any more. Nothing can touch you because while your body pumps blood your soul has followed your friends to the afterlife.

They don’t let you in of course, the angels dither over where to send you. You slip away from the pearly gates as they argue, wandering the fence that blocks paradise until hear the hooting laughter of Price getting caught off guard by a particularly funny joke. You find them all playing cards as if they were waiting for you. A cheer goes up and Ghost offers you a hand to hold.

✮✮✮

The night nurse can’t keep a yawn from her face. She takes a long swallow of her energy drink. She was getting to old for this shift. She stands her knees cracking like rice cripsies. Her trainee jumping up joined her.

“Let’s do rounds, midnight is pretty hopping around here. We have several patients that get restless around that time.”

Moving to the door she keys in the code for the day to enter the ward. She leads the way to the craft room. Most of the patients tended to congregate here during the night. The emergency lights meant this room never reached the level of darkness of the personal rooms.

Only one patient today, a young woman from the States who had been deemed too mentally unstable to stand trial. The doctors keep her heavily medicated for fear of her harming herself or others. The nurses gave extra doses of meds as they were able, her constant weeping scared the other patients.

“Ah, just one tonight. This one you do need to watch out for though when you are working,” the older nurse watched from the doorway as her patient stared out the window rocking slowly.

“Why? She doesn’t look like trouble.” The baby nurse had so much to learn.

“First rule of psych, crazy is always strong. Second is that looks have no bearing on the mind. She’s from the States, word is that she tortured and killed at least eight men who were all special forces trained. The thought around here is that she had a mental break and snapped. Not that I believe that much anymore. Management has mentioned that her former commander from the US is filing a lawsuit to get her case reopened. I looked it up, turns out she never saw combat so there is no way she could have taken out eight trained men. The US embassy is trying to get her home.”

“Oh,” the baby nurse took in the information, slightly more worried about their career choice than before the shift started.

“You’ll do fine, let’s go do our bed checks.” The older nurse turned away from the craft room. “There is nothing else we can do to help her.”

Masterlist

#cod #simon riley x reader #all my friends are dead #hurt/no comfort

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sunwoowrites · 2 years ago

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Dense.

Y/n x Bang Chan

Fem!reader

angst.

TW- mention of food.

part 2

"Chris" you called out for the hundred time opening the door to the bedroom. "can you please come and eat dinner, you've been at it for hours on end." He groaned and turned his swivel chair round to look at you. His face scrunched in annoyance and his fingers massaging his temples.

"I. said. that. I'm. not. hungry. y/n." he said as if it were the worst thing to reply to you. "Chris, you have to eat, how many times must I tell you that. You need food in your system. What you're doing, its unhealthy." He removed his headphones chucking them onto his table causing you to flinch.

"Exactly y/n." He said losing every ounce of patience. "How many fucking times are you going to tell me that. If you told me before and I gave you an answer couldn't you just take a hint goddammit. It's like you're so fucking dense nothing gets through that thick skull of yours. Y/n. Do you have to be up my ass the entire day I'm at home?....and you wonder why I'm at the studio so often. "

He huffed out the last bit but you heard him loud and clear. His words were like daggers to your heart. Your grip on the door handle loosened and you stepped back. Without thinking you shut the room door, grabbing your purse and your keys. You looked at the dinner table that you had set hours ealier for dinner. Now cold. You sighed. "I'll get out of your ass. You dickhead." you mumbled leaving your shared apartment, your heart heavy as tears threatened to fall. A lump in your throat and a heavy weight on your heart.

Hours later Chris sighed, standing up to make a cup of coffee. He opened the room door. The apartment filled with silence. Chris frowned. He walked to the kitchen, stopping when he saw the table. Food set out neatly into plates. His favourite home cooked meal. Cold. He looked around the lounge. Where did you go? Keys gone. Coat gone. He immediately went to check the bathroom. Then the spare bedroom. Gone.

Panic began to rise in him. He looked at the clock. 2:55 am. He went back into the bedroom, grabbing his phone repeatedly calling you. His hands shook. No. no. no. Surely you didn't take him that seriously. Right? He inhaled and exhaled trying to stay calm. She'll be fine. She's going to be okay. Everything's okay Chris.

He was scared. He didn't mean it. He really didn't mean it. Your presence didn't annoy him. In fact without you there he wouldn't be able to function really. Yes he stays at the studio for long periods of time. But the pictures of you that he stuck to his computer is what comforts him. When he has too much work to do and when he feels like his drowning. The spare bottle of perfume, your perfume that he keeps in his backpack. The scent that reminds him of you, thats what keeps him grounded.

He sniffled. What if you didn't come back. And it was all his fault. He couldn't hold his tongue. He just had to ruin everything. I hurt her. "The number you have dailed is not available please try-" He groaned. "Please please please" He chanted as he texted you. "I'm so sorry." He cried.

The door opened and you walked in, throwing your keys in the dish. You sighed. Chris ran out of the room and pulled you into a hug. "Y/n. Y/n. Y/n." He cried. You pushed yourself out of his hold. "The fuck Chris." He flinched and sniffled. "I'm so so so fucking sorry." You sighed. "As you should be." You mumbled walking to your bedroom. "Y/n please can we talk." You paused turning around. "Please give me space. We can talk in the morning. I don't wanna see you right now." Your throat tightened and you bit your lip holding in your tears.

You walked into the room closing the door behind you. Chris sat down at the table, shoulders slumped and tasted some of the food. Tears rolling down his cheeks. Its delicious. He choked out a sob. Sniffling and eating quietly. I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise I'll be better. I need to be better. I need to be better for her. I can't lose you y/n.

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akihikoswifey · 5 months ago

Text

☄. *. ⋆ Tartarus Trips | Akihiko x Reader

Summary: Reader and Aki have been secretly seeing each other for a couple of weeks, however things get tense during a trip to Tartarus. Part 2

a/n: As you can tell by now i have the most unpredictable schedule ever, and the most random characters xd However, i hope you like this because the persona fandom needs way more fics!!

cw: make out sesh, reader risks their life for junpei, aki gets a lil mad, TENSIONN, secret relationship

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

“Enemy advantage!” Fuuka, spoke through her headset. The five of you, all forced into a circle by a mob of shadows. Your eyes immediately meeting his. Akihiko’s stare burned into your skull, trying to find signs of any injuries, whilst the rest of your team decided what move to make next.

“Junpei! On your left!” The navigator alerted your fellow teammate. Noticing the intimidating shadow about to ambush your classmate Junpei, you instinctively rushed to his side, parrying the incoming attack. Feeling the extreme force of the shadow’s strength, your legs gave out and you fell the floor, followed by someone calling your name…

You suddenly came back to reality, noticing your three other teammates dealing with the ambush. Akihiko was checking your body for any injuries. “Are you okay? I told you to stop making reckless decisions during surprise attacks! If you had stopped for one second, we might have had time to strategize before they attacked us again!” He continued on ranting as your head was pounding, the impact of the bash having an effect on your conscious. His face grew serious when your eyes locked on his, the intensity of his gaze melting yours into submission “…and do not ever let me catch you doing something so risky again… you hear me? You cannot handle yourself in this kind of fight, especially if you have to go against shadows when we’re already in a bad position” he finished. After taking in his intense expression, his gaze softened, but it still felt like he was piercing right through you.

“But i had to, Junpei would’ve gotten seriously hurt!” Your words were quiet and weak, unable to match Akihiko’s intensity, but he was quick to brush them aside. “…it’s not your job to protect him. He can take care of himself.” You could see the irritation seeping into his voice, clearly getting worked up about your recklessness “…you cant be using those kind of excuses! This situation is far more precarious than usual, and you know it, don’t you?” You nodded weakly. The pain in your head was growing, and you were beginning to feel lightheaded. Akihiko sighed, “We won’t be able to finish the mission if you faint”, his hands rested gently on your shoulder, pulling you to your feet. You held onto his hand for support as you stood, his grip tight yet gentle at the same time. His fingers interlocking with yours gave a warmth that you craved to feel. He didn’t say anything else, just lead you to a spot where the team couldnt see either of you.

After finding a comfortable place, he pulled away, kneeling down to your level as you did the same. Looking him straight in the eye, you whispered “I’m sorry, Aki”. He stared back at you with a softer look in his eye, you knew what kind of effect that nickname had on him. He didn’t reply, instead, he just brushed your hair behind your ear softly. A gesture that made you melt internally. You looked down. His hand lingering on your cheek “…just stay safe” he whispered. His eyes searching yours intently. As his thumb caressed your cheek. You wanted nothing more but pull him closer. He was too tempting. You could feel your lips quivering as your mind flashed images of him kissing you. The sound of him growling your name in your neck, making it hard to breathe as you desperately tried to keep up a stoic front while also relishing his soft lips against yours. The sensation made your stomach twist and your heart beat faster, it was becoming difficult to control your emotions. The boxer was looking at you expectantly, waiting for some sort of response, but you couldnt give him one. Instead, you closed your eyes, leaned forward until your faces were close enough that your breath mingled between your lips.

Your lips met his. It was gentle, tender, sweet. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled yourself as close as possible. He pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as the seconds passed. Suddenly, your lips parted, and Akihiko pulled away, his eyes being a mixture of shock and lust as he gazed upon your face. His cheeks turned red with embarrassment “Ah… I…. Sorry, I got carried away” he muttered. You shook your head and grabbed him tightly in your arms, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you whispered,

“Don’t apologize”

He smiled lightly, leaning into your embrace “If you insist”, he said. “But are we really gonna do this here…in Tartarus? I mean what if the team-“ You quickly silenced him with another kiss, pulling away only slightly “It’s no big deal”, you reassured him “Plus, i wanna be alone with you for awhile”. You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before leaving a trail of kisses down his neck. His arms gripping your waist loosely as you continued kissing him, your fingertips grazing his skin as your bodies melted together. The warmth in his touch made you sigh in pleasure. You both needed this moment. But you knew it would never last. The mission would end sooner or later and both of you would need to leave before the others caught you here. But for now, you were content with staying. His arms tightened around your waist, as he kissed you more passionately, more desperately. You could feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, it matched your own. The two of you were lost in each other completely, you weren't even sure how long the kiss lasted until you heard the others around the corner.

You slowly pulled away, letting out a disappointed moan as your mouth touched his ear lobe once more. He looked at you, his grey eyes filled with slight anger, knowing he couldn’t continue further with you there. “Come to my room tonight.” He whispered into your ear, savouring every ounce of affection you gave him. You felt your knees weaken, your heart racing uncontrollably. He smirked. He knew he was getting to you. As much as you hated to admit it. And you werent going to stop him anytime soon. He stood back up, offering you a hand. “Now let’s get back to the others…” The two of you made your way back, Akihiko holding onto your hand for a moment. Your eyes locking with his for a split second before returning to the group.

To be continued (Part 2)

#akihiko x reader #akihiko sanada x reader #akihiko sanada #persona series #persona 3 #persona stuff

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years ago

Text

keep me safe

See the full 14 Days Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You run into a tent for safety after being chased by a massive insect-like creature while collecting flora samples from Skull Island. The tent belongs to James Conrad.

Pairing: James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, exit stage left); oral (f receiving); fingering; unprotected p in v; kinda public sex (they're in a tent but y'know people can hear…) [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: coworkers to lovers

"I really don't think we should be this far out from camp, Y/L/N. According to Marlow's notes--"

"Forget about Marlow's notes," you hissed at Brooks, walking even further into the greenery of the island. "Look at this flora! I'm pretty sure some of these we can't even find in any textbook known to man. If we come back home with these samples we could win the Nobel for discovering a new species of jungle flora. And what if the key to proving Randa's research was found on this side of the island? What then, Brooks? Would you still tell me that we're going to follow Marlow's notes and miss out on the chance to finally prove to the scientific community that we're not certifiable? That we deserve to be taken seriously?"

"Well we should at least call for one of the soldiers to back us up. Or Conrad."

You bristled at the mention of the name; having him here would only put you on edge, trying so hard not to look a complete fool in front of the former SAS tracker and also trying your damnedest to not let him see that you'd started having feelings for the man.

"Why? So he could tell us how stupid we are for not listening to 'sound advice'? Brooks, when did anyone who made any measurable breakthrough in our community ever do so by listening to 'sound advice'?"

"They weren't surrounded by giant creatures that could kill them within nanoseconds, Y/N!"

"We don't know that!" you snapped back, stopping in your tracks to look back at your clearly hesitant lab partner, the fear emanating from him palpable even from where you stood. "Look," you sighed, thinking of a way to grant him a modicum of relief in this forsaken island. "You can head back to camp, okay? I'll be fine. I'll just collect a few samples for us to bring home so that we can actually have something to give the board reason to give us more funding when we come back. With more backup so we can collect the rest."

"You promise it's just a few samples?"

You gave him your best attempt at a reassuring smile. "Five at most. I promise."

His only response to you was an exaggerated sigh. "Lead the way." He waved his hand toward the expanse of trees less than a hundred meters away.

You'd just bagged your first sample and were prepping to collect the second a few feet away when you heard his shallow, ragged breathing.

"Brooks, honestly you don't need to stay with me if you're scared of what lies beyond Marlow's little safety threshold," you grumbled, starting to carefully cut the mysterious flower in front of you at the stem.

"Y/N…" he squeaked out, his voice barely audible had it not been for the pin drop quiet of the island. "Behind you."

It felt like ice shot straight through your veins at his words; you didn't even wanna dare look at what he was referring to, but you knew that if you wanted to have a chance at dealing with your problems, you had to face them head on.

Or at least that was what you thought.

You rose to your feet slowly and turned around, holding in the shriek that threatened to escape you when you were face to face with a creature that you could only best describe as a giant cockroach, its antennae moving in sweeping motions that barely missed grazing the top of your head.

"We should run," you whispered in a rush as you heard the leaves rustling from where Brooks began to sprint away from you. You didn't waste any time and quickly followed suit.

You moved as fast as your legs could take you, willing yourself not to think about how you could hear the creature following you both. The way the ground sounded like it was crunching beneath the force of its steps as it chased you and Brooks in the direction of the camp.

The moment a tent came into view you ran towards it, ignoring Brooks' calls towards you and just hoping that your friend would make it out of this alive. Once you'd stepped into the temporary shelter of the tent, you tried to catch your breath, closing your eyes and focusing on trying to calm yourself.

"Y/L/N?" You froze at the sound of the brusque voice that greeted you. Fucking hell why'd it have to be Conrad's tent? Should you even bother opening your eyes to see the annoyed disappointment on his face the second he realized where exactly you came from? "Y/N…"

Your eyes snapped open at the gentle tone of his voice when he said your name, failing to mask the surprise when you saw that he wasn't visibly annoyed at your clear disobedience of the ground rules to never even think of traveling West. Instead he looked concerned, which felt infinitely worse and had you gasping out your next words. "I'm sorry."

Your breathing came in ragged, nearly hyperventilating as he walked toward you, placing his hands on your upper arms. "You're shaking." That seemed to make your breaths come in even faster, shallower…like the more you tried to calm yourself the worse your panic became. "Tell me what happened." You fought against the urge to relax into his touch as he started to stroke your skin with his thumbs; the clear reluctance in you was most probably the cause of his exasperated sigh. "At least come sit down. Catch your breath. Please."

The way he breathed out the word had you inwardly tensing, bracing yourself for him to start berating you even as he held you by your hands while leading you further into his tent to sit at the edge of his cot. "I went West," you admitted with your head hung low, squeezing your eyes shut when you felt him rubbing his thumbs across the back of your hands. "I wanted to collect samples of the flora and--"

"You were chased." You nodded your confirmation. "Tell me about the creature."

"About twice my height, as big as one of our tanks on hand…looks like a giant cockroach but…kinda pale?" You started shaking at the image of the creature slowly and surely imprinting itself in your mind again, feeling like your throat was constricting. "I have to check on Brooks--"

"He'll be fine." His hold on your hands tightened slightly when you tried to stand up, wordlessly ordering you to stay put. "He's tougher than he seems, he'll survive. If you go out right now in your current state, however, you won't."

"Excuse me--"

"That creature you described…it tracks by smelling the pheromones that one excretes when they're distressed. Afraid. It can quite literally smell your fear--"

Those words had you on your feet and slipping out of his hold within seconds, ready to exit his tent. "Fuck. I'm so sorry, I probably led it right to you--"

"Y/N, breathe." He grabbed hold of you again, pulling you into a gentle embrace, one hand cradling your head while the other rubbed at your back in slow, soothing motions. "You'll be alright. We'll be alright. You just need to breathe. You're worsening your fear even I can feel it, little spitfire. Try to remove it from your mind." He tucked your head under his chin, the soft shh'ing sounds from him throwing you off kilter as you continued to draw in shaky breaths. "Just breathe with me."

You did your best to match the breaths he was guiding you through, curiously finding yourself relaxing against him as he paired his guiding breaths with the movements of his hand on your back. When you began to feel yourself calming down some, that was when you became acutely aware of your head pressed against his chest, the beat of his heart thumping in your ears, racing almost as fast as your own.

Just as you were about to pull away from him, the sound of heavy footfalls paired with a slight rumbling of the ground made you flinch against him, shame overcoming you as a small whimper escaped your lips. "Oh, that creature did a number on you, didn't it?"

"Yes…" you mumbled, mortified that you'd begun to shake in his arms again.

"Then it appears putting it out of your mind is the wrong approach," he murmured, and you could have sworn you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. Impossible, you hissed at yourself. It's just your fear playing tricks on you, stupid Y/N. "We'll just have to put your mind onto something else then."

This time you were sure he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, and then again to your cheek, ghosting his lips down to the corner of your mouth. "What're you doing?" Your question was barely even audible with the way your heart started pounding in your ears once again.

"Distracting you," he answered simply, letting out a soft moan as he pressed his lips to yours, weaving his fingers through your hair and tightening his hold on you. "Don't think about anything else." He murmured the words against your lips letting out a deep, sinful groan when you began to kiss him back. "Just feel…Focus on me…I'll keep you safe."

You found yourself reaching up and resting your arms on his shoulders as he lifted you off your feet to lay you down on the cot, the metal frame creaking slightly from your combined weight on it. When his lips left yours to start trailing down your neck, you began to squirm in his hold as his hands began to push up the fabric of your tank top, baring your stomach to press his lips to the newly exposed skin. "Conrad…"

"Keep your eyes closed, darling. I want you to think of nothing except what you're feeling in this moment. Tell me what you're feeling." You shuddered at the feel of his lips tracing along the waistband of your panties, letting out a shameless moan when his tongue flicked against your skin.

"You. Just you."

When you felt his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear, you lifted your hips instinctively and Conrad disrobed you from the waist down in one fluid motion. "Good girl," he whispered as he pressed his lips down your thigh, curling his hand around your knee and parting your legs. "Fuck." He let out a groan that sent another rush of wetness between your legs, feeling your walls clenching at the thought of him with his eyes on you.

He ghosted his lips along the inside of your thigh, working his way up until finally you felt his tongue tracing along your folds, only licking into your entrance for a brief moment that had you arching your back off the cot. "Please--"

"Tell me you're mine," he murmured against you, the vibrations against your skin making you even wetter than you already were. The only response you had was an incoherent whimper. "Tell me you'll still be mine even after this. After today. After this mission." He pressed another searing kiss to the inside of your thigh, sucking a bruise onto the sensitive skin that had you desperately calling his name.

You struggled to form words in between thready breaths. "Only if…you're mine."

He pressed a brief open-mouthed kiss to your clit, making you arch your hips against him. "You truly didn't know…I've been yours for quite a while."

"Then I'm yours," you breathed out, a smile reflexively pulling at the corners of your mouth as his words began to sink in. He felt the same way. He saw himself as yours. The exhilaration from the combined effect of his words and the way he was currently licking into your entrance with long, languid strokes of his tongue, had you blurting out the words, "I want to see you."

"Not yet," he rasped before closing his lips around your clit and sucking on the aching bundle of nerves while his tongue flicked over it in a near merciless pace. When your legs began to quiver on his shoulders he pulled away from you. "Don't open your eyes until I tell you to, Y/N. Promise me." You could only manage a broken moan of his name as he circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.

You breathed out your assent so faintly you'd be surprised if he even heard it, arching your hips once again into his mouth when he resumed his attentions to your clit, only this time partnered with him inserting two unthinkably long fingers inside of you and curling up, stroking against that soft spot inside of you that had you seeing stars from behind your eyelids.

This time when your legs began to shake against him he didn't stop until you'd reached your crescendo, your back arching as you screamed his name to the high heavens until you could only whimper incoherent syllables as he withdrew his fingers from you, holding your legs open as he wantonly lapped at your release. The feel of him humming sounds of satisfaction against your skin had you growing wet again, the sounds coming from you resembling a garbled utterance of 'more'.

He lifted your legs from his shoulders, the sound of him undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants echoing loudly in your ears as your body thrilled in anticipation for what he would do next. You could tell from how the cot shifted in weight and the sounds of the metal frame creaking that he was making his way up the cot so your faces were level with one another.

"Look at me, darling." You opened your eyes, failing to hold back a gasp as you saw him hovering over you, pupils blown out to turn his usually cool steel blue eyes a near complete obsidian black, cheeks flushed as he tried to catch his breath, his lips shining with your release even in the dimmed light of the tent. He gave you a soft smile before resting his forehead against yours. "Just look at me. You're safe. You're okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

"Why wouldn't you let me see you earlier?"

"You want the truth?" You nodded at him with wide eyes as if to say 'Do you really have to ask?'. "Because I knew if you did and you saw even a shadow of what was going on around us, your fear would return, and it would get you."

"You mean--?"

"It was right outside." Tears began to flood your eyes as the realization sank in. Just how close you two really were to the danger you caused. All because you wanted to go West and feed your ego by trying your luck at the Nobel. "Hey, hey…it's okay. Everything's going to be fine." You could feel yourself relaxing again as he pressed soft kisses to your temple, down your cheekbone, and finally on the tip of your nose.

When he moved his head to kiss at your neck, a hand reaching between you to line himself up at your entrance, the world around you began to blur again as you began to whine his name.

"Just focus on me," he rasped as he started to inch his way inside of you. "Look at me and tell me what you're feeling."

Your eyes met as he pushed the rest of him inside you, a guttural sound escaping his lips as your sex surrounded his entire length. "You. Just you."

A/N: I honestly can't believe that this event's more than halfway done already and so many amazing stories have been included in the collection 🥹🥹. That's a wrap for James Conrad as far as 14 Days goes but here's hoping that my lil thotty brain can come up with stories for him in the future 🫠

No part 2 is planned for this story. There is, however, a 'what if…?' episode planned. Non-smut though.

'everything' taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @huntress-artemiss @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @devilsadvocactus @lokiprompts @sititran @ladyjames78 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @creationsbyme @coldnique @athalialaufeyson @simplyholl @tallseaweed @sarahscribbles @unlucky-number-13 @ozymdias @maple-seed @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfsmom1 @km-ffluv @psychospore @loopsisloops @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @lovelysizzlingbluebird @peaches1958

#14 days of valentines collection #james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad smut #james conrad fanfiction #james conrad fanfic #kong skull island #muddyorbs writes

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spinningwebsandtales · 2 years ago

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Imagine Getting Flustered At Dante’s Flirting

Dante X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Super bad pickup lines (seriously so bad they’re terrible), Dante has no shame, suggestive themes, and violence

Word Count: 846

(A/N:) I’ve had this idea in my drafts for awhile and I am so happy to finally getting around to writing it! I researched cheesy pickup lines and chose the ones I thought sounded the most like what Dante would say. Oh my gosh the cringe. It made me laugh though. Hopefully my fellow Dante fangirls will find this cringey funny as well! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

There was two things that you never wanted to happen when going on missions with Dante, that was bodily injury or Dante getting bored. And right now the latter was happening and you were suffering for it. This mission had started out rough but had cooled off quickly as it had now become a waiting game. You were stuck in close quarters with Dante and he was becoming relentlessly annoying. He liked the pass the time by annoying you majority of the time. But this time he decided to go a different route and embarrass you enough that it would leave you flustered the majority of the day.

The cramped quarters had him leaning over you, his hot breath causing you to tremble as the hair that had escaped your ponytail brushed your neck. Dante knew the affect he had on you and he smirked to himself. Before puffing an extra hot breath that had you jumping back a little bit. Your body pressed against his gave him an idea as he wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you even closer against him.

“I would take you to the movies after this,” he purred and you glanced back only to see unfettered glee. “But they won’t let you bring in your own snacks.”

You groaned trying to worm away, which only made his grip tighten. Your cheeks were beginning to burn and there may have been a twinge of a headache threatening your skull. But your disgust was only pushing him onward.

“Babe,” Dante cooed, placing his mouth right at your ear to breathlessly whisper. “If you were a Transformer, you’d be Optimus Fine.”

“Oh come on Dante,” you groaned trying harder to get away. “I like Optimus Prime don’t ruin Transformers for me.”

“Are you telling me that I have competition with a giant robot?”

“Keep telling me horrible pickup lines and you won’t have to worry about competition, cause I will bury you,” you snarled.

Dante eased off for a little while, letting you keep an eye out for the devil you were both pursuing. But once again he grew bored. He started with stroking the bare skin on your arm. Lovingly tracing your calloused digits before tangling his fingers with yours. You didn’t mind this part of him, you actually thought he could be quite sweet when he wasn’t being obnoxious. You sucked in a breath when he brought your hand to his chest, the hair on his chest tickling your skin. He had another cocky grin on his lips as you tried to tug away.

“It’s okay I just want you to feel my shirt,” Dante purred pulling you roughly where you fell against him. “It’s made of husband material.”

“Oh my gosh please stop!”

“Your middle name must be Gillette baby,” he paused kissing the tip of your nose. “Because you’re the best a man can get.”

“Nooo,” you groaned. “You don’t even shave you idiot!”

“I would for you,” he answered.

You glared, “No you wouldn’t. Can you just please focus on the mission instead of goofing around?!”

“I’m beginning to think you’re a bank loan sweetheart...”

You were seriously contemplating punching him in the mouth. Unfortunately it would just hurt your hand and it wouldn’t take him long to heal up and be back up to blathering away and telling you horrible pickup lines.

“Cause you have all my interest,” Dante finished.

Before you could say anything, your saving grace finally emerged from the shadows. You wordlessly tore from Dante’s grip and jumped from the window. Immediately Dante followed, entering the fray and fighting by your side. He was surprisingly quiet while you both battled. He must have figured out you had had enough of his foolishness for the moment. When you were fighting, if he wasn’t careful you had no qualms about putting a knife in him by “accident”. With the devil dispatched and Redgrave safe once more, Dante took you both back home. You had never been so happy to see the Devil May Cry office.

You tugged your boots off, chucking them by the front door and unstrapping your weapons. With the weight gone, you felt so much more comfortable. You stretched and yawned, thinking about taking a shower when Dante stepped at your side.

“I’m in the mood for pizza,” he said and you deflated happy that it wasn’t another pickup line.

When he grasped your wrist tightly, you jerked looking up to find him grinning once again. You tried escaping but he quickly swept you off your feet into his arms.

“A pizza you that is,” he laughed as you struggled to free yourself.

“I freaking hate you and your stupid pickup lines,” you screeched trying to fight the blush that refused to go away. Dante kissed you gently on the lips, carrying you to the back of the building. He wanted to make it up to you as you really put up with a lot. He mostly liked seeing you so flustered, so he didn’t plan on quitting now or ever.

#Dante X Reader #Dante / Reader #Dante #DMC #Devil May Cry #Dante Imagine #DMC Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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whattheshock · 1 year ago

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⭐️ STAR TREATMENT (miguel o'hara band au)

summary: miguel's still pissing you off, but maybe he's different than he seems... wc: 1117 cw: use of y/n, harassment

⋆part 3⋆ masterlist

"ugh, where is he?" you asked in frustration. "this is the second time he's missed rehearsal this week & the tour starts in 9 days!" you slid down the wall, sinking to the floor, your head in your hands.

it'd been a little over 2 months since the record exec showed up at a show & offered spider sense a record deal. the band was so excited, but miguel seemed like he couldn't care less. he argued about every detail on the contract, stormed out of the recording studio as fast as he could as soon as their sessions ended, & seemed to dread going on tour more & more by the day, telling you he'd 'rather die than be cooped up on a tour bus with these pendejos for months.'

"just ignore him, if he wants to be an asshole & not participate, there's not much we can do." dean said as he packed up his bass in its case.

"seriously?"

"we would do something but no one wants to get into it with that guy..." aiden said as he slung his guitar case over his shoulder.

"so you guys do do anything? you just let him treat you like shit just because he can drum?"

they all looked at each other. "yeah..." they all said in unison as the continued clearing out their studio.

you scoffed & rolled your eyes as you approached caleb. "why haven't you guys just kicked him out? is there no other drummer for your band?"

"look, [y/n]..." caleb stopped packing up his bag & turned to face you. "we don't exactly like dealing with him, but he's the most talented drummer i've ever met, he makes our band sound the way it does... as much as i wanna swipe those drumsticks right out of his big, stupid hands & snap them in half & smash his skull into his bass drum... i can't... i don't expect you to get it-"

"no, i get it, i do... as much as you don't want him, you need him..."

"right... oh, do you need a ride home? i know your car's in the shop & all..."

"nah, it's fine."

"but it's raining-"

"it's fine, caleb, i'm not gonna make you drive all the way to the other side of town just for me..." you said with a smile. "see you soon." you gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek & left the studio.

thankfully, the rain was light, but this part of new york was always to gloomy when it rained. it was late, the buzz of barely working neon signs filling your ears.

"hey..." a breathy voice said, it was coming from the alleyway. the voice belonged to an older man hiding in the shadows, his face illuminated by his cigarette. you kept walking. "oh, c'mon, won't you give me a smile?" he said as he walked out on to the sidewalk. you continued walking faster. "c'mon..." he reached out, grabbing your bag, pulling you back with it.

"hey! let go!" you grabbed it back from him. suddenly, there was a loud honk & a cherry red sports car pulled up next to the sidewalk. it was an older car but still ridiculously nice. the tinted window on the driver's side rolled down, a few raindrops falling into the car.

"get in," miguel said. you looked back at him in disbelief before taking his offer & quickly getting in the passenger seat before he drove off, splashing the man with rain water, probably on purpose.

"sorry, i'm getting your nice car all wet..."

"whatever, it's fine." miguel grumbled, keeping his focus on the road.

awkward silence filled the car. finally, you spoke up. "why did you help me?"

"excuse me?"

"why did you help me?"

he rolled his eyes. "what, was i just supposed to do nothing? what kind of man would i be if i just left someone out in the rain to keep getting harrassed, especially someone i know?"

"oh, so you just helped me because you would've felt guilty," you scoffed. "i thought you actually cared for a second there..."

"what makes you think i don't?" he stared at me intensely as we were stopped at a red light. "whatever... where do you live?"

"excuse me?"

"can't exactly take you home if i don't know where your home is." he said a bit sarcastically.

"oh, right, uh... 2099 north avenue..."

the light turned green he started driving you home. the rain was loud against the car, so you put your headphones on to drown it out.

"what are you listening to?" miguel asked. you rolled your eyes & leaned against the cold window, ignoring him, so he lifted them off of your ear.

"hey!" you said as the sounds of arctic monkeys spilled out of your headphones. you slapped his hand away & adjusted your headphones back onto your ear.

"you have good taste..." he said, a faint smile crossing his lips.

you were shocked. "did you just... smile?" a smile of your own appearing on your face as you teased him.

"what is that supposed to mean? am i not allowed to smile or something?"

"no, it's just... you never smile, you've got serious resting bitch face."

"resting bitch face?" he asked with a laugh.

"yeah, you constantly look pissed, & you act like it, too... you're an asshole, y'know..."

"really? so you really think i'm some massive asshole who doesn't care about anyone or anything?"

"yeah, basically... that's the impression we're all getting from you."

"hm..." his grip on the steering wheel tightened. "i'll keep that in mind, because that's not who i am, & that's not how i wanna be seen..."

silence filled the car as he pulled up in front of your apartment building. "thank you... i don't know if i thanked you before..."

"it's fine, it wasn't any trouble... do you need me to walk you to your apartment or-"

"no, i'll be fine, thanks again." you smiled & without thinking, gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. your eyes went wide, realizing what you'd just done. you quickly opened the car door, awkward yelling "bye!" before closing the door & running inside without looking back.

you hurried up the stairs to the 5th floor, finally reaching apartment 505, unlocking the door & slamming it after you went inside. you pressed your back against the door, listening to the faint sounds of rain against the windows & your pounding heart. there was a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach & you gripped your shirt tightly. was it anger? anxiety? embarrassment? no, it was butterflies.

you were falling for miguel.

an: tysm for reading part 3 of star treatment! i'm so sry this chapter is late i was having srs writer's block... lmk if u have any questions (my inbox is always open!) or wanna be tagged in new chapters! reblogs r greatly appreciated :)

credit to @benkeibear for the dividers

taglist: @freehentai

part 4 coming soon...

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tehriel · 2 years ago

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Terzo x reader

A snippet of my first chapter

No warnings needed for this, a little spicier in later chapters. Slow burn, lots of character interaction.

Reader insert is a commission painter, little murder, little intrigue. Ghouls. Fun.

Ps. I don't speak Italian, google translate take the wheel.

“You can speak, you know?” You said after a while, as the stench of oil paint streamed out the church’s window and into the warm of early autumn. The set was then together with satin drapery in the background, golds and purples to compliment Papa’s robes and a gathering of ornate trinkets you found might be interesting to paint. Basket of apples on a pedestal for temptation, fig leaves, Adam, Eve, interesting goat statue. But Papa had started fidgeting, they alway did. Especially someone who is as strangely pent up as Papa. “I'm only sketching in shapes, expression comes in much later, I've got basics for the skull and hand. You can rest them for now, if you'd like.”

“I see,” he said quietly, setting down the skull and stretching his hand to rest on the arm rest. “So uh, hmm, what got you into painting, caro Pittore?”

Caro Pittore, he’d said it enough you googled it while setting up, ‘dear Painter’ in masculine. The man had game, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop on that front.

You gave a soft sigh, pretty much everyone asked that question, “I don't really have an exciting plot for you, Storyteller, same as anyone got their job, except for maybe you, is that a lineage…?” you raised a finger to stop yourself. “What would be more fun, and something I've done with clients before, we play a game of assumptions. You only get to meet a person for the first time once in your life. Why ruin the surprise with real answers? Life is so boring. Tell me, who do you think I am, or shall I start with you?”

A glint blossomed in his eye just long enough for you to catch it in your piece, just a sketch, it could get lost in the layers but for now, it was there. “Please, Pittore, it’s your game, show me how it is played.”

“Let’s see,” you turned your head this way, then that, sizing him up. “When you were four, your best friend was a goat. You were of course born within the church and so goats are very friendly faces to you.” A smile cracked over his face, “his name was Stanley.”

“Stanley the fucking goat? From Italy, huh?”

“Why are you laughing at his name? He was your best friend! Goats don’t live as long as you are old, so may he ever Rest In Peace.”

“Old, huh? Shit, we can't be more than ten years apart.”

“If I'm honest I cannot tell, your makeup makes it completely ambiguous. Your turn.”

“Okay, uh, you said you've painted for churches before, you grew up religious, si?”

“The detective work!” You leaned into it with a surprised look.

“Boarding school, horrible catholic nuns, you saw through the dogma but to this day some sexual acts are too taboo for you to even consider… or did it entirely push you in the other direction, huh?”

“Yes, I am still scared of nuns, her name was sister Josie and she liked hitting kids with rulers entirely too much,” you said very seriously.

“How close was I, caro Pittore?”

“Somewhere between very close and not even in the ballpark.” You laughed back, “is that a back story or a personal kink, Papa?”

“Eh, you know, religious trauma, anti-pope,” he pointed at the hat with his free no- longer-skulled hand, “it's a thing.”

“What is the pope-hat called?”

“Pope-hat?!” He almost broke posture in laughter, but he restrained himself. “It's a mitre.”

“Ah, such a sexy name for a pope-hat. Either way, I’m glad I fit your bill Papa, and you--you became Papa Emeritus the third, because there was a bloody tournament where all the Papas fought eachother and though you won, you had to consume all the others to gain their knowledge.”

“Yes, of course, it was a very uh, prestigious tournament called the, 'tournament where we just fucking eat eachother’, but it's in old Latin so it sounds better than when I say it. Si.”

“You must be very knowledgeable then.”

“Eh, only the bedroom expertise tracked across unfortunately, but you know, in their name I make sure it doesn't go to waste,” he actually winked at you.

You shook your head with laughter and scribbled in a wink with your burnt umber, to get lost in the layer but stay marked there forever. You took a sip from your water bottle, legs growing tired from standing.

“Along with the religious trauma, you have ‘daddy’ issues,” he accused.

“Ah, I’ve seen what you've done there, Papa.”

“Si, you know, really heavy issues with your father, you once fought him on a yacht, he fell over the side, pshhh.” He looked like he wanted to move his hands in an animated kind of way but held back. “You never saw him again. You thought he was dead but he faked it… found him in Mexico years later with a new step momma,” he shook his head and looked genuinely crestfallen for you.

You nearly spat out the water you had been sipping on. “Oh, well, my ‘daddy issues’ make me fight the patriarchy and get spicy in bed. Obviously not too spicy, don't want to stoke the vengeful ghost of sister Josie…”

“When did she pass? I'm so sorry,”

You giggled, “but your mummy issues just make you sad and unable to control your emotions!”

“Is that fucking right? Not projecting are we?”

“I don't know what you mean, Papa~ and yes, she treated you so poorly, she used to use you as a footrest while she watched her shows. Even now ‘the days of our lives’ opening theme gives you flashbacks.”

“And through all my shitty violent outbursts you think you can fix me, si?”

“Yes of course, naw, Papa, we’ve all seen how far you've come and we are so proud of you.”

Papa Emeritus gave up holding his pose and leaned forward laughing. “I very much like this game,” he raised a gold clawed finger.

“Oh, bless your unholiness, you miss your mother so much, you wear her nails.”

“Stop, fermare, non, it hurts,” he held his stomach.

Thank you for reading and thank you tumblr for removing all my lovely italics,

More here:

#ghost #ghost band #ghost fanfiction #terzo x reader #terzo #reader insert #ghost bc #the band ghost #fan fiction #fanfic #ghost fanfic #papa emeritus lll #papa terzo #papa emeritus iii #terzo fanfic

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thatradfailure · 4 months ago

Note

These are posts by Algonquin Natives who have to repeatedly see a fearsome folklore creature taken away from their culture and appropriated into an aesthetic that is so far removed from what the creature actually is that if you just gave it a different name, it would be fine.

Please listen to these natives. They are of the tribes where the thing originated from and they beg us non-Natives to stop. We need to listen to them. I'm not the anon that sent the message, but having made the same mistakes out of ignorance myself, I'm giving you these posts to educate you instead of reprimand you.

In more recent legends from the Algonquins, the ice cannibal, as the middle link helpfully provides as an alternate to speaking/writing its name, is used as an allegory for the countless genocide and theft of land from white settlers. Which... is a case of unfortunate irony, considering the spirit itself was stolen by non-Natives for the aesthetic, reshaped but with a similar enough core and under the exact same name.

This is not a creature for us non-Natives to use willy-nilly. It's unfair to those who take their folklore seriously, or who have variations of the folklore that place certain rules upon them, to listen to those who just shrug their shoulders and give a blanket ok to do whatever. Just because YOU are not offended doesn't mean that there isn't offense to be had by others, and that should be respected.

Do consider calling this Medic OC something different. "Skulldog" is an option originating from the furry community and refers to fursonas with skull heads but otherwise (mostly) flesh bodies.

I saw another post suggest using "leshy" instead, a creature from Slavic folklore. And while I have seen a few Slavic individuals recommend this themselves, I'd also recommend looking into the leshy itself before doing so, as Slavic folklore has, much like Native American folklores, been heavily appropriated by non-Slavic individuals.

Please don't just take my words, either. As a white person, I am merely trying to uplift Native voices on an issue that they have fought tooth and nail to have a whisper on. I urge you, I NEED you (you, here, referring to anyone reading this post) to look at the linked posts and understand the deep cultural significance the ice cannibal has. It is not a toy, it is not an aesthetic, it is not a cryptid, it is not just a spooky monster. Just because something shows up on screen does not mean it is representation you should be happy about. Black people and queer people can tell you that in a heartbeat. Natives can tell you that in a heartbeat. Simply look at the original animated Peter Pan, and the censored Native American scene.

(Sidenote but we also need to be careful with our cryptids! Native American myths are NOT cryptids and calling any of them that are another form of appropriation!)

Hey dude, maybe don’t draw a version of an indigenous mythical creature as Medic and stuff. Like it looks cool and all, but that’s super disrespectful to the people who originated the myth. The internet has already done enough damage to it as is, you know? I’m sure you mean well, but just fyi and all that.

Hello! Could you tell me which one you are talking about?

Because I don't remember drawing any Indigenous characters or characters.

Because I am really confused.

#ThatFailure Blabbers #I will be tagging this addition with the name of the creature in the hopes that other people can find the links to these individuals easier #Wendigo #I am also using it because in my search for these Native voices. Whatever posts they made were absolutely drowned out by fandom appropriati

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6lackfiction · 3 years ago

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A Little Jealous

Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Smut, Sex Acts, 18+

Plot: You finally meet Chris’ friends but he doesn’t like it when you start to flirty with one of them, he wants to punish you and he does.

“You’re shaking” he clasped your hands holding them tight “don’t be nervous they’ll love you I promise”

You sighed looking up at him, he kept saying that to you throughout the day and a part of you doubted it, meeting your boyfriend’s friends is terrifying and you were afraid that they wouldn’t like you but you didn’t want to back out now after seeing him so happy when you agreed to join him “Ok you’re right, let’s just get this over with”

“That’s the spirit” he chucked as he climbed out of the car and came round to your side.

He held your hand firmly as you approached the home, you noticed how insanely big it was and before either of you were at the from door you heard the sound of the music booming which eased you a lot and you were secretly grateful for

“God he said it wasn’t a party” he groaned, thumping his fist against the door. After he reached to open the front door which was already unlocked.

“Joe you said a small gathering!” He yelled into the house over the music when his eyes landed on his friend.

“You know me, I can’t help it” he stretched his arms out giving Chris a bear hug, he moved to the living room and gestured with his head for you and Chris to follow him

“CHRIS!” Bellowed the group of people in the living room, Chris took you around the room where there were a chorus of greetings from his friends who then quickly went back to their own conversations.

“She’s a little nervous” Chris pointed to you when he noticed you weren’t making conversation with the last of his friends he was introducing you to.

You tossed him a disapproving look, mortified because you weren’t a conversationalist like Chris and that always made you self conscious.

“I doubt it, it’s probably just because you talk so much and no one can get a word in edgewise” one of the women remarked making the others laughs and you joined in leaning into him teasing.

“Come sit with us” she patted the couch “before he chews your ear off about some sports stuff”

Chris scoffed, rolled his eyes and stormed off leaving you all laughing again and taking the seat that was offered to you.

His friends were nice and funny, they sensed your nerves and instead of asking you questions about your personal life you all talked about the one thing you had in common which was Chris. You occasionally glanced back at him where you saw him eyeing you carefully and giving him a small smile letting him know you were ok.

You sat back for the most part listening to all their childhood stories and you thought about what Chris must have been like when he was younger. They argued after having realised they had different version of the same events, you envied how close they all were and the amount of memories they shared. A few left the couch to get some drinks including the woman who offered you a drink and you were then left alone with his friend Mike.

Mike was hilarious, you got lost in conversation with him, he was so charming and flirtatious something you always liked in people. He had you cracking up most of the night telling you stories about times where Chris’ sister had convinced him to wear a dress and some makeup. You burst out laughing brushing you hand against his as your body shook with laughter.

“What are you guys talking about?” You jumped when you felt Chris sidle up next to you eager to know what you both were laughing at. He pulled you hand back from where it lay on Mike’s knee and held it in his hand firmly.

“You” you said in union, looking at each other and falling back in laughter

“We should probably get going, it’s late” he whispered in your ear squeezing your hand

“No, no we’re having so much fun” you gave him pleading eyes

“Yeah come on Chris, let your girlfriend hang out with me” he flashed his brows at him, smirking.

“We’re going” Chris stated tugging at your hand and pulling you up from the couch.

If you had any amount of strength you would have resisted him but Chris was way stronger than you, he might as well have picked you up. You waved your good-byes to his friends that were scattered all around the house and when you turned to wave good-bye to Mike he had pulled you away so fast you thought you were going to get whiplash.

“Jesus Chris, slow down” you breathed

“What so you can flirt with Mike more”

You almost didn’t hear it but when you did you stood still a few metres away from the car and when he noticed you weren’t moving he turned to you throwing his hands up in the air and furrowing his brows at you.

“Flirting with him?”

“Yeah, I saw the way you were laughing with him!” he spat bitterly, his voice echoing into the night air

You slapped you hand to your mouth but not before a small chuckle escaped

“You think this is funny” he moved to you

“No?” You snorted, a small grin flashing across your face.

He scoffed heading back to the car and you quickly followed him climbing into the passenger seat.

“Chris… honey I’m sorry” you put your hand over his “I’m not laughing I swear”

He started the car, keeping his eyes glued to the road and giving you the cold shoulder. The entire car ride Chris never said a word to you, never glanced at you and really committed to this silent treatment. You just couldn’t believe how jealous and it was a side of him you’d never seen yet and it kind of turned you on. He got possessive and annoyed just at the sight of seeing you getting along with his friend, something he wanted you to do you thought.

As soon as he turned the car into the drive, he still made no attempts to talk to you, just parking the car and getting out of the car.

“Seriously Chris” you narrowed your eyes following him into the house

He headed for the living room throwing himself on the couch and staring up at the couch, he sat up rubbing his head with his hands. You leaned against the door frame watching his movements for a few minutes before moving to pour yourself a glass of scotch and doing the same for him. You set it down on the coffee table in front of him and took a seat beside him, you planted a kiss quickly on his cheek before he could pull his head back.

“You’re really not talking to me” you spoke softly

When he didn’t respond or even look at you, you took that as your clue to leave, finding his behaviour really annoying and slamming your glass to the table you stormed out of the room. Usually you would stay up and wait for him to come to bed before you drifted off to sleep but you were so filled with anger the idea of sleeping next to him almost made you blood boil.

How dare you think you’d flirt with someone else, it’s not like he wasn’t a flirt and hated the attention he got from women. But you never brought it up and felt some type of way about it, you were pacing the bedroom stripping off your clothes and letting them drop to the ground before you crawled into bed. You soon drifted off to sleep despite all the anger and even when you felt the weight shift on his side of the bed.

You woke first groggy then letting your senses come back to you, you sigh a deep breath stretching out any tension as the memory of last night flooded you. You turn to your right remembering how he had the nerve to even sleep in bed with you last night and you yank the covers to your side deliberately depriving him of any warmth before getting out of bed in a fit.

You made as much sound as you possibly could, slamming the bathroom door, opening up the drawers loudly and shutting them again, stomping throughout the bedroom hoping all the noise would annoy him and disrupt his sleep. You watch him stir in his sleep slowly waking up and you left the room but not before slamming the bedroom door.

You roamed around the kitchen, pacing lightly, you tried not to be bothered by his behaviour but it was hard. You never thought of Chris as a jealous man and he never showed any jealousy like that before. You wondered if it was some red flag that you missed over the years you’d been dating, maybe the signs were always there and you never paid any attention to it. Something about it didn’t sit well with you and you leaned on the counter mulling it over, he ignored you from the moment you were in the car till you went to bed. That was so unusual, Chris hated going to bed angry so you knew that this must have really gotten to him.

You felt yourself getting annoyed again, did he really think you were flirty or would even think about cheating on him. What did that say about how he felt about you and how he saw you.

“You should learn to be more quiet” he grumbled brushing past you

You didn’t notice that he was even in the kitchen till his voice pulled you out of your thoughts

“Huh” you turned to him

“It was rude, I was sleeping”

“Oh I’m sorry, am I supposed to care” you were being petty for sure and didn’t care about it, he deserved it.

He glared at you flaring his nostrils “don’t piss me off”

“Or what, you’re gonna stop talking to me again. Oh I’m so scared” you mocked

He set down his cup of coffee and slowly approached you “you don’t wanna see what I’ll do”

The little flash of anger in his eyes let you know he was serious, you had gotten under his skin.

“What if I do?” you glared at him playfully

He took a few more steps to you until he had backed you to the counter and pressed himself against you. He gave you a smirk, bending down to kiss and lick your neck softly, he wrapped his arms around your middle pulling you to him sharply.

“Chris you can’t just-“

“What? Touch you” he dipped his head to you neck again sucking gently “I’ll do what I want” His hands slid to your thigh slowly reaching under your robe. “And what I want…” he trailed kisses along you jawline before capturing your lips “is you”.

He was gentle with you at first which had you thinking he wasn’t angry at you anymore before his hand snaked up to cup your skull, pulling your head back so you locked eyes with him. You gasped at the pressure and watched as that anger flooded his eyes again only for it to be replaced with arousal quickly. His loosened his grip and his hand slid down to your throat, your eyes widened as you waited for him to apply pressure but he never did. Instead he watched and felt you whimper against him nervous but you were also getting restless wanting more from him.

“I don’t like seeing you with other men” he gripped your hips harshly “You’re mine and only mine. Do you understand?”

You moaned your response but it didn’t satisfy him, his grip around your throat tightened

“Do you understand?” He asked again

“Yes…yes” you chocked out

He narrowed his eyes “I don’t believe you” He grabbed your waist quickly bending you over the counter. He pushed his pelvis into you and you let out a soft moan feeling his hard cock against you. He leaned into you , whispering in your ear “I think I need to show you”. You couldn’t see his face, only feel him touch all over you body, his warm breath against your ear and him getting harder the more you twisted your hips against him.

“I need to show you who you belong to” his voice rasped as you heard him unbuckling his belt, your breath hitched when the belt hit the floor and the clang rang through silent kitchen. He hiked up your robe so it fell bundled just above your ass, he ran his hand up from your thigh and soft moan escaped your lips.

“You see how wet you are” he slipped his finger inside you, you jerked arching your back as he crooked his finger hitting that spot you loved so much. You bucked your hips slowly with his pace reaching forward to grasp whatever you could to steady yourself. You were getting restless, desperate but he was having fun teasing you.

You groaned feeling his shaft slide up and down your slit. When he moved away you whimpered and whined at the loss aching for him. He teased your hole making sure to line his cock up nicely with you pussy, he waited moments before slamming into you without warning.

“Oh fuck” you cried out as he pounded into you more and more. His thrusts were rough, violent like he was trying to ravage you right there in the kitchen. While you tried your best to keep up with him, every time the tip of his cock hit your cervix you gasped and winced with both pleasure and pain.

The way he thrust into you told you he wanted you to scream him name loudly, it made it difficult for you to stay upright. He bent over you interlocking his fingers with you keeping you in place as he pushed in and out of you picking up the pace again. You felt his breath near your ear again and it drove you insane hearing him breathing heavily. You squeezed your pussy around his cock making his lightly gasp and then thrust into you harshly as punishment.

“Are you misbehaving again” he rasped against your ear, plunging into you harder. “God, you’re so fucking tight”, his lips latched on to your neck as his hands roamed your body.

Soon his hand went to your throat squeezing harshly, you knees started to buckle and all you fell from your lips were moans.

“I wanna hear you, tell me who you belong to” he panted heavily

“It-it’s you, I-i belong to you” you stuttered

“That’s right” he thrust into you burying himself deep inside you “you” he pulled back out teasing your hole “belong” he slowly pushed into you making you exhale deeply “to me” you let out a quiet low moan nearing your release at his words.

You knew he was close too as he movements became staggered, he was trying his best to hold on but it was growing to be difficult for him. You bucked madly crying out loudly, you wanted your release, you needed it.

“Yes, yes god yes” you chanted as you grew close

He pounded into you violently now grunting heavily with every thrust, he gripped you hips then moved his feet to spread your legs as best as far as you’d let him. You tightened around him, you cries bouncing off the walls. You screwed your eyes shut, reaching you hands back to feel for him, worried he’d move and leave you like this.

“Fuck” he grunted loudly still thrusting into you as you body trembled and shook from your orgasm. You yelled slamming you hands to the counter holding on for dear life as you hit your climax. You legs shook and bent inwards as you tried to close them but he didn’t let you. He held them apart still working towards his orgasm.

“Chris-“ you begged

“I’m not done with you yet” he pounded into you a few more times, giving you long strokes before he bent over you his orgasm building quickly. He was buried deep inside you and he was overcome quickly with pleasure. He let go of your legs letting you close them but still staying inside you. He reached up his head resting in the crook of your neck trialing kisses along your shoulder.

You both panted heavily and you struggled to form a deep breath as his body weighed heavy above you. He reached around giving you clit a flick making gasp beneath him, you were so sensitive to his touch. He slowly moved of you and you dared not move yourself letting him admire the view before you felt him pull you to him.

“I hope you’ve learnt your lesson” he smirked giving you a gentle smack as you walked past him “now get upstairs, I’ll be up soon”

~~~

Hope you enjoyed it, feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

#chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chrisevans #chris evans fanfiction #chris x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #cevans

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here.

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield…

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over.

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes...

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up…

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory.

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!!

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night…

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully…

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

#you say athena mc is smart #i say athena mc is spy #because where better to use your smarts #in war #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demigods

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buckmepapi · 3 years ago

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Just got spoken to like shit for being hard of hearing.

I forgot to wear my hearing aids when getting groceries and I asked my partner where the bacon medallions were and he muttered something (even with my hearing aids he’s hard to understand because he speaks lowly and mutters which I’ve explained lots of times to stop doing lmao) and I said “what?” and signed to my ear to signal that I can’t hear him, and he just turns away from me so now I can’t even see his lips or know if he’s speaking at all and I kept saying “what” like 3 more times and at this rate I don’t know if he’s ignoring me or actually replying because I can’t hear him at all, and I tell him can you turn around because I don’t know what you’re trying to say or do and then he muttered this time which I noticed and I said “what are you saying” and he very loudly declared “I said shut the fuck up” in such a venomous way I was like wtf ???

And then he started insulting me when we finished shopping saying im stupid and don’t know how to use my brain because he said I should have known that him turning around away from me was him showing me that the bacon is in front of him , like excuse me ???? You’re asking a sensory overloaded autistic person to pick up on a social queue that to my knowledge is not even a very good one by neurotypical standards and I’m also suppose to understand this whilst being deaf? You wasted minutes of our time when you could have turned back to face me and said “here” clearly or better yet fucking pointed with your finger in front of you if you really didn’t want to talk like ?????

Idk why but he always gets angry at my deafness too, I thought ever since I had it confirmed and had hearing aids fitted that he would take it seriously and understand that I’m genuinely am not hearing him but he can’t even be bothered to learn basic bsl which I use all the time when I talk to him and apparently my inability to hear is my fault because he simply can’t get it into his thick skull to face me when he talks or talk louder and enunciate better instead of talking like a fucking idiot but apparently I’m the issue and I’m stupid for being autistic

Then when I calmly discuss this I get gaslighted and insulted further ,,, I just gave up and said “this isn’t important. You’re tired and taking out your exhaustion on me. I’m not being a part of this and I don’t need to be insulted” and left it at that

This is the shit I’ve had to deal with for like 5 years now and it’s getting worse like wtf , I’m hoping that the more shit I post on here about it the more it’ll help me to leave him lol

#𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓻 ╰✧#buckmepapi #k;#personal #autism #deaf #deafness #hard of hearing #actually autistic #autistic #ableism #actually disabled #rant #vent #disabled rant #rantvent #rant vent #rant post #vent post

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luxwritesfanfic · 4 years ago

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Don’t Take The Money

Poor reader thought it would end up being a normal Sunday but that must’ve been the mix of bleach and Pinesol fumes getting to their head. Or, the one where reader finds out they have more in common with the other woman in Sherlock’s life than they thought and Sherlock has an aneurysm at the revelation. Thanks for reading!

Sherlock Holmes/Reader

You were just waking up when Sherlock was moving around the bedroom trying to pack his overnight bag. You groaned at the noise of drawers being opened and hangers jostled and rolled over onto your stomach, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Sherlock? You’re leaving?”

He stopped in his tracks back towards the closet and moved to sit on the edge of the bed next to you. He looked down at you with fondness that so many people thought he was incapable of feeling and as always, it made your heart swell. Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, you relished in his undivided attention.

“A case was brought to my attention. I won’t be gone for long, it’s a few towns over.” He insists, trying to ease your worries before they arise.

Although you’d miss him, it never did anyone any good when Sherlock was bored. He needed something to keep him occupied and you needed time to clean up the drywall shrapnel that constantly covered the couch due to the boredness. It would give you the opportunity to deep clean the flat and the idea wasn’t so bad.

“Is John going too?” Sherlock nodded. You don’t know why you asked, they always worked together.

You turned your head to kiss his palm and sat up to get out of bed. “Okay. I’ll make you breakfast before you guys leave. Nobody likes train food anyway.”

Sherlock moved to help you stand, one of the smiles he reserved just for you gracing his lips. “You take excellent care of me. But you should know, you don’t have to be useful for this to mean something to me.”

He caught you off guard, but he usually did when he read you like a book. Your whole life you’d made yourself useful and you weren’t sure if people liked you for you or for the fact that there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for them. You would do anything and everything for Sherlock and it didn’t have anything to do with being useful, honestly. You loved him dearly and you couldn’t imagine treating him like you felt anything less than that. You couldn’t help but kiss him.

“Omelettes or pancakes?”

—

Your shirt was soaked from washing the dishes and you smelled like a mixture of bleach and formaldehyde from scrubbing the fridge clean and removing the severed head that took up the space where your coffee creamer should be. You had done more loads of laundry than you could count, bleached the bloodstained tub from Sherlock’s latest pig quest, the entire flat smelled like Bahama breeze and you couldn’t be more content. The boys weren’t due back for a day or two so you figured you’d spend some time with Mrs. Hudson when you were done and see if you could meet up with Bucky and Greg for lunch. When you passed the kitchen on your way to your bedroom to change, you decided that this may be the only chance you ever get to clear off the dining room table. Sherlock’s science equipment had overrun it and you figured it wouldn’t hurt if you straightened it up just a bit.

You were in the midst of cleaning out Sherlock’s beakers when you heard the knock on the door. Figuring that John would have posted on his blog that they weren’t currently taking clients because they were on a case, you expected to see Mrs. Hudson and the mop she was letting you borrow. You cracked the door just enough to see who was on the other side and was surprised to see an older woman holding a plate of baked goods who wasn’t Mrs. Hudson.

“Hi... how can I help you?”

The woman in question’s eyes lit up at the sight of you and you weren’t sure why. She smiled and gestured to the platter in her hands. “Is Sherlock Holmes here?”

She must be a client, you thought. Shaking your head, you responded, “No, sorry! The boys off on a case. I’m a friend of theirs. Is there something I can help you with?”

She was looking past you into the flat and you weren’t sure what she was looking for. “Do you mind if I come in? I could really use a cup of tea. And I wanted to drop these cookies I made for Sherlock off.”

You looked at what she was holding and decided it wouldn’t really hurt to let her in, and the cookies looked amazing. Sherlock must have helped her in some way.

“Sure, come on in. Sorry about my clothes... I’ve been doing some spring cleaning.” You stepped aside and let her in. “So, are you a client of his?”

She went to place the platter on the table and you were excited that it was already worth cleaning off the table. “Not quite. I’ve known him his whole life and have loved him even longer.” She turned and smiled at you, seeing through you in a way that seemed eerily close to Sherlock.

You hummed, taking in her answer. Sherlock didn’t talk much about his friends, so you weren’t surprised that you never heard of her.

“Just a minute, I’m gonna change.”

You excused yourself to the bedroom where your phone was charging on the bed. After sending Sherlock a quick text that someone who wasn’t a client was here for him, you dug around in the closet for something clean and more appropriate.

The lady didn’t really seem like a threat and you were sure if it came down to it, you’d be able to protect yourself. You could chuck the skull on the mantle if need be, it was a hard hitter.

When you returned, she was wandering around the flat and looking at all of the pictures of you, Sherlock, and John that you’d recently framed and put out.

“You and Sherlock, you’re close, yes? Tell me about him. It’s been so long.” She was holding a picture that you took of you two in the back of a taxi. Sherlock was on his phone but you thought his hair looked extra good and the golden hour light made him look like an angel so you had to take the picture.

“Yeah, I mean. He’s a seriously great person. A brilliant detective, he’s so smart. He helps all these people for free, and he never complains if they don’t offer him anything. He hates when I tell him he’s a godsend but who else would do that? Um... he’s really funny, probably one of the funniest people I know. You just have to keep up with his humor. It can be kind of dry, but it’s there. He’s one of the most loyal people there is and he’d do anything for the people he cares about.”

It was so easy for you to speak so highly of him. It was like second nature.

“He can be stubborn sometimes, and he can be a little more blunt than he needs to be but... he’s amazing. There’s no other way to explain him, really. He’s got a light that comes from him that rivals the sun and I don’t think it could ever be dimmed.”

She turned back to you and slowly broke out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen someone wear. “You really love my son.”

“Your son?” You blinked, unsure of what was going on. You really started to look at the woman in front of you and you realized Sherlock had her eyes. A complete copy and paste. “Oh my God, you’re Sherlock’s mom. I never even introduced myself. I’m Y/N, a friend of-”

“You’re not his friend, dear, and I’m not blind. Old age takes a lot from you, but I could never miss the way my son shines. And you... you see it too.” She walked up to you, still holding the picture frame in her hands. “You love my son in a way that no one else has. Let me tell you all about him.”

—

You couldn’t stop laughing.

Sherlock’s mom had brought over tons of scrapbooks and old pictures that she had acquired over the years, and you had a feeling she knew you were here alone before she even knocked on the door. Mycroft, probably. You spent the whole day getting to know each other and taking a stroll down memory lane with her telling you all about Sherlock as a kid and how it was growing up with two geniuses as sons. She even gave you a copy of one of Sherlock’s high school pictures that you were going to cherish forever. She seemed so happy to have someone to talk to and assured you that spending time with you was the closest she had felt to Sherlock in a long time.

You insisted that she stay and let you make dinner, but she was as equally stubborn as Sherlock and ordered you takeaway as her treat. You tried to argue but she was having none of it. “My God, you scrubbed this whole flat clean. I’m not going to let you dirty your dishes. How does Chinese sound?”

—

Sherlock barreled up the steps with all the force he could muster in his legs and rushed in to see you, perfectly fine and all in one piece, having dinner with his mother.

“Sherlock!” You both exclaimed, his mother full of excitement and you full of worry.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, standing up from your end of the couch. “I thought you were on a case? Is everything okay?”

“I’ve been texting and calling you all day! You’re that daft that you couldn’t text back once all this time?” He’s still out of breath and he can feel his heartbeat in his ears. His tone is exasperated and you could hear the mix of anxiety and relief in his voice as he’d yet to acknowledge his mother. She seemed perfectly content to sit back and watch the situation unfold, amusement at her son’s unusual outburst gracing her features.

“My phone was dead! And then I put it on the charger and I forgot about it once your mom came, by the way!” You went to the bedroom and retrieved your phone to find a dozen missed texts and calls.

Probably just a client. SH

11:07 AM

Are you sure it’s not a client? SH

11:43 AM

Are they still there? SH

1:00 PM

Missed Call

1:17 PM

Missed Call

2:03 PM

Call me back. SH

3:26 PM

Y/N, I’m on a case. Call me back. SH

3:44 PM

Missed Call

4:13 PM

Is everything alright? SH

4:52 PM

Missed Call

5:08 PM

Missed Call

5:10 PM

Missed Call

5:12 PM

I’m boarding the train now and I’ll be there soon. Don’t worry. SH

5:21 PM

Sherlock followed after you, still without ever acknowledging his mother, and shut the door after himself. With his palms braced against the wooden door, he tried to ease the tension out of his bones through a deep breath as he watched you check your phone. He wasn’t worried about the case at all. It was mostly solved and what little was left John could do with ease. He felt the weight of the missed calls in his stomach like lead and the three hour train ride that he couldn’t curse to defy time any quicker. He had plenty of enemies and you had virtually none, so there would be no reason to think you’d hesitate to assist anyone who came to his door, especially if it was in the name of helping him. He thought he’d walk into a crime scene and he couldn’t shake those images out of his head.

You got up from the bed and walked over to him, reaching to wrap one arm around his neck and to take his hand in yours in the other. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, and then to his chin, over his eyelids, his nose, and then lastly you met his lips, murmuring “I’m sorry” in between every kiss. He didn’t usually voice it, but you had known him long enough to know when he was upset. He relaxed into your touch as he always did and you pulled away from him long enough to pull on the ends of his scarf. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me help. We got takeaway for your mom and I but we can share mine. I got what you like anyway.”

He let you pull his scarf and jacket off and you were delighted to see he wasn’t really mad with you. You hang his jacket on the closet door and by the time you turn back to face him, he’s already making his way back out to the living room. Following after him, you see his mother gesturing him to come over.

“What are you doing here? I thought I told Mycroft to tell you I was away on business.” He was messing with the cuffs on his sleeves but his question was directed at his mother with unmistakable intent. She tsked at him, and you began to see even more similarities in their mannerisms.

“That’s no way to talk to your mother, William. I was spending some time with your darling partner here and I don’t even get a kiss or a hug?” She began gathering her belongings and threw her purse over her shoulder. You weren’t happy to see her go.

You did peak up at the name. “William? Your name is William?”

Sherlock groaned, ignoring you completely. You swore you could see a blush dusting his cheeks. In no time he was at the door, holding it open for his mother. “It’s getting rather late, don’t you agree? Father must be wondering where you are. Be sure to pay Mycroft a visit the next time you’re in town. I assure you, he always has time for family.”

She turned to you and blew you a kiss. “I had a great time with you today, I hope you’ll manage to bring Sherlock home more.”

Walking over to Sherlock, she paused to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “I know you know what you could lose here. So be sure you don’t, Sherlock.”

Before she totally stepped out of the flat, she turned around one last time. “Promise me you’ll come home soon. Your father and I miss you dearly.”

“I heard you the first ten times. Goodnight and safe travels, mother.” Sherlock shut the door before his mother could get another word and your shoulders slumped.

“Hey, that was your mom! She’s really nice. We had a good day.” You started to clean up the coffee table and take the dishes into the kitchen. You couldn’t understand Sherlock’s relationship with his family but you were sure there was a lot of things you didn’t know. Still, it was nice to have a chance to bond with your (maybe one day) future family. It was then that you realized that Sherlock never said anything when his mother mentioned you being his partner. You two never really officially defined what you were, so to see him not object to an actual title made you feel all warm inside.

“No, you had a good day. I was trying to work a case and clear a man’s name while trying to figure out if I’d come home to you kidnapped or dead.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, watching you from the doorway. You looked back at him as you dropped the dishes into the sink and let out a sigh. You hated the fact that you let him down.

“I have to go back tomorrow to tie some loose ends with John. If you come with me, I have a feeling I’ll get over it a lot quicker.” His voice was quiet but full of mirth. He won’t hold this over your head, and you both know this, but if it makes him feel better you’ll follow him. You’d follow him to the ends of the Earth and off the edge if he lead you.

Sherlock pushed himself off of the doorway and walked towards the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

“So, you’re staying home tonight?” You swung around the kitchen doorway and called out to the hall. You hadn’t even thought about Sherlock having to go back, and you couldn’t help but be excited that he would be there for you to fall asleep next to tonight.

“You didn’t expect me to make the trip back at this hour, did you? Besides, I sleep better with you and it’s obvious that I don’t focus well if you’re not around, Which is why I need you to come with me tomorrow. It seems you owe me, anyway.” Sherlock takes a step back so you can see him in the bedroom doorway, and you can feel your heart in your throat.

He’s so beautiful, you think, all alabaster skin and lean muscle. He’s pulling a t-shirt over his head and you wonder if you could manifest a photographic memory long enough to commit him to memory. Of course he notices you staring, and you almost want to mention all the times you catch him staring at you but he changes the subject and opens the blankets for you and you shut up and follow him. You follow him and you love him and you wake up in the morning at the crack of dawn to run downstairs and order coffee from the shop next door before your train leaves, being sure to get them to write “William” on the cup. Sherlock doesn’t find this funny at all, but he still lets you fall asleep on his arm on the train ride there and doesn’t complain when his arm falls asleep right along with you.

He thinks that if this is the life his mother wished for him as a child, that would be one thing he could take off of his list of things she eventually needs to answer for. Because mothers know best, and when it came to you, she could have never been more right.

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samstree · 3 years ago

Note

36 for kiss prompts and/or 23 from touch prompts?? i'm so happy for your dynamic return!! 😌

Lean on Me

36. “kissing away tears” + 23. “carrying the other one in their arms” from the touch asks. Thanks for the prompt, my dear! <3

In which Jaskier is a stubborn idiot. Geralt is there for him.

(1.4k, aftermath of torture, mentions of blood and injury, panic attacks, vomiting, read on AO3)

---

“Oh, finally!” Jaskier lets out a sigh, his ribs aching at the exhale. “My dear, you don’t know how I’ve longed to see your beautiful face! These two gentlemen—on top of being the rudest persons in the entirety of the Nilfgaardian empire—have the most hideous complexions I’ve seen! Seriously, does being a royal torturer suck away your soul along with your good looks?”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

Geralt fumbles with the shackles around Jaskier’s wrists, refusing to look up. The motion pulls at the flayed skin a little. Jaskier gasps when one of the restraints falls to the floor. He uses the air to resume his rambling.

“Dull as fuck, they are. It’s always ‘tell me where they are, or we’ll beat you to death’ as if I didn’t infer from their mean faces on the first day. Urgh! So unimaginative! You’d think an army that swept through the continent could hire someone more competent. Professionals, maybe—”

The other wrist comes out and Jaskier abruptly tips forward, his knees giving way. Luckily, strong arms catch him around the waist without a moment of doubt, and Jaskier finds himself face to face with the prettiest amber eyes in the world.

“Hey,” Jaskier says, realizing that he’s bitten his lower lip in a panic. The old wound reopens and he tastes blood. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?”

A gentle hand comes up to push back the hair in Jaskier’s eyes, revealing his forehead and, undoubtfully, the gash there and all the dried blood. He feels exposed like this.

“Jaskier,” Geralt breathes, the whisper too careful for Jaskier to handle after all these days. “You are in shock.”

“What? No, I’m not!”

Jaskier frowns, and struggles on his feet to prove the point. If only his legs would cooperate and stop feeling like jelly. Geralt trails his fingers down to cup Jaskier’s jaw, a thumb hovering over what must be a patch of bruises by his lips. He presses down with the barest touch and Jaskier hisses, which tugs at his ribs again.

Geralt’s brows are knitted together with worry. “I need to get you out of here fast.”

“There’s no need to look so constipated, Geralt dear. I told you I’m fine. This—” he gestures to the tiny torture chamber. “—is nothing!”

With that, Jaskier takes a step towards the door—well, what’s left of it after Geralt smashed through the poor thing. Each step feels like he’s walking on a cloud. His arm rests on Geralt’s shoulder but refuses to lean into his witcher’s solid strength. Geralt doesn’t seem convinced, with a hand still at Jaskier’s waist, just shy of touching his throbbing side.

“Let me tell you, they couldn’t even follow through on most promises. Apparently, the emperor himself gave orders to keep me alive. I’m a valuable asset! So, you see, all the talks of opening me up with those colorful gadgets were nothing but empty threats. I could laugh at those idiots!”

As they stumble out of the room, Jaskier can’t help but get another glimpse of the table full of devices—pliers, knives, a chainsaw, and something that looks like a stack of thick needles, except every five of them are attached to make the perfect shape to go into someone’s fingers.

A shudder runs down his back—not from fear, of course. It’s a draft in the hallway.

“Hmm. And they are the idiots.”

“For messing with me and not finishing the job—Oh, there they are.” Two mangled bodies are barely visible in the dark corner, with blood seeping into the floor. “Did you give them hell? I bet you did. The White Wolf’s wrath is no joke, not when his bard is taken. Not that it was too much of a bother for me, mind you. I’m fine.”

The urge to repeat the word is overwhelming despite the crack in his voice. Jaskier licks at the cut on his lip just like he’s done in the past few days. It was the only soothing motion he could manage while being bound in metal. The warmth of Geralt’s body is miles better, so much so that a disorienting fog is forming before Jaskier’s eyes, darkening the edges of his vision.

“Sure you are. Just…hang on, just a little longer,” Geralt pleads, a bit desperately. For what, Jaskier isn’t sure.

Geralt takes Jaskier’s elbow with his other hand, guiding him forward toward the exit. He’s acting like that again, like he’s around a spooked horse or scared children. Jaskier turns in confusion and rests his temple against Geralt’s cheek, but he’s rudely dislodged quickly.

“Portal,” Geralt warns.

Before Jaskier has time to react, cold wind is cutting into his cheeks and his bare feet sink into thick snow. Kaer Morhen stands tall as always, and Jaskier wants to sag with relief—

Before a spell of nausea hits him in full force, turning his insides into a swirling mess. Jaskier can barely push Geralt away before crumbling onto the icy ground and heaves out whatever little content in his stomach. There’s not much. It’s not like a prisoner’s diet is on top of Nilfgaard’s priorities.

“Portals… Can’t complain when we are in a hurry, right?”

Jaskier chokes out a laugh while trying to wipe away the bile at his lips. The coldness is creeping up on him, making him tremble like a leaf. He hugs the hollow of his stomach, but the involuntary spasms jostle his sensitive ribs again, drawing out a whimper. Everything hurts. His mouth is filled with cotton, his head pounding like fireworks exploding inside his skull.

The next attempt to stand fails, and he ends up in a heap of misery with nothing but the raggedy shirt on his back. Jaskier takes in gulps of air but can’t find any release. His lungs are burning with the aftershock of panic.

It’s like a dam breaking. The reality sinks in, of what could have happened. Of what did happen.

Jaskier knows he’s crying. Tears are rolling down his cheeks with abandon and freezing in the cold air. He can’t hide them, not when he doesn’t even have the strength to lift a hand.

A coat wraps around his shoulders, and Jaskier shudders into the contact. Geralt lowers into his vision, his head tilted so their gazes can meet. Amber eyes are flowing with patience, so much patience.

“All right,” Jaskier finally croaks, “perhaps…there’s a chance that I’m, um, I’m not quite fine.”

Geralt’s palm finds Jaskier’s cheek again, careful not to aggravate the bruises and the broken skin. Their foreheads rest together, and the only thing left in the snowy world is the sound of Geralt’s breathing. The grip on Jaskier’s airway loosens, allowing him to match the achingly unhurried rise and fall of Geralt’s chest. The familiar scent of leather and sweat is in the background, the best soothing balm for his frayed nerves, always.

Slowly, the storm calms.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, just like this. You are safe. I have you now. I have you.” Geralt murmurs into his ear, repeating the last sentence like a mantra. “I have you, Jask…”

There are more tears, but soft lips catch them in a lover’s caress. Jaskier lets himself melt into his witcher’s presence, lets his tears be kissed away.

“What should—” His teeth chatters. The snow is numbing his toes, the tingling bordering on pain. “What should I do?”

The world spins again, but this time upward. Geralt’s arms are so steady as he lifts Jaskier in one swift motion and carries him toward the keep.

“Lean on me. For now.” The corners of Geralt’s lips quirk up into something akin to a smile, but not yet. It looks physically impossible for Geralt to smile right now. “Lean on me, and don’t worry a thing.”

And Jaskier does. He leans into Geralt’s neck and rubs his damp cheek into the scent there. The sniffles don’t go away for a long time. His breaths are still shuddering, but for the first time, there’s nothing Jaskier wants to say.

For the first time, Jaskier only wants to bury himself into Geralt’s coat, into the quiet safety of his favorite witcher, and ease his mind into oblivion.

---

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #cw: blood #cw: panic attack #cw: vomiting #cw: torture #geralt x jaskier #soft geralt #protective geralt #jaskier being a brat #kissing away tears #hurt/comfort #chrysa your prompt was so soft #but i was in a hurt the bard mood again #oh well #there's nothing i can do #might as well lean into it

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darkorderaf · 3 years ago

Note

Can I request kiss prompt 16 with mjf set when the inner circle was in Vegas?

Oh, this is a very fun idea. This is a nice little cocktail of shitlord!Max and soft!Max. I took some creative liberties with their time in Vegas. Thank you so much for sending, I hope you like it!! <3

Pairing: MJF x OFC. Prompts: A kiss that isn’t meant to happen but it does anyway. Rating: T. Warnings/Content: Angst and fluff! Some drinking. Word Count: 2,633.

(I don’t own gif; credit to cowboyshit!)

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“Believe it.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.”

“Like, a lot. I deadass hate the dude.”

“I know, Sammy.”

She let out a long-suffering sigh and set her hands against the bartop. From the first proposal of the Inner Circle going to Vegas, Sammy complained. It hadn’t gotten any better now that they were actually in the city. The situation wasn’t great but it was what Jericho wanted and which of them was going to tell them no? At least Wardlow seemed decent enough. He didn’t talk much and hell, that was all she could ask for. She could use less talking lately.

“Sammy, he’s not going anywhere,” she said. Her hand curled tight around her glass. “We might as well just enjoy what we can, alright?”

Sammy frowned and folded his arms as he leaned against the table. Her words seemed to help for the time being. Satisfied that they had, she threw her drink back and rubbed at her temples. They had been away from the table too long and she could already feel her phone vibrating. She clapped Sammy reassuringly on the back and the two made their way back to the blackjack table.

“C’mon, Spanish God. It’s just one night. We’ll be fine.”

---

When the boys drank, they drank. Shot after shot after shot. She had to admit that she was impressed. MJF held his own with Jericho but he was feeling it and she could tell. They stayed longer at the place with the dancing girls that she forgot the name of but she didn’t mind that. It gave her some time to think to herself, appreciate the show from afar unbothered.

“You don’t belong here.”

Or not. She mentally prepared herself with a few deep breaths before she turned around. There he was, in his purple pastel suit glory. In MJF’s endeavor to earn the trust of the Inner Circle, he had been persistent with all of them. She tried not to notice that closely behind Jericho, she was the one he seemed to flock to most. The corner of the club she sat in was away from the red light that covered the rest. The fluorescents overhead made it easier to see the warm flush to his face that the booze brough on, the slight shadows under his eyes. She didn’t know where those came from. He leaned against the bar and took a long drink. She eyed him.

Was he getting enough sleep?

Better question, why was she worried about MJF?

Wait, what did he just say?

“Hi,” she said as she idly swirled the straw in her drink. She jutted her chin at the girls. “Care to explain what you mean by that? I think the club’s fine and the girls are putting on a hell of a show. I like it here.”

He shook his head, clearly frustrated.

“That’s,” he paused and sighed. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t belong here. With the Inner Circle. With them. With Jericho.”

Her eyes flashed and she sat up straight. Narrowed eyes met his and the muscle in his jaw worked. If he was frustrated, she felt it tenfold.

“Oh? And you do?”

“Please, just give me a second and listen to me.”

MJF wasn’t someone that struggled to communicate how he felt or what was on his mind. As far as she knew. Then again, how much did she really know him? She gestured for him to sit in the stool beside her and he took it. He undid the top button of his suit and ran a hand through his hair. He looked borderline unkempt. Vulnerable, even. Her spine softened and she slowly sipped at her drink.

“You’re--” He held onto his drink, sucked in his bottom lip, then ran his tongue along it. “You’re too good for them. I’m up here--obviously--you’re here, and then they’re down there. Do you see what I mean?”

He explained with one hand low and the other above his head. He placed himself higher than her by a slim margin. She didn’t know what to make of the fact that he leaned down to really exaggerate it. The backhanded compliment made heat creep up her neck, her face. She didn’t see herself better than the others of the Inner Circle but there were times where she wondered about going on her own. Even just for a little while. She kept to herself more lately, telling the guys it was fine if they didn’t accompany her to her matches. It would make it easier when she did decide to leave.

If she did.

“Wow,” she said, her brows lifted and her tongue pressed up against the sharp edges of her teeth. “You really know how to compliment a girl, Friedman. If you want a show, it’s over there. I’m not doing this with you.”

She turned away, effectively shutting off the conversation. Her spine straightened again and she caged her drink in with her forearms. MJF didn’t move from his spot beside her. Clearly, he had something on his mind. Max dropped his forehead into his hand then straightened himself back up.

“Max.”

“What?”

“Can you call me Max?”

That made her pause, her brows slightly furrowed. His voice was so soft she barely heard it. Jesus, she didn’t know what to make of this man. This infuriating man that insulted every person she knew and yet, could always be found in the audience during her matches. Who always checked on her in his own weird, emotionally bizarre way.

‘At least you didn’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Well, she looks worse but yeesh, that’s not saying much.’

And then the odd, ‘How are you?’ But that one seemed to make him more uncomfortable than any other compliment veiled with an insult. That one seemed genuine, a removal of some mask, and he never stayed long after she fumbled an answer.

She eyed him carefully on the stool beside her.

“Alright, Max,” she said and the sound of his name brought this strange, hopeful look to his face that caught her off guard. She was so used to it in a sneer, a Cheshire grin. “Come on, let’s get some air.”

She jerked her thumb towards the exit and threw back the rest of her strong drink. Although she hadn’t had as much as the boys, she felt warm and bubbly. Even with MJF, Max, at her side as they walked out into the night air, his hand a vague sensation at the small of her back as he let her go first. Her phone vibrated and she checked it.

Sammy G. - lmk if you need help hiding body xoxo

She rolled her eyes and slid her phone back into the pocket of her dress. Max kept a small distance from her as they walked and he did the same when she found somewhere to sit. She hadn’t banked on it being cold. Goosebumps slid up the exposed skin of her arms. Wordlessly, Max offered her his scarf.

“...Thanks,” she said. “What’s all this about, Ma--”

“You don’t like me.”

His statement cut her off and she cocked her head. She played with the ends of his scarf where it draped over her shoulders. It smelled like him and something sweet.

“It’s more complicated than that,” she offered. The conversation hadn’t initially been about them but with the way her brain lingered on it and how his statement didn’t sit well with her, she shifted it further that way. “You’re not the easiest person to be around. At all. Half the time I don’t know if you’re trying to be nice or if you’re just waiting for me to fall.”

“I’ve seen you fall. More than they have, in fact.”

She shot him a look. He wasn’t wrong. Jericho made a big show of how strong the bonds in the Inner Circle were and yet... Guilt knocked at her skull and she ignored it.

“Max,” she got his attention, his warm eyes on her and his knees angled towards her. Part of the reason she wanted to get away from the others was to get some air, that was true. The other part? To see who she was talking to. Max or MJF. “For once, can you just say what you mean and not be a complete dick about it?”

His jaw worked at that and his hands switched which one was on top quite a few times. Worry overtook her when he looked like he might be sick. Or like he was in pain.

“I like you. Alright? Even though I don’t want to and God knows I’ve tried not to, I do. I think about you literally all the time and it’s awful.”

Her shoulders dropped with disappointment and she shook her head with disbelief. He couldn’t just stop while he was ahead.

“Jesus,” she said, her voice a low and bitter sound. She slipped his scarf off and handed it back to him. “That must be so fucking terrible for you. My condolences, MJF.”

He was strangely silent as they walked back but that changed as soon as they were back in the company of the boys. Loudmouth, smug MJF was back and she receded back to the edges. Sammy approached her and demanded to know what happened, Ortiz as well. She kept it simple. They talked, that was all. The two men seemed to accept that that was all she would give them for the time being.

She had too much to think about and not enough drink in her glass.

---

The next pub they went to felt more up her alley and she sat at the end of the bar, away from the pissing contest between the others. Her sour mood had lifted some, thanks to Jameson and the friendly bartender. She could feel Max’s eyes on her but she paid no attention. She wanted to drink, she wanted to take a long bath, and then she wanted to go to bed. Something simple and not at all complicated like what her heart was feeling.

“Seriously, what did he say to you?”

“That’s between us, Ortiz,” she said for the third time to the man beside her. “It’s really not something I want to talk about.”

“Man, you’re holding out on us,” Sammy cut in from her other side. “Did he say something embarrassing? Please tell me it was embarrassing. It was totally embarrassing, right? Give us the dirt, sister.”

In some ways, she supposed it was embarrassing. Her jaw clenched.

“Is the hotel far from here?”

Ortiz blinked at her.

“No, not really, why?”

“I think I’m done for the night,” she said as she slapped a twenty on the bar and pushed back from it. “I’m getting tired.”

The two men seemed shocked and appalled by such a statement.

“Woah, you serious?”

“Mhm,” she vocalized. “You boys have fun, okay?”

“One of us will go with y--”

“I’ll go with her,” Max suddenly said, his hands in his pockets as he sauntered up to the trio. “You two stay here, huh? Keep an eye on the old man over there.”

Ortiz looked at Sammy, who looked at her, who looked at Max. He was too busy staring the other two down to notice how hard she looked at him.

“Fine,” she said carefully. “It won’t take long.”

She rushed out the door and Max was quick to follow her. That hardened expression of his faded and there was Max again, soft and vulnerable and infuriating. Frustrated tears pricked her eyes and she hated it.

“Slow down,” he called to her. “I didn’t say any of that right, alright? That was a shitshow in word form and I can do better than that because, I mean, I’m me. If I fuck it up again, just slap me and we’ll be done with the whole thing.”

He caught up to her in long strides and gently encircled her wrist with one of his hands. She stopped with a harsh breath in and turned back to look at him, her fists clenched at her sides. He let go of her wrist and guided her to the side, away into one of the alleys of Las Vegas. Maybe Max was serious if he was so willing to stand next to garbage.

“I like you,” he tried again as he stood in front of her. “I think about you a lot and when I think about you, I go looking for you. I don’t even know what I’m going to say half the time when I do, alright? I just go and hope for the best. I don’t do that. Any of that. I don’t like people and I don’t hope for the best for...for anything. For anyone. But then there’s you and I do and it’s weird but I don’t hate it and I don’t hate you. That’s the thing! I. Don’t. Hate. You.”

His hands hovered by her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen to what he was saying. What was that one line? The one about how wonderful, how strange it was to be liked by something that hates all else? She couldn’t wrap her head around it but she knew she wasn’t angry anymore. Bewildered and breathless and taken aback and unquestionably warm. That’s what she was. Her silence compelled him to step away and she reached out for him. Giggling grew louder on the sidewalk outside the alleyway. They stared at each other, both waiting for something to happen.

“Max, I don’t know…”

She trailed and it didn’t matter that she didn’t know what to say. Anything she could have said was silenced by Max’s lips on hers, his hands on the wall to brace himself. She leaned up into him, her eyes on his and both just as confused. A giggling couple disappeared down the alley and they must have knocked against Max. His hands dropped from the wall to her shoulders and when he went to pull away, she slipped her arms around him and pulled him in. Their stagnant lips began to move and she could taste what it was that smelled so sweet. He could taste the burn of Jameson on her tongue. Their eyes fell shut and they dove into each other.

The tentative way he kissed her melted like sugar to absinthe. His tongue met hers, her teeth nipped at his lips. Not enough to hurt but enough to get his attention. His hands slid from her shoulders to her waist then finally they came to a stop at her hips. He kissed her hard and she met him on even ground, her fingers curled in tight against his broad back. A sound of disgust from him broke them apart and that scowl of his was back on his face. He breathed hard against the skin of her neck.

“Absolutely not,” he said with a borderline growl as he lifted his head and stared down the alley. “We are not making out in a filthy, scum-filled alleyway. I get that this is Vegas and it’s the bottom of the barrel but there is still a thing called standards.”

His hand slid into hers to lead her away and after a second, she laced her fingers with his. She didn’t know what they were or where the hell they would be when the weekend was over and they left this moment. They could figure it out. He looked at her from the corner of his eye and smiled at her. Not a shit-eating one, not a standing-over-your-fallen-enemy one. It was just a simple one, meant for her, and it made her hope that it wasn’t true what they said about Las Vegas. Just this once.

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