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fawnindawn · 14 days

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the line between thieves and healers (Luke Castellan x apollo fem! reader)

Summary: Luke Castellan returns from his quest as a ghost of his old self with a bleeding scar to prove it. With his golden boy exterior all but shattered, no one in camp has tried to approach him since his return. This changes when you stumble upon the son of Hermes when he decides to go back to his old roots, stealing from your infirmary at midnight.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

Content: forced proximity, tending to wounds, luke develops a little crush, set after Luke's failed quest in the Garden of Hesperides, mentions of injuries and scars, Luke tries and fails at being mean, hurt-comfort, fluff

masterlist for this series (everything in between) every part in this series can be read as a stand alone!

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"Come on." One of the campers prodded despite your obvious discomfort. "I'm sure you've squeezed something out of Castellan by now. He's been silent about what happened during his quest for days."

"I told you, I don't know anything, and even if I did, patient confidentiality exists." You repeated for the ninth time in a week. Ever since people found out Luke had come personally to you to tend to his wounds, they had lost all decency over the hope of digging for some good gossip. If you were asked one more time, you were sure you would tell them to stick their noses right back up their asses and leave.

Even after his return, Luke Castellan remained a constant in word of mouth around camp over his sudden change in persona. His usual grin and charm was replaced with a dark gloom unfitting for the son of Hermes, who used to light up any room he entered. The scar that permanently rests on his face didn't make it easier for him to avoid watching eyes either. After refusing to play in Capture the Flag for the first time in history, whatever patience the camp was trying to uphold dissipated into chaos.

Sure, you could see why it was a big deal. If you're a person with a sane enough mind (of course, not guaranteed in the premises of Camp Half-Blood), you’d understand why the fellow camp counsellor of the Hermes Cabin was popular. With his constant presence around camp as the cool, attractive camp counsellor helping other campers with that small quirk up his lips, or through word of mouth of how talented and kind he was, it wasn't a huge surprise that he attracted as much attention as he did.

Once the ninth camper in a row finally gave up and left with a huff, your eyes lingered over the bed where you first tended to Luke.

It was the dead of night when you were woken by the sound of creaking wooden floorboards and the cold chill of the wind that had somehow been brought into the infirmary. Somehow, you had overslept again on your shift and no one had bothered to wake you up or even check for your missing presence in your cabin.

Groaning at the awkward shift of your bones from your horrible sleeping posture on the desk, you were halfway through your stretch to crack your stiff neck when you heard the sound of footsteps. Freezing in place, you paused to listen in once more only to heard the soft thud once again. Peering to the left side of the infirmary, your heart stopped.

"Hey, listen." You spoke with that awkward crack in your voice whenever you go too long without speaking, causing the large shadow to flinch, pausing in its pursuit through your medicine cabinet. "I may not seem like it, but I am the best in combat in my cabin so whoever you are, step away from the cabinet and put your hands up."

Gee, that's convincing, you sound like an unnamed extra from the first few minutes of a horror movie before they ended up six feet under. Cursing yourself internally, you watched the shadow raise to full height from it's bent position. Gulping at the height that seemed to be at least six feet, you wonder if you should have just left this cabinet thief be and go to sleep for the night.

Why would anyone even want to ransack an infirmary at midnight?

You quickly grabbed for your oil lamp situated beside you, still flickering with the smallest of flames and you stood from your chair, causing it to creak back and scratch at the wooden floors as you made your way around the table to approach the thief.

The light was dim, but you spotted the familiar outline of a broad back and curls before he even fully turned.

"Castellan?" You gasped in half-asleep shock, disbelief obvious in your tone as you moved the oil lamp nearer to prove your eyesight wasn't playing tricks on you.

He didn't respond verbally to the call of his name, but when he turned around, his eyes narrowed on you as if you were the intruder. You barely had the chance to form words, questions- before you spotted the dripping crimson liquid near his eye.

"Oh gods." You muttered, grabbing at his arm and tugging him towards the nearest bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's not like you could wrap this up yourself."

With some struggle, he finally gave in, plopping down the edge of the bed and watched you scour through the medicine cabinet for bandages and other supplies, muted and stiff.

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't wake me up. Would you rather bleed to death or get an infection?" You scolded, your inner concern bleeding through your usual sense of politeness for injured visitors.

"Maybe." You thought you heard him mumble, but when you turned to look at him, he was facing the window right beside the bed and staring out into the shadows of the forest, the glow of the moonlight illuminating his features like a haunted painting, blood dripping down his cheekbones like fallen tears. You waited longer for an elaboration but there was none. You assumed you heard wrong, or at least you hoped you did.

You got off your knees, splaying out the supplies on the surface of the bed beside him, and pulled up a stool for you to sit at. He was still facing away from you, and your irritation combined with your lack of sleep made you more reckless than you'd usually be with an injured patient.

You gripped at his chin, forcing him to look at you, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sudden force. He looked more alive when he was caught off guard, his face devoid of the usual disinterest and distance it had ever since he arrived back from his quest.

"How do you expect me to treat you if you keep looking away from me, Castellan?" You challenged, gazing back into his eyes with fire you hoped was fierce enough to break down the coldness in his gaze.

After seconds of nothing but two stubbornheads trying to win a useless battle of eye contact, he sighed. "..Fine."

You were more gentle after that, letting go of his chin and reaching for the cloth. Your hands remained delicate on his skin that seemed to have pulled at the edge of the scar, where it was now bleeding again through its previous stitches. You mumbled a warning before dapping a wet handkerchief on top of the wound to soak in the blood, and he unintentionally grabbed at your thigh as he tried not to hiss out in pain.

You froze at the sudden tight grip, moving the cloth away from his skin and he was quick to retract his hand, positioning it awkwardly on top of the bedsheets instead.

"It's okay if you grab me." You reassured. "It'd be easier for me to gauge if you need me to stop when it gets too painful. You could give me a squeeze if you need a breather?"

You waited, watching his thoughts flicker through his narrowed eyes before slowly, his hand went to rest around your thigh again.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm on your skin, you cleared your throat. "Ready?"

He nodded stiffly, and you went back to work. After the cut had stopped bleeding, you were quick to grab the gauze and bandages. Tenderly, you placed the gauze above his wound, then wrapped the bandages around his face, from the top of his head to below his chin. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and you could feel and hear both his and your breathing in the quiet silence of the infirmary, with no living signs of life aside from the two of you on the infirmary bed and the dim orange hue of the oil lamp.

You could feel his intense gaze on you from his one good eye, while you concentrated on tying a secure knot so it wouldn't fall loose. The moment felt oddly intimate, knowing how sensitive his temper had been ever since he arrived back at camp, scarred in ways not even ambrosia could heal fully.

His hand resting around your thigh felt hot, and you tried to ignore how it your mind subconsciously kept track of every time his thumb would brush over the material of your pants.

"Next time.." You hinted, hopefully not crossing his boundaries. "If this happens again, you come straight here, got it? I don't care if I'm sleeping or attending someone else. You are not allowed to take care of a wound like this yourself, especially since I remember how reckless you can be."

Luke Castellan may be an excellent swordsman, but his cockiness was one weakness that he failed to keep controlled, and on days where it won over, he would always end up at the infirmary with a bashful smile as he tried to explain to you on how he ended up with a dislocated shoulder. That felt like eons ago, when that cheeky smile would always be present on his face, his signature move in getting away with any chaos he caused.

Staring at him now, you caught sight of that smile for such a split second you could've sworn you mistook it.

You couldn't stop the teasing smile that slipped past your stern attitude. "Was that a smile I saw, Castellan?"

He cleared his throat, his face falling back into practiced nonchalance, wearing a frown too forced to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I may be sleep-deprived because a certain someone decided midnight was the best time to ransack an infirmary, but I'm not blind. For making me work overtime, I at least deserve to know what you found so amusing."

He made a face, and you were sure if his face wasn't tightly bandaged, he would roll his eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't amused. Just don't remember you being this.. unhospitable with someone that's injured. And I am not reckless."

You scoffed, causing him to look over at you. "I'd say trying to steal from an infirmary is pretty reckless. I thought Hermes kids were supposed to be good in stealing?"

You realised all too late that you may have touched on a sensitive topic, with the mention of his father, but he didn't seem to notice over the frank insult of being called a bad thief.

"I am excellent in stealing." He bit back so quickly, you choked on a snort. Hermes kids and their egos. "I was just going easy on you because you were knocked out at your desk. Oh, and you snore, you know that?"

"I do not."

"Do too."

"You're a liar and a thief. Don't get why your reputation is as marvelled upon as it is, Castellan. You don't live up to the hype at all."

"Oh, and what about you, Miss Sunshine?" He retorted. "Aren't you suppose to be the famous sweetheart who sings all injuries away with a smile on your face?"

"Don't call me that ever again." You must have looked extremely repulsed because he let out a laugh so genuine, it wiped any disgust off your face at the sound of pure heaven flooding into your ears. God, you forgot he could laugh like that.

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't suit you, does it?" He murmured. "Maybe Apollo kids are only nice when others are around to see it."

"You've only come back meaner, Castellan." You scoffed. "I almost regret helping you. Would much rather see you stumble over trying to deal with this yourself if I knew you'd be so ungrateful."

"Sounds righteous of you." He nodded with a sarcastic hum. "Leaving me to bleed out to death while you watch. I understand why the camp has such high stakes when it comes to survival now. Never knew there was a sadist hiding in you, sunshine."

"I told you not to call me that." You reminded. "And I'm doing the best I can to keep everyone here alive so don't come to my infirmary talking about stakes when I've just saved your ass from blood loss."

Your response triggered something in him and he grew silent, his gaze locked on you as if analyzing you. That was when you're really reminded of how awful you must've looked. With your bed hair, sunken-in dark circles and sunken shoulders from the lack of sleep, you did not exactly feel the most confident. You didn't know what happened to make the casual atmosphere disappear as fast as it did, but you were anxious that somehow, you had shut him up again and you'd never get the chance to see him that way again, with his playful banter and light-heartedness of a teenage boy that he should have.

"You shouldn't have to." He muttered, almost to himself rather than to you. A seriousness unlike the previous few quips he'd thrown at you took ahold of him, and you had a feeling this was a slither of who he had really become through his rapid transformation, hidden under the jokes and sarcasm.

"What?"

"You shouldn't have to." He repeated a little louder, trying to get you to see his point. A point he'd been trying to tell Chiron, his friends even- ever since he came back here, only to be meet with pitying looks like he was a madman who spoke nonsense to try and make sense of his failure. "Lives should not be your responsibility. You're younger than me, and yet, you're dealing with kids that are near death's door every time they make it past that barrier. I barely made it back here. Some don't even.."

Luke tried to breathe, remembering how he got to camp in the first place. The unnecessary sacrifice that had to be made, the tree that now rests at the barrier of camp, the sound of thunder and pouring rain beating at his face.

"Now, I'm stuck with this disgusting scar of my face for the rest of my life, a stupid reminder every single time I look at myself, that I failed my only chance at proving I was something more than just wasted potential. Now I've gone and screwed it up for everyone because I couldn't do some easy quest someone else already accomplished-" He winced suddenly, grabbing onto the bandaged part of his face that seemed to grow more irritated and inflamed as he spoke.

You were quick to reach for his hand, knowing his aggression may harm the wound more. "It is not disgusting." You answered for him, and slowly, your hand rested over his, removing it from his face so he wouldn't accidentally cause the wound to start bleeding again. "You are not a failure, Luke."

"Don't take pity on me by saying words you don't mean." He muttered. "Everyone expected me to succeed, I could feel it in their gaze when they looked at me. I was supposed to be the best, and just because everyone told me that, I believed it. Now, I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone."

He didn't know why he was saying all this to you. Maybe because you were the only person to treat him normally in the past two weeks, to really listen instead of trying to get him to move on, and maybe because his heart felt like it was growing too heavy to carry on his own. The insecurity and vulnerability made him feel sick, and he found himself trying to tear his hands away from you out of the need to run, which only made him feel more disgusted with himself. Like a coward, his mind taunted.

You remained stubborn, holding onto his cold palms because you know he has had no warmth, no real genuine words spoken to him since he returned. No one to see him when it was clear he was suffering, that he needed all the time in the world and more to heal, and that he deserved more than self-loathing and an absent father who sentenced him to this fate.

"I am not pitying you." You insisted, and you leaned closer so he couldn't look away from you. "Your scar does not make you ugly or less valuable to anyone. It is not pity, it is a fact. You are a person who has survived a fate so close to death, and any feat to survive death is strength. You are strong, and you made it back here alive with a scar to prove it. It is not a sign of weakness."

"Anyone who tells you different has no right or say in your situation because they did not go through what you did." You said with a stern voice, your anger not towards him, but for him. "Not your father, not anyone."

Luke finally looked at you, like looked. His eyes were scanning all over your face as if not quite believing you were real, but the fire in your eyes was so magnetic, he couldn't look away. The pinch between your brows, the addictive warmth of your hands in his, and the close distance between the two of you, and yet, it didn't make his skin itch with the need to pull away. To hide in his corner and wallow over the heavy weight of knowing his world had ended in the Garden of the Hesperides. Or had it?

Your eyes looked right through him, and for once, he felt like there was someone there for him.

"I suppose I can see where your reputation comes from now, sunshine." He responded weakly, and his heart gave a thump when you smiled back at him.

"Healing's what I understand best." You shrugged casually, as if you didn't just silence his thoughts for a moment of peace, or that you have somehow dulled the internal blades that bled with self-hatred and world-consuming anger pointed at himself, and at the injustice of the gods who could not give a damn about their children. “If I can help you even a little, why shouldn’t I?”

He could feel time ticking again in the back of his mind, the night slowly passing into a new one, and he thinks as he holds your gaze, that maybe this world wouldn't be so painful to live in if he had someone to look at him the way you did.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal. Or if I'll ever be normal again." He admitted, softer in his voice now that his mind didn't deem you as a threat.

"Normal can be lots of things." You said with a comforting smile. "It's normal to have a breakdown when you've nearly faced death. Multiple even. It's normal to feel fine one moment then not in the next. Healing isn't linear, and when you come to terms that you have a right to feel upset and a right to exist without being held to any expectations of others or what you think others want from you, it'll feel easier to just allow yourself to exist throughout the day. Not the perfect camp counsellor or a hero with no faults. Just as yourself."

He let your words sink in, his thumbs subconsciously rubbing over your knuckles, feeling the healed scars of your own from what he assumed must be from previous combat training. "I'm not that great as myself. You might find me disappointing."

You quirked your lips at that, and shook your head. "I don't believe in that one bit. You're already great just as you are now."

He raised a brow. "Even after trying to steal from your infirmary and having a mental breakdown past curfew?"

"Well, just be glad I was around because I'm much more understanding than Will would be with four hours of sleep."

"I am glad." He insisted. "That it's you."

"I'm glad it was me too." You reassured. "It is midnight though and there's Capture the Flag tomorrow, meaning someone's going to end up whining and moping in here in about eight hours so why don't you let me close shop and come by tomorrow, Castellan?"

"Luke." He corrected, giving you a smile you're sure must be the one the other campers rave about all the time. The charming one that made your heart stutter, even with half his face bandaged and eyebags resting below his caramel eyes.

"Luke." You tested it on your tongue tentatively, and it only seemed to spark an electricity between the two of you that you were sure he must've felt too. In the dark corner of the infirmary, with nothing but crickets and your hushed voice, you spoke again with a heavy heart when you needed to tell him to leave. "I have to close this place up or someone else might try and steal from the medicine cabinet, not that I thought it was possible before but.."

"Fine." He complied, getting off the bed and rising to his full height, towering over you and blocking the moonlight from your view. "I'll wait outside and walk you back to your cabin. It's the least I could do."

You tried not to seem too elated over the idea that you could spend a little more time with Luke, though you're sure your glowing smile must've shown. "Sure you're not just trying to improve your image around me, thief?"

He smirked, following you out to the front door while you wrestled for the keys in your pocket to lock up for the night. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"What are you smiling about?"

You looked up from your daze to see Luke leaning over the door frame, watching you with a smirk over his face.

"Can't a girl smile just for the sake of it?" You bit back, cheeks flushing at the idea that he could've possibly seen your focus lingering a little too long on the bed he had sat on. "Why'd you drop out of Capture the Flag? You know your cabin's going to lose their streak to Ares at this point."

"Wanted to see someone." He replied with a shrug, pushing off the door frame to walk towards where you sat, leaning over your desk and watching you compile the latest stock of ambrosia into a box. "Plus, Athena and Hermes are joining for today so Annabeth's got it handled."

He shuffled his fingers along the edge of the table, outlining the curve before clearing his throat. "I heard you covering up for me just now, and I wanted to say thank you."

You looked up at him then, and his eyes seemed to convey that he was thanking you for more than just that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

"Eavesdropping on me now?” You teased. “Careful or you might end up becoming obsessed with a poor, overworked healer."

He scoffed exaggeratedly. "You wish. Just take the thank you. Should've known not to show my gratitude to an Apollo kid."

You stuck your tongue out at him before going on about how mind-blowing it can be that some kids really did not have emotional intelligence when it came to basic decency. Listening to you ramble on as you went on to arrange your first aid kits, Luke realised for all the disappointment he has experienced in his life, maybe there was one good thing his father led him to.

a/n: Couldn't resist writing how this duo met because I live and die for banter. inspired by 'my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me' trope which is what i live and breathe for. His reputation as the perfect golden boy is in shambles, and sunshine couldn't care less.

taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x apollo!reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x y/n

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queenie-the-court-jester · 1 month

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HII, saw your post on wanting asks, well here 🫶 I love talking so, and specifically on playboy yandere!! I'm a sucker for angst and yanderes falling into insanity honestly, so let me ramble a bit

- imagine if reader graduates highschool and gets an overseas scholarships!! They also convince their family to move together with them so Kameron can't hurt or use them to blackmail reader. So with only a break up text saying like "bye manwhore 😍😍", blocking and deleting all their social media, I wonder how long and how far would he take to get reader back again? Would he inherit his parent's riches, hire some private investigatiors to find reader and find the country they're living in, expand his business over to their country in order to gain power to trap his darling. And I wonder how deranged his reaction would be to reader's text and be like no way, they're joking right, and runs to their house and whatever usual spots they're at normally, and just break down into insanity. would he try to use substitutes for reader to maintain his sanity or go fully devoid of emotions and start working hard to gain power and influence to find reader again!! I'm also curious how he would process his darling leaving him, would he become delusional first, saying they got kidnapped or something, or some ex or fling of his hurt reader, and then proceed to anger, depression, grief and then finally accept the reality!!

Ok that's a lot of rambling 😭😭 hope it's okay. I rlly enjoyed that fic, was rent FREE in my mind for a whole day

you know luci, you just gave me an idea. So have a part TWO of THIS DUMBASS HOE 🤝

Yandere playboy x reader

Tw: mentions of murder, kameron being delulu, yandere and obsessive behavior

💋kameron was having another breakdown. Sobbing pathetically on the floor of your old bedroom. Just how did you run away? And on such short notice too!? Didn't his love mean anything to you!? WHY DID YOU ABANDON HIM?

💋a million thoughts swirled through his head, until he finally got one that just... stuck. He had to get you back. No matter how long it takes. Getting up and dusting himself off, he kicked the front door open and quickly left the empty house

💋it was a shame really. The once sane and popular boy was struggling to keep his image. So he got help. Not professional as in therapists and medication. Just hiring other students to cover for him Incase he slipped up. all while snooping through the head teachers computer to see if they had any notes on where you might have gone. He almost got caught a few times

"shit that was close.. i can't believe these idiots leave their passwords just anywhere"

💋he knew he shouldn't be back at the school, especially since he graduated but he needs all the information he can get. Eventually moving onto private investigators and online stalking through multiple other accounts. He'd try anything just to see what his darling was doing without him. Were you enjoying making him suffer? You're so cruel..

💋hiring other people to befriend you and lower your guard, gathering any Information they can

💋 kameron who spent a while convincing his parents to let him take hold of the company. He had a degree, a bright mind, responsibility. He's perfect for the job! Oh if only they knew where his 60% was going.. funding multiple businesses across the world in exchange for keeping a careful eye. Making him quite the celebrity

💋look darling! He's on the news-! ...oh right you're not here.. one evening, while working in his office, a new secretary comes in to introduce themselves. They look just like you! He could only stare in shock.

"my love..? Is that you!?"

"..who?"

💋turns out it was just a doppelganger. But with enough time he'd delude himself into thinking it was you. Courting them with the same flowers, chocolates and jewelry he'd given you. It worked like a charm! Now you were back In their arms again. They felt whole..

💋he married your lookalike a year later, the poor fool being too naive and oblivious to think. He was happy for awhile.. or until one of his P.I's came in to show him they found you. His reality started to break.

💋no.. how could he do this to you. Replacing you with some cheap street whore. That night, when they went to bed, he gave them a cup of water and smiled sweetly. Watching as their face went red and they started to cough for air after gulping it down. Clawing at the sheets and staring at him with wide fearful eyes. Begging him to help them

"...slut."

💋 burrying the body in his backyard, he paid people with underground connections to cover for him while he was away. Claiming they suddenly vanished, having run away with a small fortune. How idiotic are people, to actually believe him..

💋kameron disguised himself and went straight for the country you decided to flee too. 5 years apart from you.. he had no idea how he managed to live so long without his beloved, but it was all worth it. Because now you'll be back where you belong. In his arms.

💋you were busy working at your job, running a small business was no joke but atleast the people in the area were friendly. So you didn't notice the suited figure Infront of your cash register

"thank you, please come again-"

💋you froze, looking up at the terrifyingly familiar face. He stared back at you with only glee and love

"hello my darling~ you've been on a naughty streak for a while Haven't you? That's okay, I'll just set you straight when we go back home."

💋big burly men all blocked you from escaping by guarding the doors. Dragging all the other customers out so you both could have your moment. Now you could never leaver leave him. Ever.

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #queenie writes #queenie ocs #ocs #yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #Yandere oc x reader #Oc x reader #Oc #Kameron the playboy #yandere headcanons

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ceruleanchillin · 3 months

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I feel like biker Simon has a breeding kink too.🥴

Yes! I like the MBTI (though I acknowledge its flaws in classifying real people, I think it works perfectly for fictional characters).

Simon is most likely an INTJ, and Price an ENTJ. I think they’re very similar (I believe Gaz and Soap are the same except ISFP/ESFP respectively).

So I’d say he’s as bad as Price, he’d just be more subtle once he realizes how he feels.

Simon would probably trick you into thinking you were the one who convinced him to develop a breeding kink. But don’t be fooled.

——-

“You just have to find a kid at every party.” Simon, who was resting his head on the top of yours, purposely dug his chin into your scalp.

“Stop it,” you gently elbowed him in the ribs, careful to avoid jostling the happy little toddler in your arms. “I won’t apologize for kids loving me, it’s a good trait.”

The little girl had wandered over after you and Simon had settled on a blanket by the bonfire. The club and its associates were spread out all around you in the soft grass. The two of you had settled with each other to wind down from the party, only to be joined by a member’s daughter.

Simon had watched the brave little explorer wander over on unsure feet. She was enthralled with the pretty bracelets that littered your arm. You’d smiled, jingling the charms, and her little face lit up, hands clapping. She fell over into your lap, her wobbly legs finally giving out, and Simon bit the inside of his cheek against the warmth that flooded his chest.

This could be you and his kid someday. He could see it so clearly, that he almost missed you telling the girl’s mom you’d watch her for a bit.

He waited till the mom walked off before he leaned down, lips against your ear. “Don’t get attached, you have to give her back.”

The girl was happily babbling in your arms, responding to your cooing.

“Let’s go find you some cake and leave grumpy Uncle Simon by himself.”

You looked so good with her on your hip. It came so naturally to you. He started fantasizing again. He imagined a swell in your stomach under the tempting sundress (the one that made you both late to the party) you wore.

He could see you palming it, people asking you questions about the baby, and you talking more than you normally did in excitement.

Eager to tell the world about the life you two collaborated on.

When you walked back over with her, he could see your face glowing. You settled on the blanket, and he pulled you both into his arms. You said something, sarcastic most likely, but he was too focused on the girl holding out a piece of her cake to him.

Her pudgy hand waved it impatiently, pouting because he didn’t take her offering immediately. Simon leaned down and ate the cake from her hand, purposely nibbling her fingers, and sending her into a fit of giggles.

“Thank you f’that lovie. Was famished.” He couldn’t help the smile that curved his lips, the girl’s joy was too infectious.

He found you staring at him when he glanced at you.

“I don’t think I’m the one who’s going to have a problem giving her back.”

“You’re imagining things. Don’t lose it on me now bird, ” He cupped your lower stomach, large hands squeezing slightly. “Need you sane for our future babies. It’s all your fault after all.”

#cod x reader #cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #reader insert #call of duty #cod mw2 #modern warfare #biker!simon #ghost x reader #ghost #call of duty x reader #biker!141

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kquil · 9 months

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POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS ⏤FIRST PIERCING

REQUEST. : Can I request a chapter where the boys convince the reader to get her ears pierced and she cries bc she's anxious when it happens and one of the boys has her sit on their lap when it's happening and help her calm down. You don't have to but i think it would be super cute —@samanddeansannoyingsis

G. : fluff ; modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; comfort ; sitting in sirius's lap ; slight panic attack - not explicit

LENGTH : 1.9k

“Did you mean it?” You ask in a soft voice as Remus swivels in his tech chair to pay you his full attention, one brow raising up at the sight of your fingers gently pinching your ear lobes.

“Did I mean what, dove?” He asks in his usual warm tone, tilting his head back to stare up at you from his seat.

“That I would look cute with ear piercings…”

Remus laughs because how cute can you get? Especially with that curious look in your doe eyes. Reaching out his big hands, he pulls you onto his thigh and holds you close, staring down with his loving brown eyes to reassure you of any insecurities he suspects might arise.

Somehow, Remus always knew what path your thoughts could potentially take. You felt like an open book to him, cradled in his large hands, stable and loving; ready to explore your pages with the simple intent to understand you further, as he’s already done with the few pages you’ve allowed him to read in your past. To you, Remus is safety, comfort and boundless warmth, not from the sun but from a thick blanket, reassuring and all encompassing, devoted to only keeping you warm — safe, happy and secure.

“Yes, I meant it,” Remus whispers as he fixes the collar of your shirt, ever the habitual perfectionist, “why?” His gaze lifts and you’re lost in his honey-chocolate pools once more, “are you thinking of getting your ears pierced?” you don’t know if the lilt in his tone is to tease or a growing excitement for your potential inclination — he may have the honour of giving you your first piercing.

“Maybe…” he can tell from the slight hesitancy in your diction that you weren’t 100% sold on the idea, which brings about his own worries.

“You don’t need a piercing to be cute you know,” Remus mutters the sentiment into your temple before pressing a kiss into your skin, “you’re plenty cute as is…”

“It’s not that,” the shaky breath you exhale is all too familiar to the brunette and he instantly knows your exact reasoning, he still lets you speak the words yourself, however, somewhat enjoying the show you unintentionally play out before him. It’s another cute display, one that rivals whenever he sees you eating something delicious, and can’t control your expression or when you get excited over something and hop in place while doing tiny claps, “I’m still kinda scared of needles…”

The shame that crosses your face tugs at Remus’s heart and he puts a stop to it immediately. Holding your chin between his pointer finger and thumb he directs your stare to meet his own, “don’t feel ashamed of that, sweetheart. Being afraid is normal and, in some instances, keeps people alive and safe. It’s unfortunate but fear led you to the boys and me,” he hates to remind you of that fateful night but— “and now I don’t think we can live without you,” the two of you share a laugh at that.

The boys were truly grateful to you for many things. You may not know it but whenever angry, sad or stressed all they had to do was look at you, see your smiling face, hear your twinkling laugh and bask in the brightness you exude just to feel right again. You bring about an equilibrium that they are so often tipped off of, never totally right or sane when you are gone too long.

“I—…I still don’t know,”

“Try this,” Remus leans back to pose his hypothetical, “forget the needle and the pain, would you still like to wear earrings?” your enthusiastic nod is answer enough, “then…—“ from the corner of his eye, Sirius walks past the doorway and Remus calls for him.

“How may I help you and our princess, Moony?” Sirius asks with a practised smiling voice as he shoots you a wink.

“Do you mind fetching the earring jewellery samples?” Sirius raises a brow but asks no questions and nods before disappearing again. While he’s gone, you stare up at Remus, who doesn’t say a word but smiles and lovingly tucks a stray hair behind your ear. Not long after, Sirius returns with a small set of samples in a rectangular wooden box, lined with red velvet and showcasing a small but beautiful variety of jewellery.

“Aren’t they beautiful?”

“They’re very beautiful, Rem,” you reply, awing at their delicate designs and sparkling appearance.

“Pick a favourite pair,” he prompts and without hesitation, you pick the two that immediately caught your eye.

“Great choice, doll,” Sirius praises as Remus hands back the sample set and gives him a look, communicating his next steps. There was no debate and Sirius accepted everything without any questions, “we’ll reserve them for you,” Sirius smiles softly and quickly leaves to do just that before you can utter any word of protest.

“Tell us when you’re ready, and we’ll make it happen so that you’re as comfortable as can be throughout,”

Every time you visit the boys at their tattoo studio, they let you have the reserved piercings to look over and contemplate your decision with. They were perfectly happy to wait however long you needed and never pushed you towards a decision, they even expressed that it was perfectly okay for you to change your mind and withdraw from the idea altogether.

“You know,” James pipes up with a mouthful of food that Remus quickly reprimands him for, “you don’t need to get a piercing to wear earrings,”

“That’s right, there are other alternatives out there, dollface,” Sirius adds, licking his lips with a content smile, always a lover for your cooking, “you can wear clip on earrings instead,”

You appreciate their concern and thoughtfulness but you still want to get a piercing. It felt like a right of passage for all girls and you wanted to be a part of it, clip-ons didn't feel the same and you wanted to be able to pair your earrings with an outfit like some of your friends do. Shaking your head with a polite smile, you turn to Remus, “You’ll be doing my piercing, right, Rem?”

“That’s right, dove,”

Timidly, you meet his kind eyes, “will you be able to hold me when you do it?” Your shy statement was all they needed to realise what was holding you back. They felt so stupid for not realising it sooner but, thankfully, they knew how to help you now.

“I’m afraid not, sweetheart,” Remus coos softly at your disappointed expression but James and Sirius don’t let you wear it for long.

“But Prongs and I can hold you for as long as you need, doll!” Sirius smiles as James grins toothily beside him.

“Just take your pick on whose lap you think will be more comfortable!” James laughs with Sirius as he throws his arm over his friend’s shoulders.

“In that case,” you turn towards Remus with a smile once more, “when is the next available time I can set up an appointment?”

It was in the afternoon when you found yourself seated on Sirius’s lap as Remus prepared to pierce your ears. James, to his dismay, had an appointment for a tattoo so Sirius won lap rights by default, which he was all too proud to have won.

In preparation for the piercings, Sirius helped tie your hair up so that your ears were free of their awning, he did this while Remus prepared his tools, put on his gloves and got started on a small aftercare kit for you to take home — as was customary of their studio to provide for all their customers. With Sirius’s arms comfortingly wrapped around your waist, he pressed you close so that you could feel the heat from his chest against your back and allowed him access to your neck, where he placed a soft kiss.

After a while, Remus walks over with a soft look on his face and a sanitising wipe in a gloved hand, “you two look cosy,” he comments while gently cleansing your lobes with the wipe and throwing it away in a nearby bin.

“Our princess deserves it,” Sirius comments, his hot breath tickling your neck and making you giggle as Remus agrees.

“That she does,” leaning back, the tall brunette sits in his tech chair and pulls up a small handheld mirror and pen, “now, dove, I need you to tell me where you want your piercing. Do you want it a little higher? Right in the middle or a little lower, here?” In the mirror he holds in front of you, you see him point out where the potential piercing can go with the tip of his pen, “I want to do it perfectly for you,” he smiles warmly behind the mirror, which carries in his voice — soft and sweet.

“And if you want more piercings in the future, you can make room for them now,” Sirius adds from behind you.

“I want it right in the middle please, Rem,”

“Of course,” he nods and places the markings softly onto your lobe before holding up the mirror again for your final approval.

“W-won’t the pen make the sanitising pointless,” you comment, shy of your scrutiny; Remus was the expert, afterall.

“Don’t worry, dove,” he kisses your forehead before holding up the capped pen, “this is a surgical skin marker and it’s used in surgeries to mark out incision lines,” your apprehended by his gentle tone and warm voice, calming your heart that had slowly begun to race with anticipation, “the ink is made of gentian violet, which has antifungal properties so it won’t affect the sterility of the marked area,”

When you nod in understanding, Remus kisses your forehead once more and goes to store away the pen before finally getting started on your piercing.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” Sirius whispers into your hair when he hears the unsteady shake in your breaths — Remus had just sat down across from you in his tech chair with a needle in hand and a small stopper in the other.

“Look away, darling… close your eyes,” Remus prompts when he sees your breathing pick up at the sight of the needle in his hand. He is completely ignored and nods at the tattooist behind you, “Sirius, can you help our angel?”

You feel Sirius kiss your temple as his arms give you a small squeeze. His weight, warmth and smell surrounds your senses and the boys helpfully guide your breathing until you are finally able to relax. The tension leaves your body and you finally close your eyes, apologising for your small episode.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, dove,” Remus whispers softly in front of you, “but I’m gonna have to ask you to take a deep breath for me,” you do as he says, breathing deep and slow, “good girl…”

There’s a small pinch in your right lobe that quickly dulls into numbness before Remus secures something behind it and a lingering weight is left. You feel Sirius kiss the slope of your shoulder, muttering soft praises as he does so. There’s some shuffling before you feel Remus take his place before you again.

“One more time, dove, take a deep breath…” he gently commands as you easily follow. There’s another small pinch but in your left lobe this time. Again, Remus secures something behind it and as the numbness lingers so does an added weight.

Your eyes flutter open just as Remus presses a kiss onto your forehead, “you were such a good girl for me,” he praises, smiling and then holds up a mirror for you to admire the delicate earrings decorating your ears with a bright smile, “it suits you, darling,”

“You just keep getting prettier,” Sirius chuckles and squeezes you in his arms once more, ”well done, princess,”

A/N : i went a little overboard with the writing, i didn't know it would stretch on for so long but i hope you enjoy the read! i'm sorry it took me a while to fulfil this request, life kinda got in the way but here it is! please tell me what you think!

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS SERIES

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @astonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @sageskisses444 @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @neeezza101 @chaosofmanyfandoms @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @justkiyomi @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-sou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @ghostgardn @mess-is-my-aesthetic

#james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #poly marauders x reader #poly marauders #marauders fic #sirius black #marauders #sirius x reader #sirius black fic #james potter #james potter fanfiction #james potter x you #the marauders #remus lupin #remus lupin fluff

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 months

Text

The One I Want: Part 15

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You’re new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, emotional stuff and vulnerability, fluff, angst, inaccurate navy stuff, typos for sure (fr didn't proofread tonight)

Words: 3537

The One I Want Masterlist

---

“He really didn’t call last night?” Millie finally asks. She’s been watching you out of the corner of her eye for the better half of an hour, sitting in a plastic chair on the opposite side of the gift shop’s counter as she unconvincingly flips through the pages of a bridal magazine.

The stack Millie brought to your work was an attempt to distract you so you would have something to think about other than Jake, but you’ve done nothing other than stare at the same wedding dress on the same page since Millie arrived. You can’t even say it’s a nice dress that would compliment your friend’s figure, so you’re about as useless as they come for a Maid of Honor. Dresses, flowers, bachelorette parties—it all sits nestled in the back of your mind, and you’d feel horrible for not taking the details of the wedding more seriously, but right now you’re not alone in using it as a distraction from missing the men in your lives.

At least Millie has received some reassurance. Rooster has taken every opportunity to call her, to comfort her, to express his love. But Jake? Nothing. The most you’ve gotten is a “He’s fine, just a bit drawn into himself lately. Got a lot on his mind,” from Millie who reported that information secondhand from her fiance.

That Jake has put you in a place of questioning is a blow to your heart, but in an effort to stay sane, you haven’t allowed yourself to create potential explanations for him in your head. He’ll reach out eventually, and when he does, you trust he’ll give you all the answers you need.

But for now, you shake your head.

“What is wrong with that boy?” Millie huffs, leaning back in her chair. “I was hopin’ he’d make up for his lack of calls with a beautiful handwritten letter confessin’ his love, but good lord.”

“He already told me he loves me.”

The magazine drops onto her lap. Her jaw practically unhinges. “How are you just tellin’ me this now?” she asks. “What did you say?”

Running your fingers through your hair, you close your magazine and shove it aside. “He didn’t let me say anything,” you tell her, relief washing over you at finally letting it out. “It was over the phone as they were leaving, and he hung up before I could get two words in.”

Millie sighs. “Oh, Honey.” She sits up and scoots the chair as close to the counter as possible so she can easier wrap your hand in hers.

“You know–” she begins, but then pauses as she rethinks, “Or, well, maybe you don’t know—but you should know Jake doesn’t throw that word around lightly. I haven’t known him as long as the others, but I do know that you were a total game-changer. He told all of us that from the moment he saw you he was a goner.”

Heat floods your cheeks at hearing the words he once told you. You’ve believed him to be genuine for a long time, but it’s incredibly fulfilling to know he felt strongly enough to tell his friends before you were willing to consider your own feelings for him.

Being honest with yourself, you weren’t in the same place the first time you saw Jake. You thought he was beautiful and magnetic, and being that beautiful and magnetic, you were convinced he was going to be just as troublesome. There was no room in your mind to consider yourself a goner. Your shields were unbreakable. But now, when you replay the last few months of your life—replay the first time you really took him in, the first time his fingers touched yours—you can acknowledge that in choosing to stay here, the feelings you’ve developed for him were inevitable. Goner for goner—it just took you a moment to catch up.

Millie grins at the red tinge you can’t conceal. “He’s been Mr. Game Changer himself, hmm?”

Shooting her a look before playfully rolling your eyes, you say, “Don’t tease me about things you already know, Millie.”

“The next time he calls, do you want me to tell Bradley to knock some sense back into that pretty, blond head?”

You chuckle. “No, it’s ok,” you say. “Jake was patient with me. It’s my turn to be patient with him. He’ll come through.”

“I’m sure it'll be soon. For you, he’d–” Millie’s eyes flick just past your head. “Oh, fuck no,” she mutters as the store’s door swings open and closes from behind you. “We don’t accept trash here. Please take yourself out,” Millie sasses, making you turn in your chair.

Brit doesn’t acknowledge the tiny redhead. Her dark eyes are darts, so focused on you she hardly blinks. For some reason, though, you don’t sense the animosity you did the last time she brought herself around.

“It’s been a while,” she says to you.

Millie scoffs. “Not long enough.”

As much as you want to, you don’t feed into your friend’s comments. Defending you is appreciated, but you have a feeling that poking at the blonde will delay her departure, and Brit doesn’t need to be in your life and space any longer than you desire to be in hers.

“What can I do for you?” you ask.

“I came here to say something.”

“We don’t have a good track record there.”

With arms crossed, Brit rolls her eyes. “Right, well…I was pissed.”

Millie mimics Brit’s behavior; arm-crossing, eye-rolling, and attitude included. “Award-winnin’ excuse, honey.”

“Can't you scram?”

“Can and will are two different things.”

Your eyes move to Millie. The fire within her is too powerful to die out against the challenge before her, and you’re positive the two could go on for hours if you let them, neither willing to back down. But you want Brit to get on with it. Surely she knows after her last failure that she’s unable to affect you or Jake and the plans you have with one another, all of which do not include her. So what else is there for her to bother you with?

“Millie, it’s ok,” you say, snapping the tense band of their stare-off.

Her face softens when she looks at you. Words don’t have to be exchanged for her to understand what you’re asking of her. She stands and walks to Brit with a pointed finger. “I’m gonna be watchin’ you through the window like a stalker the entire time.”

After stepping outside, she immediately turns to face the window, just as promised.

You stand as well and brace yourself against the wall, keeping the barrier of the counter between you. “I’d love to get this over with, so what do you want to say?”

Brit takes her time, running her fingernail over the packets of gum in their display before she decides to take a seat in the vacant chair. With her legs crossed, her hands clasp in her lap. “I don’t know if you are aware, but Jake dropped by for a nice little visit a couple of days before he left,” she shares with you. Then she sighs as if bored. “He said some things. A lot of things. Bared his soul and all that shit. It was rather dramatic.”

While shocked, you suppose you don’t need a million guesses to figure out why he would go to her before leaving you. He expressed his concerns weeks ago, and no matter how fiercely you tried to reassure him, you couldn’t snuff it out completely. You could always see it in his eyes—a dimmed but persistent flickering of worry.

Brit yanks you from your thoughts. “You’re not ever going to let him go, are you,” she says.

“No.”

“Yea…” She runs her tongue over her teeth, making that squelching sound you had hoped to never hear again. “He’s not going to let you go, either. He made that clear.”

You get that feeling again—that deep fulfillment from being with Jake. You could’ve lived your whole life and the adventures that come with it—from marriage to children to grandchildren, if that is what you and Jake choose—completely unaware of him working behind the scenes to protect and defend and love you.

It seems silly to not have realized before, but you’re so new to this kind of love that inexperience has you approaching it in a fairly straightforward manner. You don’t hide your emotions or actions from Jake anymore. You’re sad, you cry, he comforts you. You’re mad, you yell, he calms you. You’re happy, you smile, and he smiles right with you. And you’ve done the same for him. Open and honest and, as you once agreed, hearts bare.

You would do anything for Jake, and he for you, but you never considered that his affection extended past what you see. Not because it shouldn’t; that’s what love is, you know that. But the love of your past was hollow, very out of sight out of mind on their end; a disconnection that those men used to boost their egos by making fun of you to their friends or flirting with other women when you weren’t around.

Unless taught differently, a person only knows what they've known. So the idea of Jake going above and beyond in that way simply never crossed your mind.

“At first, I hated him for it,” Brit says, suspiciously even-toned. “Showing up at my door, desperately trying to appeal to god knows what while he repeatedly reminds me that he won’t be with me because he’s in love with you. I mean, can you believe the fucking audacity of a man to do that to a woman?”

You can, because you know hurt and embarrassment inside and out, and up and down. Without the context of their situation—were it any other man spouting off to any other woman—you could find it in yourself to feel sympathy as easily as you find your next breath. But Brit deserves the treatment she’s describing; not for the sake of cruelly getting even after the harassment she doled out, but because she needs to hear the truth of the matter from Jake’s lips. She’s in the wrong, what she has done is unacceptable, and perhaps most importantly: you are not the reason Jake doesn’t want to be with her. Whether she eventually accepts that truth or not is another thing entirely.

“I’ve spent these weeks hating him more than I thought possible,” she says.

You shake your head. “Brit, I don’t understand where this is going, and to be honest, I’m–”

“You once asked me if I was tired,” she interrupts you, her tone raising to overlap yours. It succeeds in silencing you. “Well, I’m tired.”

If you could find your voice, you don’t know what you would do with it. When she cornered you in the Hard Deck’s bathroom with a plethora of insults and threats, you shot back at her with few words and a final question. But considering her lack of self-reflection, it wasn’t a question you imagined she might one day reassess.

Brit rises and straightens out her top. She gives you one final look. “So, now you know.”

Then she exits the store and disappears around the other side of the building where the sidewalk meets the street.

“What the actual fuck was that about?” Millie asks, returning to your side.

You’re still staring at the spot where she vanished. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” you start, then swallow, “But I think she’s done with us.”

—

You love all of the things that still smell like Jake. The sheets, the pillow, the interior of his truck, the kitchen because that’s the first place he’d go after putting cologne on in the morning. He lingers everywhere, and when you close your eyes, you can trick yourself into believing he’s right beside you. But after a while of sitting around the scent with your eyes closed, the illusion dissipates. If Jake was actually near you, only so much time would pass before he’d begin touching and kissing and whispering sweet things in your ear.

“You know I can’t help myself,” he’d say. And without him here, you can’t convince the scene to play out.

It’s like a bad dream that doesn’t lose its power over you even after you wake. It’s still in your brain, in the race of your heart, in the heavy gasps from your lungs. Dreams you often have that, even when sweet and beautiful, aren’t. If they’re not full of horrible images that leave you shaking in bed, they’re reminders of good times with Jake, and it’s the good times that ache the most when they’re over.

Tonight, though, it’s not the dreams that shoot you awake. It’s the ring of your phone from an unknown number.

When Jake first left, every unknown number that popped up on your screen jolted an electric shock through your body. But after so many telemarketers and automated calls from the apartment building updating you on temporary changes to office hours, you stopped expecting anything else.

Grabbing your phone, you slam the tip of your finger onto the little green circle and lift it to your ear. “Seriously, calling in the middle of the night is so messed up! I told you to take me off your list!”

“What list?”

Your eyes widen, and every scrap of half-asleep grumpiness falls away at the sound of his voice. “J-Jake?”

“Hey, beautiful…”

He sounds as tired as you are, but you can practically feel the smile on his face. You’re sure it’s a weak smile, all he can muster due to the exhaustion, but it’s there and it’s for you.

Your vision blurs and you blink and fat droplets soak into his comforter. You rub your thumb over the damp circles. “I should slap you,” you say, your nose already becoming stuffy from your tears.

“Oh, you should do much worse than that,” he replies. You lightly chuckle, so he lightly chuckles, then silence holds until he sighs. “I’m so sorry. I miss you so damn much.”

“So much you didn’t want to call before now? It's been a long time, Jake.”

“I did want to call,” he tells you. “And I could have—I should have—but I just…I freaked out a bit.”

“Why?”

Jake sighs again, and he must’ve pulled the phone away from his face because there’s a muttering so faint you can barely hear it. But then loudly and clearly, he says, “Because I fucked up, beautiful, and I’m embarrassed. You deserved better.”

Your mouth goes dry.

Fucked up. Fucked. Up.

Before you can stop yourself, you catch a glimpse of what the next few moments could turn your life into.

Fucked up. Slept with someone. Sorry. Thought I loved you. Not your fault. You can stay at the apartment until I get back.

Pain, and heartbreak, and tears fatter than the ones you’re currently shedding. Lost trust that will never be found for anyone else. No more confidence. No more self-love. No more vulnerability.

Twelfth new place.

But then he says, “That’s not how I should have told you I love you.”

One sentence. A snap of the fingers and every invading thought is shoved out of your head. You breathe. Shake your head. Swipe your fingers across your cheek to wipe away the first tear brought on by what you thought was about to break your heart.

“It’s not how I wanted to do it,” he continues. “I was going to tell you so many times in the week before I left, but I didn’t know how you were going to react. Then I thought I’d say it at the dock, but Rooster was next to me and Millie was next to you, and no way in hell was I going to have them there the first time I said that to you.

“Before I knew it, we were on the ship and it hit me that I ran out of chances. But I couldn’t go without you knowing, so I didn’t think, I just did it,” he says. “I didn’t realize how fucking lame it was until the next day. I mean, Rooster told Millie on a damn ferris wheel, and Bob…” There's a pause. “Actually, I shouldn't tell you what Bob did for his girl; it shames us all.”

Finally, he takes a breath. “Anyway, after we were gone, whenever I wanted to call you I froze up because I had no idea what you would say and how you would feel. The thought of you being disappointed with me or with something I did–”

“Jake–”

“Especially something like this—it makes me–”

“Jake, I don't care that you told me over the phone,” you manage to slip in between his words.

“Y-You don’t?”

“No, of course not,” you snicker, running the back of your hand under your nose to clear away any snot. “What I care about is that you didn't let me respond,” you tell him. “I care that the only way I've known you're safe has been through Millie.”

This time, Jake’s sigh sounds different; one more of relief than anything. Minutes of talking has anxiety lifting off of both of your shoulders by the pounds. Jake is okay, Jake is safe, Jake still loves you. You’re okay, you’re safe, you’re not so disappointed in him that you didn’t hang up the second you heard his voice.

“Beautiful, if I could kick myself I would.”

“I’m sure you could ask one of the others to do it.”

“Anyone in particular you’d prefer to do the honors?”

You hum. “Javy never skips leg day. I’m sure he’s got a strong swing.”

Jake laughs loud enough for you to jerk your ear away from the speaker. “I’ll surprise him with the good news in the morning,” he says.

There’s a handful of things you could say in response. Cute things. Witty things. Sassy things, like requesting pictures of said kick in the ass as proof. But you don’t say those things. While you’d love to continue on the lighter path of conversation, you have more questions.

“Why didn’t you let me respond?” you ask.

It’s amazing that you can’t see him yet you can feel his shift in attitude. As if in slow motion, you picture each phase of the bright smile disintegrating off his face.

Jake clears his throat. “You want the selfish or the less selfish reason first?”

“In that order is fine.”

“Ok. Selfishly, I didn’t want to hear you say you don’t love me,” he says. “But that wasn’t my first thought. My first thought was that I just needed you to know. I didn’t care if you loved me too, I cared that you knew you were loved.

“It was after it was out of my mouth that I realized you might feel pressured to give me a response, which I also didn’t want for you. Then the selfish part came into play because what if you responded with anything other than that you love me too? Would it have made me stop loving you? No. But it would’ve hurt…badly.”

“You honestly think that I don’t?”

“I don’t know, beautiful.”

You can see his weak smile again, and you can picture how this conversation would go if he were in front of you rather than a thousand miles away. With that smile, he’d hold your hand and brush your hair behind your ear. He’d smooth your tears back into your cheeks with his thumb because he’d hate that they’re there before he pulls you into him to kiss you.

“You’ve been through so much,” he says. “I don’t expect you to be in love with me, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn't hurt to hear you confirm it.”

You cry a little harder for the tears that shouldn’t be shedding; for the uncertainty he’s been feeling; for the questions you’ve been asking yourself over the last couple of months. All unnecessary. All of which could’ve been solved had he given you a chance to respond or called you at his first opportunity.

You empathize with why he didn’t. Jake may be a man who doesn’t throw the ‘love’ word around often, but you’re a woman who has refused to throw it out at all. You protect yourself that way. You maintain some semblance of power by never speaking it aloud to someone who would not reciprocate. You understand what it means to tell someone you love them when you’ve lost those you love, and you’ve refused to do it for that purpose. It’s a risk of facing more loss.

But it’s a risk Jake took that would have instantly proved worth it. You only wish he could have known that at the time.

“Jake, I–”

“Please don’t,” he stops you. “I don’t want you to say anything until I get back. Either way, I mean. If you feel how I do, or, you know…if you don’t. I’d rather not know until I’m with you again.”

“You would rather wait months to know how I feel?”

“Well, that’s the thing, beautiful,” he says. “We might be coming home sooner than expected.”

---

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delirious-donna · 3 months

Text

A Spider's Web [Geto Suguru]

an: an entire rework of a story written way back in '22. I've changed a few things and tightened it up a little more. Sometimes I can't tell if I'm into Suguru or not... he is very compelling.

pairing: Geto Suguru x female reader

warnings: dark content, kinda yandere Suguru, corruption, abuse of power, doctor/patient relationship, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, handjob, messy first blowjob, pussy fingering, pussy eating, unprotected sex, cumshot, cum eating

Masterlist

Depraved, vile and manipulative–all accurate. Suguru should feel some semblance of shame, or at the very least guilt, but not even an ounce of it existed in the twisted labyrinth of his mind.

He was well aware of the superiority complex that plagued him, which was why he had found himself in the medical field and was the reason his private practice was considered the top in his specialty. Geto Suguru was considered the best psychiatrist in the city, perhaps even one of the top in the country.

From his position of power, Dr Geto should be helping you overcome your issues in a healthy, sustainable manner as he did for his other clients, but instead, he was trying to use your insecurities to crawl inside your pants.

Depraved.

A thick finger dragged across the loose-leaf papers that made up your file, eyeing the snapshot of your shy face that was clipped to your introductory questionnaire. He smiled at how you made reluctant eye contact with the camera, a camera his secretary had held aloft in the sanctity of the waiting room whilst he watched from the doorway to his office.

You were the perfect embodiment of a people pleaser, a diagnosis he had made within the first two minutes of meeting you. A meek flower that would only open like an exquisite rare bloom under certain conditions and Suguru was more than a little obsessed.

It was child’s play to identify the toxic trait in himself, the dark urge within his psyche that drove him forward and overrode the sane part of his brain that warned him to stop. To stop before he took it too far, stop before he did something he might regret.

It was too late for that.

The second he had checked out your social media pages, he had edged his toe over the line of professional decency; after that, he had tumbled headfirst down the rabbit hole and there would be no saving him.

He knew all the people you called friends, and the family members that you worked so hard to keep in touch with despite how sick it made you feel when that enthusiasm wasn’t reciprocated. More so, he took note of the men who were desperately trying to pursue you even though your complete naivety towards them and their attempts kept them at bay.

Of course, you spoke about many of them in your weekly sessions, but you didn’t know that he had clicked on every profile available to him. Admired the photos and saved his favourites on his personal computer. Dr Geto had an entire file on you that had nothing to do with your patient file…

Fisting his cock he pumped in steady but quick pulls, tugging himself closer to the brink of ecstasy whilst he imagined you kneeling beneath his desk. Batting those innocent doe eyes as if you didn’t know how fucking pretty you were. Wearing those perfectly decent, ‘I’m a good girl’ skirts and always ensuring you tucked the material tight against your thighs when you sat on his plush couch.

Would your skin burn with heat when your lips wrapped around his swollen tip? Would you grimace at the salty taste of his arousal on your tongue?

Vile.

Suguru’s head rolled against the head support of his chair at the thought. The idea that he might convince you to relieve the sinful ache in his heavy balls was a heady one. The product of weeks of planting the seedling and watering it with more and more inappropriate chat and suggestions.

There were only minutes until your session was scheduled to begin, it was a race against the clock. A sprint finish to release the demons burning their hellfire in his soul and to ensure that he remained merciful for at least another week.

It had become a game to him, this little charade of fucking into his fist mere minutes before you arrived to quell his desire to see you broken by his will. He could do it, it would be nothing to him and that was why he had to deter those whims. He pictured the filthy acts he would coerce you into doing with the faintest shift in his tone and that was enough–for now–it had to be enough.

Suguru rocked backwards, a slight squeak from his desk chair and his hips drove up to meet his hand. His palm twisted atop his weeping cockhead, and his sensitive skin twitched from the sensation. He was so close. He bit down on his lip until there was a tang of iron on his tongue, all whilst an image of your tear-filled eyes flitted across his mind's eye.

The intercom on his desk blared to life and midnight eyes snapped open in an angry startle. The breathy voice of his sickly sweet and simpering receptionist announced your arrival and he cursed beneath his breath. Fuck!

Ire exploded through his body, filling him with potent venom as he tucked himself back into his pants and fixed himself to hide the painful erection. Growling the instruction to send you in, he cleaned his hands and threw the used tissue into the trash. He knew that events would not unfold well for you today, this extra session that you had implored him was absolutely necessary earlier in the week was about to turn into something altogether wicked and it was your fault…

Manipulative.

You couldn’t deny how a sense of calm descended upon you the very moment you stepped into the softly lit office. The smile of the receptionist was genuine, the abundance of plant life in the waiting area and the low melody of music settled your nerves just as you had hoped.

Dr Geto was a genius, a prophet, a God.

His every word, you hung upon with a fascination worthy of a disciple. You had a crush on your psychiatrist–no–that wasn’t right. This was no crush, it was a deep infatuation and there was no cure. The real problem was that you didn’t recognise that you were obsessed with the clever man and that made things all the more dangerous.

Sure, he was attractive.

A little older than you were but he maintained a youthful physique and there was not a single line or wrinkle on his sharp, angular face.

You had often wondered if his hair would feel as soft and silky as it looked, the vast length more often than not tucked up into a top knot and you itched to touch it one day–to run your fingers through it even.

Yet, what attracted you most was the brain behind the looks, the insights and the words of advice that always hit their mark. Dr Geto was a genius and you revered him as a God.

The problem was, that he knew it...

Why did you need this extra session? You stumbled to remember the hastily fumbled words from the telephone conversation earlier this week. Something about your manager, something clearly trivial if you had already forgotten but you were happy to see your handsome doctor so soon after your last visit.

There was a sense of something different in the air this dark stormy afternoon. Rain lashed the windows that lined his snug office, the vibrant orange leaves of fall dulled by a persistent gloom that fell over the skies like a heavy woollen blanket. Even the eyes that observed you when you entered his room seemed distant, unattached and cool.

It made you frown. Your lips tugged down in one fell swoop and a lead weight filled your stomach. You failed to notice that your frown had brought a hint of a smile to his lips, those sweeping lines curved into something sinister but you were too busy trying to figure out how to lift his mood to realise that you were already doing so.

The normal routine of your session began in earnest, recapping the last visit and going over the small tasks he had assigned as ‘homework’ along with the results and observations.

Speaking to Dr Geto was always nerve-wracking, you worried you’d say something wrong, that he’d think you dumb or inept but you stumbled on because he wanted you to. Everything that you did, every word or confession you spilt and every action you took outside of his office was a direct response to his wishes.

Sure, it was meant to be for your benefit but the euphoria that laced your blood when he offered a genuinely pleased smile was enough to make you feel drunk. The biggest rush of endorphins filled your head when you received that hit of pleasure from his happiness, but that was the problem. You should be finding pleasure in your happiness and not in others. Wasn’t that one of the reasons you had started therapy?

“Why are you here today?” He asked and the abruptness of the question knocked you sideways. Your fingers twisted into the pleats of your skirt, inadvertently raising the hem and gifting your dutiful doctor a rare glimpse of the tops of your thighs.

“I-I don’t really remember the reason, it seemed so crucial at the time but now that I’m here… I’m sorry. I’m wasting your time, aren’t I?”

It was a statement you made with alarming regularity, never believing yourself to be worthy of someone’s time and attention even when you were paying for it. You expected the normal reassurance that he was here for you, that you were his patient and he was in no way imposed by your requirements, but it didn’t come.

“Yes, it seems that way.” His cheek rested against his fist, a mean smile dancing on his lips despite the air of stiff indifference surrounding him and it sent you reeling.

Reeling to fix your mistake, to please him, to make it so that you weren’t wasting his time. Anxiety turned your blood icy, the slosh of it burning your veins and bringing tears to your eyes. This was your worst nightmare come true. You were a burden. A troublesome woman who couldn’t go two minutes without reassurance.

The wobble of your bottom lip and the way your fingers fidgeted quicker and quicker in your lap, it was enough to make him want to push you back against the sunshine-yellow couch you sat upon. To pull you down and straddle your chest just to watch your eyes turn wide when he pressed his aching cockhead against those plump, wobbly lips.

Schooling his features, Suguru sighed—deep and heavy—his eyes stared towards the ceiling whilst he did his best to ignore the pitiful display you were putting on. The wringing of your hands and your knees that bashed into one another as you squirmed like a worm caught on a hook. It was an apt metaphor, he certainly was baiting you, you simply didn’t know it.

“Funny isn’t it?”

“What is?” you squeaked in response, your voice high and needy.

A finger idly traced the open page of the notebook he always held on the arm of his chair. He waited until your gaze fell on his wandering digit. Snaring your attention with the slow methodical movement, as if he were tracing lines of text when in reality the page was naked.

“Hm… this persistent need to please others, the desire that you feel to ensure that everyone else is happy even at your own expense, and you don’t show me the same courtesy. Me your ever-dutiful doctor.”

“I-I don’t—” you managed to stammer, floundering in your thoughts. You silenced abruptly when the man you usually looked up to as a genius snapped his fingers.

“I am still talking and you are listening,” he stated coolly.

He paused for a second, testing to make sure you understood. “Not only are you encroaching on an afternoon that I had planned to keep free, but you are also five minutes early and I didn’t get to finish.”

Every synapse in your brain fired at full tilt, scrambling for context clues as to what he possibly could mean by ‘didn’t get to finish’. What on earth could that possibly mean?

Your heart sank into your toes. Your eyes swivelled the width of his office but nothing seemed out of place. The space was uncluttered as usual, only then did you notice the open manila folder on his desk, a photo that appeared oddly familiar barely visible from this angle.

“It’s your file, I was perusing the contents before I was so rudely interrupted,” Dr Geto explained, noticing your squinting eyes and the crane of your neck towards his desk. Somehow the word ‘perusing’ did not sound as innocent as it should and you squirmed further in your seat.

“Should I go?” you asked timidly, yet every part of you screamed to stay. You would be miserable if you were to leave here with things unresolved, with someone unhappy with you–how unthinkable!

The good doctor smirked behind his hand, eyes remaining cool and unreadable as he fixed them on your agitated posture. If he asked you to kneel on the floor and then roll over like an obedient puppy, you would do it without question. It was a euphoric feeling, the power he wielded over you, and his tongue swiped a path across his lower lip in anticipation. The heaviness in his balls urged him onward, but this was not something to be rushed, he would savour corrupting you wholly.

Ignoring your pathetic question, he posed his own. “Tell me, have you ever orgasmed from sex? Did you stop seeing that man we discussed previously?”

You slouched on the couch, fingers still nervously fidgeting and your brow lowered whilst you attempted to keep up with this erratic session. It was like nothing you had ever experienced, but you couldn’t help but bask in the knowledge that he remembered discussing your ex, even though it was his job to do so.

“Uh, well… no. Never with someone, but I don’t know what that has—”

His teeth clicked in annoyance, a warning shot in your direction, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “I’ll be the one asking the questions, and I don’t believe you’ve answered one of them…”

“I'm not seeing him anymore,” you murmured into your chest.

That’s what he wanted to hear, the unfettered joy that burst in his chest at that knowledge only adds fuel to the fire raging in his mind. No one other than he should be allowed the divine right to your pleasure, that was his job and he wanted to praise you. To tell you what a good girl you were for listening to his advice. Advice that had been for your benefit, if you squinted, but was more a selfish desire of his own.

Suguru’s already straining cock thickened upon hearing the news, the expensive slacks digging against his sensitive shaft and he wanted badly to release some of his pent-up frustration and discomfort.

“Come here,” he demanded with the merest flick of his finger. His voice softened, a reward for your answers and for following his guidance. You were so very affected by speech and he adored that about you.

You were a foal walking for the very first time as you stood and took the three shaky steps it took to stand before his chair. Under the change in his tone, you bloomed, heat caressed your smooth skin and he let a low hum of appreciation puff through his lips.

Dressed in his usual black pants and black dress shirt, you tried not to admire his physique but it was an impossible feat. He was your psychiatrist, it was not okay to lust after a man who was a care provider as well as being likely a man with a loving partner at home–not that you had ever dared to ask.

Shocked was a pale comparison to how you felt when the man shrouded in the shadow of your body, slid his hands to the belt around his waist. He unbuckled it with deft fingers which you watched in riveted fascination whilst your nerves ratcheted up to a new level of anxiety.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Showing you my cock, little one. I know you’ve seen one before. That you’ve felt one between your legs. You told me that man made you touch him, didn’t he?”

The words were said so matter of factly, as if this were some standard practice and for a brief moment you wondered if it was and that you were the one being weird for freaking out. How twisted around his pinky finger you were…

He sighed when the cool air kissed his weeping cockhead, the relief of freeing himself from the pressure of his clothes was intense and he gave one lazy pump of his length whilst he waited for your reaction.

Your eyes were as big and round as dinner plates, transfixed by his cock and that only stroked his ego further. The angry purple tip looked almost painful, veins thick and stark on his tawny skin and the weight of him pulled his dick down to smack against his thigh.

“Dr Geto…”

“Suguru. Right here and now, I’d like for you to call me Suguru. Do you understand?”

Blinking rapidly, your gaze rose from the sight of what could only be described as a fearsome-looking cock, and met eyes of potent liquorice. You tested the name in your head, Suguru, it sounded so fitting and at long last, you knew his given name and had been given–no–commanded to use it.

“Su-Suguru.” Despite the stammer, it sounded like perfection to his ear. He couldn’t wait to hear it from your sweet lips when he made you cry it out in ecstasy. He’d purr like a contented cat, and he would but later.

“Good girl,” he soothed. His free hand coiled around your wrist, tugging it away from the pleats of your skirt but his motions were gentle, testing.

“Did you fist his cock like this? Did you feel how hot and heavy the skin down here is? How the veins pulse as a man nears his peak?”

Your head shook, once then again.

In truth, you had been afraid that your then-boyfriend would be mad at you. Only giving the most cursory of touches to his far less impressive dick before he had taken over and you had simply watched. It had been fascinating at the time, and yet you hadn’t felt the inclination to join in. It was the same during intercourse, you were a participant but never felt actively there. There was no lack of consent to speak of, but a piece of you had remained locked behind an iron gate, unable to enjoy the act and only faking the noises you had heard from lacklustre porn.

Suguru pointed to the spot on the floor between his thighs, spreading himself wider in the chair and rolling his hips forward. You were kneeling before you even realised you were complying with the silent order, every inch of you shivered in anticipation of what he was going to do next.

Thick midnight hair fell most beautifully, the top knot pulled free and his hair draped over his shoulders. Transfixed by the lopsided grin and the calculating eyes that held you fast, you hadn’t noticed that he was wrapping your fingers around his erection.

Heat, heavy and decadent seared your palm. You gasped at how velvety soft his skin felt under your touch, how prominent the veins were against your fingertips and how he twitched when you tightened your grip almost involuntarily.

Suguru fought against his desire to let his head drop back, for his neck to roll against the back of his chair at the simple act of you touching him like he had envisaged a million times prior. With his lower lip trapped by his teeth, he helped you find a slow rhythm. Giving you ample opportunity to explore him like he was some intriguing science experiment.

Dark laughter rumbled from his chest when you gasped at the sensation of the sticky silver strands that leaked from his slick-coated tip to your fingers. It was the first sign of you stopping, perhaps coming to your senses that this shouldn’t be happening and he couldn’t have that.

“You'll taste it, won't you?” he grunted with a pout on his lips, daring you to even consider disobeying his wish. He was a monster for acting like this, to make you think you were bad for not considering his happiness.

You did indeed grimace at the bitter taste, two fingers pressed down on your pretty pink tongue and sampled the arousal that continued to leak from him in pearled beads.

The longer you savoured his unique flavour, the more you grew accustomed to it. Certainly, it wasn’t some delicious taste but saliva pooled in your mouth, ropes of it connected your lips and fingers until they broke apart like spider webs under too much tension.

“You’ve no idea how damn attractive you are. I can barely stop myself from forcing those pretty lips open with my cock, to fuck that cute mouth until you’re gagging on it.”

Big doe eyes were his reward, your entire posture straightened as if you were lit up from his words, lewd though they may be. His hand stroked at the back of your head, brain running a mile a minute as he changed tack and fixed you with another slight pout.

“You’ll take care of me, won’t you, little one? My good girl is always so willing to make me happy. That’s it, baby. Just… like… that. Fuck.”

He guided your head down as he spoke, bending you to his will with effortless ease. Your mouth parted much like he knew your thighs would do soon enough and he groaned in delight the very second his aching tip grazed against a tentative silken tongue.

As much as he might want to see you ruined, mascara tracks down your cheeks mingled with fat tears, that would have to wait for another time. If he pushed too much you’d run and where would the fun be in that? He wished to corrupt you, sure, but he wasn’t prepared to downright force you if you were unwilling.

It appeared that Dr Geto had some semblance of morals after all, twisted though they might be.

You’d seen this act performed in porn and knew the mechanics of how it worked but it was quite different participating. Mere minutes into your first-ever blowjob and your jaw ached. Saliva escaped the sides of your mouth, and loud slurping noises made your skin heat up as your watery eyes strayed up.

His gaze was hooded, lips parted with pants of air passing through them every few seconds. When he locked eyes with you, he licked those devilish lips with a feline smile offered along with a soft groan.

“Oh, my darling girl, you’re a natural. Don’t fight it, relax. Let me feel your throat.” The praise was hissed through clenched teeth.

You fought down the instinct to reject the intrusion as it neared your throat, the muscles worked furiously and caused you to gag around him.

Shifting on your knees in discomfort, you blinked, letting the tears fall from your eyes. You gripped the base of his cock, squeezing roughly and heard him curse under his breath from the pressure. The nails from your free hand found purchase in the expensive material covering his thigh and bunched it in your frantic grip.

“Fuck. Oh, sweet fucking Jesus. Sweetheart, stop. That is enough!”

Suguru was practically yelling as he ripped your mouth from his saliva-drenched cock, the wet disconnect of your concaved cheeks followed by your rasping breaths filled the silence that followed.

A mixture of your saliva and his precum dripped to his tightly drawn balls, a wet stain spreading on the chair beneath him and his cheeks flushed in reaction.

It took a moment to find composure. Idly he stroked your hair to ensure you knew he wasn’t mad or displeased by your efforts, far from it. His palm traced your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. Gentle and reassuring, as if he weren’t breaking every code of ethics going.

“I think this is the first session where I have said more than you, my dear. I’d like the chance to make you feel good, will you let me do that? It would make me so very happy...”

Subconsciously your face had come to rest against the side of his knee, enjoying the soft petting and whispered words of praise more than you thought you ever would. Your dark God wanted to make you feel good, who were you to deny him that want? You were his disciple after all.

“I don’t feel worthy…”

He snorted. “Nonsense. I’ve wanted to take you to hell before gifting you heaven since the very first moment you walked into my office.”

What an honour, to have been regarded so highly by the genius that was Dr Geto, it spoke to that part of your psyche that you were meant to be working on. It filled you with warmth, that deep-seated desire to feel wanted and needed. This was far from healthy, anyone would see that but you didn't have the luxury of that insight.

“I’d like that… Suguru.”

The smile he flashed at you was like staring at the devil himself. Shame, it was tinted by your reverence.

You could only watch as he slowly undressed, standing for a moment to step out of his pants and underwear before kneeling in front of you. His face was so close, reaching out for you and admiring your features with a reverential eye. His thumb stroked your jawline, ending with it dragging your lower lip down and you dared to nip at the rough textured pad.

Inching closer, warm breath that smelled faintly spicy and laced with traces of tobacco fanned your cheek and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. There was a tsk of admonishment followed by a gasp, your head tilted back with a sharp yank on your hair and you met the blazing stare of the man before you. Emotions were swirling in those polished obsidian irises that you couldn’t begin to fathom, the serpents of his wicked intent but to you, they were pretty star-filled skies.

His mouth hovered above yours, waiting, ever the patient man and giving you this one final chance to push away. To come to your fucking senses and run for the hills. You should. You really should get out before it was too late. There was time… if you kissed him now, it was game over.

Yes, you held his cock in your fist and had taken him into your mouth but if you kissed him your fate would be sealed. Suguru conveyed this without saying a single word, he radiated his warning and demanded that you heed it.

You were the metaphorical shiny red apple, so perfect looking yet you were slowly rotting on the inside. The worm had found its way inside and was slowly eroding your purity, replacing it with sinful intentions and indecent thoughts. Who would have thought your handsome and prolific psychiatrist would be capable of such wickedness?

Time suspended when your lips met at long last, all soft touches at first, but quickly they turned heated and carnal. Suguru let you lead for a time, responding to the dance of your mouth but finally, he swept you into his arms on a whimpered sigh from your throat.

His strong arms pulled you closer, palms flush against your back and you could feel his slicked-up cock press snugly against your stomach. You only parted long enough for him to help you remove the sweater that covered your pretty dress, the straps of which were shoved down your arms until you could feel the cold air on your skin.

Suguru chased the chill from your flesh, his touch ignited every part of you he touched and there was a deep part of you that longed to push your fingers into his hair. Never one to do something purely for selfish means, you were emboldened by the lust that washed through you, the knot of tension that tugged behind your navel and you dared to do it. Your fingers speared into the masses of his thick raven hair, nails scratching against his scalp and you were pushed to the floor as he groaned into your mouth from the unexpected sensation.

A palm spread your thighs apart and you squealed into his mouth at the first touch of his hand against your underwear. Your cotton panties were drenched and you were beyond mortified. His tongue flicked lazily against the front of your teeth before retreating.

“Is this all for me? I’m honoured.” Suguru traced the edge of your panties, hooking his thumbs behind the flimsy elastic band and tugging them down in swift movements. He knelt between your spread thighs and heat burst along your skin.

You covered your face with your palms, biting down on your fingers as the dark-haired male teased a sole finger along your slit. No one had touched you here like this other than yourself, you hadn’t allowed it. Plenty had wanted to, but something always held you back, it never felt right. This shouldn’t feel right, yet it did.

Strands of sticky arousal caked his finger in an instant, your hips rolled against the plush carpet and you watched through your fingers as he sucked that sticky finger entirely clean. It shouldn't make your insides squirm like a pit of writhing vipers, should it?

“Knew you’d taste sweeter than cream, you're gonna let me taste you properly, yeah?” he asked with a rasp, already lowering himself so his face peaked up from below the bunched skirt of your dress.

A quick nod and your back arched so high that you thought your spine might break clean in two. The fat stripe he licked along your folds curled your toes and your hands flew to his hair once more. Dark irises studied your expression, watched for every telltale sign of what you liked and stored it away for future use.

Your skin tasted more delicious than anything he had ever sampled, his nose nestled against the short curls at your mound and pressed against your bundle of nerves. He alternated between short sharp strokes of his tongue and long languid licks from below your clenching entrance right to your throbbing clit.

Suguru eased his fingers into your tight pussy, braced on one forearm that hooked around the outside of your hip. He held you down as best he could whilst you bucked and writhed as new sensations assaulted you from every direction.

You whined at the stretch from his digits but he refused to relent, knowing how much more the burn of his cock would feel without this much-needed prepping. How you managed to engage in sex without these pleasures was a mystery to him. No wonder you never enjoyed the experience.

He refused to acknowledge the warnings in the back of his mind, the way that he was becoming addicted to your scent and taste. He ignored how fucking amazing you made him feel every time you tugged on his hair or called his name out when you experienced something new. You were so responsive to his every touch, you were made for him and he would make you his before the day was out.

“Don’t hold back, darling, cum for me. You can do it, just let go.”

Suguru quickened the thrust of his fingers, curling them further to press down against the spot that was swelling from his expert attention. The very second his lips attached to your clit, you exploded like the most magnificent firework.

Never had he heard such colourful language from you before, the cacophony of curses mingled with his name and the offerings to a God he did not believe in. His fingers were practically thrown from your pussy, the walls clenching down so tightly and the slippery release enough to make his eyes momentarily widen before he could compose himself.

What a sight.

His innocent patient lying spread out on the floor of his office, hair fanning your head like an angel’s halo and your breasts close to spilling over the soft cups of your bra. Translucent arousal covered your thighs, the skin shiny and he had half a mind to simply lick you clean, but there were more pressing matters to attend to first.

It was evident you were still riding your orgasm, lip tightly tucked between your teeth and each gentle touch of his hands made you whimper and jerk. Suguru kissed a path up your torso, leaving sticky patches of your essence on your collarbone and neck as he lowered himself atop you.

His cock slid with ease along your messy folds, toying with you for only long enough to steal more kisses and interlock your fingers beside your head. This was the moment he had waited for, had hoped would come and after nearly a year, you were going to be his.

“Will you let me fuck your cute pussy, sweetheart?” he asked and almost immediately balked at himself. Why the fuck was he giving you an out, now? He should be splitting you open like he needed to, not asking for your fucking permission.

Suguru breathed a sigh of relief as you nodded shyly, gazing at him softly from below your lashes. You had just cum all over his face and fingers and yet you still looked like the most timid little flower—perfection.

Without a second's hesitation, he pressed forward, the pressure against his thick tip enough to make him grunt like an animal. He rocked himself back and forth, opening you further with each new thrust of his hips. You whimpered, whined and pressed your face into the crook of his neck with every stretch of your tight cunt.

How it burned, the sensation of being split apart was enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes and oh fuck, did you want to yell at him to stop. To stop moving, to pull out and let your thighs come together. The fear of his response stopped you, the familiar tingle of wanting to please filled your chest and your brain and all you could do was breathe through it.

It was different before. They were never as big or domineering as the cock currently carving you open. Suguru was moulding you to his length, demanding that you fit him like a silk glove.

You only half heard the whispered words of praise that he lavished upon you, every further inch that he bullied into your tight cunt resulted in more and more messy, open-mouthed kisses. You thought you might die or at least pass out. Stifling a sniffle, you tightened the fingers that laced with his own.

Suddenly, it stopped.

The agonising pain of accepting Suguru into your body ceased, a warm feeling flooded your abdomen and you blinked up into a face twisted in pleasure.

“You’re so tight, I might not last…”

His voice was hoarse, strangled with the tendons on his neck on prominent display. Your hips pressed together, his cock so deep in your body that you were truly worried that he could rearrange your guts. When he pulled back, you moaned and it sounded like the most filthy noise you had ever made in your life.

Suguru gasped in reaction, obsidian eyes boring into your skull as his pace picked up. You could feel every part of him, your walls hugging and contoured to accommodate him to sheer perfection.

You were made to take this man, this darkly handsome man who manipulated you into this situation and used your weaknesses to his advantage. He was no God, he was the Devil and you had sold your soul to him. Signed your name in blood and there wasn’t a hint of regret in your mind.

The longer he stroked his cock into your pussy the bolder you became, you were the one to kiss him and suck on his swollen lips. Your tongue twisted around his and licked against his teeth. You arched your back, lifting your hips and shifting the angle of his cock to press just right on that special spot he had found earlier. You groaned in his ear and whispered for him to go faster, harder.

All he could do was everything that you asked of him. He had fallen hook, line and sinker for you. How things had twisted up in the jumble of lust.

For a second, Suguru frowned as a fleeting thought crossed his mind. Had you wanted this all along? Had you played him more than he had played you? It was gone in an instant as your head tipped back and you chanted his name in blind reverence.

“Suguru. Suguru! Oh fuck, Suguru!”

Once again, he felt your precipice and quickened to send you careening over the edge. Your thighs tightened around his lean hips, the pressure in his balls close to exploding when your walls milked him.

You fell first, but you were bringing him with you this time. Clinging to him like he was the only anchor in a stormy sea, the knots within your stomach released all at once, and then you felt the white-hot heat of thick ropes of cum splashing against your thighs. When he had pulled out, you didn’t know. All you did know was that there was a faint tremor of disappointment that he had running through your mind.

For the longest time, you simply stared at one another, both coming down from your respective highs and not daring to look away.

The smile you gifted him was new. It made his head tilt whilst he observed you from above. After a long moment, he returned the smile and let his head sink against your heaving chest.

Who had corrupted who? Did it really matter when you both got exactly what you wanted?

#delirious writes #suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #suguru smut #geto smut #tw yandere #tw corruption

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harmonictechnicality · 11 months

Text

*my humble offering to @steddie-week (and the s4 anniversary!) | ao3 link here*

Like most bad ideas, it starts with a question. Eddie is sitting on the ground, messing with the laces on his sneakers. Tying, untying. Mindless shit.

Steve is taking up the whole damn park bench, practically laying on it. Hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes.

And Eddie sort of hates the silence. Would like Silence to get decapitated with a chainsaw or something equally gruesome. Needs that particular volume to die the loudest death possible. For the sake of irony, of course.

So Eddie kills it - the silence, that is. The lull taking up all this air between him and Steve Harrington.

He kills it with a question:

“What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?”

Steve’s head snaps in Eddie’s direction. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“Fuck, I don’t know, man.” Steve sort of twitches, right between his eyebrows. Shoulders going lopsided, unnaturally angled. Uncomfortable.

Eddie shouldn’t be feeding off this tension so much. Judging by Steve’s body language though, the answer must be a good one.

He leans forward, almost singing the words. “You sure about that?”

Pushing is fun, darkly playful. Eddie enjoys getting under people’s skin, crawling around till they shrivel up. Is it wrong? Morally unethical? Well… the verdict is still out on that.

Besides, he’s been around Harrington enough lately to know that it doesn’t take much to make him surrender.

“Fine.” Steve huffs. He lifts himself to a sitting position, knees bobbing up and down. It takes all of Eddie’s leftover energy to not gloat about how easy that was - how quickly Steve caved. Teasing can (will) come later - right now, he wants answers.

Secrets.

“So, Robin and I went to this party in the city… got pretty shitfaced.”

Eddie throws his head back. “Lame.”

“Story’s not over.”

Oh? Interesting. Eddie places his hand over his heart, then waves it back at Steve. “My sincere apologies. Continue.”

Steve rolls his eyes, clears his throat (not that he needed to but whatever). “Anyways, she somehow convinced me to go to this tattoo parlor with her. Said her friend worked there and she wanted to visit them, so-”

“Wait wait wait. Don’t tell me this story ends with you getting a butterfly tattoo on your lower back.”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

There’s this serious expression in Steve’s eyes. A combination of dark colors and pure annoyance. Eddie is sane enough to know that annoyance isn’t something he should find endearing, but he does. On Steve.

Just a little.

He shrugs, and Steve continues. “Well, it turns out her friend wasn’t working that night. But the piercing lady was working and was like… superpersuasive.”

“Look, Munson, I don’t remember many details after that. Like I said, totally shitfaced. I just know when Robin and I woke up the next morning, we were so fucking sore. And not like, hangover sore either. We were sore in the same exact place. Right here.”

Steve’s pointer finger is gesturing at his stomach. Right in the center.

No. Absolutely not. Either Steve had severe stomach pains that night, or he’s suggesting that…

No.

“Yeah. There you have it.” Steve says. Blankly nodding into space. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done is get a matching belly button piercing with my best friend. Jesus christ, that’s freaky to say out loud.”

The Silence sneaks up on him. Stabs Eddie in the back when he isn’t looking because he’s too busy trying to imagine Steve Harrington with a piercing of any kind. Let alone the most famously slutty kind.

Wrong, so very wrong. He should never let the words slutty and piercing clutter up his imagination while thinking about Steve. The silence has been too long now. Gotta say something, anything.

“Bullshit.” His tone is harsh. Doesn’t mean for it to be. “There’s no fucking way.”

Steve pouts, crinkles his forehead. “I swear on my car - I’m not making this up.”

And see, here’s where the bad idea comes in. This stormcloud of pouting and piercings and chest hair, it’s all becoming dangerous. That urge to provoke is in Eddie’s bloodstream. He has to tip the scale, twist the knife of chaos as far as he can. Self control is out the fucking window.

“Prove it then.”

“Fuck off, Munson.” Steve laughs, maybe scoffs. Either reaction is a little confusing. “Seriously, this isn’t truth or dare.”

The truth is already out though. It’s the dare that Eddie is hungry for. “You can’t just drop a nuclear statement like that and expect me not to ask to see it.”

“Technically, you didn’t ask.”

Eddie clamors over to Steve, all theatrics and fake agony. “Please, Lord Harrington.” He clasps both hands together, rests his cheek on Steve’s knee. Batting his eyelashes till Steve cracks a smile. “Let me see the metal that has punctured thy skin. I beg of thee.”

Steve shoves him off. “You’re such a dork.” It’s lighthearted, barely qualifies as shoving. He’s become way too decent for actual aggression these days.

A fact Eddie tirelessly clings to when Steve stands up. Lifts the bottom of his shirt and puts it in his fucking mouth.

“Holy shit.” Eddie mutters. No time to consider how pathetic it comes across.

In theory, this should all be stupidly unattractive. The way Steve holds his shirt between his teeth. The way he mumbles incoherent shit between the fabric in his mouth. The way he keeps pointing at it, poking it.

That shiny, teardrop-shaped metal. Just… hanging from Steve’s belly button, swinging slightly with every small movement. Eddie’s eyes start to swing with it, back and forth. Back and forth. Maybe those roadside hypnotists are onto something, because the dumbest piece of jewelry has Eddie captivated.

He could just be captivated by the guy attached to the dumbest piece of jewelry. Piercing.

Jesus Christ. Eddie really didn’t think his life could get any weirder. But here he is. Staring at Steve Harrington’s belly button piercing. Fucking mouth-breathing at the sight of it. Probably seconds away from salivating.

He really should consider seeing a licensed psychologist. Fix his terminally horned-up brain once and for all.

“It’s…” Eddie swallows, his eyelids feel heavier than his stare. “Not what I expected.”

The fabric drops from Steve’s mouth. Unevenly falls around his waist... hips. “What were you expecting?”

To laugh. To mock. Threaten blackmail for six lifetimes, maybe more.

Instead, Eddie gazing at it the way people gaze through telescopes. He peers lower, tries to see if it’s silver or gold. Hard to tell at sunset. None of Eddie’s typical instincts are sinking in. All he wants is to feel the metal rolling over his tongue or get it trapped between his teeth. See how it tastes mixed up with Steve’s skin.

“Fuck.” Yikes. Eddie didn’t mean to say that out loud. Straightens up from his questionable position, does it so fast that his spine sounds like bubble wrap. “Sorry, sorry.”

What the hell is he apologizing for? Cussing? Having a skeletal structure? Christ almighty, he’s a mess.

Steve’s lips spread into a grin, doesn’t look like his own. Looks more like the kind Eddie might give after pulling off a successful decoy in one of his campaigns. “What’s wrong with your face, man?”

“My face?”

“It’s all…” Steve trails off. Sighs and sits back down on the bench. “Nevermind.”

Eddie reaches up to his cheek, understands exactly what Steve is referring to. He feels feverish to the touch, must be a shade of red that is so deep, it’s noticeable in the darkening sky.

“Sorry… sorry.” Steve hangs his head. Seems troubled even though Eddie is nailing that particular routine all on his own.

“Think that’s my line.” Eddie jokes.

“Right.”

Silence is lurking around them yet again. Eddie hates it, but he’s running out of steam here. The embarrassment is on display, his cheeks and neck covered in splotchy red patches. His voice is higher, somehow, as if his vocal chords are shrinking. He’s undergoing a crisis and crush simultaneously and it is not an attractive look for him.

“Just go ahead and get it over with.” Steve says. Interrupts whatever cynicism that’s currently brewing in Eddie's head.

“Get what over with?”

“The teasing.”

“Oh that’s not… it’s um… you don’t…” Eddie can’t pick an appropriate response. They’re way beyond politeness and niceties. And any bullshit he tries to pull isn't gonna be convincing. So it’s best to stay honest. Embarrassing, but honest. “I think it looks pretty good.”

“You do?” Steve looks softer.

“Yeah. I mean… Bowie probably has one, and he’s a fucking superstar so. Uh. Yeah.”

“Bowie, huh?”

“I like Bowie.” I like Bowie? What a beefhead answer. Eddie joins Steve on the bench, hopes it distracts from that very un-cool line.

“I like Bowie too.” Steve messes with his hair a bit. Elbows Eddie in the side and chuckles. “You should get one.”

“A piercing?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t hold your breath, man. I’m not letting that nightmare creator you described anywhere near my lower abdomen. Not gonna happen.”

Steve reaches out, runs his knuckles down the bridge of Eddie’s nose. Stops at the crease of his nostril. “What about one right here?” His voice is even, calm. Too calm for what he’s asking.

His hand is warm, slightly calloused. The only two thoughts Eddie can process without going fully catatonic. Steve’s hand is on his face and it’s warm.

Slightly calloused.

“Uh. Dunno.” Eddie says. A hoarse whisper in reply. “Probably not.”

Steve scoots in closer, never taking his hand off Eddie’s face. Just moving it around. Exploring. He brushes along to Eddie’s ear this time. Holds the edge of it between his thumb and index finger, looking straight at it.

“What about right here?” Steve’s eyes stay fixed on Eddie’s ear. Every touch seems natural, just questions that involve connection or something.

Internally, Eddie is dousing flames. Fanning them left and right. Running in circles, fucking clueless on how to properly calm down. Be civil. Be Dude Civil. His breathing is so rapid, he knows it. Can hear it between them, collecting space. Decides it would be best to mimic Steve. Fix his eyes only on him, borrow the stability as much as possible.

“Mmm… maybe.” Eddie gets stuck on the ‘mmm’ sound. That’s how good it feels having someone touch him like this. Careful, yet heavy in curiosity. Rolling the tip of his earlobe between two fingers, just enough pressure to create heat.

It warrants that sound.

Steve’s glance drifts before his fingers do. Eyes landing on Eddie’s lips, slight hesitancy before his hand follows. Eddie has to hold his breath now. Minimal oxygen is the only way he’ll survive this moment, which makes no fucking sense, but it does all the same.

“Here would look really good.” Steve slowly traces the curve of Eddie’s bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The back and forth pattern is disarming. Makes Eddie’s lips part, mouth slightly open.

Just enough to speak. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

If Eddie passes out from lack of oxygen, he’ll regret it. He’ll regret not taking the risk, finishing what Steve has started. Because this surpasses friendly touching.

This is charged in electric shockwaves.

Eddie dips in, kisses Steve before he can move his hand out of the way. Steve makes a sound, not even a surprised one. It’s sweeter, laced in relief. Eddie pushes in, wants more, whatever he can get. Has his fingers wrapped around Steve’s wrist, the same hand that’s dragging down his face, his neck. Stopping at his chest.

Every rumor is true, that kissing Steve Harrington is like the gates of heaven opening up. That his tongue could work miracles on amateur lips with a few licks and curls. But no one ever told him about the noises he makes - and those are the best fucking part. Heaving breaths, pleased whines, each one captured with Eddie’s mouth before they get any louder.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe those are just for Eddie. Reserved for kissing him.

Goddamn, he’s delusional. Completely delirious from kissing a dude with a belly button piercing.

There’s a light getting brighter, almost approaching them. Eddie opens his eyes, quickly backs off while Steve does the same. Has to literally detachhimself from wherever his hand was busy wandering all over Steve’s body.

Headlights pull into the nearby parking lot. Eddie squints to get a better look at the car. It’s Robin and Vickie, showing up fashionably late as always. Sure, he’s grateful that it’s just them, the queerest people in his circle of weirdos. And while they’re reasonable people with shit like this, even they’dbe shocked to know that Eddie and Steve just sucked face for a solid three minutes. Probably best to not mention the gory details, not tonight. Eddie hopes Steve is thinking the same thing.

Both of them stand up, rearrange themselves to look presentable. Less tousled and kiss-bitten. Steve spends a few extra seconds with his hair before turning to Eddie, eyebrows high. Likely a non-verbal ask if his hair is looking as godly as ever.

Of course it does. Looks even better knowing Eddie’s nails were just digging into it.

Steve is a few steps ahead of Eddie, heading for the girls, when Eddie does it again. Kills the silence with a question.

“Can we… do this again?” It’s edging on desperate, he’s so fucking aware of that. Self control really proving to be a major downfall with him tonight. Should definitely consider taking classes, train his willpower or some shit.

Steve stops walking. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t even look at Eddie as he speaks. “My place.”

Oh. That’s… wow. Unexpected. Eddie jogs up to Steve, beside him. Way too eager now, sort of buzzing for more information. Hints of excitement or maybe a smile. Anything, really. He’s at that level of weak for this guy.

Steve just keeps walking, but leans in, right next to Eddie’s ear. The same one he messed with earlier. His voice is quiet, but Eddie hears every damn syllable:

“I’ll leave the window unlatched for you.”

For him.

Maybe Eddie isn’t completely delusional after all.

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieweek2023 #day six: true #truly truly dumb and fun #major himbo and major himbo-enjoyer #was this an excuse to cause chaotic piercing headcanons? always.#okayokay I hope you like Eddie drooling over Steve on this fine Saturday afternoon xx #*bows and scurries back off into my writing corner*

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drak3n · 4 months

Text

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE: PROLOGUE

ꨄ. SYNOPSIS: the launching of a new platform magically re-connecting seperated people has shaken the entirety of social media. after many months of contemplation and denial, you give in to your urges.

ꨄ. SENA’S NOTE: this merely serves as a way to introduce all eight parts of the mini-series! as they’re all characters from different fandoms, there clearly won’t be names or any specific action in this! so this is a little short :)

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE MASTERLIST

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

everywhere.

it was everywhere you went. following you around like it was your shadow, cornering you at any given possibility.

you knew the drill. once something went viral anywhere, it would stick around for some time and then be forgotten.

that wasn’t the case with this damn live show. not at all. the first time it had been announced on international tv must have been ages ago, like around the beginning of the year. yet, the hype never seemed to die down, with more and more people freaking out online and in real life about how it changed their lives.

you were convinced it was a scam. like come on, who even believed in a fairy tale like that? being reunited with a lost lover, or any kind of lover who it didn’t work out with?

there was a reason it hadn’t worked out. because if there wasn’t, you’d still surely be with that person.

it started with trailers being shown on every channel you zipped through, announcing free slots for their newest season and putting emphasis on their confidentiality. how people had the choice to stay anonymous while spilling their private and embarrassing matters to so-called love experts.

such bullshit.

now, it went way past that. you ended up avoiding watching tv, just to literally be haunted by that cursed show in other ways. through flyers and stickers flying around, through posters hung up on subway stations and even inside of said subways, hell, a couple of days ago, there was even an airship promoting it.

TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE. a silly name for a concept just as silly as that.

what did you have to do again to apply?

right, as if there was any way of forgetting with how much your coworkers were babbling about it. they made sure to remind you of that every day.

“i’m still thinking if i should just call them the next time and try my luck,” you heard one of many tell another while you were waiting in the line for your lunch. “i really, really want to make up with my ex. they’re my only hope.”

their conversation went on for many more minutes, and you were glad when you finally were next in line to greet the lunch lady with a tired smile. as she filled your tray in a halfhearted manner, your smile quickly faded away upon hearing her talk to a fellow worker behind the counters.

“my son and his teenage love reconciled after he applied there. they are awaiting their first child soon!” the elderly woman gushed while placing a cup of pudding onto your tray, waiting for you to scan your employee id before you shuffled away from the line to plop down on an empty space in the crowded lunch hall.

it was all the same. love, love, love. always those same old problems. getting dumped, being abandoned, or doing the dumping and abandoning.

regret, sadness, frustration, desperation.

you came home that sane evening with thoughts plaguing your mind; with the big question if those were all signs for you to see. if everything you’d been hearing and seeing for these past couple of months were meant to open your eyes, somehow. to get the hint.

making a beeline to your bedroom, your eyes darted to the package placed on your bed. still untouched and waiting to be sent. the pastel pink stamp had been placed on the corner of the box yesterday by you. those fuckers made so much money with their hit show that they distributed stamps, to force them to send more drama their way for them to indulge in.

it was stupid that you had even put in the effort to package what was meant to have been tossed away long ago. it might or might not have been long yet, but why did you keep that?

as a writer, you couldn’t contain yourself. even back then, you had always known you’d end up becoming anything connected to writing, journaling, whatever. it was almost annoying how you used to document all those feelings you couldn’t put into words.

specifically writing letters had always been your passion. writing down your heartbreaks and grief into words and making them come to life on paper.

words you failed to tell him.

the recipients were all written on the envelopes inside the box, some years ago, and some recently, and you didn’t even know if they were still the same addresses.

for some, you knew for sure they weren’t.

even if the cast of TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE — if they picked you, that is — wouldn’t find their current addresses, you were for sure going to be relieved. those letters had been a significant burden on your heart ever since you had written them.

for the first time in your life, you didn’t feel any kind of satisfaction from writing. these letters existed to be sent. and you were realizing it just now.

they were meant to be read aloud, understood. they had to be read by others for you to be at peace with your unresolved feelings.

the very next morning, you handed the package to the post office, bidding farewell to years of bottled-up and hidden feelings.

it wasn’t until a week later that you received a letter, with the same pink stamp and sender the same you had sent your letters to. you found yourself reading it in front of the door to your apartment:

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

dear contestant,

we thank you for your package and were enthralled to read about your experiences. upon short discussions within our team of experts, we soon decided to choose your case to present in our next live airing, which is going to be this saturday!

the letters have already been sent out to their respective addresses — some of which we had to adjust as there have been changes.

it is up to you if you want to join us for our next airing — it be via call or even by showing up at our studio! we will welcome you in any case and make sure you will reunite with one of your lost loves.

please do not worry, as we will handle all of your data with the utmost care and make sure that none of it is leaked for other purposes.

up until then, stay lovely and trust the process!

ꨄ. your TO ALL THE MEN YOU’VE LOVED BEFORE cast

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

PROCEED TO OPEN LETTER

THE LOST LOVE ꨄ TOJI FUSHIGURO

THE ONE NIGHT STAND ꨄ HIROMI HIGURUMA

THE NEMESIS ꨄ ATSUMU MIYA

THE BEST FRIEND ꨄ KEN RYUGYJI

FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS GONE WRONG ꨄ SHUJI HANMA

THE FORBIDDEN LOVE ꨄ LEVI ACKERMAN

RIGHT PERSON, WRONG TIMING ꨄ TOUYA TODOROKI

THE BOY NEXT DOOR ꨄ SHOUEI BAROU

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ♡•°`.

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to-the-stars8 · 4 months

Text

Learning to Love Slowly

Jason Todd x Reader All Chapters AO3

64- The Gotham Skyline and Red Hood

The Gotham skyline was nothing to admire, the smog was too thick to see the stars and most times looking up was a distraction no one could afford when the danger was on the ground. You, like any other sane person in Gotham, always kept your eyes forward, but that changed when you started to date Jason. You knew that he jumped rooftop to rooftop, and had heard stories from your friends about seeing the famous bat-themed vigilantes amongst the streetlights. So, it only made sense you started to try to look for him amongst the Gotham rooftops.

Some nights, you’d sit on the fire escape of your apartment and look for him hoping from rooftop to rooftop. You’d never see him, and you thought it to be good. If you did, it might have indicated that he was subpar at his job. That didn’t stop you, though.

You’d been out with your friends bar hopping before they suggested a club, but after work and not seeing your boyfriend, you opted to bail. On your way home, you looked for Jason. A few times in your journey you accidentally knocked into a few people, which made you look down, and just when you were about to give up your phone rang.

“Hello,” You said as you answered. You hadn’t checked the caller ID but could assume who it was by the little chuckle on the other end. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I am,” Jason was grinning, you could practically hear it. “But, you’ll never guess what.”

“You…” You began, glancing up. Again, nothing. “You’re taking the rest of the night off to be with me.”

He laughed, and it sounded angelic. “No, sweetheart, but I’d give anything to do that.”

You smiled. “Then, what?”

“I was just hanging out on a rooftop, taking a breather, and I saw this gorgeous girl walking down the street.” You gasped, looking up. If anyone was around, you probably looked nuts, but you didn’t care. Jason laughed again. “Gonna give me away if you keep doing that.”

Bashfully, you looked down, still grinning. “Sorry.” You then lowered your voice. “Where are you, though?”

“Look up on your right, casually.”

It took you a second to find him, but you did. He leaned over the edge of the building, just in your line of sight, waving slowly. It took everything in your power not to jump around and wave back to him like crazy.

“I see you,” You said excitedly. “And have I ever told you how handsome you look in your gear?”

Jason said something under his breath before disappearing from your view. A bit disappointed, you thought about saying something but knew it was for the best. The last thing you wanted was for him to put himself in danger just for you.

Finally, Jason’s voice came through again. “On ya way home?”

“Yeah, my friends, they wanted to dance, but I’m kind of tired.” Quietly, you added, “And I was hoping to see you.”

When Jason said your name it was soft and sounded just the right amount of desperation that it turned you on a little. You said his name back to him, hoping that it would convince him to come home.

“I,” Jason sucked in a breath. “I’ll swing by your apartment as soon as I can.”

It wasn’t what you wanted, but it was close enough. “Okay, I’ll be waiting, honey.”

He made a noise that sounded like something between a sign and a moan before there was some shuffling. “Fuck it. I’ll meet you at your place.”

You grinned, glancing up yet again but saw nothing. Shaking your head, you told Jason that you couldn’t wait to see him before hanging up. Maybe the Gotham skyline had a little more to offer than smog and danger.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #romance #red hood #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x you #bruce wayne #batfamily #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #nightwing #alfred pennyworth #red robin #batfam

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rayshippouuchiha · 4 months

Note

I remembered your idea about Grimmjow mentoring Izuku and I have world building/background.

Grimm got to the bnha universe because some idiots were trying to summon a demon to kill some heroes and since there aren't any in universe the magic spell outsourced. The idiots did not survive their stupidity. Grimm is really annoying because he's pretty sure it's going to take at least a year to get home.

Finding and starting to teach Izuku delayed his plans, but not by too much. Grim figures he'll just wait for the kid to die and bring Izuku's soul back with him. Classic Arrancar adoption tactics.

Inko is a little uncomfortable with a demon adopting her son with a plan of making him another demon, but honestly Izuku's just so happy these days that she's cool with it. She does the paperwork to make Grim a distant relative.

People in the bnha universe don't really have reiatsu but they still have souls. Grim just has to teach izuku to reform his soul so it's bleach style instead. He's pretty sure that any of the many mad scientists he knows would tell him it's impossible, but izuka did it anyways so there.

For paperwork they claim that it's a family inherited work that is super finicky and requires a lot of control and often doesn't activate without life or death danger or knowing how to activate it beforehand. Which it is true, using reiatsu for stuff more complicated than "be stronger and hardier," let alone kidou, takes decades of learning. Even if hollow style kidou is easier to learn, it's not by that much. Grim mostly focuses Izuku on learning the basics of combat and maybe sonido.

Izuku ends up good at kicking people in the face like canon, but he also has throwing knives and a tanto to complete the danger gremlin evolution.

He kicks Bakugou in the face and breaks his nose. Their relationship isn't great but it's not as awful as in cannon.

Grimmjow is setting up connections with the villain community one day when he hears about some mysterious, powerful fucker called All For One. He hasn't eaten in a while, and that seems like someone no one will miss so he eats out for the day. The villain underground immediately falls into chaos but that isn't his problem.

Coincidentally, Inko's deadbeat husband finally stopped sending money. (Whether he's AfO or just some asshole who died in the chaos is up to you.) She shrugs and moves on. She saved and invested most money he gave them anyways.

Grim ends up running a dojo. First he just needs space to teach Izuku but I firmly believe that despite his general misanthropic tendencies he actually likes kids, so the whole thing balloons pretty fast. He ends up with this weird teenager who calls himself Dabi as an assistant, since the kid already knew how to fight pretty well.

With an actual support system Dabi ends up significantly less burned and significantly more sane. He works as a vigilante, killing marital and child abusers. He's really uncertain about what to do about Endeavor, because he wants to kill him but the man also scares the shit out of him, and he doesn't want to free his siblings just to put them in the spotlight. Grimmjow is less than zero help, but Inko gives him a big hug and helps him start to set up a legal case if that's what he decides to do. He's like Izuku's weird, obnoxious older cousin.

Speaking of the lov, Kurogiri got out and took Shigaraki with him when AfO died. They end up picking up the rest of the league overtime. All the kids try to convince Kurogiri to reach back out to his friends from when he was Oboro. They might or might not be vigilantes.

What are you talking about, this isn't a fix it fic.

The UA staff are deeply baffled when they meet Izuku's guardians: the sweetest little lady you ever did meet and what Aizawa is pretty sure is an actual, literal demon from hell. In hindsight, though, it makes sense.

Thank you for the idea! Sorry for shoving this thing in your inbox.

Never apologize because this is fantastic.

#RayRambles #BnHA #MHA #Bleach

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harrysmimi · 1 year

Text

Date Night

Synopsis: One where Harry finally manages to convince his partner on a fancy dinner date

CW: mentions of anxiety, depression and body dysmorphia.

More of my work

It was a Friday night, YN had gotten off work early.

Well, to be honest she got nothing done today. Working from home comes with it's own pros and cons.

She liked to stay the weekend at home, buried in her bed. Maybe binge watch some random show on a random OTT site. Or just sleep.

Since the pandemic, YN had fallen into a dark place mentally. She could work from home but she was stuck in country over seas from her family.

She works at the London branch of Columbia Music label, in the marketing department. That's where she met Harry, now her boyfriend of almost two years.

Harry actually slipped her a personal email after a zoom meeting on planning a strategy to market his new album, asking for her number. YN was the team leader of the team who'd work hard on coming onto new ideas, so she had to be present in the meeting, explaining the presentation whilst her foster kitten walk all in front of her camera as she talked.

At first, YN was very sceptical about the e-mail. It was under his name, but it could be anyone. People hack into random zoom meeting all the time now. But again how did he get her e-mail?

So she just deleted that e-mail.

The next session though, he slipped into her private messages asking if she got his email. Of course she gave him his number as he said that he wanted to be involved in the process. She understood, it was his album, he spent days and nights working on it with his friends, he has to have a say in how it's marketed. Well, he partially lied. He just grew a tiny little infatuation on her, he wanted to get to know her.

It was her first project as Team Leader ever. She had just been promoted and it was sort of new to her when corporate decided to give her the position. Of course she was energetic going head first into the new responsibilities given to her. Especially for one of the company's biggest clients.

Her new responsibilities came with so much scrutiny as she was the youngest and least experienced person to be put up in a position of a leader. Disregarding her work ethics, her leadership skills and strengths, plus her qualifications.

It took a huge toll on her.

Talking to Harry was only thing keeping her sane in that moment, even though they had never seen each other in person ever before.

Whilst her parents and siblings were supportive of her in every single way, but yet, everytime she called them they'd be complaining about one another jokingly and never listen to her. She tried talking to her mother, but did she it never worked out as her entire family was stuck in one house.

Harry and her started dating around the time he was back in London. Their first date was on a FaceTime call. She was having some leftover rice she made the night before for dinner, and he was eating a Chinese take out and a homemade salad he made.

The salad was for balance, he said to her.

She was sat in living room/Dining room/bedroom/office; her coffee table, whilst he was comfortably sat at his fancy dining table at home. She didn't had her foster kitten to lurk around anymore, it got adopted very soon.

They continued to talk to one another over calls, texts, FaceTime every chance Harry got to be free. YN was basically free all the time, she works from home- unless she's in an online meeting. They'd fall asleep on FaceTime with one another. It was a long distance relationship even when both of them were in same place because of the pandemic restrictions. But both of them felt safe enough to move forward with their relationship.

Of course, Harry saw her falling into a dark place mentally. In fact she came forward and shared it with him finally as she was tired of being ignored by her family. He suggested her a few things which never worked out for her, and she is yet to find out a therapist she resonates with.

The first time Harry visited her flat to see her, it was like he has always been living there. He knew where everything was. That's when he took her to a very fancy dinner date. Their first and last fancy dinner date ever.

This time, Harry was in town finally after an exhausting yet memorable leg of tour in the States. He was dress fancy, the Prince Of Wales jacket from his own collection with a baby blue shirt underneath it, pair of black pants, and a random black coat because it was cold outside.

He walked into his girlfriend's flat buried in her bed, watching some gruesome murder documentory without a sliver of expression on her face. Her eyes and lips red, she probably cried whole day whilst working.

"Hey darling!" He dropped his coat and a bag he brought with him on the sofa and walked straight towards her bed. "What's wrong baby?"

"I don't know." She sniffled pausing the show she was watching. Pushing her laptop aside she straight away went in to hug him tight.

"Oh my angel!" He squeezed her tight closer to his chest. "It's alright baby, I'm here for you."

"I don't know why I'm crying all day. I just feel so numb." She mumbled, her face pushed against his neck.

Well, she's been stuck in her flat for about three months now. She only ever goes to buy groceries now, which she doesn't have to for two week straight. Her appetite has died a little bit from not getting much excercise done.

"I know baby, I know." He rubbed her back. "I came in to surprise you on a date, do you think getting out of the house would help you?"

"I seriously don't know." She shook her head, still hugging him close.

"How about we at least try, yeah?" He suggested, "you might feel better today by getting out. I'll have us a fun day planned for tomorrow as well." She whined in protest to that, "come on now, I've missed you. I promise we can leave if you don't feel like staying, okay?"

"Okay." She agreed, pulling away from him.

"Alright, I got you something." He with that he fetched her the bag he left on her sofa.

Inside was a cat plushy he saw a random store when he was out and about with his friends, he bought it because it reminded him of her. Along with it was a little bracelet he bought from yet another local business. But the cat mattered most to her in that moment.

"Thank you!" She cooed.

"You like it!" He flashed his dimples smile. "Now do get ready, we have a reservation at eight-thirty."

It was quater past five.

"Harry..." YN sighed, "I don't think I want to go to a fancy place."

"It's not that fancy."

"Harry, you took me a seven star restaurant saying the same thing." She groaned.

"I promise, it's not that fancy." He assured her, "wear the blue dress you impulsively bough online the other day, please?" He dragged her to her closet.

"I don't think it's going to fit me now," she made an excuse.

Or was it an excuse? It was a dress which is supposed her fit her figure like it was her skin at the bodice, doesn't matter if it had puffy long sleeves or it was hemmed at the floor length. She had obviously gained weight lile almost everyone else in the world during the pandemic.

Well, Harry was an exception. He's in more shape than ever. In a very healthy and very fucking cool way.

She had nothing else to wear though to a fancy restaurant, she rented a dress because their first date was planned days ahead. So she had no other option than to wear it.

Harry waited patiently for her to take a shower and het ready, he in fact helped himself with some tea and helped her with her with the pile of dirty dishes. Even made her bed and folded the pile of clean laundry making neat stacks on her bed so she can put them away as she wished. All while he heard the shower go off and the hair dryer running.

Her house was pretty much clean apart from being messy. He know however she may be feelings, she doesn't like when a foul smell lingers around her flat or there is garbage laying around. She's just messy with her personal stuff.

He did not dare to touch her work desk though. She's very protective of that part of her flat.

She'd fine if he'd go through her personal valuables of documents, she hates it when anyone touches her desk or even moved a pen on there.

"Harry?" She called from the bathroom.

"Yes, love?"

"Can you please zip up my dress?" She asked opening the bathroom door just to pop her head out to look at him. He is always happy to help her.

He knows if she was in a good mood he wouldn't even let her put it on before they had a quickie. Keeping his mind out of gutter he helped her.

"You look so pretty baby, you were doubting yourself for nothing!" He placed a delicate kiss on side of her neck.

"I don't know, it doesn't look good."

All she saw was her perfectly normal tummy and her arms showing through the sheer fabric sticking out like needles in her eyes. She was doubting when the dress arrived in mail, she tried it on then showed it to Harry on FaceTime. It was a little loose and didn't fit her well. It doesn't now either.

"Come on, you know how hard I'm trying to keep my hands to myself now?" Harry genuinely find it difficult, he's not saying it to hype her up.

She just took in a deep breath and nodded, excused herself for wanting to do her makeup which wasn't much just some mascara and eyeliner she smoked out with concealer to hide her dark circles and eye bags and a pink lipstick. All the while Harry was sat there on the edge of the shower/bathtub admiring her. He helped her pick out the right pair of earrings, she already had the necklace she wears everyday, her dad gifted her on her 16th birthday. And they were set to go.

......................................................................

YN followed closely behind Harry, pulling out the micro fabric fibers from the cuff of his coat. It won't ruin it. But she's very anxious, well aware of her actions she stopped when the hostess welcomed them and showed them to their table.

It was in the more private and upper level of the restaurant, it was still a five star restaurant. Hardly anymore people there other than a group of six people, and two more couples enjoying their time. It seemed very empty considering the place was huge.

Soft talking and laughing noises seemed to have fade out as the waitress handed her and Harry the menu for drinks. Well, she doesn't drink but it gave her anxiety to even ask for some cold water. She'd gotten so used to ordering everything online, without having to interact with another human being.

"I, I, I will, uhhh..." YN looked at the menu again, "ummm... I, I'll have water please."

"Okay, would you like mineral water or regular water?" The waitress asked, completely disregarding that YN was stuttering and basically sweating.

"Any, any kind would be find. Just, just cold please." She tried to smile the best she could.

The waitress got taking Harry's order, with complete changes in demeanor. It made YN feel more insecure about herself. And maybe that girl was trying to flirt with him, which went completely ignored from his side. But that didn't YN at ease what so ever.

Harry was quick with his order. Maybe the waitress just wants to get back home soon tonight. It's weekend!

Maybe she's the problem here. Yeah!

"Harry?" She called quietly, trying to gulp the lump in her throat, "I, I jist need to, need to use the restroom, I'll be back."

"Okay." He nodded.

"I, I'll leave my purse here." She left her purse with him. In her mind she was letting him know she's not going to runaway, if that ever comes to his mind.

......................................................................

Harry sat there, waiting for his girlfriend. But it's been more than five minutes she's gone. Luckily she took her phone with her. So he tried to text but she was back.

"I'm sorry." Her nose was stuffy, like she cried.

"Hey, baby what's wrong?" He reached for her hand accross the table.

"I, I'm fine." She assured him.

When it was time to order again, YN was on the verge of having a heart attack there. Harry asked for another five minutes to look through the menu.

"Baby you sure, you're alright?" He asked again, "you seem all flustered. Your face has turned all red. Want to go somewhere else, or go back home?"

"I, I just..." YN was finding it very heavy to breathe there, "I want some fresh air. I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Hey, never apologise for wanting to get out of uncomfortable situation, okay?" He assured her, "we'll wait for the waitress to come back out and tell her we don't find anything interesting to eat on the menu, then we'll leave."

"Mhmm," she nodded with teary eyes.

......................................................................

Harry unlocked the door for his girl, like a gentleman he is he stood there with the door open to the passenger seat.

"I'm sorry about that." She mumbled.

"Hey, I told you it's alright." He assured her, "you want to go somewhere else to eat? We can go through the Burger King drive thru and I can order for you."

"I'm not hungry anymore." She shared, "I'll make you something to eat back home." That's when her tummy made a noise.

"Mhmm, I can hear that." He placed a delicate kiss on her forehead, "come on, get in."

......................................................................

"Here you go, Madam." Harry handed the bag of food to YN as he drove ahead and parked in the empty parking lot. "Are you still planning to go see your parents this summer? I mean, summer there at your place?"

"Mhmm." YN nodded talking a bite off her burger, "do you want to come along?"

"You're asking me to go see your parents?" He teased her.

"I have met your family, I want you to meet mine. Please?"

He could see now that she's getting comfortable, her anxiety vanishing away. Not that her parents don't know about him, they love him in fact. It's like they've adopted him. Especially YN's mum, she has sent loads of homemade goodies especially for him, her dad approves of him. Her little sisters are best friends with him now, they sent him little handmade birthday cards on his last two birthdays.

"Okay." He shrugged. "Are you going to show me around where you grew up?"

"Of course, of course!" She got excited, "I'll take you to my school, then we'll go see my college campus and take you to the local markets."

"Sounds fun, baby." He chuckled, "can't wait to go with you."

They sat there eating their fast food dinner, dressed as fancy as fancy can get. Harry's new playlist for YN playing in soft volume in the background.

"You alright now, lovie?" He enquired, "you want to talk about earlier?"

"I, I don't know what happened honestly." She stuttered, "I, I think I got a little, I, I think I was a bit claustrophobic in there. And uhhhh... the, the waitress was making me feel a little uneasy there."

Harry knew exactly what she was talking about. She got insecure there, he's well aware that the waitress was trying to flirt with him which he didn't not pay any mind to. He can also understand where YN is coming from on this.

"I'm glad you're feeling better now." He started, "and I didn't pay her a mind darling, if that's what you're trying to say. I know she was trying to flirt and all but I had and still have my eyes for you and you only. I hope I'm not assuming anything out of line here."

"No, no, you're not." She shook her head and took in a deep breath of relief. It felt like a weight being lifted off her shoulders. "You know it felt so good to finally be able to talk my feelings out and have someone understand me!"

"What about your therapy baby? Are you going anymore?" He got confused a little.

"I'm yet to find a therapist I can really talk to. I feel so judged, which is not right, right?" She looked and sounded very frustrated.

"Mhmm it's not right." He nodded, "do you feel like you can talk to me about anything which is bothering you?"

"Mhmm." She nodded, "I do."

"Then you know you can share anything and everything with me, baby. You know I want to be there for you. Whilst I can't offer you any professional help but you can still talk your heart out to me, hopefully talking helps you. I promise, and you know I'll listen to every word you say. Until you find a therapist who works with you, you can talk it out to me, yeah? If not we'll figure something or other out." His assuring words sure made her emotional there.

"I love you so much Harry!" YN leaned over the centre console to hug him tightly. "So much!"

"I love you so much too baby!" He reciprocated with a returning hug.

N O T E :

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Okay, I cried writing this.

I hope you liked reading this. Reviews are appreciated here, and they mean a lot to me. And pls leave a vote that helps me know that y'all are enjoying my work and I should continue.

......................................................................

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callsign-bunnie · 8 months

Text

Old Habits Die Hard

Ghost is discharged from the SAS after a pretty severe suicide attempt. Now he's forced to live life as a civilian which is... pretty fucking boring. Hence why he jumps at the opportunity to beat the shit out of two punks who come in the rob the store. However, when it turns out they're part of an actual gang who has decided he needs to die... well, things get a hell of a lot less boring. Oh yeah, and he needs to talk to Soap, apparently.

Tap.

Price would have had a fit if he saw the habit that Ghost had picked up. Well, less a fit. Would have told him to knock it the fuck off, but… Well, fuck that old man. He’s the one who put Ghost in this stupid fucking position and Ghost had to cope somehow.

Ghost went back to tapping his fingers on the glass of the cigarette counter, grateful but bored with the lack of customers at the drugstore he now worked at. Why did he work at a drugstore? His stipend didn’t cover rent anywhere in his Province and he didn’t really want to go anywhere else. Plus, a job would “give him something to do”, according to Alex, who was the only fucker he still talked to.

Well, that was a lie. Okay, really, he just didn’t talk to Soap, Price, and Gaz. The latter because he didn’t talk to Ghost and… well, Soap and Price had both advocated for his discharge. Maybe he was being petty with being mad at them. Maybe he did need to be discharged but… well maybe Ghost wasn’t one to forgive easy. Not yet. One day, he would. But… Not yet.

Actually, working where he did wasn’t too bad. His boss was gone most of the time and there really weren't too many customers, so he was mostly left alone. Thankfully, too, because he’d rather be bored than dealing with people.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and for a moment he considered just ignoring it but… no. He got it out, unsurprised to see Unknown Caller. Alex. He had to use secure phones to make sure no one could track him using their phone calls.

Sighing softly, he answered the phone, leaning against the counter. “Alex.”

“ Hey, man! It’s been a couple weeks since we talked. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” Ghost lied. He knew Alex would know it was a lie, but he never called him on it. Alejandro would say it was bullshit to Ghost’s face which… Ghost would reluctantly admit he appreciated it. Sometimes, he needed someone to take him at his word, sometimes he needed someone to call him out.

Now, he really didn’t want anyone to call him out. “How are you?” He asked, genuinely caring about the answer. Alex and Alejandro had become Ghost’s only friends. So, he wanted to know how they were doing.

“ Good! Really good. I uh… got to see Gaz, again. He and Price were out here helping Farah find me when I had, you know, gone missing again. They just left.”

Ghost barely resisted teasing him about Gaz. “That’s good. I’m glad they still help you.”

“ Have you uh… talked to Soap, lately?”

Ghost just snorted and then sighed. “I’ll talk to Mactavish one day, but… not for now, no. I tried.” Once. “All he did was apologize.”

“ He does feel bad.”

“Did you call me just to convince me to talk to him?”

“... maybe. I may have promised Gaz that I’d try to talk to you. Soap is, apparently, really torn up about it. Price sent him to Las Almas while he and Gaz were helping us so Alejandro and Rodolfo could babysit him. ”

Ghost wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t feel bad. But… when Soap had agreed and pushed for Ghost to be discharged… Ghost had felt betrayed. Soap had claimed it was for Ghost’s own good, but Ghost had, only a week before, confided in Soap and told him how badly he needed the military to stay sane. How he had nowhere else to go if he wasn’t there.

“ Ghost. You almost fucking killed yourself because of a PTSD episode. ”

“I didn’t even say anything.” Ghost defended. Hey, he hadn’t said it wasn’t justified. It just… made him feel betrayed.

Alex sighed. “ You don’t need to, Ghost. I know how you are. We’ve been friends for a while now. Since Verdansk. ” Honestly, even before Verdansk. They’d worked a few missions before, though Ghost had been freshly traumatized and hadn’t wanted to admit he still needed friends.

Ghost grumbled under his breath before just sighing. “You’re right.” He admitted. One thing he’d been working on was not sabotaging his friendships. “Thanks for calling, Alex.”

“ Of course, Ghost. You’re my friend, I want you to be okay. Just… look, the old man says you don’t have to talk to him, but… talk to Soap. At least tell him you’re not mad at him.”

Ghost huffed. “I am mad-”

“ Lie! ” Alex almost sounded like he was snapping at Ghost, but Ghost knew what Alex snapping sounded like. “ Lie, like everyone does to make you feel better. ”

“Ouch. Low blow.” Ghost mumbled, just hearing Alex hum in response. “Alright, alright. I’ll… think about it.”

“ I guess that’s really the best I can ask for. ”

“It is.” Ghost agreed and then frowned when he heard the bell for the door chime. “I have to go. Bye.”

“ Alright. Talk to Soap! Bye. ” Alex hung up and Ghost shoved his phone back in his pocket, shaking his head.

He really did appreciate him, even if his correct advice irritated Ghost sometimes. Ghost went back to tapping on the glass of the cigarette counter, watching some young teenager walk around the store. He didn’t look like a delinquent, so Ghost didn’t bother to keep that close of an eye on him.

He did, however, keep a very close eye on the two new customers that had walked in. Both were dressed in dark clothing with their hoods up and Ghost could see tattoos peeking out of their hoods, on their necks. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Wannabe gangsters who, if faced with even the slightest bit of actual organized crime, would likely end up pissing their trousers.

Snot nosed little prats, essentially.

God, he hoped they’d do it. He hoped they’d try to make a few hundred off of that store. Do it, please.

The first one to enter finally came up to the counter with some sodas and a few candy bars. A bag of Malteasers, too. Ghost, occasionally continuing to glance to the other two, rang up the items, unable to help noticing how the kid shrank away from him. “What’s your name?” Ghost asked, though he didn’t honestly care.

“Dean…” The kid answered, avoiding Ghost’s eyes. “I just got off school.”

Ghost had been like that, once. Felt the need to over explain so no one would think he was trying to cause trouble. He’d more than outgrown that, since he couldn’t care less what anyone thought he was doing.

He continued to ring up the items, about to tell him the total, when one of the two delinquents came up to the counter. “Hey, my mate needs help.” They said, not at all looking urgent. Ghost noted that they had a tattoo that looked like a dragon coiled in a spiral. He kind of liked it, actually. May get something similar.

“I’ll help in a moment.” Ghost said, trying not to roll his eyes. His boss had mentioned him being nicer to the customers, so he decided to make an effort. “Let me finish ringing this customer up.”

“No, he needs help, now .” A gun was pulled and pointed directly at Ghost. Ghost, however, just stared down the barrel.

The kid immediately backed up, but the gun moved and pointed at him instead. “Don’t fucking move, or I’ll blast your head off.”

Ghost felt giddy. He felt excited. “Let him go-” He stopped and raised his hands as the gun moved to be pointed at him, instead, and he sighed. “Look, I’ll comply with whatever you ask. I’ll empty the till, hell I’ll get in the safe, just let the kid go.”

“You’ll comply with whatever I ask, regardless,” The delinquent all but growled, shoving the barrel of the gun into Ghost’s shoulder, “but uh… fine. The kid can go.” He gestured and Ghost handed the kid his bag, before the kid immediately ran off.

“Ethan!” The other called, coming up to the counter right as the kid was running off. “Why the fuck did you do that?! He’s seen our faces!”

“Yeah, as if that will matter. He’s a kid, he probably forgot.” Ethan muttered and then shook his head. “Alright, old man, open the till.”

Ghost had to resist grabbing the delinquent's face and slamming it into the glass counter, just turning and putting his keycode in to open the register. He had to fight not to get over excited and just beating the shit out of them. He was fairly certain that gun wasn’t loaded, but smart enough to avoid risking it.

He took his time, however, watching them eye him as he got out the bills and laid them on the counter. “Your bracelet,” The unnamed one said. “I like it, I want it.”

“Too fucking bad.” Ghost refused to give them that. Maybe he was mad at Soap, but it’d been a gift. One he deeply appreciated and didn’t want to lose.

“Give him the fucking bracelet!” Ethan cursed and pointed the gun right at Ghost’s head, shaking it as if to punctuate his point.

Ghost stared down the barrel, knowing exactly what type of gun it was. .22, no modifications. Of course not, why would it have any? Ghost leaned forward and put his forehead on the gun. “Do it. Because you’re not getting that bracelet.”

Ethan looked in his eyes and for a moment, Ghost thought he saw his finger tighten around the trigger, but then he saw it. Hesitation. He didn’t want to kill anyone.

Ghost immediately took advantage of that, reaching up and yanking the gun out of Ethan’s hand, moving his head to the side as the movement caused Ethan to flinch and pull the trigger. Glancing behind himself, he saw a bullet hole in the wall. So it was loaded.

Huh.

He released the magazine, seeing it indeed was loaded and just dropped it, shaking his head and slamming the gun onto the counter. “Idiots.”

“Who are you?” The unnamed one immediately asked, his eyes widened.

“A ghost.” Ghost simply answered before reaching over, grabbing the back of his head, and slamming his face into the counter, grateful when it didn’t break. He then used his elbow to hit Ethan full force in the face, leaping over the counter as Ethan stumbled.

He took said bracelet, which was a very thick steel chained bracelet, and slid it up and over his hand, wrapping his arm around the unnamed one’s neck and starting to slam the side of his now chain wrapped fist into the unnamed one's face after maneuvering so he could.

However, before he could do any real damage, something was slamming into his side, sending him into a shelf, causing it to topple over with him on top of it. The air was knocked out of his lungs and he coughed, slowly rolling over so he could push himself to stand back up.

“Are you okay?” He heard Ethan ask the other and he glanced back, seeing Ethan was touching the other’s nose. “Dan, are you okay?”

“Oh, piss off. Let’s just fuck this asshole up and go. Fuck the cash.” Dan’s nose was bleeding heavily and it dripped down his face and his neck. He looked pissed, but Ghost didn’t fucking care, finishing rising to his feet and rolling his shoulders.

He watched Dan and Ethan both prepare themselves, before Dan was running at Ghost, who punched him as soon as he got close and shoved him to the side, catching Ethan mid air as he launched at Ghost and using the momentum to send him into the shelf he’d just shoved Ghost into.

Dan was up almost immediately, and he grabbed a bottle of something, a glass bottle, and hit it over Ghost’s head, which disoriented him. But only for a moment, as he immediately punched Dan again.

He grabbed Dan’s arm and was halfway to snapping his elbow when Ethan launched at him, again. Christ, he only had one move, but it was effective that time as Ghost toppled over, Ethan on top of him.

Impact after impact hit Ghost’s face, only making him angry and he felt beside him, throwing up his arm to block the punches before his hand was wrapping around a broken piece of glass and he slashed up, cutting across Ethan’s face.

Ethan flinched and Ghost used that to his advantage, shoving him off and standing before cursing as something sharp stabbed into his side, jerking back and feeling his side where a knife now stuck out of it.

He looked at the knife and then made eye contact with Dan, who was watching him with his eyes wide, as he yanked the knife out of his side. Ghost couldn’t help laughing, since they looked so terrified. Good.

Maybe Alex had a point about him being a bit edgy. Regardless, Ghost flipped the knife so he was holding it correctly and stepped forward, slashing across Dan’s face and giving him a matching cut to Ethan’s.

He then kicked Dan in the stomach, sending him flying back, and he elbowed Ethan before Ethan could even really do anything, before grabbing his shoulder and shoving him so he landed on top of Dan.

He went over to Ethan, kicking him off of Dan, and grabbed Dan’s collar, using the hand who held the knife to pull his face mask down and spit out blood to the side. “I won’t fault you two idiots for picking the wrong fucking shop to sack, but if I ever see your faces again, I’ll fucking kill you.”

Dan’s eye was already swollen and he just quickly nodded, so Ghost dropped him. “Get the fuck out of my shop.” Ghost growled and they both were immediately up and practically sprinting out of the store, tripping over themselves in their attempt to get out.

Finally, the pain slammed into Ghost and he cursed loudly, looking down at where blood was now staining his black hoodie. Bastards. He shook his head and then cursed again as his phone rang, shaking his head.

Jason showed on the caller ID and Ghost rolled his eyes, knowing he needed to answer or Jason would refuse to give him what he needed. So, he did. “Jason.”

“ Bloody hell, you sound even more irritated than normal.”

“What do you want?” Ghost spit out more blood and put the phone between his cheek and shoulder, going to the shelf and lifting it so it was back upright, glad to see none of the shelves looked bent.

Jason chuckled, softly, which just irritated Ghost more. “ Am I still coming by, after your shift, to give you that shit?”

“It’d be nice.” Ghost grunted, putting all of the snacks back on the shelf, though he didn’t do it very neatly. Fuck that. He noticed that most of the money was still on the counter, so he shrugged and went to it, putting it all back in the till.

“ See you then. ”

“Wait. Grab a first aid kit.”

“... Why?”

Ghost resisted growling in pain, having had to walk through Jason cauterizing the stab wound, since it was in too odd of an angle for Ghost to do it himself. “Christ, Simon. How did you manage this?”

“Two idiots sacked the shop.” Ghost muttered, gritting his teeth as Jason cleaned the fresh burn before finally bandaging it. “I defended it.”

“You could have just rang the police.” Jason rolled his eyes.

Ghost shrugged and rolled his shirt back down, only having raised enough of it for Jason to bandage him. “Did you bring my shit?”

“Your shit?? You haven’t even paid me, yet. You’re lucky I’m bringing it at all, since it’ll practically take a fortnight for you to pay me for it.”

“You still bring it.” Ghost reminded, taking a paper bag as it was handed to him. Self medicating, another cope with the perpetual boredness.

“You’re welcome.” Jason grumbled before hopping up and sitting on the wooden pallets beside Ghost, getting out a cigarette and lighting it. Ghost took it before he could start to smoke it and Jason just sighed and lit another. “You’re a prick.”

Ghost grunted in response, lifting his mask to take a long drag from the cigarette and watching some stray cats run across the street. “There was a kid there. Before they started to rob the store. He looked scared shitless.”

“Yeah, no wonder.” Jason agreed and then sighed. “Well, did you get all of the aggression out of your system?”

“Sure.” Ghost lied. No, no he hadn’t. He probably never would. Knocking punching bags down from the ceiling didn’t help, and neither had this. “Feel better.” That wasn’t a complete lie, he did feel… almost lighter.

“I saw that sergeant the other day. The one you guys call Soap? Asked me about you.”

“What did you say?” Ghost asked, though he honestly doubted Jason had said anything. Jason hardly knew anything.

Jason went quiet before sighing. “Just told him the truth. You hardly talk to me, either. All he really did was ask how you are, anyway. Mentioned worrying you’d do something drastic to yourself.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I will.” Ghost shrugged, again. “Maybe I’ll jump off a bridge or-”

“Don’t joke like that.” Jason sighed, sounding exhausted. “Simon, you’d do it. We all know you would.”

Ghost went silent and continued to watch the cats. “Maybe.” He finally said before taking another drag from the cigarette and shaking his hand out as it started to hurt, again. “You can tell him where I work if he comes to you, again.”

Jason simply nodded, Ghost could see it out of the corner of his eye, and Ghost finished off his cigarette before stomping it out and discarding the butt of it. “Thanks for my shit. I’ll get you the money later.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jason just snorted before getting up as well. However, before he even really got a distance away, he glanced back before turning around. “That kid. Did you make them let him go?”

Ghost sighed but nodded. “I did.” He knew what Jason’s next question would be.

“Why?”

Hesitantly, Ghost looked at Jason before sighing again and shaking his head. “He reminded me of Tommy.”

Jason’s eyes immediately moved away from Ghost and he turned back around. “Try to get some sleep, Ghost.” He mumbled before finally heading off.

Ghost furrowed his brows for a few small moments before shaking it off and heading back to his flat, which was… empty. It was an open floor plan and Alex and Alejandro had both came and helped him move in.

Entirely independent of each other, too, apparently.

Rodolfo had been there, though he’d mostly just sat with Ghost while Alex and Alejandro did most of the work and then he’d used Ghost’s kitchen to cook a decently sized dinner. If they hadn’t done that, Ghost was fairly positive he’d have killed himself.

Ghost shook his head and pulled off his clothing before falling into bed. He kept the curtains closed and no one ever came by, so he was comfortable enough to show his body. “Show” being used lightly, since again. No one was seeing it.

He’d let Soap see it… once…

For weeks afterward, Ghost had considered that shower to be one of the better moments of his life. It had been after they’d gotten trapped in Las Almas and Rodolfo had told them to shower and clean up before heading out.

There’d been a lot of feelings that Ghost was maybe not ready to confront, and maybe he still wasn’t ready. No, he definitely wasn’t ready now. But, Ghost had hardly even thought about it when Soap had asked him to join.

That was a lie, he’d thought very hard about it. His hands had shaken the entire time as Soap had helped him discard his clothing, but Soap hadn’t said a word. Just smiled as he washed Simon’s hair. Not Ghost’s, Simon’s hair.

Asked if he bleached it, which Simon had nodded and said he did. I’m naturally a ginger. But, hard to keep it well taken care of under the mask. So, I bleach it. Considered shaving it all off a few times.

Don’t you dare, LT.

No. Don’t call me that right now. Just… Just use Simon. That’s who I am.

Alright… Simon.

Ghost rolled onto his back and shook his head. Even now, he didn’t feel like Simon. Simon had been a weak tether… He knew people probably considered Simon the weak scared little Sergeant that Ghost kept locked away, but Simon wasn’t afraid to show his face.

Simon didn’t need the military, Ghost did.

Simon had slept around and laughed at dumbass jokes from pretty Sergeants with a bit too much confidence. Simon purred when fingers ran through hair as Soap dripped down his skin. Simon loved and could be loved.

Ghost wasn’t that. Ghost was broken and harsh and liked beating the shit out of people who annoyed him. Ghost growled at everything and tore skin.

Simon would have forgiven Johnny. Simon would have smiled and touched his face as he forgave him. Said he knew Johnny meant no harm by it.

Ghost couldn’t forgive. He’d lost that ability. He’d lost it when he was angry, digging himself out of a grave he had no right to be in. When all he had wanted to do was burn the world to the ground and settled on systematically ending every single person who had ever participated in his torture, who had ever hurt him.

All Ghost knew how to do, anymore, was be angry.

“I am begging you to go fuck yourself.” Ghost cursed into the phone, trying very hard to multitask while he bought a meager amount of groceries for the week. Alex was, again, doing his best to convince Ghost to… live. Or something.

“ Ghost, don’t be like that. When was the last time you… went to the gym or something?”

Actually, Ghost went fairly frequently. It was the only thing that kept the overwhelming anger at bay, sometimes. “Yesterday.”

“ Of course you go to the gym but do nothing else. ”

“I feel like this was a trap question.” Ghost huffed, tossing his items onto the belt. He just pointed at the paper bags before the cashier could ask and turned around, touching his forehead. “I am living. I’m still here.”

“ No. You’re surviving, that’s different. Farah has said she can get a helo to pick you up and you can come here for a few days.”

Actually… that didn’t sound too awful. Ghost considered it.

“ She has ulterior motives, of course. You could help her get rid of a few thorns…”

It was so incredibly tempting, but Ghost knew Alex. He gave an inch and Alex would immediately take a mile, because he knew he could get away with it and Ghost would barely fight him. “I don’t think Price will be happy with that.”

“ Fuck the old man, I’m worried about you. ”

“I can’t.” Ghost nodded to the cashier when they gestured to the card reader, getting out his card. “I think I’m getting used to civilian life.”

“ Yeah, that’s what worries me. Alright, Ghost, just… fuck, man, just talk to someone.”

Ghost just laughed. He said his goodbyes to Alex before shoving the phone back in his pocket, taking his bags and the receipt, pausing as he realized he recognized the cashier. “Dean?” He asked before he could really stop himself.

The cashier, or Dean, the kid from the shop, looked startled before his eyes went wide. “Oh! It’s you! You made them let me go.”

“Yeah.” Ghost frowned and then shook his head. He hoped the kid wouldn’t try to give him the whole “Thanks for saving my life” spiel. He didn’t honestly need or want it.

“I was, uh… Going to come by the shop, but… Well, since you’re here.” Dean got into his pocket before digging out a black box. “I remembered you had one on.”

Ghost tilted his head, hating how curious he immediately was. Okay, he could accept a gift as thanks. He took the box and opened it, seeing a thin silver bracelet, which kind of matched his other. “Thanks…” He said, kind of dumbly, and put the bracelet on, handing the box back. “It’s uh… nice.”

“My mum wants me to invite you to dinner as thanks-”

Ghost just laughed and took his bags. “Yeah, no thanks kid. Stay out of trouble.” He left before the kid could say anything else, not wanting to listen to any attempts to convince him. He was not interested in going to dinner with anyone as thanks for saving their life.

He shook his head as he left the store, shifting both paper bags to one arm so he could check his phone, pausing on the sidewalk for a moment. When he lifted his eyes, he met bright blue ones, and he backed up as he recognized them.

Of course he would, he’d recognize them anywhere.

Soap stood across the street, looking as startled as Ghost felt. Then, Soap started to cross the street, so Ghost turned and immediately started down the sidewalk, back to his flat, hoping if he entirely ignored Soap, that he might just go away.

“Ghost-” Soap called behind him, but Ghost just kept walking, ducking down an alley when he passed by a crowd, and ducking down behind a trash can, watching Soap rush past the opening of the alley.

Ghost rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning around and going out the other side of the alley, just taking the long way home.

He still wasn’t ready to confront Soap. Maybe he never would be.

Simon, I- It’s for your own good.

Ghost. It’s Ghost. That’s who I am.

I-

Goodbye, Soap.

His phone buzzed. He checked it, again shifting the bags, and saw it was his boss. I need you to work a late shift.

Yeah, sure. When?

Tomorrow night, until 2 in the morning.

Ghost sent a thumbs up. He didn’t really care about the money, but he also didn’t have anything better to do, so he’d just take the shift.

Really, it’d just be cutting into his “get high and mope” time.

God, the great and legendary Ghost, who the mere thought of had had people shaking, had had them terrified. Recruits watched him with awe. Hell, people would whisper his name even when they were countries apart because they were terrified of invoking his wrath.

And every night between 11 and 3, he would get absurdly fucking high and desperately fight to be able to produce just one fucking tear.

How the mighty fall.

Ghost shook it off and finally made it to his apartment, going up to his door, and then immediately turning around as he heard footsteps approach, growling in frustration as he saw Soap. “Fuck, you’re stubborn.”

“You used to like that about me.” Soap answered before putting his hands up. “I just want to talk, Ghost.”

“I don’t.” Ghost muttered, unlocking his door and going inside. “I don’t ever want to.”

“Ghost, please…” Soap pleaded, putting his hand on the door before Ghost could shut it. Ghost had enough strength he could just slam it, anyway, but… he didn’t and just looked away from Soap. “Ghost…”

“Fine.” Ghost rolled his eyes and backed away from the door, gesturing for Soap to come in. He shut the door behind him and Ghost went to go put his groceries away. “What do you want?”

“To talk, like I said.”

“Fine. What about?”

“I… I’m sorry-”

“No.” Ghost shook his head. “I do not want to hear your apologies, I do not forgive you. So…” He waved his hand a little. “Pick something else.” He looked up, seeing Soap looked almost startled.

Soap almost looked unsure what else to do and his eyes moved to look around the apartment. “It’s… nice.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ghost shook his head, again, and wondered if people could hear his brain rattle when he did that. “Alex and Alejandro helped me set it up.”

“I like it.” Soap moved and sat at a small kitchen table that Ghost had. Reluctantly, Ghost moved and sat across from him, watching Soap think. He was very expressive when he thought, his eyes would shift around, his jaw would clench and unclench, his hands would flex. “I missed you.”

“Did you?” Ghost asked, leaning back in his chair. “You wouldn’t have to if you didn’t… you know, sign off that you thought I needed to be discharged.”

Soap flinched and Ghost almost felt bad. Almost. “Ghost… I’m sorry. ”

“If it happened again, would you do it again?”

Soap didn’t answer before he was nodding. “I would.”

“Then you’re not sorry. Sorry is a synonym for remorseful.” Ghost got up and went to a bookshelf he had, getting out a dictionary. “Remorse, defined as deep regret or guilt for a wrong committed. You don’t think you were wrong and I doubt you regret it.” He moved and dropped the book on the table, watching Soap jump again. “So, you’re not sorry.”

Soap watched him, his eyes wide, and Ghost went to his bed, dropping onto it and covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m done entertaining guests. Goodbye, Soap.”

“Ghost-”

“ Goodbye , Soap.” Ghost reiterated. He peeked out from under his arm when he heard Soap move, and Soap seemed to hesitate before getting up.

Soap, however, then picked up the dictionary, flipping through the pages. “Sorry. Define, feeling distress, especially through sympathy with someone else's misfortune. So, I am sorry.” Soap sighed and then put the dictionary down.

“Goodbye, Soap.”

Soap looked at Ghost before his shoulders dropped and he nodded. “Alright. Goodbye, Ghost.” Then, Soap left, and Ghost rolled onto his stomach, glaring at a wall.

Fuck Soap.

He didn’t get much time to wallow, though. God, it was like everyone had some sort of bullshit sensor that sensed when Ghost wanted to be fucking left alone. Jason.

Groaning, he grabbed his phone and put it to his ear. “What?”

“ Don’t snap at me. I’ll stop giving you that shit. Anyway, one of those guys that robbed you… did they have a dragon tattoo?”

Ghost had to think about it before frowning. “Yeah… one of those punks, Ethan, did. It was coiled in a spiral.”

“ Fuck! Look, they’re part of a real gang… And they’re angry. They want to kill you.”

“Let them try.” Ghost put his phone between his cheek and ear, sitting up and grabbing his laptop. “What are they even going to do? I’ve wiped out worse than gangs.”

“ Yeah, when you had John Price and the fucking British military behind your ass. You just barely even have yourself! What are you going to do if 30-40 gang members come after you?”

Ghost chuckled. Jason didn’t really know about Roba or his cartel. He didn’t know what Ghost had done. “I can handle it.”

“ Simon. Please.”

“I’m not going to get killed, Jason. I’ll be fine.” Ghost sighed and picked up his phone again, putting it on speaker. “What’s the gang’s name?”

“ Why would I tell you?! You’re just going to do something stupid!! Simon, please just lay low.”

“I’m not going to do that.” Ghost shook his head, laying back in the bed. “If they want to kill me, they can take their best shot.”

“ I’ll call Price. ”

“You don’t have his number.”

“ Simon, please.”

Ghost sighed and closed his eyes. “Fine. I won’t… seek them out. But I’m not laying low. I’ll just continue life as normal and then… if they come for me, I’ll defend myself. Anyway, I have to go to bed, so…” He pulled away his phone to hang up.

“ Simon, Simon!”

Ghost hung up, anyway, and sighed softly. He searched the internet for the spiraled dragon tattoo, but after about twenty minutes of searching, he’d found only a tattoo shop that had a neck tattoo with the same coiled dragon.

Open all night. Perfect.

So, he got back up, grabbed his keys again as well as his phone and wallet and headed down the stairs. The tattoo shop was one he sort of knew. Rather, he knew of, as a couple of Jason’s mates had gotten tattoos there. But, he’d never personally been.

When he got there, he rolled his shoulders before going in, trying to look as big and imposing as possible. He went up to the counter, where a man sat, looking bored. He could hear the buzzing of tattoo needles as he walked, the murmuring of artists making chit chat with their clients.

It was surprisingly busy, considering it was close to 1:30 AM. However, he ignored that, tapping on the counter when he got up there, watching the man look at him. Ghost looked on the wall and got down the coiled dragon tattoo.

“Sorry, mate, we don’t do repeat tattoos. You thinking of something similar?” He asked, and his shirt said Michael. So, that’s what Ghost decided to call him.

“No, Michael, I am not.” Ghost laid the photo out on the counter, tapping it. “I want to know who got that tattoo and what gang they belong to.”

Michael looked at him and then he chuckled, whistling. Ghost raised an eyebrow and looked around, seeing that most of the artists had stopped tattooing, now looking at him. His eyes did pick up a few weapons here and there.

So, he sighed, straightened, and rolled his shoulders. “I’m not afraid of a fight.” He informed Michael, who laughed. “I just want to know.”

Michael shook his head. “Are you afraid of death? Maybe you ought to turn back around and leave. Nice and easy like, yes?”

Ghost narrowed his eyes and he slammed his hands on the glass counter, leaning in real close to Michael. “My name is Simon Riley. No, I’m not afraid of death, however you very much should be because if you don’t give me the information I want, that pen,” he gestured to a pen very close to his hand, “is going to lodge directly into your trachea.”

Michael squinted and looked about ready to fire off before one of the older artists came over, his face pale. “Did you say… Simon Riley?”

Ghost straightened and frowned, turning to the old man. “I did.” He nodded, glancing over the others and seeing a few other confused faces.

The old man immediately shoved his weapon, a pole, into Ghost’s hands and backed up, putting his hands up. “I… I… I want no hand in fighting phantoms.” He turned and rushed to what looked like the back and Ghost raised an eyebrow as he heard a couple locks click.

He turned back to Michael, who now looked very apprehensive and concerned. “Let me try this again-”

He barely had to finish the threat as Michael was immediately spilling everything, complete with pictures and a home address. Ghost laughed victoriously as he exited the tattoo shop, shaking his head. No hand in fighting phantoms. He liked that one.

Ethan Kurt… Ethan had shoved his hand into fighting the wrong phantom.

No, that line sucked.

Tap.

Ghost was so fucking bored. With the threat of being attacked being supposed to be hanging over his head, this was dull. He was starting to think Jason was entirely full of shit, but… he decided he would remain vigilant regardless.

Oh well.

Tap.

Was it really still only 11:00PM? Granted, he only had three hours left but… fuck. Maybe after this, he would call Alex. He knew it would shock the hell out of him, maybe that’d be hilarious. Listen to him stammer and try not to say anything about it.

No, because then he’d feel bad and feel like a bad friend and that was bullshit. Ghost didn’t want to be pathetic, wondering if he was a “bad friend.” He was a horrible friend, probably one of the worst, he knew that. He was a grown, almost 30 year old man. Of course he knew that.

Of course.

Tap.

Lights.

Ghost perked up, seeing what looked like flashlights shining around outside. He ducked down just a little, going to the side window and peeking out, seeing a group of people start to go around to the outside of the building. He could make out 4 which…

If this was the gang supposedly attacking him, he would barely have to do anything. Knock some heads together, break some limbs, done. That was… almost disappointing.

He returned back to the counter and decided to play nonchalant, sitting on a stool and getting out his phone to play on it. Actually, he’d found some pretty interesting phone games. Card games, those match three games. Some military games which he liked to critique and laugh at.

They were good to pass the time with and usually didn’t require much thinking, so he kept them around. Currently, he was playing a word game with Rodolfo. Both actually had a fairly high vocabulary in American English, all points considering, so it could get fun. Rodolfo had actually switched the game’s language to Spanish a few times to help Ghost practice.

However, he didn’t go easy on him or help, either, so Ghost lost at an… honestly embarrassing ratio. Alejandro had just told him to take it in stride, that Rodolfo doesn’t really think of those things. Which… Ghost knew that. He knew Rodolfo was similar to him. Sure, he could blame most of it on the trauma but… some of it was genetic. He knew that. Rodolfo was the same.

Besides, it had helped a little. Just a little.

Actually, he missed Alejandro and Rodolfo. He’d never say it to their faces, but it’d been a while since he saw them. It was nearing Christmas, so he knew they’d be taking their forced leave. He also knew if he even hinted at the idea, Alejandro would have a helo down the next day. So, maybe he could go for a couple days. He’d love Rodolfo’s cooking again, and going to bars with Alejandro sounded really nice.

God, fuck, Alex was rubbing off on him or something. What was this… hope?? Disgusting.

Ghost immediately shook it off, just playing a random word against Rudy, laughing softly when he saw two little ?? back because Ghost usually played big words that had Rodolfo cussing him out. Then, he stuck his phone back in his pocket, hearing the bell of the door chime.

He stood, going back to the register, before raising an eyebrow as he didn’t see anyone there. Hmm, he knew the obvious answer would be that they’d changed their mind and left, but… Ghost didn’t trust like that.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he realized that he was being taunted. Lured. They wanted him to go outside. Carefully, he felt under the counter where he’d stuck a shotgun, as well as several shells, and then he leaned against the counter, waiting. He wasn’t prey, and he wanted them to know that.

Ghost checked the time, seeing it was now midnight, and he took a breath, reluctantly leaving the counter to check everything he’d set up. The back door had a nailbomb set just right for when it was opened, the side door had a packet of noisemakers so he’d hear if it opened.

And, the front door had a bell. Everything else was in a duffel bag behind the counter. He would… admit that he may have had small kleptomanic tendencies and had maybe stolen a few things when he was being discharged.

Obviously things like semtex and frags would not be good to use in the store, but hey, flashes and stuns were free game. No, he didn’t care if he ended up blinding a few punks, he had plans to do more than blind them.

And then all of his copious amounts of knives. So many knives.

Tap.

More lights. It seemed they had noticed he wasn’t biting the bait, as several of the lights had started to surround the small building. And finally, someone came in. Dan. He recognized him fairly easily, even though his hood was down now.

“Hello, old man.” Dan said, in a tone clearly meant to be taunting. He had a gun, something a bit heavier than the .22 they’d had before.

“I’m 30.” Ghost sighed, shaking his head. “I turned 30 last month.”

Dan paused, clearly started. “You’re only thirty?” He blinked before immediately shaking it off. “Whatever. You know why I’m here.”

“Maybe.” Ghost acknowledged, moving to sit on the stool again. “I’m confused why you decided you needed to bring… 30? 30 other prats with you.”

Dan glared at him, before shaking his head. “Nobody fucks with me and gets away with it.”

“I’m confused, mate, you tried to rob me.” Ghost laughed, crossing his arms. “You came into my work and had your mate put a gun to my head. Then you tried to rob me.”

“You could have just given us the money and we would have left!” Dan snapped. Ghost could see a bandage on his cheek, which appeared to be in need of changing. “So, now, we’re going to bloody kill you.”

“Sure.” Ghost laughed, nodding. “Go ahead. Take your best shot.” He hummed, standing and leaning against the counter. “Maybe you want to go and reconvene with your buddies. If you leave, I won’t do anything. I won’t seek you. I won’t hunt you down. But… if you stay, well… you’ve been warned.”

Dan’s glare only deepened. “You’re quite cocky.”

“I think I’ve earned it.” Ghost said. “Like I said. You have one chance.”

Dan appeared about to answer, likely to make some stupid quip, but then Ghost heard a small explosion from the back and some screaming, and he chuckled. “Too late.”

Dan stared behind Ghost into the back, clearly stunned, and Ghost ducked down, grabbing the shotgun and shooting at Dan. Dan was quick to duck out of the way, barely managing to be missed by any spray.

Then, Ghost was having to duck down to avoid gun spray, rummaging in the bag for a smoke and tossing it into the back, before grabbing a knife and ducking through the doorway. He followed the sound of coughing, able to make out five distinct individual coughs.

The first was fairly close to the doorway that led to the front of the store, so he swept their legs and slit their throat, not wasting time to look at their face or even really wait for them to die. He just shoved them directly in the path of another, who stumbled backwards over them.

They hit the ground rather hard and Ghost pounced on the opportunity, stabbing them through the eye and directly into their brain. He backed up as he noticed two figures come towards him, watching them stumble through the smoke.

One tripped on his friend’s body and they landed right on top of the pair, and Ghost could just make out their eyes widening, before he threw the knife through their temple. The second spotted him right as he did that, and he rolled to the side to avoid being shot, throwing the smoke canister at them.

It hit them square in the stomach and they doubled over, coughing, so Ghost lunged forward and yanked the gun out of their hands. He stuck it right into their chest and shot through, sending them backwards.

Footsteps.

He whipped around and shot who had just tried to sneak up on him through the head, right as the smoke started to clear. Rushing, he slid to shut the door before sprinting back out to the front, narrowly ducking in time to avoid being hit in the head by the butt of a gun.

He slammed the butt of his own gun into the person who tried to attack him, recognizing Ethan who hit the ground with a snarl. “Fuck.” Ghost growled. “It’s clear you don’t want to be doing this, why are you?”

Ethan paused, clearly surprised, and then he glared. “Dan’s like my brother. Wherever he goes, I go.”

“Say hello to him in hell, then, I guess.” Ghost muttered, and went to shoot him, before crying out in surprise as something tore through his side. He looked down at his side, seeing a gun shot wound.

Being smart, though, he still shot Ethan through the head, cursing, and ignoring yelling behind him. He ducked back through the doorway of the back, checking how many bullets were left in the magazine of his gun. Enough, but he didn’t really want to use it, anyway.

So, he tossed it to the side and yanked the knife out of that temple he’d thrown it through, patting the dead body and having to resist the knee jerk reaction to thank it. Instead, he crouched low and stayed close to the wall and the doorway, listening and hearing several footsteps near.

He could see his duffel bag just a small distance away and now he had to consider if it was worth diving for it to retrieve another smoke grenade, before ducking again as more gun spray came. He winced as he saw if he’d stayed where he was, several bullets would have landed directly in his body.

Bollocks.

He shook his head and stayed as low as possible, ducking through the doorway and sliding to his bag, very glad to see a flash was sitting at the top. Turning, he depinned and tossed it right in the middle of a group coming towards him, before covering his eyes.

When he opened them, he saw they were stumbling over themselves, which almost had him laughing softly, but he resisted and took a very small moment to check the wound on his side, cursing as he saw it was an all the way through gunshot.

However, the placement of it made him think that whoever shot him really didn’t know what they were doing.

He grabbed the shotgun, and turned, blasting the small group of four he’d flashed, before panting and peeking over the counter to see how many were in the store, glad to see that so far there was none.

Carefully inching to the group of four, he growled as he saw none of them were Dan. “Where’s Dan?” He asked one, which was wheezing and holding a hole in his stomach. He seemed to be hit with the majority of the blast.

“Fuck you.” They coughed, blood coming up with it. “They’re gonna fucking kill you.”

“I’ve gotten ten of you.” Ghost rolled his eyes, ignoring a pulse of pain from his side. He killed them with his knife, swiftly, and went to the next one, which was holding his leg. “Where’s Dan?”

“I’m not telling you-” He killed them, too. Fuck them.

Of course, the other two had to be just as stubborn, and they went just as fast. It seemed his enemies were reconvening, so he took the opportunity to as well, very shittily bandaging up his side. Another scar to add to the pile.

God, he was having so much fun. He felt like he was back on a mission, again, clearing out some enemy encampment. Adrenaline coursed through every vein in his body and he loved the feeling of it. He missed this so fucking much.

Carefully, he peeked over the counter again, frowning as he saw nothing. No lights, no people. Nothing… Well, he still saw the dead bodies, so he knew this wasn’t a case of him losing his mind. He narrowed his eyes and slowly stood, ready to duck down at the slightest hint of gun fire, but… he saw nothing.

Even still, he grabbed a smoke grenade out of the duffel bag, only having another flash and two stuns. He uh… hadn’t been able to grab much.

He also put new shells into the shotgun, keeping both close as he carefully inched out from behind the counter, peeking around the shelves and seeing that there was no one. Nothing. Considering, he ducked into the back, checking the security cameras.

Technically, he wasn’t supposed to have the code, but he could fucking care less. He watched the footage and saw… they were all gone. No one was around the building.

Had they gotten freaked out and left?? No… He seriously doubted that.

But if they hadn’t left, what the fuck was this? Did they plan to come back at a later day and try to surprise him? Maybe. That made the most sense. Whatever, he’d be ready. He did have to figure out how he’d explain the bullet holes and dead bodies but… eh, he doubted Price would let him take the fall for it.

Plus, he’d disappeared once, he could do it again.

So, he went out to the front, planning to drag each body to the back and stack them in a pile. A neat little pile. Then, he’d finish out his shift by mopping up all of the blood and go the fuck home.

Sleep sounded very nice, he wouldn’t lie. For once, it sounded fantastic.

So, once he’d made his little pile, he went back out to the front and grabbed the mop, starting to clean up the blood. Maybe if Price did take care of this, he’d go ahead and talk to Soap. This adrenaline had him feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Warm and fuzzy enough to consider trying to talk to Soap.

He didn’t hear the car in time.

Crash.

The impact sent him flying across the shop and he hit a shelf hard, the air knocked completely out of his lungs. He fell to the ground, coughing and rolling onto his back. Fuck, something was broken.

He had no hope of dragging himself to his feet, he was far too stunned, and he coughed again, closing his eyes, before opening them to someone crouching down and getting in his face. Dan sneered at him, “I outsmarted you.”

Ghost laughed, tasting blood, and he managed to reach up to yank down his mask and spit the blood on Dan’s face, seeing him splutter and jerk back. He then snarled and raised a fist to punch Ghost.

Ghost closed his eyes, preparing for the impact, but it never came. Instead, he felt weight land on his body, and when he opened his eyes, Dan was slumped over, a gaping hope splurting blood from his head.

Making a face, he shoved Dan off to the best of his ability, before someone was grabbing his hand and yanking him to his feet. “Dude. You just had to bring shit to yourself.”

Ghost immediately jerked to look at the person, recognizing Alex’s voice and his face immediately. “Alex?? Bloody hell, what the fuck are you doing here?” He didn’t think about it, limping forward and hugging his friend.

Alex was clearly shocked, but he hugged back and chuckled. “Your friend, Jason, called me. Apparently, he got one of my phone numbers from your phone. I think he thought he would be calling Price, but I came out all the same.”

Ghost would have been mad at Jason, but he was honestly glad to see Alex. “I had it on my own,” he joked, before wincing at a lot of pain in his sides. “Sort of.” He mumbled.

“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Alex snorted before nudging his head in the direction of the vehicle. Ghost looked over, recognizing Farah as she cleared out several more of the gang members, a young woman with her.

“I thought she didn’t leave Urzikstan.” Ghost frowned, raising an eyebrow as she and the young woman finally came over.

“I do not attack on the offense.” Farah stated, smiling as she came over. “But, I’m always willing to help out a friend if they need it.” She held out her hand and Ghost gladly shook it, before shaking his head. “Alex was going to come alone. This is Malika, my love.”

Malika smiled and also shook Ghost’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Alex and Farah have said a lot.”

Ghost took a breath before shaking his head. “I thought I had it.” He admitted, grunting. “I didn’t expect to be hit by a car.” The pain was almost overwhelming but… he’d again had worse. However, he did allow himself to pant a little. “Thank you.”

“Dude. What’s up with you? You’re never this sappy.” Alex joked and punched Ghost’s shoulder, before wincing as blue and red lights appeared, as well as sirens. “Fuck.”

“Get out of here.” Ghost said, gesturing to the back. “Alex, you’re still a traitor to the United States and I don’t think Farah will be treated too kindly.”

Alex appeared to hesitate before nodding. “I’ll find you tomorrow and we can talk, alright?”

“Alright.” Ghost nodded. He went to the cigarette case and got a box and a lighter, nodding a bye as all three left, almost as fast as they came, and he chuckled softly, going back to Dan’s dead body. “You still lost. Cheers, you slag.” He muttered, before standing and waiting to be arrested.

He didn’t fight his arrest, he didn’t fight being put into cuffs. When he was stuck at a table, he didn’t say anything, just wrestled a cigarette out of the box and pushed his mask up with both hands before fighting to light a cigarette one handed.

“You killed twenty people.” The officer stated. “Twenty gang members. They were heavily armed.”

“You know, that’s a good point. How did they even have weapons? Aren’t you guys supposed to be stopping that?” Ghost leaned back in his seat, blowing out the smoke he’d taken in.

The officer rolled her eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

Ghost took another long drag from the cigarette before slowly letting it out, seeing her phone ring. As she got it out, he chuckled. “I’m a ghost.”

She gave him a look before answering the phone. Within seconds, her face had paled, and he was let go hardly minutes later, with a half mumble to stay out of trouble.

He walked home with a grin on his face.

Alex had just left. While he was there, he and Ghost had discussed him going to Urzikstan, and Ghost had reluctantly promised to consider it. Already, he was thinking of just saying yes, disappearing to Urzikstan and running missions for Farah.

For now, though, he was sipping tea and eating lunch. Outside, too, at a little restaurant he knew and liked. He even hummed a bit as he ate, watching some birds fight over a piece of bread. What a fitting metaphor.

Soap came and sat in the chair across from him, at first silent. Ghost turned to look at him, sighing. “The charm of your tenacity has worn off, Johnny.”

“I think what I did for you will bring it back.” Soap chuckled. “After your… encounter, I talked to Price. I told him that I was wrong. I was stupid. I talked to Alex and Alejandro and both of them… agreed that you’ve been worse as a civilian. I even tracked down your friend, Jason. He uh… tore me a new one.”

“Oh?” Ghost had to admit, he was a bit shocked by that. “Over?”

“Agreeing with Price that you needed to be discharged.” Soap mumbled and then sighed. “So, I told Price that.. You’re just going to keep getting in trouble if you’re out here. He’s agreed to let you back into the SAS. He’s already pulling strings.”

Ghost blinked at Soap, quite surprised. “You’re bloody joking.”

“I wouldn’t joke about that, Ghost.” Soap winced. “He thinks you’re less of a problem in the SAS. In… the 141. He can keep an eye on you and you can’t end up antagonizing another gang.”

Ghost barely resisted exclaiming that they had tried to rob him, just sighing instead. “I don’t know. What if I have another episode again?” He snarked, feeling slightly bad when Soap winced.

“He’s prepared to deal with it.” Soap mumbled.

Ghost considered before shrugging. “I’ll think about it. I have a lot of offers, need to consider my options.”

Soap looked startled before laughing softly. “Alright. Consider it.”

Ghost hesitated before sighing. “Come back to my place… Johnny?”

Soap again looked startled and this time, he took a moment before relaxing.

“Of course, Simon.”

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bucketsofmonsters · 1 year

Text

Vows - Part 2

cw: consentual blood drinking, nightmares, accidental voyeurism, polyamory, more tags will be added as the story continues

male vampire x afab reader

Word count: ~5k

Vows Masterlist

You dreamed of vampires. You always did, ever since you were little and your father had told you all about them. About how they drained people, leaving them pale and cold. About how they liked to leave a little life left in their victims, to make them suffer, shivering on the street until all the light faded away.

You were running, breathless, from the killer behind you. Blood ran down his face, a face that kept flashing across your vision as your frantic footsteps echoed in your ears.

The world was shaking. Something was wrong. The pounding of your feet became unsteady as the ground beneath you swayed.

“Wake up, you’re alright.”

The words faded in as you registered someone gently shaking you awake.

Your eyes widened in fear, the terror of the nightmare lingering.

Rook sat beside you, concern written across his face.

“You were screaming,” he said softly, a worried crease forming between his brows.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Anything you want to talk about?”

Images of vampires and their victims flashed through your mind again and you shook your head.

The man sitting beside you was a far cry from those images. His gentle concern wasn’t helping anything.

“Do you need anything?” he asked and went to rest his hand on your arm in what you knew was meant to be a reassuring gesture.

You pulled away immediately, like his cold touch had burned you. “Not from you,” you snapped.

He drew back, not uttering another word as he exited your room.

You didn’t even have the energy to worry if you’d angered him.

More surprising than anything to you was the vampire you’d dreamed of. You’d been convinced Rook would fill that spot in your nightmares after you got here but he hadn’t.

You had mostly steadied your breathing by the time you heard a knock on your bedroom door.

“Yeah?” you asked, your training kicking in, the way your parents had drilled it into your brain to never say ‘come in’ without knowing who, or what, was on the other side of the door. Even in here, where it no longer mattered, you couldn’t shake the habit

Oliver peeked his head in, looking like he’d just been woken up, eyes still puffy from sleep.

“You okay? Can I come in?”

You nodded at him and he came in with a mug in either hand.

“Rook made them for you and sent me up. Seemed to think I would be more welcome as a delivery boy.”

“Did he.”

He nodded as he handed you a mug. “He’s worried that he frightens you.”

“He does frighten me. Is he kicking me out?”

“No! What? No one’s kicking you out. He’s just worried. We all are, to be honest.”

“Worried about me? I’m the only one having a sane reaction to all of this. You’re telling me that you came here, to this massive prison controlled by a monster, and you weren’t a little scared? Not of this place or of him or of anything?”

“This isn’t a prison.”

“Isn’t it? You don’t feel trapped here?”

“I feel safe here.

“You don’t ever want to leave?”

He shrugged. “Not right now. Someday I probably will, for a while. But I’ll always come back.”

“He’d let you do that? Just leave whenever you want to?”

“Of course, he does it all the time. We’re not the only ones who call this place home, you know. Petyr’s out traveling, he’s been having issues walking as he got older so Rook wanted to make sure he got the chance now and then stay here and adjust when it gets really bad. Beatris has been gone for a bit, her dad got sick and she left to take care of him. She still sends letters back all the time though. There’ve been more but… well, Rook’s lived a long time. I think that’s why you’re here. He doesn’t like this place being so empty. That’s why he let someone so… skittish stay.”

“So I’m not his type. Not bending to his will fast enough?”

Oliver lets out a good hearty laugh. “God no, I think he likes that part more than he probably should. You just seem scared of him. That’s the last thing he wants. I think it’s getting to him more than he wants to admit. That’s his own biggest fear, I think. Scaring people. He’d be so angry if he knew I told you that but I thought it might help destroy the image of the big scary vampire you’ve got in your head.”

“Well, then we both make each other scared. Fair’s fair.”

Oliver chucked. “Whatever you say. Well, I’ve done my duty, your hot chocolate has been delivered. You can do whatever you want but I’m going back to sleep.”

“Goodnight,” you called after him as he dashed out of the room back to his warm blankets.

You were less eager to fall asleep. You gave it a half-hearted try but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, instead opting to just stare at the wall for a few hours until the sun shone through the windows and lit up the room.

As you finally left your room, deeming it a more acceptable time to be awake, you almost tripped on a box sitting right outside your door. A ribbon was wrapped around it, tied into a perfect little bow.

You took it back inside, undoing the ribbon and tentatively opening the box.

You weren’t sure what you expected but it certainly wasn’t this. A pale blue dress was folded up inside. As you pulled it out of the box you noted it was a little shorter than what you were used to, barely going past your knees, but it was beautiful.

And you most certainly preferred it to the endless black and white of this place. You swapped your old black dress for your new blue one, feeling a little more at home in it.

It shouldn’t feel like you’d won a battle but somehow it did. You knew he didn’t like it, that anything that clashed with the perfect black and white of this place would irk him, and yet here you stood, in clothing that felt like yours.

You set out once again, this time with a mission.

You were set on thanking Rook, to rid yourself of the guilt that had started building up inside of you ever since this morning, ever since he started being so nice.

You wandered in and out of endless rooms trying to find him. Most of them were dusty and clearly haven’t been opened in years. You quickly started eliminating doors based on which had a thin layer of dust on the handle.

It still left you with altogether too many.

There was a room with a beautiful piano that you couldn’t help but press a few keys on. It was a little out of tune but still made lovely noises. It echoed perfectly through the room, like it was built to carry sound.

Another room has stacks and stacks of books. It wasn’t quite a library, although you were sure there was a library somewhere in this sprawling place. Instead, it just had stacks of books littered about the room. Other than that it was furnished with a fireplace, a few chairs, and dozens of blankets.

Eventually, you entered your final dustless room, coming face to face with the back of a familiar figure.

He was looking through his closet, positioned so he couldn’t see your form behind him, busy looking through the endless monochrome clothing.

“Good morning,” you said and he practically jumped out of his skin.

“Christ!” he exclaimed. “Do you ever knock?”

“There’s too many rooms in this place, if I knocked on every door I’d be a pile of bones before I ever found you.”

He laughed. “Was my tour not satisfactory?”

“Your tour where you refused to speak to me? Or was there another tour that you didn’t even bother inviting me to?”

He almost seemed like he winced before his face fell back to the familiar cold face you were becoming accustomed to, the one that it seemed Vivian and Oliver weren’t so familiar with.

“Perhaps that was a bit rude. You look nice, by the way.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. “Do you really believe that? Aren’t I horribly off theme?”

He shrugged. “You look more comfortable and that’s what matters. And it’s alright? It’s to your standards?”

You nodded. “Thank you. For this and for the hot cocoa.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just seemed like you might need it.”

“I think I did.”

“Anything else you need?”

You wished there was, some excuse so it wasn't so clear you'd just come in here to express your gratitude. You knew the whole house was his but this felt more like enemy territory than anywhere else you’d been.

You shook your head, refusing to meet his eye. “No, that’s all. I think I should go, let you get ready in peace.”

He watched you leave, some unplaceable emotion flashing across his face. You weren’t going to stick around long enough to figure out what it was.

As you descended the staircase you smelled something delicious, following the chocolate scent lingering in the air. You had nowhere else to be and some chocolate sounded great right about now.

You found the source of the scent in the kitchen. Vivian was hard at work, her hair tied back as she mixed what looked like another batch of brownies, a tray of them already sitting on the table.

“Good morning Vivian,” you said. You grabbed a brownie off of the plate and took a bite as you walked in. They were still warm and you turned to give her a compliment on her cooking.

Before you got the chance she snatched the brownie out of your hand. “Those are for Rook.”

You held up your hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Didn’t realize he couldn’t share.”

She just stared at you for a moment, wincing a little and your face paled. “Wait, he can’t eat food.”

She shrugged. “He can with some modifications.”

You shuddered, the urge to go throw up the bite you’d taken overwhelming. It was a miracle you were able to resist it but the food still sat heavy in your stomach.

“Right. Don’t eat food without asking. Got it.”

“I’m so sorry, I should have warned you faster.”

You brushed her off. “No really, I’m fine, it’s not your fault. A little blood won’t kill me.”

You weren’t fine but there was no use telling her that and making her feel worse than she clearly already did.

Your hands were shoved nervously in your pockets, fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife. Not that you thought you might have to use it but it was becoming somewhat of a nervous habit.

Her face lit up as she noticed what you were doing. “Rook gave them to you too! I was the one who asked for pockets, I’m glad he’s putting them in all the dresses now.”

“Did you? I used to sew them into my skirts myself.”

“I wish I could’ve done that, I’m awful at sewing. This way I can pick up anything cool I find, it’s great.”

She reached inside her pocket and pulled out a handful of trinkets. Her hand opened to reveal a couple of buttons, a coin that you’d never seen used before, a rock with a pinkish hue, and a dead iridescent beetle.

She looked incredibly proud of her little hoard, holding it like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

As sweet as she was, you needed some air, needed to be away from what you now knew were blood brownies.

“I’m gonna go for a walk, I hope Rook likes the brownies. All things considered, they were actually pretty good.”

“Thank you!” she said, beaming at you as you made your escape.

You wandered outside, circling the hedge maze but never setting foot inside. It still felt like a trap more than anything.

You managed to find a climbable tree and did your best to scale it, the shorter dress giving you far better mobility than what you were used to.

As you finally managed to sit securely on one of the branches and get a look at some of the winding paths of the maze, you didn’t find anything suspicious.

As much as you wanted to find something, it really did feel like Rook just wanted a hedge maze.

It would be nice if you could find something suspicious out here, in the sunshine where he couldn’t go. Instead, you headed back in, set on interrogating Rook some more.

The only problem was that you had to find him first.

He didn’t really need a maze, not with a house like this. You’d already tried and failed three times to find his room. Each time you opened the door with confidence and each time you were decidedly wrong.

When you finally did find his room you didn’t have time to celibrate.

Behind the freshly opened door was Rook sitting on the bed. But he wasn’t alone.

Leaning into him, covered in a blanket and not much else, was Vivian. His hand was tangled in her hair, slowly running his fingers through it before his head jerked up at your sudden intrusion.

You immediately slammed the door. No anger reared its head this time, cutting straight to the embarrassment and feelings of regret.

You weren’t exactly finding the intel that you’d been hoping for in your time here. There was functionally nothing for you to report back, unless they’d very suddenly become interested in Rook’s sex life.

You settled into a nearby couch, waiting patiently for the consequences of your second unexpected appearance to arrive.

About half an hour later you heard a door slam and prepared for the worst. Rook came storming at you and you waited to get yelled at. Honestly, you deserved it. Viv would be more than in her rights to tear you apart but you knew she wouldn’t do that so Rook would have to do.

“You,” he said, pointing an accusational finger in your face, “Will start knocking or I swear to god, I’ll put a bell on you.”

You did your best to repress a smile at that. “What, like a misbehaving cat who brought one too many dead birds inside?”

His stern demeanor didn’t last for long, chuckling at the comparison. “I will get you to stop hunting the birds one way or another.”

You smiled. “I would never hunt birds, for the record.”

“No, of course not. You act more like you’re hunting me and Viv.”

The joke was far closer to the truth than you were comfortable with.

He collapsed next to you on the couch at looked over at you. “What am I going to do with you?”

You shrugged. “I swear I’m never entering a room without knocking again, if that helps.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” he said with a smile and you were glad he wasn’t upset. You much preferred it this way.

“What were you doing with her,” you asked, thinking back to the scene you’d walked in on.

“Today or yesterday?”

“Today. I know what you were doing yesterday, pervert.”

He gasped in faux offense. “I am not a pervert. She was just keeping me warm.”

You buried your face in your hands, refusing to look at him or that smug look on his face.

Your hiding didn’t seem to deter him. “And today I was just doing aftercare. It’s important, you should never go without it in my humble opinion. Especially with all that they give me.”

“They? Not you?” you asked, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to grow tired of your apprehension and demand you give him what he was owed.

“You’ve hardly given me a smile, I think it’s a little early to be talking about aftercare and blood drinking, don’t you? Unless you’ve suddenly gotten very eager in which case…”

“No," you quickly responded. “I just thought, I don't know, that it would be expected of me.”

“We’re not expecting anything of you. Oliver told me what you asked. About me kicking you out and you feeling trapped here.”

“I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” you quickly said, doing damage control as best you could. “I was tired and frightened, that’s all.”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me. I just wanted you to know you don’t need to stay if you don't want to.”

“I told you, I have nowhere else to go,” you said, remembering your story and wondering if he might be trying to catch you in a lie. At least that was more comfortable to believe than the alternative.

“There’s an old gardener's cabin out behind the maze, you could always stay there. It’s much less comfortable but it’s an option if you’d rather not be here.”

You needed to stay here to gather intel. At least, that was what you kept telling yourself, doing your best to ignore the second reason. To ignore that little voice that had started piping up in the back of your head, one that was starting to like it here and that was fighting with the fear that lived inside of you.

“No. I’ll stay.”

“Alright. Well, the offer stands. If you ever need somewhere to escape to, it’s always there.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” It was a stupid question to ask but you had to ask it, there was no other option.

“You can think of me as a villain as much as you’d like, my dear, but I won’t play that part. I care for everyone here, even the ones who are scared of vampires."

“So that’s it, we’re your pets?”

He rested his hand on your arm and your breath caught in your chest. So little contact and yet you welcomed it, it felt reassuring in a way that you were absolutely certain it should not. “You’re so set on thinking the worst of me. You're my companions. This place is yours now just as much as it is mine. For better or for worse.”

“For better, I hope.”

You didn’t miss the long look he gave you, looking you up and down. You kept catching him doing that, inspecting you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

“So do I,” he muttered, and it was unclear if he was talking to you or himself.

As the day passed you began to understand why Rook so desperately wanted to fill this place with people.

Vampire hunting wasn’t nearly as thrilling as you’d imagined as a child. You’d spent the last few hours after your conversation milling about from room to room, migrating from couch to couch, muttering to yourself as you went.

You imagined what this place could be. It felt like thousands of people could live in this place easily, a whole village housed under a single roof. Honestly, you imagined Rook would like it that way, if only a village would agree to it.

The suffocating silence of the latest room you’d been just sitting around in, daydreaming, was broken by the door slamming open and Rook coming bounding inside. You fought back a smile at the sight of him and regretted to note that you’d begun to welcome his presence. You told yourself it was just the empty rooms getting to you.

The alternative wasn’t an option. You refused to even consider it.

He had a grin plastered across his face as he jogged up to you, too eager to do his usual dramatic walk with his tailcoat flapping dramatically behind him.

“I had an idea. We should have a safeword,” he practically shouted, despite the fact that he’d just plopped down next to you on the couch you’d been sitting on, passing the time. "Not in like, a sexual way, just to make you more comfortable."

You looked up at him, baffled, and leaned back, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why would I think it was in a sexual way.”

“They’re just usually… nevermind, don't worry about that. I just thought that whenever you’re feeling frightened or overwhelmed you could say red and I’ll leave you to calm down. No questions asked, I’ll never be offended by it. I just thought it might give you a better sense of control, calm some of your nerves.”

He was so excited, entirely unable to suppress his joy as he proposed this idea to you, this desperate ploy to help you feel secure.

The revelation hit you like a gut punch. “You genuinely want me to feel safe, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” And for the first time since you got here, you believed it.

“Okay then, I just say red and we’re done?”

“Exactly. You’re a quick learner.”

He was visibly pleased with himself and for once, the smugness wasn’t even a little bit grating. He’d earned it, just this once.

With a newfound boldness that was surfacing with your growing comfort around him, you chimed in once more. “Can I ask you something?”

“You don’t need to keep asking permission like that. Let’s just assume you’re always free to ask questions.”

“Can I see your fangs?”

You blurted it out before you had the chance to second guess yourself and this time, it seemed like you made him nervous. The flash of nervousness didn’t last long, although his smugness didn’t quite make a reappearance on his face.

He opened his mouth dutifully, just enough that you could see his sharpened canines.

Your hands drifted up towards his face and you looked at him, silently asking permission.

He gave you a little nod and your palm pressed against his cheek, your thumb brushing over the tip of his fang. You did it lightly, careful not to pierce your skin and draw blood.

He stayed absolutely still, allowing you to explore.

You took the opportunity to study his face too as he sat, pliant in your hands. He gazed back, something looking like confusion on his face. You couldn’t understand why it was there, why he couldn’t understand you wanting to learn more about him.

The confusion transformed as he noted you studying the rest of his face, not just his fangs, softening as your thumb moved to brush over his cheek.

“You’re not as cold as I thought you’d be,” you told him. Your voice was low, not having to be loud to reach him considering how close you’d gotten.

“I could say the same about you.”

Now it was your turn to look confused, cocking your head to the side as you stared at him.

“Must you speak in riddles?” you asked. You knew you should pull away, that your exploration was over but you couldn't find it in yourself to draw your hand back.

He smiled at you and you felt his cheeks raise as he did. “I think it’s part of my charm.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed out.

You were too close. The air from your words had surely brushed his face, you could tell that it did by the way his eyes darted down to your lips.

You just kept drawing closer. It was like you’d gotten caught in his gravitational field, he kept pulling you closer and closer all without ever touching you.

You refused to be drawn in on his terms like this so instead, you took the initiative and made your own move towards him.

It took barely a moment to close the gap between you two but by the time your lips touched, his arm wrapped around your waist, like he’d been waiting for this and you’d fallen into his trap once more.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You let yourself be engulfed by him, being pushed back into the couch, the sides of his coat falling to either side of you as he deepened the kiss.

You could feel his fangs as he nipped at your lower lip, not hard enough to pierce the skin, just enough to feel them. It seemed almost as if he was testing the waters.

It didn't even occur to you to be scared.

His knee shifted in between your legs and you blessed the shortness of the dress he’d given you in that it was able to fit there.

A content little noise escaped his mouth, being smothered by your lips, as you ground up onto it shamelessly, chasing any sensation you could get.

Sure this wasn’t the first time you’d kissed someone, nor the first time you’d gone further, but it was the first time that no shame or nerves overtook you.

He’d said he wanted you to not be afraid of him, to trust him, to feel safe within these walls and you hated how well it was working. Well, you would’ve hated it if you could manage to string together a coherent thought.

Right now you just wanted more.

Rook did not seem to be on the same page.

He pulled away entirely, ignoring your attempt to pull him back.

“This is too fast,” he insisted. “You should go get some sleep. We both should.”

Your face fell as he moved away from you, back down onto the plush seats of the couch.

You wanted to ask for more, for him to touch you again, to take away all your worry once more.

But you didn’t. Not because you were thinking straight once more but because you knew he wouldn’t do it, wouldn’t push past where he thought you would feel safe, wouldn’t be swayed on matters of your comfort.

For now, all that anger had faded and all you could do was sit back and admire how cared for you felt as he offered you his hand and told you he’d walk you to your room.

#terato #teratophillia #vampire x vampire hunter #vampire x reader #vampire x human #monster bf #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monster x reader #halfway done #I love posting new chapters Saturdays can't come fast enough

622 notes · View notes

supernaturalscribe67 · 9 months

Text

Author in the Making

Words: 3,286

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Male!Reader [Preestablished]

Warning(s): None

Summary: The reader loves to write, and he has kept it a secret from his book-loving boyfriend for the longest time, fearing his reaction. What happens when his boyfriend accidentally stumbles upon the document that the reader had been working on for the past several years? How will he react?

The time was 11:53 PM.

The Winchesters had long since retired to their rooms for the night, leaving (Y/N) alone in the library. His laptop rested on the wooden table in front of him, a small notebook open to his right with a variety of pen colors scattered over the pristine white paper. (Y/N)’s fingers worked rapidly against the keys on the keyboard, his eyes glued to the screen as the words appeared on the Word document.

For years, (Y/N) had a dream. That dream was to become an author. He had been interested in books ever since he was a little kid, the first book he had ever read was Of Mice and Men when he was in the second grade. Ever since, he introduced himself to a wide array of authors across different genres, taking in all of their writing styles and techniques. As he got older, he knew he wanted to be just like the authors that wrote some of his favorite books. He wanted to have his name on the shelves of hundreds, potentially thousands, of people around the world. He wanted to be the inspiration for another young writer, just like the authors before him. He wanted to be the reason people got back into reading and writing.

However, being a hunter meant that (Y/N)’s schedule was random. He never had a set time where he could sit down and write what he wanted to. The book that he was working on was a couple of years in the making, after all. With all the cases and personal issues that seemed to pop up constantly around himself and the Winchesters, he knew that he would have to improvise at times when it came to his writing. While nothing was set in stone, he had made some adjustments to his everyday life so that he was able to get some writing done every day.

On long car rides, when they were driving to or from a case, he would bring out his phone and jot down any ideas that he had. Occasionally, he would get up early in the morning to guarantee that he added something to his word count. Some nights, if the day had been busy, he would stay up later than Sam and Dean to get his thoughts onto paper as quickly as he could.

Sure, it was exhausting at times. He craved the warm feeling of his bed underneath him and the soft sensation of a pillow resting beneath his head, but he knew that if he didn’t write, he would go insane, and he would rather be sane and tired than energetic and crazy.

After what he assumed was, twenty minutes of non-stop typing, (Y/N) leaned back in his chair, reaching his arms above his head to stretch his back. He clenched and unclenched his hands, feeling the muscles in them tightening from being overworked. Then, he did something that he had promised himself before his writing session that he wouldn’t do.

He looked at the time.

The time was 1:40 AM.

It had been longer than he thought. When he saw the time, he felt a yawn building up inside of him. Suddenly, he comprehended just how tired he was. His eyes began to droop and his entire body felt as if there was a weight of a thousand pounds resting on it. He glanced down at the writing in his journal for a moment before another yawn escaped him. He cursed under his breath.

(Y/N) turned back to the computer, placing his hands on the keys for a moment to read over the paragraph he had just completed. He read it a couple of times, yet his fingers would not move, no matter how much he tried to convince himself he knew what he should write next. Nothing was coming out. So, all he did was stare at the screen in front of him. He sighed.

“(Y/N)?” A deep, tired voice came from beside him.

(Y/N) jumped as he placed his hand over his chest, turning to look at the person who spoke. Sam stood there, clad in a long-sleeve night shirt and sweatpants. His hair was slightly tousled and he seemed as if he had just woken up. (Y/N) let out a shaky breath.

“Jesus, Sam, you scared the Hell out of me,” he said.

Sam chuckled as he took a couple of steps through the threshold of the library. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he ran his fingers through his hair. “What’re you still doing up?”

“Um…” (Y/N) trailed as he glanced between Sam and the document in front of him. He rubbed his hands together before he shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, which was followed by another long, dramatic yawn.

Sam raised his brows as a small, amused smirk made its way onto his lips. He gestured behind him towards the room. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go to bed. I can tell you’re exhausted.”

(Y/N) inhaled deeply and ran a hand over his face, giving a small nod. “Alright, yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he mumbled as he reached forward, saving the document before closing the laptop.

(Y/N) stood and grabbed his laptop, journal, and pens. He stuffed the pens into his pocket, tucked his journal underneath his arm, and held his laptop close to his chest. He pushed his chair up to the table before he tiredly shuffled over to Sam. Sam couldn’t help but smile warmly as he watched him. When (Y/N) moved next to him, Sam placed his hand on the small of his back and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“What were you working on anyway? Research?” Sam asked as the two of them began to make their way down the hallway toward their bedroom.

(Y/N) glanced up at him before shrugging his shoulders. “Something like that.”

(Y/N) had never told anyone about his dream. It was always something that he had kept a secret. He knew about the history that Sam and Dean had with the prophet Chuck, he had even read a couple of the books that Chuck had written, and the last thing (Y/N) wanted was for them to think that he was just like him. Nothing that he wrote had anything to do with the hunting life. He needed an escape from the life at times, and creating his own realities was a way for him to get out of it.

A part of him knew that, if he were to tell Sam and Dean, they would be supportive of his efforts. Even so, with the lack of schedule that he had created for himself, and with him being on only the first draft of his novel, he didn’t want any expectations put on him for them to read what he had written. Perhaps he was overthinking it. He had considered it a couple of times, but he always told himself that it was better to be safe than sorry.

Sam gave him a smile before they entered the bedroom. (Y/N) walked over to the small desk that was located in the corner of the room and sat his laptop next to Sam’s, placing his journal and pens on top of the computer. He plugged in his laptop, ensuring that the charging light was on before he walked over to the bed. Just looking at the bed, (Y/N) craved the feeling of the soft comforter around him. His body felt heavier than ever.

As Sam crawled into the bed, (Y/N) stripped himself of his shirt, tossing it onto the ground, vowing that he would pick it up in the morning once he was well-rested. He then crawled into bed next to his boyfriend. It didn’t take them long to press their bodies against one another, their arms wrapping around each other’s middles and their legs tangling together. (Y/N) felt a sense of relief hit him at the embrace. With a smile on his face, Sam pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s forehead.

“Goodnight,” he said in a soft tone.

“Goodnight,” (Y/N) whispered back to him.

It didn’t take long before exhaustion overtook him. His eyelids fell shut as he allowed his body to relax. His breathing steadied and he felt himself slowly drift off into a peaceful slumber.

The next morning, (Y/N) stirred when he felt the bed shift underneath him. He inhaled sharply as a warm hand reached up and caressed his bare arm gingerly. He furrowed his brows and slowly opened his eyes. The room was still dark thanks to the lack of windows in the bunker, the only light being from the bedroom door, which stood ajar. Looking up, (Y/N) could see the dark outline of his boyfriend standing over him.

“Sorry to wake you, sweetheart,” Sam whispered, a chuckle following his words.

(Y/N) groaned. “What time is it?” He asked, his voice sounding as if he was still half-asleep.

“About eleven. You can go back to sleep, I know you were up really late. I was just wondering if I could use your computer for research. I forgot to plug mine in last night and the battery is completely dead.”

(Y/N) raised his brows as he reached over to the nightstand and picked up his cell phone. Turning on the screen, he squinted at the bright light and read the time.

The time was 11:24 AM.

(Y/N) had slept for almost ten hours.

“Holy shit,” he grumbled. He put his phone down and stretched. “Why did you let me sleep so late?”

“You seemed tired,” Sam answered, and (Y/N) could tell that he was smiling by the way he spoke. Sam reached up and gently ran his fingers through (Y/N)’s hair. “Plus, you’re really cute when you’re sleeping.”

“That’s a little gay, don’t you think?” (Y/N) smirked.

“Maybe a little,” Sam chuckled before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips softly. “Do you mind if I use your laptop?”

“Sure, sure, yeah. I don’t mind.”

“Thank you. Are you going to go back to sleep?”

(Y/N) shook his head, yawning as he did so. “No. I need to get up. I’ll be out there in a little bit.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the library when you want to join me.”

“Sounds good, and just go ahead and leave the door open. The light will keep me awake.”

Sam gave a slight nod. He stood up from the bed, walked over to the desk, unplugged (Y/N)’s laptop, and made his way to the door. He propped the door open a little bit more before he moved down the hallway. Once he was out of his line of sight, (Y/N) stretched his arms above his head, letting out a small groan as his muscles began to wake up.

Ten minutes later, (Y/N) was awake enough to get up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretched his arms once more, then stood up. He walked over to the shirt that he had discarded on the floor the night before and put it back on. When he was fully clothed, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

The faint smell of coffee still wafted through the air as he made his way into the kitchen. He could see there was still a tiny amount of coffee left from the pot that had been made that morning and he thanked the Lord that he had been so lucky. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and placed his hand on the side of the pot, feeling the warm heat radiating off of the glass. He decided that it was still hot enough to where he didn’t have to warm it up. He poured the remainder of the coffee into his cup before he walked over to the fridge. He put his favorite creamer and some sugar into the cup, stirring it lightly with a spoon until the color and consistency was one he desired.

When he was finished making his cup, he turned his back toward the kitchen counter and leaned against it. He took a sip, a small shiver running down his spine when the warm beverage coated his taste buds. (Y/N) basked in the comforting warmth for a moment before he took another sip. He stood in the kitchen for a couple of minutes, enjoying the peaceful silence.

(Y/N) pushed himself off of the counter and finally began to make his way toward the library. When he rounded the corner, he saw Sam sitting at the table, in the same spot that he had sat the night before. His eyes were glued to the computer screen in front of him, brows slightly furrowed in a concentrated expression. His left hand rested against his face while his right made small movements against the mousepad. A smile found its way onto (Y/N)’s face as he walked closer to Sam, moving to stand behind his chair. He placed one hand on his back as he leaned down and pressed a small kiss against Sam’s temple.

“So, what’re you-” (Y/N) started to ask before he stopped abruptly.

What he had assumed would be research on the screen at first was nowhere close to what was staring back at him. The smile slowly fell from his lips as he skimmed over the familiar words.

It was his novel.

He had forgotten to close it the night before.

Sam looked up at (Y/N) and cleared his throat. “Uh, um…you, uh…did you write this?” He asked, his voice and expression matching that of a child who was caught with their hand in the cookie jar before dinner.

(Y/N) licked his lips nervously as he shuffled a bit behind Sam. “Uh…yeah…” he said, his voice filled with uncertainty.

“I didn’t know you wrote. I mean, I knew you liked to read and that’s one of the things that I love about you, but I never knew you wrote your own stuff.”

“Well, I just…dabble here and there. It’s nothing really-”

“I like it.” Sam interrupted.

(Y/N) looked down at Sam, their eyes connecting. “Really?” He asked, surprised.

Sam nodded. “Yeah! I mean, I’m only on the second chapter, but the first chapter pulled me in,” Sam gave a small smirk as he chuckled.

Slowly, a smile made its way onto (Y/N)’s lips. He walked over, pulled the chair out that rested beside Sam, and sat down. He took another sip of his coffee.

“You haven’t gotten to anything important, yet. Trust me. It’s still in the works. This is only the first draft.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Two years? Maybe three, give or take. I’m not able to write all the time and sometimes I can be slow, especially if I decide to write after we finish a hunt.”

“You’ve got a lot written here,”

“Almost ninety-thousand words,” (Y/N) gave a brief nod. “It’s still not what I want it to sit at, but it’s coming along.”

“How many more chapters do you think you’ll need to finish it?”

“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “I’m writing the finale at the moment, but I guess it depends on if I want to add anything. Of course, I’m going to be taking some parts out and putting some other parts in that I had written down and thought of as I was writing, so I don’t know what the final word count will be, but I’m impressed with myself so far.”

“You should be!” Sam smiled as he reached over and placed a hand comfortingly on (Y/N)’s leg, rubbing his knee gently. “Why didn’t you tell me you liked to write?”

(Y/N) stared at the table for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I think the stories you told about your interaction with Chuck made me not say anything at first.”

“I hope you know that I wouldn’t have given you a hard time about this.”

“I know, I know,” (Y/N) nodded slowly. “Plus, I think that if I would have said something, I would have felt pressured to finish quicker than what I wanted because, knowing you, you would have asked to see what I had written.”

Sam smirked and chuckled. “I would.”

“And I would have to burst your bubble and say ‘No’ because I wanted to finish everything and go over everything before I let you look.”

Sam nodded. “I understand…” he trailed as he glanced back at the page that he was on. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

(Y/N) hummed as he took another sip of his coffee. “Probably. I do need help proofreading. Plus, I need an audience’s reaction. I already messaged Charlie and she said that she would give it a read when I was done.”

“So Charlie knew about it before me?” Sam asked exaggeratedly, placing a hand delicately on his chest to feign hurt.

(Y/N) snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yes, and she doesn’t bug me about it like I knew you would. She likes reading from time to time, but, and I’m sorry to say this Sam, but you are a book whore.” He chuckled.

“You know what? I take that as a compliment.” Sam said, tilting his head up in a proud manner.

“As you should.” (Y/N) leaned back in his seat, getting comfortable.

Sam licked his bottom lip as he glanced between (Y/N) and the computer screen. After a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Can I finish this chapter?”

(Y/N) pursed his lips in contemplation, furrowing his brows together. He reached over, saved the document, and then exited out of it. “No.”

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Come on,” he groaned.

“Sorry, Sammy, but maybe you should read faster next time.”

Sam sighed heavily and shook his head before he turned his body back towards the table. He paused for a minute. “Do you feel like writing right now?”

(Y/N) smirked and shook his head. “I need to relax for a little bit. I stayed up late last night writing.”

Sam nodded. “Do you promise you’ll let me read it once it’s done?”

“Sam, as soon as I am finished with the first draft and go over everything, I will print out all of the pages for you so that you can read it. That way I can make my revisions while you read over it. Deal?”

Sam smiled. “Deal.” He said as he leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “You’re going to be one hell of an author, babe,”

(Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Sammy.” He said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sam never realized how much those words meant to (Y/N). Sure, there was a part of him that thought those words to be true, but the other part of him was doubting himself every step of the way. Still, he persisted, working as hard as he could toward the dream that he wanted to become a reality. In that moment, (Y/N) knew that, if Sam Winchester believed that he was going to be a good author, then he was destined to be.

(Y/N) sat his coffee mug down on the table and gestured towards the computer.

“On second thought, let me have my computer,” he said, the smile still present on his lips. “I think I found my new inspiration.”

#Supernatural #Sam Winchester #Sam Winchester x Reader #Sam Winchester x Male!Reader #Sam Winchester Oneshot #Sam Winchester Imagine #SPN #SPN Imagine #Male!Reader #Supernatural x Reader #Supernatural x Male Reader #Sam Winchester x Male Reader #Supernatural Scribe #Supernatural Imagine

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therealcocoshady · 3 months

Text

Recovery - Chapter 5

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Y/N spends the evening with Marshall after avoiding him for weeks.

Tags : -

For the following weeks, you drowned yourself into your work in order to restrain from thinking about Simon or Marshall. The only people you saw were either at university, at home or at meetings. You were especially grateful for the latter, as you found yourself craving relief from either pills or alcohol. Thankfully, going to meetings and therapy kept you sane and you were able to fight the urge. You went to the studio once or twice, as Jamal invited you, but you sort of avoided Marshall. You saw him, but apart from greetings and small talk you didn’t go out of your way to have actual conversations and meaningful exchanges with him.

Thursday night came and, for the first time ever, you had the house to yourself. Jamal and Talia were celebrating their fifth anniversary by going on a dinner date. Your best friend was so worried for you that she almost cancelled their plans, much to her boyfriend’s dismay. Thankfully, you had convinced her to leave you alone in the house.

I’ll be fine, you said. You guys deserve a night out.

Are you going to be ok ? I’ll have my phone with me and you can call me if you need ! She said.

Babe, you’re worrying too much. She should be fine for a few hours, Jamal said rolling his eyes.

Yes ! You said. And I promise the house will be intact when you come back. I won’t set it on fire or anything, you added jokingly.

You sent them off to their date with a smile. Before closing the door, Jamal looked at you and pulled you in for a quick conversation.

Look, I know you’ll be fine, we trust you and shit, but you know you can also call Marshall if you need, right ? Actually, it might be cool if you did. He asked about you the other day. I think he misses you at the studio, he said with a wink.

Really ? You asked.

Yeah. He seems to really like you. I don’t think I have seen him like this with anyone else. And I’m not dumb, you know.

What do you mean ?

I know you like him.

What ? I don’t, you said with embarrassment.

Is there any other reason why you have avoided him like the plague these past three weeks ? Or any conversation about him ? Jamal asked with a grin.

It’s… complicated. Can we leave it at that ? You pleaded.

Look, it’s none of my business, but you like him and he cares a lot about you. It’s all I’m saying, he said before leaving.

You were kind of intrigued by what Jamal had told you. Had Marshall really asked about you ? If so, why hadn’t he called you directly ?

After giving it a lot of thought, you decided to text him.

To : M

Hey. How are you ?

You felt your phone buzzing almost immediately. It was him calling you.

Hey, he said. Are you alright ?

Yes, you said. How are you ?

I’m good.

There was a moment of awkward silence.

Am I bothering you ? You asked.

I’m the one who called you, he said with a chuckle.

Right, you said as you blushed in embarrassment.

I’m not busy anyway. I’m at home just chilling. Do you want to come over and hang out ? He offered.

Uh… sure. Text me the address and I’ll get a cab.

Will do.

He texted you his address and you quickly got ready. You kind of struggled to choose an outfit. You wanted it to send just the right message : “I made an effort because I want you to see what you missed the other night but I also don’t want you to think I am trying too hard”. After a careful examination of your entire closet, you put on a pair of skinny jeans that showed off your figure, a simple tee-shirt and your hoodie from Uni. You knew the jeans showcased your ass perfectly and, since he had already seen you topless, it was just the area to highlight.

You called a cab and got to his place. You’d never been here before. You found yourself in front of a mansion that was easily five times as big as your childhood home. You rang the doorbell and were greeted by Marshall who just got out of the shower, all dressed but his hair still wet. You were scared it would be awkward, seeing him for the first time in three weeks, but he greeted you in his usual way, by giving you a hug. Only, it felt a little different this time, probably because it was just the two of you, and you could remember the feeling of his skin against yours.

Thanks for coming, he said as he led you to the living room.

I’m happy to see you, you confessed.

Are you ? I’ll be honest, I kind of thought you were avoiding me, he said with a shrug. You were sort of… distant ?

I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me either. You haven’t called or visited Talia and Jamal like you usually do.

I was thinking you might need time to think.

“About what ?”, you almost asked. But you didn’t. You didn’t want to make things awkward.

I’m a bit better now, you told him.

Good. So… do you want to talk about last time or…?

Do you think we should ? You asked anxiously.

You weren’t sure there was a need to add anything. And you were sort of embarrassed at the memory that you jumped on him and he pushed you away.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, he said.

It’s fine, Marshall. We’re adults, you said.

So you understand why I pushed you away ? He asked carefully.

Look, you don’t like me like that, and that’s ok, you said. I acted on impulse. You were here, I was sad and hurt, I needed to change my mind, I was attracted to you and… well, you were here so you remember what came next…

I think you’re amazing, he rectified. I didn’t want to take advantage of whatever it is that you felt that night.

You looked at him, biting your lower lip. It’s true that, as horny as you were, you probably weren’t in your right mind. If anything further had happened between the two of you, it might have added to your confusion. You nodded.

Also, I’ve had time to think about it some more, he admitted. And I know for sure it would have been a bad idea anyway.

Yeah, maybe, you said, even though you felt a little disappointed.

I mean, I’m almost twice your age and you’re recovering, so…

Yeah, yeah, I know, you cut him.

Even though you knew he was right, you didn’t really want to hear it.

I’m glad we’re on the same page then, he said with a smile.

Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to be weird. I just… you started.

I know. We’re cool, he assured you.

You stared at each other for a few seconds and chuckled. His smile helped you ease a little, although you couldn’t help but feel a tad disappointed. As right as his arguments were, you were having trouble getting the other night out of your head.

I was about to watch a movie when you called. Want to do that ? He offered.

Sure. What are we watching ?

I’m in the mood for something scary. Why don’t you pick ?

There’s one I haven’t been able to get through, you admitted. It’s « Us ». Have you seen it ?

Really ? You’re that much of a pussy ? He joked.

Shut up ! It’s really scary, ok ? I had to stop midway. It gave me nightmares.

I haven’t seen it, but now, you got me intrigued, he admitted. Come on.

He got up and waited for you to follow him. You were already in the living room in front of a massive TV. You were confused.

Aren’t we going to watch it here ?

No. It’ll be better in the home theater, on the big screen, he explained.

He led you to his movie room that had a big screen and huge couches. It could easily fit twenty people, with plenty of room to spare. The room was complete with a fridge and every couch had pillows and throws on it. Perks of having a lot of money, you guessed.

Drinks ? He offered while opening the fridge, which seemed to contain all the sorts of alcohol-free beverages you could think of.

Yeah, sure. I’ll have a Dr Pepper please.

You sat next to each other and started the movie. The room was pitch black and the only light was coming from the screen. Every scene seemed to startle you, which never failed to make Marshall laugh.

Come on !!! You can’t tell me that isn’t scary, you said.

I don’t have time to be scared, you’re shitting your pants for the both of us, he chuckled.

Shut up, you pouted.

One very scary scene came up and you spilled your soda all over yourself and Marshall.

Shit, I’m sorry

Relax, he said.

Your top was soaking wet and so were the tee-shirt underneath and your bra. Thankfully your jeans were intact.

Marshall got up and brought tee-shirts for the two of you to change.

Give me your clothes, I'll put them in the wash, he said.

You turned around and took your wet clothes off as he did the same. You put on the tee-shirt he gave you and turned back, only to see him shirtless, which made you blush. Thank god the room was still dark enough. He was staring at you intensely.

Are you alright ? You asked.

Yeah, he said as he bit his lip while quickly putting on a clean tee-shirt.

Had he been staring at your naked back ? You found yourself amused by the idea. You were also slightly aroused by the sight of him half naked, even though it was dark and you couldn’t see much. You knew you shouldn’t be thinking about him that way, but you couldn’t help it. You sat back and resumed the movie. Once again, you jumped at every scene.

Thank God you don’t have a drink anymore, my wardrobe wouldn’t be big enough to provide changes of clothes, he laughed.

Shut up, you said.

Quit the attitude, he playfully warned you. Or I’ll leave you alone to watch the movie.

Please don’t, you pleaded.

The only reason you kept watching is because you were with him. You were so scared you wouldn’t be able to watch it on your own. Especially in such a big house.

What is so scary anyway ? He asked. I mean, it’s kind of creepy but it’s not too bad.

There’s just something about the atmosphere you know ? You explained. Also, I once got lost in a fun fair when I was four and it reminds me of that time. I thought I’d never find my dad back. My mom had died a couple of years before and I… I thought I would never have a family again.It was super scary.

He nodded and put his arm around your shoulders.

Better ? He asked.

Mmmh, you nodded as you felt yourself blushing.

You rested your head on his shoulder and watched the rest of the movie.

God you move so much it’s impossible to focus, Marshall complained. I should tie you up or something.

You stared at him with your mouth slightly opened as you waited for him to realize what he had just said.

Not like that. Idiot, he rolled his eyes laughing.

Perv, you said playfully.

Don’t start, he warned you with a smile.

You bit your lip, knowing full well you could be bratty enough to indeed start. However, you decided to be reasonable and not to do anything.

We have about twenty minutes of movie left. You think you can sit still ? He asked with a grin.

You rolled your eyes and watched the screen as your only answer. Only you weren’t really watching. Your mind wandered and you thought of Marshall’s touch as his hand grazed your arm. His words came to mind. You wouldn’t be against him tying you… you gnawed on your lip. You were a horny mess. You had been for about three weeks now. You took a look at him, focused on the screen. It was hard not to stare at his face. His blue eyes, his nose, his perfect lips. You didn’t really believe in God, but if He did exist, Marshall was a fine specimen of His creation. You forced yourself to look at the screen but soon found yourself burying your face in Marshall’s neck as a screamer scene came on. He jumped a bit, probably more startled by you than the movie.

Pussy, he whispered before laughing.

You didn’t reply, your face still in his neck, but you still lifted your middle finger in his face. As a response, he firmly grabbed your wrist and put your hand down. He let out a sigh.

I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, Y/N, he scolded you.

You started it, you replied.

Still, you should learn how to respect your elders, he joked.

Ok grandpa, you whispered in his ear.

Fuck you, you brat.

You let out a laugh as the movie came to an end. You were still in Marshall’s arms and, even though you were glad the movie was over, you wanted the moment to last a bit longer.

So ? You liked the movie ? You asked.

I did enjoy the few parts I could focus on, he said with a smile. You know, when you weren’t ruining my clothes or jumping on me.

It was scary ! You defended yourself.

Some parts were kinda creepy, he admitted. But you’re worse than a kid with ADHD !

I’m not !

You are. And it’s the last time I’m ever watching a movie with you, he said with a laugh.

You pretended to pout as you crossed your arms to your chest. Marshall proceeded to ignore you as he got up to turn off the movie and turn on the lights.

Pouting won’t work, he said with a grin. Three kids, remember ?

You playfully rolled your eyes at his comment.

Behave, Y/N, he said.

Make me, old man.

Before you could move, he was pinning you to the couch, crushing you with his weight.

Now, you better apologize to me, he said with a smirk.

In your dreams, maybe, you replied.

He proceeded to put even more weight on you, crushing you even more. You could hardly breathe.

Marshall… you pleaded.

Apologize, he said playfully yet firmly.

You ignored his order as you tried to squirm from under him. He did his best to pin you down, grabbing your wrists in his hand and holding your arms over your head. It was not the desired effect but you found the situation extremely hot. To be fair, you didn’t need much. Without really meaning to, you let out a soft moan.

Y/N… Marshall groaned.

God, your name in his mouth sounded so hot. You looked at him with so much desire. He closed his eyes and maintained his firm grip on your wrists.

You’re a brat, he whispered in your ears.

That’s why you like me, you whispered back.

Fuck it, he said as his eyes darkened and his face moved closer to yours.

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