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blingblong55 · 6 months

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...Ready for it? -Vladimir Makarov NSFW

Based on a request:

The lack of Makarov content here is killing me, I was wondering on a enemies to friends with benifits type thing with Makarov (he would be in a absolute denial that he even develop feelings for someone especially if it's his own enemy) --- F!Reader, dark romance, enemies to friends with benefits, smut, 18+, P-in-V, unprotected!sex, some fluff, knife!play, blood!play, MDNI ----

A/N: dear anon, its okay to love villains...they are hot either ways

Sworn enemies, forever to wish death upon the other. Unsuspecting eyes and hearts. Your gun, blazing as it hits his plate, "Fucking bitch," he calls out. You chuckle and shoot at him again, better luck next time, you wish to say. One goal: to dominate the underworld of evil. This is what life was like between you and him. Konni Group and the enemy, Kasper Team. Turn the light on and it's the same kind of killer on both sides, commanded by two fucking masterminds. The devil whispered his wishes to Vladimir, whilst Satan herself moaned the desires into your ear. Hate, absolute fucking hate is what you and he had for each other.

He did some bad things in his life and fucking around with the mistress of evil you had become was the worst thing he did. A dagger, the same one that carved your name, is now in his hands as he makes his dogs sniff out your hideout. You teased him with every glance, you can never catch me, is all your eyes gave out. And oh boy was he after you like a hound. At every corner, his eyes looked for the silhouette of you. The curves and that evil grin you gave him. Lips he wanted to hear him beg for their life.

It was June when you visited Poland for some hacker you sought after. That hacker belonged to him. In a world of evil, you always need some shit nerd to do your job. He sat on the desk, waited and waited until you walked in. Posing as the hacker was one thing but to have you in that room, alone was another. Dangerous, your glare on him said. "So, are you in?" You asked the 'hacker' but the one who turns to answer holds a gun. "Ask again, doll," he chuckles deeply and you shake your head. "Un-fucking-believable." Once he was in front of you, his hand went to your waist, "what's the matter? Don't want to dance with the devil?" His gaze teased yours this time.

"Don't you fucking start, Vladimir-" and in that instant, he began the game of cat and mouse by kissing your lips to keep you quiet. Once he pulled away, he laughed knowing that for the first time, he kept your pretty mouth shut. "Now listen to me, you may think you are a step or four ahead of me but doll, you are playing with the wrong darkness," his hands grip your face now. "What do you want?" you bite. "The missiles and the codes for the safe houses," he responds. You try and look away but his grip is stronger. "Don't you fucking look away from me!" he barks. Then he feels it, the gun pressed to his crotch.

"Don't you know you are playing with dangerous game here?" the gun pressed harder to him. "You think you can scare me? Darling a girl like you is a mere speed bump for me," his face and yours closer. "A dog like you is another bag of bones for me," your finger closer to the trigger. "They are here," one of his men informs. That stupid fucking task force. "Ivan, entertain them for me," he commands. From a distance, guns and screams can be heard. "Can't fight them off yourself?" you tease him. "Darling I would, but you are one messy girl who needs to be taken care of first."

"Let's make a deal, you give me 141's files and I give you three missiles." you write the demise. "Add a code to it and we have a deal. and what's with you and those men?" You nod in agreement, your gun back to its safe place. "Let's just say they are playing in the wrong backyard." He then nods and hands you a piece of paper, "Why don't we end them together, maybe then you'll be my only headache." You grin, "I want to be your migraine," your lips close to his and before he even dares to lean in, you walk away. "I expect those files, Makarov." You place your mask on and your men escort you. "Better stick to your end," he calls out.

Once back at your headquarters, you look at the piece of paper he handed you. "Let's call a truce for now. Let the games begin." A smirk on you. 141, codes and missiles, a game for demons to play with. Days pass the truce is set. He walks into your base, then he greets you. "R/N," his hand holding yours as he kisses it. "Never took you for the gentleman type," you comment. "You're in for a treat, doll," he walks past you like he knows the base. "Office, no?" You nod and walk alongside him. No one to bother you for hours as he and you talked about ways to end all targets and focus on who was more evil.

Curtains closed as you and him created poison for all mutual enemies. Maps, plans and bullets are all that are displayed on a desk. "Be smart, don't play just because you want to. If you need them to be killed, take the first target," he places a bullet down on the map, "here...and once you do, all else will be easy to kill," he instructs. "Then make sure Chimera is isolated and bring some of KorTac, that should keep them entertained," you draw the names with a red pen. "We make a good team, R/N," he smiles. "Focus," you say and look at him.

Near night, his men drove you and him to a hotel, to not stay there for a warm rest but to look for potential hideouts for the upcoming war. As he and you constructed what was known as Operation Cleanstreak, he observed you in a different light. You and him, both under tension when his hand slides to your waist. "Don't. Do. That." your voice was stern. "C'mon, we both need it, and I sure want it," his lips brushed your neck. "Be a good girl and kiss me, yes?" You back away and chuckle, "Horny so soon, tsk tsk tsk," you shake your head and cup his face. "Listen to me here, I am not going to get caught fucking you," and just before you were going to tease him, he gives you puppy eyes that gaze from your lips to your hot fucking stare. "Fuck it," he whispers and kisses you deeply, his tongue slipping into yours. He needed a taste of your poison, kill him with it because he would be addicted by the end.

He pulls away, catching his breath and before he looks away, he finds that his addiction to the kiss spreads like a disease because in an instant, he gets pulled back and you kiss him. "Thought you were a gentleman?" you say between kisses. "Oh, you are in deep," he pushes you to the bed, his blade close to your jeans. "Be a good girl and let all know tonight I claim this pussy," his blade cuts your clothes open and he gets down, kissing your inner thighs and nibbling on them. Some of your blood drips out, he looks at you, "Ooh, did my princess get cut?" he gives you a playful pout and licks the blood off. A groan from his lips falls out when he tastes it. "Sweet divine," he whispers and sucks on the cut. Your blood still dripping out as he spells his name with it on your chest and when it doesn't all fit how he wants, he cuts your shirt open and spells it all out. "Look at that," he undoes your bra and slaps your tits a few times before sucking on them and groaning. His mark belongs to you. Suits your pretty body either way.

Without warning, he licks his fingers and as he once more cuts another fabric of your body, he sticks his fingers into your cunt. "Already wet?" he teases and slaps your pussy, mercy out of the bed this night. "Fucking slut, aren't you?" he continues to slap your cunt and watch as you moan and whimper. "Take it," he growls and soon, gets on his knees and begins to eat you out. His tongue feels so heavenly on your cunt. The noises that filled the room, all moans, groans and the wetness of your cunt, were to be heard by two evil lovers. His gaze was either on your or your gorgeous tits. Often his eyes would flutter from how amazing your cunt tastes.

He gets up and fingers you as he kisses your neck and lips. Never did he think he'd be fucking the girl who gave him reasons to be even more dangerous. When you began to rub your clit, he slapped you and went to grab a rope to tie you to the bed. Only he can please you. You mewl as he made you more and more sensitive and once he knew your cunt was ready for him, his fat and girthy cock slips inside of you. You cry out, tears running down your soft face. "I know, I know but you can take it," his thrusts were slow and gentle, getting you used to his size. Your cunt clenching around him, making it an even better sensation as he fucks himself into you.

"Fuck...oh...just like that," he caresses your tits and groans. When he knew you were well used to him, his hands flew to your hips and began to go faster. Your back arching, he can see his bulge on your tummy, his thumb pressing on it, making you moan more. "Oh you like that?" he smiles and does it again. A knot inside of you, building that sweet orgasm. Your face flushed as he can't seem to stop claiming your pussy with his fast cock. "Vlad-...fuck-i...n-ngh..." You were now more than drunk on him. His fingers rub on your sensitive clit and then he feels it as he hears you cry and moan. Your juices coating his dick. "Oh princess," he moans.

He can't hold on any longer, his cum writing what no other man could claim again. Your tight pussy milking him, his cum filling you to the brim as he leans in and kisses you, his thrust slow before he pulls out. Rough hands cup your face, "Did you like that, beautiful?" he whispers and kisses you, waiting for an answer. "Loved it," you say between kisses and he grins. You whine when he stops touching you completely, he gets dressed, "Good night, R/N," he closes the door as he leaves.

Months after that night, he sees you again. It was a one-night stand, no, this meant something to him. Every night for all those months, he would send you files of Task Force 141, in the bag with each file, he made sure to send a disarmed grenade with your name and a flower attached to it. His own hands wrote your name, over and over again. He swore it was to make sure you never forget what you let him do to you but deep down in a sick way was to thank you for letting him have you. And as you met him again in that lonely office at your base, he acted cold.

You acted cold too, but it was to guard yourself from him. His gaze noticed that hidden in that room were all the grenades that held your name. His heart flutters and a smile creeps to his face. He did it, wrapped his arms around you and when you slapped him, he chuckled. "Do it again," he whispers. So you did, you kept slapping him until he kissed you. Not believing himself, he did it again, kissed you over and over, love is for the weak and now, he is weak. "Don't leave again," you whisper as he rests his forehead against yours. "Think you'll be seeing more of me, my love," his voice soft for the first time in his life. You smile and he kisses your forehead, his strong hands bring you close to his chest. His chin is on your head as you bury your face in his chest. Comfort and love were found in that office that night, grenades and flowers were kept in that office too.

A/N: Not my fault the devs made him hot...

Tags:

@goldenmclaren @selarus @kielsegur @palomesa @kaska127 @thefragmented @rowrowrowyourboat13 @liyanahelena @aethelwyneleigh27 @alhaizen

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entitled-fangirl · 4 months

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You've made me worry.

Din Djarin x reader

Summary: The reader stands by while her Mandalorian faces a near-death situation. The two realize their feelings for each other.

Words: 2,705

Warning: Near-death situation, crying, explosions, Din actually talking about his feelings....

Masterlist <3

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She stood by idly as she watched Cobb Vanth and her Mandalorian scope out the dangers of the Krayt Dragon.

She stood on the sand, her body close to Mando’s in comfort. She was worried. Quite worried. She knew Mando could protect himself just fine, and he often did so, but it didn’t stop her rambunctious mind from coming up with the worst possible scenario.

The Mandalorian’s mind wasn’t too far off from those thoughts as well. He should’ve left her and the kid somewhere safe, somewhere away from what was to happen, but he didn’t. He couldn’t bring himself to leave them out of his sightline. At least here, he could see for himself that they were alright.

A shrill cry sounded through the valley as the sand people below began to panic.

She started to as well. She pulled the child closer to her body. It reassured him that he was safe, but she didn’t do it for him. She did it for her. She needed to know he was going to be safe.

The ground in the valley began to move and the Krayt Dragon emerged from the sand. Its mouth opened, showing its long, sharp teeth. It practically swallowed some of the sand people in front of it.

The sand people tried shooting at it. It seemed to work for a moment, but soon, even the arrows that pierced its skin couldn’t stop it. It drew closer, vomiting acid on the sand people, their screams echoing through the valley.

She felt her stomach drop. She had never seen a Krayt Dragon before. She hadn’t seen many beasts like this before. It made her only admire her Mandalorian even more. He was even stronger than she thought if he felt confident enough in his skills to leave her and the child this close to the scene.

“Almost…,” his voice drew out, waiting for the moment to strike, “…NOW!”

Cobb Vanth pressed the detonator. An explosion under the dragon shook the ground below them.

She stumbled slightly, unprepared. Mando’s hand shot out to her bicep to steady her. He wasn’t even looking in her direction. He did as if instinct. The child simply continued to tuck his face in her neck. She looked up at her Mando. He held a content look to him, seen just through his body language. The dragon was dead. It worked.

She felt her body let out a long sigh before a rumbling sound from up the mountain was heard. Another dragon emerged from the top of the mountain. And he seemed much angrier than the first. His vomit fell a long way down the mountain, wiping out many of the people residing below.

“They’re picking us off like womp rats,” Cobb Vanth said as he moved to get his weapons, “Let’s get after it.”

Mando looked up at the dragon with a careful eye before moving to get his own weapon. He walked back to the child and his girl, giving them a knowing look through his helmet. His hand reached up to her cheek, but fell just as quick as it had came. The two beskar wearing warriors took off with their jet packs.

The woman and child simply watched as they soared through the air. A silent wish left the woman’s mouth in hope that it could protect her Mandalorian.

The two men landed in the valley, Mando’s gaze looking up towards the family he left behind to assure their protection in his mind. That they were far away enough. But he wasn’t sure they were.

“I’ve got an idea. Get its attention.” Mando commanded.

Cobb Vanth bent down, releasing the small missile from the top of his pack. It exploded against the creature’s head. It turned to look the two dead on, moving its body towards them.

“Well, I got its attention. NOW WHAT?” Cobb Vanth yelled.

But Mando was calm. Collected. His Mandalorian side had come through. And when it did, he could become deadly calm. “You still have that detonator?”

The detonator that connected to the bombs that were loaded onto the Bantha behind them? Of course, he did. Cobb Vanth handed it to him without hesitation. “Take it. What’s the plan?”

Mando looked at him through his visor. “You’re going to take care of the woman and child.”

Cobb Vanth’s head tilted in thought. He would do that for him, but it left a question in his mind, “What are YOU gonna do?”

“I don’t know, but wish me luck.” And with that, Mando hit Cobb Vanth’s jet pack with the butt of his weapon, prompting the jet pack to release its condensed air. Cobb Vanth flew through the air unwillingly, leaving the Mandalorian to face the dragon alone.

It did work. Cobb Vanth landed not too far from the Mandalorian’s little family. He ran to them quickly to not only fulfill the man’s wishes, but to watch what would become of the warrior below.

The woman quickly turned to Cobb Vanth, resting her free hand against his armored chest, her motherly instinct taking over, “You alright?”

He nodded, taking off his helmet. “M'Fine.”

Their attention was turned back to the scene in front of them as the dragon let out another cry.

Cobb Vanth had never seen the woman so tense. So fearful. She was shaking violently as she could only watch as her Mandalorian could be killed in front of her. In front of the child.

Mando held the rope to the Bantha as the dragon moved closer and closer. He had to wait for the right moment. Wait for the dragon to get close enough for the plan to work. But the distance between them was shrinking and Mando realized he may not pull this off as well as he had originally thought.

He stayed put as the dragon lunged forward into the dirt, taking the Bantha and the man in its mouth.

A loud cry left the woman’s mouth, coming from deep in her throat. She had seen it all happen in front of her. She had seen her greatest fear come to life. Of all the dangerous things she had seen him do, this was the one to take him.

Cobb Vanth let out a sigh, his body moving toward the woman. He gently took the child from her grasp. His other arm moved around her waist, pushing her back into his armor cover chest to give her stability. He felt her body began to rack with sobs, her hands moving to her face to wipe each tear as it fell.

He felt his heart break at the sight. This was not weeping, or even sobbing. This was the most heart wrenching screams he had ever heard come from a person’s throat. The ground settled, and all that was left was the sand of where he had once stood.

Cobb Vanth began to pull at the woman to pull her away from the scene. She shouldn’t stay here long. She tried to put up a fight, but she knew it was no use.

They began to walk away as they felt the ground move again. He knew he needed to get her as far away from the scene as possible, but he couldn’t help but look back. Either the dragon was ready to fight once more, or something else was to happen.

He pulled her back to where they were quickly.

The dragon emerged from the sand, its mouth opening, revealing electric shocks that came from the inside of its body. Something had flown from its mouth.

Her heart dropped, her tears stopping suddenly.

Her Mando.

He turned in the air to look back at the beast before setting off the detonator.

A huge tremor went through the ground.

She held to Cobb Vanth for support as they watched the dragon explode in the valley.

The Mandalorian landed in front of what was left of its now dead body, the sand falling sand beginning to coat his armor. But he couldn’t care less about that.

He cared about where Cobb Vanth was with his girl and child.

Once he regained his composure, he once again flew into the air, searching for where he had left them. And they were there.

He flew toward them quickly, his heart racing at the sight.

Before he could even land, she was running to him. His feet barely hit the ground before he felt her arms wrap around his neck.

He felt himself relax before his hands moved to her waist, pushing her back, “Hey.” Her eyes met his visor. “Don’t. I… I’m covered in mucus..”

Now he could truly see her face. The tear stains on her soft cheeks. The tremble her bottom lip still held. The sand that coated her hair. And the relieved look she held in her eye.

“I don’t care.”

That was enough for him to pull her to him tightly. Their bodies pressed each other as close as possible, his armor being the only thing that separates them.

Cobb Vanth smiled at the scene, moving himself forward towards the warrior. The child in his arms babbled. “That was some scene you pulled there, Mando.”

The Mandalorian’s helmet shifted up from its resting spot against her head as he looked up at the man. “Got it done, didn’t I?”

Cobb Vanth laughed at that, “Kriff. ‘Bout killed us all. Almost killed her.” His head motioned forward at the girl in Mando’s grasp.

She pulled back from him gently, her body now covered in mucus in certain places. The temporary sticky feeling was worth the permanent relief she had in her heart.

His helmet shifted down to look at her, “That true, Cyar’ika?”

She let out a small sniffle, now slightly embarrassed at the men’s stares, “y…yeah…”

A soft laugh came from Mando’s helmet, his stature relaxing more and more by the second. She was so sweet. So caring for him. His hand moved back down her her waist, leading her off, “C’mon Mesh’la. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

Cobb Vanth followed behind them with the child, a shit eating grin on his face.

…

A few hours later, the Mandalorian sat at the table of Cobb Vanth’s home. The sheriff himself sat across from him at said table, drinking from a glass of splotchka. The helmet-wearing man’s gaze shifted to the side of the room, where the girl lay on the cot set out for her, her body relaxed and her face holding a peaceful expression as she slept.

“Ya know,” Cobb Vanth said, bringing the Mandalorian out of his thoughts, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The Mandolorian’s head shifted back to look at the man. “…seen what?”

Cobb Vanth’s gaze moved to the girl. “Never seen a girl care for a Mandalorian that much.”

Silence filled the room as he considered the sheriff’s words. The man took a drink, continuing his words. “She’s something else, Mando. I’d keep her around.”

Mando became defensive at the talk of her like that. He didn’t like anyone discussing her, even the sheriff. His voice dropped slightly, “I intend to.”

Cobb Vanth grinned, “Good. She’s good for you, for the kid. She’s a pretty thing though.” He leaned on the table to let his voice drop, “Word of advice, Mando? I wouldn’t just keep her around. I’d keep her very close. Dangerous to be traveling with a defenseless thing like that. Pretty, smart, caring. Anybody would snatch her up if they got the chance.”

“They won’t get the chance.”

Cobb Vanth nods, “I believe you.”

…

The next morning, the girl awoke to see the Mandalorian sitting at the table, polishing one of his blasters with a rag. She stretched, letting out a soft sigh. His head perked up to look at her. She felt his gaze on her, watching her every move as if she could disappear if he turned his back.

“‘Morning, Mando.”

He nods his head to her, “Good morning, Cyare.”

She stands up, stretching her legs with another sigh. Her hair was ruffled and her eyes still puffy from the previous day’s excursion, but he still admired her as if she was an angel.

“Cyar’ka…?”

She moved to the table to sit, her body now residing in the chair beside him, “…Mando?”

A sigh left his lips. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

“Were you truly worried for me yesterday? You mourned?”

Her eyes flashed with embarrassment before they went back. Her hand began to rub her leg like she does when she’s anxious. He had seen her do it many times before. His hand reached out to steady it under the table.

“…tell me, Cyare.”

Her eyes looked to his visor where she thought his eyes would be before a small nod of her head gave him the message he wished he would get.

His own helmet nods now. He’s never been good at this kind of thing, but now he was going to have to learn.

“Thank you.”

Her eyebrows knit in confusion. “…what?”

His voice came out more confident the second time, “I said ‘Thank you.’”

“…why?”

She couldn’t see his jaw clench under his helmet in thought.

“…You’ve made me worry, Cyar’ika.”

She let out a soft laugh, “And that’s something to be thankful for?”

He nods, his voice strong, “Very much so.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant. Her face must have shown her thoughts because the Mandalorian continued.

“…I have things I worry for now. So, I will say it again. Thank you.”

“…the child, you mean? You’re thankful for the child?”

He nods, his helmet moving side to side, “Yes. I am. Of course. But that’s not what I meant.”

She leaned forward onto the table, “I don’t think I understand, Mando.”

His hand reached out, touching her cheek as it had the day before. Only now, it stayed there. “I worry for you, Mesh’la. Every time I look away, I fear you’ll be taken from me, as if you’re just a dream. But you’re not a dream. You’re here. And… you care for the child in ways I never could. You make him feel safe, and loved and…,” he stops considering if he should say his next words, “… I want to make you feel safe and loved, Mesh’la. I do. I can’t describe how worried I was for you. If I had made the wrong decision and brought you two to your death yesterday. It eats at me, knowing that one day, I may not be there when something happens. When something goes wrong. I worry for you every second. If you’re eating. If you rest enough. If you’re happy. If you’re tired. If you’re scared. If you care for me as much as I do for you…”

Silence falls in the room as both of them are taking in what he said. Even Mando didn’t think that would come out. But it had. And it had all been true.

She takes a deep breath, “I care for you, Mand-“

“Din.”

Her eyes widen, “…Din?”

An audible breath leaves his lungs at the sound of his name on her lips. He nods.

She continues, “I thought you died.”

“You thought I’d leave you and the child?”

He said it with no hesitation. As if it was a ridiculous thought for her to be worried about.

“…I watched it swallow you whole, M…. Din.”

“I’d crawl out from the grave back to you.”

She was utterly speechless. He held no hesitation to him. He was so confident in his words. It left her a little breathless at his wording.

“…you…you would?”

He nods, “I’d do a lot worse for you.”

More silence falls over the room before a realization is in her eyes.

“Where’s the child?”

He wished she could see his lips pull into a grin under the mask. “He’s fine. Cobb Vanth has him.”

She relaxes in her chair at that. Her own lips pull into a smile of her own, “…Strange little family we’ve made, Din. Don’t you think?”

His hand goes over hers, his gloved fingers toying with hers.

“I’d rather worry over you two than anyone else in the galaxy.”

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#din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin #mandalorian imagine #mando #mandolarian fanfiction #the mandolorian #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandolarian

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bookworm551 · 4 months

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Take the Edge Off | Part 9 | Stitches

Summary: After a failed mission, Miguel needs to patch you up.

A/N: well, new year, new chapter (finally). I’m getting real close to finishing up this series, maybe 2 more parts. This took forever bc I needed a filler and had no idea what to do, and this is also the longest part so far. At least I know where to go from here, so I should have the next part up relatively soon 💀

Warnings: smut (duh), canon-typical violence, wound care

10.2k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

You had grossly underestimated how difficult catching Ghost would be.

The main issue was finding him. He was smart, and he seemed to realize that anytime he spent too much time in one dimension, you and the team would pounce, and like water in your hand, he always managed to slip away. The closest you came to catching him was about three weeks after your bet, and it was an absolute shit show.

"Fuck me," you grunted under your breath when another explosion knocked you into the wall. Ghost came from a universe with hammerspace, and every new dimension he traveled to, he managed to store away more and more dangerous equipment. Now, you were there in some alleyway, half your team missing, fighting off a barrage of missiles, bombs, and sharp projectiles.

Across from you, Ben was tangled in a net trap, and Malala was groaning on the floor as she recovered from an intense electrical shock. Clenching your jaw, you leapt off the wall at Ghost. You were getting aggravated by how difficult this was. Why couldn't he be a regular villain and let you catch him?

Anticipating your move, Ghost jumped out of the way. You webbed him and yanked him toward yourself. Rather than fighting your pull, Ghost flew at you and pounced on your form, knocking you flat on your back. He drove his fists into your ribs, and you cried out as electricity coursed through your body. He held his fists, adorned in makeshift gauntlets, to you as you lay paralyzed by pain.

"Where's the big guy?" He asked you, his voice low and silky. "He's always a good time." You weren't even able to breathe from the shocks pulsing in your ribs, but before you would've been able to answer him, your attention was captured by the sight of a yellow portal to your right.

For one dreadful moment, you thought it was Ghost's escape. His slippery nature was due to the watch he had stolen from Ben all those months ago, and it seemed almost impossible to keep him in one dimension long enough to catch him.

To your tremendous relief however, Miguel's muscular form flew out of the portal, knocking the anomaly off of your body. You took a ragged breath as the two men tumbled to your side. "Oh! Here you are!" Ghost laughed, pushing himself off the floor to face Miguel. "We were just talking about you."

Miguel turned his head for a moment to assess your form still gasping for breath. "You're late," you wheezed to him as you rolled onto your side to stand up again. You'd been here fighting alongside Ben and Malala since the alert from Lyla had gone out, and Miguel was only just now showing up. You didn't even know where Jess and the others were.

Seeing that you were well enough to give him sass, Miguel turned back to face Ghost, shooting a web that Ghost easily avoided. "You missed," he teased, but he was quickly eating his words when Miguel yanked the dumpster he had webbed instead and slammed it into the arrogant anomaly.

While Ghost was still recovering from his hit, Miguel threw his containment unit device at Ghost’s form. It slid right next to him, but a microsecond before it deployed, the anomaly rolled away, causing the orange force field to envelop nothing.

"Interesting," Ghost stated, sounding genuinely fascinated as he observed the glowing orange cage. You huffed in irritation, finally managing to sit up now that your muscles weren't spasming anymore. As much as you usually enjoyed banter with your enemies, you were not in the mood.

Miguel lunged after Ghost, who pulled another weapon seemingly out of nowhere and fired a spray of spinning razors at him. Miguel began twisting through the air, managing to evade every blade with expert precision.

Unfortunately for you, your screaming muscles weren’t able to move quite as fast as you needed. You leapt through the air to try and dodge the razors, but midair, one clipped you right in the shoulder, cutting deep from the front of your shoulder down almost to your back.

You cried out in pain, slamming hard into the ground as you fell. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, and you lay there struggling to breathe while hot pain blossomed in your shoulder.

Hearing your pained cry, Miguel froze, his body automatically turning to find you. You lay there a moment before moving to roll onto your good side. You pushed yourself up with a groan, and you were surprised to find Miguel at your side and pressing you back down to the floor. “Don’t move,” he urged as he gently held you down.

Even though his face was hidden, you could see he was examining your wound. “I’m fine,” you grunted, moving to sit up again. Miguel must’ve seen that you weren’t too terribly wounded and watched you carefully while you sat up off the ground before finally saying, “Okay.”

Together, you turned back to face Ghost. He was standing with a curious look on his face and an unsettling smile on his lips. “Now, that is interesting,” he said. Before either of you could move at him, Malala came swinging in a blur and knocked the anomaly off his feet. “I’m getting real tired of his gabbing,” she muttered, sounding as aggravated as you felt.

Ghost didn’t stay down for long. “It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he observed. He quickly typed something into his watch, and a portal opened up beside him. “No!” Miguel snarled, leaving your side to lunge after him. You also stood up, grinding your teeth in pain as you leapt after him.

To buy himself time, Ghost threw down two small capsules that flashed brightly, making you balk. When the sun spots faded from your eyes, there was still a thick cloud of smoke around you, causing you to cough weakly. Your eyes scanned the alley for your rival, and you found him scooping up the containment unit device Miguel had thrown.

You flung yourself at him, trying to web the device from his hands. Hitting his arm, you pulled him forward with all your strength. He flew at your body, but when you raised a hand to hit him with your bad arm, pain flared from your shoulder and caused you to stumble, and you only managed a weak punch.

Seeing your pain, Ghost pulled a knife out of who-knows-where and severed the line between you. Scrambling away, he jumped for the portal and fell inside it just as Miguel tried to catch him, and within a breath, the portal to an unknown dimension closed.

“No!” Miguel shouted in frustration, his fist punching the wall where the portal had been mere seconds ago. You let out an aggravated breath. This was the closest you had ever been to catching Ghost, so frustratingly close that it made your chest burn in anger.

There was a tense second where nobody spoke. You could see that Miguel was breathing hard. At your side, Malala stood up with a heavy sigh and moved over to help Ben who was still entangled in a net.

Miguel whirled on you. “What happened?!” Miguel shouted at you. You gaped at him incredulously. “You’re asking me?!” You shot back angrily. “Where the hell were you when the alert went out?”

Miguel’s mask retracted to reveal his scowling face. “We had him!” he snarled, ignoring your question and directing his anger towards you.

Your frustration boiled in your chest. Not only had Miguel been late to the call, but his accusatory words were some of the first that he had spoken directly to you since he added you to the team. It had been weeks since you had spoken to each other. It seemed as though since your last encounter, he had been avoiding you. Your interactions had been brief and relevant only to the mission, and you hadn’t even spent any time alone together since you had been added to the team.

“Yeah, we had him,” you repeated angrily, your own mask retracting. “We had him until you stopped going after him.” His face contorted into a scowl, and his figure towered over you. “You had plenty of time to incapacitate him,” he argued.

You scoffed. “Yeah, I had plenty of time waiting for you to show up,” you shot back. “And as soon as you do, you turn your back on him.”

“You were hurt,” he stated sharply. His eyes fell to your shoulder, and you thought that some of his anger dissipated from his face. “You are hurt,” he corrected himself, his voice still sharp but a bit less angry.

You almost scoffed again, but when you looked down at your shoulder, you grimaced. Your suit had retracted around your cut, exposing the deep slice in your shoulder. In your adrenaline-fueled state, you had only briefly felt it, but now, seeing it slowly oozing blood, the pain was suddenly very noticeable.

"Shit," you sighed under your breath. You were used to dressing your own wounds, but this one was in a spot that was going to be difficult to treat. "I'll be fine," you said dismissively.

Miguel seemed to compose himself a little bit. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh before looking back at your shoulder. "You need stitches," he said.

You rolled your eyes. "I said I'll be fine," you repeated firmly. "Don't be stupid," he replied in a flat voice. "And don't try to tell me you can do it yourself." You closed your mouth and huffed. That's exactly what you were about to say.

"Fine, I'll get Jess to do it," you stated in exasperation. "Happy?"

"Like hell you will," he muttered, typing something into his watch. A portal opened beside you, and Miguel looked back at you, irritation still evident on his face though perhaps not so much as before.

"What?" You asked expectantly. He shot you an impatient look. "Go," he told you sharply. You shifted your stance defiantly, stubbornly remaining where you were. "I don't want to go with you," you argued. He sighed in exasperation. "Would you stop being so damn stubborn and go through the stupid portal?" He snapped.

You stared up at him in contempt. His demanding tone and harsh mannerisms made you feel resistant to accepting any of his help. After ignoring you for weeks and snapping at you during this failure of a mission, he was the last person you wanted seeing you in pain.

You both continued staring at each other, each refusing to look away first. You felt blood oozing down your back, and the pain was really starting to radiate in your shoulder. Miguel stared at you with a deadpan expression, knowing it was only a matter of time before you would give in.

You realized with a wave of aggravation that he was going to win your staring standoff. With a sigh, you grit your teeth together and looked down in defeat. "Fine," you muttered sourly. Pushing past him, you walked into the portal and didn't bother looking back to see if he was coming.

You weren't quite sure what you were expecting on the other side of the portal, but you were somewhat surprised to find yourself standing in Miguel's room. It was just as you remembered it from weeks ago— simple, neat, and barely used.

From behind you, Miguel stepped into the room, not even sparing you a glance before heading to the bathroom. You hesitated for a moment before reluctantly following after him. He pulled out a large black bag onto the counter space filled with all sorts of medical equipment. He was laying out materials for suturing as you walked in.

"Sit."

You scoffed in annoyance. "I know you know how to say please," you grumbled. He didn't respond, turning to his sink to wash his hands rather than answering you. If you had been in a pettier mood, you wouldn't have moved until he asked nicely, but you were in pain and ready to get it over with, so you pushed yourself up onto the counter by the sink and waited for him.

Miguel pulled a pair of gloves over his hands and inspected your wound carefully. "Your suit," he said flatly, indicating that it was in the way. Sighing, you let your suit retract just enough to reveal half your torso for him. It didn't matter that this man had seen you completely naked on several occasions, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you undressed now, even if he was only going to stitch you up.

Miguel began with wiping away the blood from the skin around your wound. You flinched hard. The pressure he used was light but still painful, and you closed your eyes to fight the grimace that was trying to show. It took you a second to realize that this was the first time he'd touched you in weeks.

Despite your irritation towards him, you couldn’t help but notice how closely he was standing to you. From the corner of your eye, you watched his face as he worked diligently to take care of you. His eyebrows were slightly scrunched as he focused his attention on your skin, and there was only the sounds of his soft, steady breathing in your ear.

When he was satisfied with how your skin looked, he sprayed antiseptic on it before asking, “Do you want something for the pain?” You considered it for half a moment before shaking your head. You had managed stitches before, and it wasn’t as painful as some other shit you’d experienced before.

He waited to see if you’d change your mind before lifting the threaded needle with his forceps. Despite your resolution against painkillers, you ground your teeth as the needle punctured your skin. "Sorry," Miguel murmured softly as he pulled the suture through your skin. He was obviously trying to work as gently as possible, but pain was inevitable with suturing.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you tried your best to ignore the pain, but with how slowly he was going and how thick the tension was, you knew you were going to need a distraction.

"Are you sure we couldn't have just used butterfly stitches?" You asked sourly as he pulled the thread again. "Yes," he replied firmly. "This is deep. You got lucky, too. If it had been just a few inches over, the blade would've hit your neck, and you'd need a lot more than sutures."

"It wasn't luck," you replied pointedly. "It was skill." Miguel gave a disbelieving snort as he pulled the thread tight. "If you really had skill, it wouldn't have hit you at all," he mumbled.

You huffed indignantly. "Oh, please," you began, "don't pretend like you haven't had to take a few hits before. It's practically in the job description."

Miguel didn't reply as he pierced the needle through your skin again, causing you to wince at the pain. You thought he was going to make some sharp bullshit retort about how he didn't get as hurt as you, but instead, he just sighed.

"This was too close," he murmured at last.

Your defensive attitude softened considerably at his words. Studying his face closely, you realized that he wasn't being critical, he was being protective. With your new understanding, you almost felt bad for being angry at him.

"I've had closer," you told him wryly. He frowned. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He asked in a dull voice. You have a small huff in amusement. "It's supposed to show you that you don't have to worry about me," you explained earnestly.

He didn't say anything to you as he continued sewing up your cut. The sting of the needle caused you to wince again, and you tried to think of something to talk about to distract you from the pain.

"At least I don't have to fix up my suit," you said at last, hoping he would pick up the conversation. Miguel hummed before replying, "It's almost impossible to destroy unstable molecule fabric."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Well if it was impossible to destroy, wouldn't it protect me from even getting cut?"

"That's not how it works," he told you flatly.

"So then how does it work?"

He gave a short sigh, indicating to you that he was not in the mood to entertain your curiosity. Nevertheless, he did. "The molecules work almost as a form of energy," he explained. "They assess the host molecules and change with them. The suit learns your body and reacts with it."

Another stitch was added, but you didn't feel it quite as much as before.

"When you were cut, it didn't destroy the suit," he continued, "it interrupted it. Your skin was damaged, and the suit left it exposed because your wound isn't the default for the molecules."

You studied his face as he spoke, a smile slowly growing on your lips. When he had finished explaining the science of the suit, he seemed to feel your stare and glanced down at you, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Nerd," you said at last.

That seemed to pull him out of his grumpiness somewhat, and he turned his attention back to your shoulder. "You asked," he mumbled, but the sharp edge that was in his voice was gone.

"So then how does the suit retract into my web shooters?" You asked, genuinely interested in knowing more about the fascinating technology you wore everyday, and it definitely helped distract you from the pain.

"Since the suit can take on an energy form," he explained, "it can be stored in the web shooters as a form of data." You stared down at the web shooters on your wrists. It was amazing that such an unsuspecting piece of technology housed such powerful energy.

"They look just like my old pair," you noted. Miguel nodded, his eyes never leaving your shoulder as he worked. "I know, that's what I was aiming for," he said, "but I was thrown off by the web cartridges you use."

You smirked. "Pretty cool, right?" You said proudly. "I built a system that condenses the water in the air and converts it into a hydropolymer to supplement my web supply. It's not as strong as my original formula, but it saves me from having a web block."

Miguel's eyebrows lifted somewhat as he listened. If you hadn't known better, you could almost say he was impressed. He must've noticed your staring because he turned his eyes to meet yours, and his face softened.

"Nerd," he said.

You smiled in return and rolled your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled playfully. His lips widened fractionally, and his eyes returned back to your shoulder. You felt more relaxed now. The anger and irritation you were feeling before had disappeared as soon as you saw him smile.

"How's it looking, doc?" You asked after a moment, trying to turn your head to see his progress. “Don’t move your head,” Miguel said and nudged your face with the back of his wrist. "And you're not going to be doing any swinging for the next few days.” Your eyes snapped up to look at him. "It's not that bad," you argued weakly. "I'll be fine."

Miguel gave you a stern look. "In your shoulder, it is that bad," he said. "If you tear this, it's going to scar even worse than it's already going to now."

You rolled your eyes again. "Well, you know better than most that this isn't my first or worst scar," you argued, "and it probably won't be my last." It was true. Your body was covered in scars large and small, old and new, and this was just another addition to your collection.

Miguel didn't reply to you. He had worked steadily from the back of your shoulder to the front, but the closer he got to your neck, the worse the pain felt. You did your best to remain neutral, but you couldn't help the small grunt of discomfort that sounded in your throat. Miguel heard it and asked gently, "Do you want something for the pain?"

You shook your head in response. "I have my own stuff," you told him before a crooked grin pulled on your lips. "But you know what I've heard is a natural pain killer?" You added slyly.

Miguel heard the mischief in your voice, and he looked back at your face with suspicion. "What?" He asked carefully.

In a sweet tone, you answered, "Kissing."

Miguel gave you a disapproving look, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I told you not until we get the anomaly," he said pointedly.

You weren't discouraged by his assertion. "I just want to see if it works," you told him innocently. "It's an experiment."

"With an ulterior motive."

"The motive is to get rid of the pain."

He still wore a skeptical look, so you tried again. "It's for science," you explained, batting your eyes at him. After weeks of not touching him, you longed to feel his body against your own.

Miguel was unconvinced. He gave an unimpressed hum and pulled his needle through your skin again. It seemed he wasn't going to budge. Heaving a large sigh, you continued, "But if you don't want to participate, maybe I'll find someone else who does."

Miguel pulled his stitch tight, making you wince. "I bet you think that's funny," he said in a flat voice.

"I bet you don't," you shot back.

"Because it's not."

"Well," you began slowly, hesitating as you wondered if you should even start this conversation with him. You’d thought a lot about him the past few weeks, and barely seeing him for weeks now had made you realize that being a casual fling wasn’t what you wanted anymore. "I know you've expressed many times that this isn't a relationship,” you said carefully, “so I don't really see what the issue is."

Your heart was beating a little faster now. Your words opened the door to a conversation that you were both eager and terrified to have. You wanted desperately to know how he felt about you, about whatever this was between you. You were also nervous that he didn't feel what you felt or want what you wanted.

At your words, Miguel's face darkened. He stayed quiet for a second before he resumed suturing. "If that's what you want," he muttered at last.

There was a tense silence that settled between you. You stared up at his hardened face, trying to determine what he was thinking.

"It's not," you replied quietly, "but being on this break got me thinking."

"About?"

"About how I feel about this whole arrangement."

The tense silence returned. Miguel's eyes were fixed determinedly on your shoulder, and his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to what you said.

"You want to end it?" He asked, his voice level and neutral.

"No," you said a bit too quickly. "It's just..." you trailed off, trying to think of the best way to tell him what you wanted. Doubt nibbled at your mind, and you wondered if this was even a good idea at all.

Miguel noticed your apprehension, and he stopped sewing your wound to give you his undivided attention. His dark eyes met yours, and he was so close to you that it caused your heart to flutter.

You looked away to regain your thoughts. "I know that this is supposed to be a casual thing," you began slowly. "And I know what you said about time and relationships. I just..." you sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the counter. "I don't want to be just a diversion for you, a mindless distraction that you can pick up or put down as you please."

Your face burned as you spoke, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at his face. Miguel murmured your name softly, and you closed your eyes to keep from seeing his reaction.

"If that's still what you still want, that's fine," you continued quickly. "I'm not trying to force you into something you don't want." You sighed as you opened your eyes again. "That's just how I feel," you finished quietly.

Silence enveloped you, suffocating, nerve-wracking silence. After a couple heartbeats, you forced yourself to look up at Miguel. He was still staring at you, but instead of wearing an awkward or even condescending expression as you had expected, his face was soft, almost thoughtful.

You stared at each other quietly for a moment longer before he finally turned his gaze back to your shoulder. Picking up his hands again, he began working on your sutures without reply.

Your stomach tightened anxiously at his silence, and you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. You didn't feel the pain of your wound anymore now that your mind was racing with what you just said and Miguel's utter lack of response.

"It's not that I don't want it," he said at last. "Because I do."

Your eyes shot up to his face as he spoke. His gaze was still fixed on your stitches, but you could see clearly that he was thinking about what you just said.

"Then what is it?" You asked quietly.

Miguel took a moment to respond, his hands never ceasing their work. "I built my whole life around what we're doing here," he began slowly. "When I say I don't have time for a relationship, it means I can't give you the time you deserve." He glanced over at your face briefly before returning back to your shoulder, his eyes growing distant.

"The last time I let myself get close to someone, I hurt a lot of people," he added quietly. "More than I could ever make up for." He paused for a moment and sighed. "I just don't want to see that happen to you," he said softly.

Your heart ached. You remembered what he told you, how his actions triggered the destruction of a universe. The burden of his past still clearly weighed on his conscious, and you didn't know what to say to him to comfort him.

In the silence following, Miguel tied off the last stitch. With a pair of scissors from the kit, he snipped the line. You looked down at the neat row of sutures that held your cut closed. His work was precise, and you knew it was miles better than what you could've done by yourself.

Miguel was cleaning up his materials, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with you as he did. You watched for a second before taking a deep breath.

"You know, I've learned a lot of things since I was bitten by that stupid spider," you began, breaking the silence around you. "First, pain is unavoidable." You pointed to your shoulder's fresh stitches. "Case in point," you said wryly.

Miguel didn't react to your weak joke. He continued packing his materials away, but you could tell he was still listening to what you were saying.

"My second lesson," you continued, "was that I would always be alone."

Miguel paused, and his eyes turned back to your face. "There was nobody who knows what it's like to be me," you explained. "Nobody who knew what I've sacrificed. I had nobody to trust with this secret life, and the longer I did this, the more I regretted being Spider-Woman."

You stared down at the web shooters adorning your wrists as you contemplated your own words. You had never told anybody this before, not even the other Spiders. You had suffered so much by yourself, and only now for the first time did you feel like you could share your life with someone.

"But when I came here," you continued quietly, "it all changed. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people who did understand, who also felt how I did." You paused again, and you finally looked up at his face. His eyes were watching you with a look of understanding and sympathy that made your throat tighten unexpectedly.

Your eyes broke away from his stare again, and you stated quietly, "When you offered me a place here, I wasn't alone anymore."

Miguel nodded softly. "That's what I wanted," he replied. "A community for people like us." You tilted your head up at him and studied his countenance. "Then why do you still act like you're doing it alone?" You asked.

He sighed uncomfortably, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the sink counter. "In a lot of ways, I am doing it alone," he stated quietly. "Everyone here enjoys doing the missions, seeing all the new dimensions, and meeting new Spiders. I'm the one who has to do all the damage control, the recruitment, the dirty work." He sighed again and muttered grimly, "I don't always like what I have to do."

You raised an eyebrow at his melodramatic statement. "You know, it would probably be more enjoyable if you actually interacted with the other Spiders," you told him with a pointed look.

Miguel huffed a short breath. "I'm not trying to get close to anyone," he stated firmly. That made you pause and tilt your head in interest. "Then what am I?" You asked, a curious smile pulling at your mouth.

His gloomy expression lifted somewhat as he looked at you. He uncrossed his arms and planted them on the counter on either side of your body, and he stared at your face thoughtfully. You stared back, waiting for an answer.

"You," he began slowly, "were a distraction to take the edge off." You hummed thoughtfully in response, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer. "And now?" You prompted, your eyes falling to his lips.

"And now," he echoed, "you're the person I bring back to my room to stitch up because I don't trust anyone else to do it."

You smiled at him, and your stomach fluttered at how close he was to you. You wanted so badly to kiss him. Your lips yearned for the feeling of his mouth against yours.

"I guess that makes me pretty special," you replied smugly.

A glimmer of reluctant amusement shone in his face, and he tilted his head in mock consideration. "I think 'special' is a stretch," he stated coolly. You placed a hand over your heart dramatically. "Ouch," you gasped. "And you wonder why I joke about going to other people."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "I don't wonder," he stated. "I know exactly why you do it."

"And why is that?" You asked coyly.

Miguel shot you an unconvinced look. "Because it gets under my skin, and you know it," he replied. You smirked, unable to deny the truth in his statement.

"If that's true, then that would make me a horrible person," you told him.

"You are a horrible person."

Your smile widened, and with your good arm, you raised your hand to his chest and let it slowly wander up to wrap behind his neck. "Then why do you like me?" You asked innocently.

Miguel was looking at your lips now, and there was a hint of playfulness in his face. "'Like' is a strong word," he said thoughtfully. "I think 'tolerate' is more accurate."

You rolled your eyes with a smile. "Damn, is there anything in the first aid kit for a broken heart?" You joked. He couldn't stop himself from smiling softly at your theatrics. "You're ridiculous," he said.

You hummed, pulling him closer to your face. "You love it," you insisted. His nose brushed against yours before he repeated, "I tolerate it." You chuckled and gave a careful shrug. "Same difference," you said before pulling his lips down against yours.

You couldn't resist smiling against his lips as you kissed him for the first time in weeks. You were savoring every sweet second of his body against yours. His mouth moved slowly against your own, and he snaked an arm around your torso, making your face glow with a faint blush.

His words echoed in your head. It's not that I don't want it. So, he did feel the same way you did, or at least, to some degree he did. The thought alone made your stomach flutter, and you ran your fingers through his hair while trying to memorize how his lips felt against yours.

When you finally broke apart, you still wore a smile on your face as his forehead rested on yours. "Oh wow, that does help with the pain," you commented. The pain had subsided considerably when his mouth was pressed against yours.

Miguel chuckled and kissed you again briefly. "Consider your experiment a success," he said. You hummed thoughtfully. "I would be an irresponsible scientist if I didn't repeat my experiment to prove its validity," you argued, earning a smile from him before you pressed your lips to his again.

It felt so good to kiss him, especially after the shitty failure that was today's mission, and the warmth of his body melted all your troubles away from your mind. You didn't care about the mission or your injury. He was here with you, everything else could wait.

With your fingers still running through his hair, you grabbed a fistful of jet-black strands and deepened your kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth with a sigh. His hand on your waist tightened while he grunted softly into your mouth.

Breaking away from your lips, Miguel murmured your name in a low, warning voice. "Hmm?" You replied innocently, looking up at his dark eyes through your lashes. "We had an agreement," he said.

"Yeah, when I was on the team," you told him. "But you just said that I need to lay off for a few days..." you gave him a pointed look, "...which means I'm technically off the team for a few days..." you pulled his face back down to yours, "...which means that our agreement is null and void."

With that, you pressed your lips to his in a deep kiss before he could argue back. It was a weak argument, and you knew it, but you didn't want him to challenge it. You wanted him to want you.

His grip around your waist tightened as he pushed against your tongue with his own. You couldn't help the small moan you gave as his passion began to show, and all the longing you'd been feeling for Miguel the past couple weeks began welling up inside you.

Your lips separated for a moment. "Treacherous," he murmured breathlessly against your skin. You hummed, blinking your eyes open to look at him. His face looked restless, and you knew he was hungry for more.

"So I've been told," you replied smugly as you moved your lips down to his neck. Miguel gave a deep sigh at the feeling of your kisses on his sensitive skin, skin that felt warm and soft to the touch.

In your growing desire for him, your teeth gently nipped his bare flesh. Miguel sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, his fingers gripping your waist tightly as he whispered your name again. You smiled deviously as his reaction, and your legs wrapped around his hips to bring his body flush against yours.

"Give me more," you mumbled against his skin. Miguel took a second to respond, his breathing ragged as he tried to keep his composure. "You're hurt," he argued weakly. Based on his strained voice, you knew he had all but given in to the craving of your touch. You raised your head up so that you could look him in his dark, restless eyes, noses brushing gently as you were both panting lightly in anticipation.

"Then make me feel better."

That was all you had to say before he kissed you with the hunger of a touch-starved man. He pulled you off the sink in one swift movement, holding you upright with your legs still wrapped around his waist, and walked out of the bathroom to where his bed was waiting for you both.

Finally, you thought. The tension between you these past few weeks had been torture. Seeing each other around HQ after your last encounter and not saying a word in passing was aggravating, and you had been longing for the moment when you could wrap your arms (and legs) around him again.

When his legs hit the side of the bed, he lowered you carefully down onto it. You still had your good arm wrapped around his shoulders, and when he placed you on the top of his bed, you hissed in pain and clung to his body. The edge of your stitched-up wound had touched the comforter, making it sting.

"Maybe not like this," you said with a light chuckle.

A flash of concern crossed Miguel's face when he realized your pain, and he moved to roll off of you. Still holding yourself close to his body, you rolled with him and found yourself straddling his lap.

With a smirk, you hovered your face over his. "Much better," you stated smugly. Miguel was still assessing your face for any traces of discomfort. "Are you sure you're up for this?" He asked. You shot him a look. You would've thought he was trying to find a way out of it if it weren't for the fact that his fingers were unconsciously trying to move your hips against his hardening cock.

"I've been craving you for weeks," you whispered against his lips. "It would take more than this to keep me off of you." His face gave way to a smile at your words, a true smile that filled his whole face. Fuck, he looked so good. The way he lit up with you knocked the wind out of you, and you could've stayed there forever just admiring the beautiful smile he had before he raised his head to kiss you.

You leaned into him, growing hot with desire. Your suit, so attuned to what your body wanted, retracted all the way back to your web shooters. Miguel's hands traced across the skin of your torso as his tongue slid against yours, and his suit also disappeared from his body.

Feeling his skin against yours set your heart racing. His fingertips felt electric as his hands wandered up your back to unclasp your bra. Careful not to hit your new stitches, he removed it from your body, taking in the sight of your bare body with a lustful expression before lowering his head to take one of your breasts in his mouth.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he moved his mouth sloppily over your skin. Leaning into him, you ran a hand through his dark hair and grabbed fistfuls of the strands. You missed this, the feeling of him exploring your body. It was so much more than taking the edge off now. It was almost like a form of worship.

"Feeling better?" He murmured, tilting his head up to watch your enraptured expression. "Mhmm," you hummed, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. "But don't you dare stop."

Miguel smirked. "Wasn't planning on it," he replied in a low voice. As he spoke, his hands slid down your body and began pushing your underwear down over your ass. Leaning forward, you lifted your legs to allow his hands to remove your last piece of clothing.

You were breathing hard in anticipation now. You placed sloppy kisses on his chest, his neck, practically any of his tanned skin that you could reach. From his throat, the softest little moans sounded in response to your touch, and each fueled your desire. In your desperation, your teeth grazed his skin again.

His breath caught in his throat, and his fingers dug into your skin. You smirked, enjoying his reaction to your teasing. "You like that, don't you?" You observed slyly. Before you could give him the opportunity to respond, you bit down on the muscle at the base of his neck, not enough to be painful but enough to leave a mark.

He moaned loudly, an unrestrained sound that demonstrated the power you had over him. You released the skin between your teeth before moving them up his neck and biting him there, gentler than before. You were fairly certain he stopped breathing for a moment as you bit down on his soft skin. When the moment passed, you let go again, moving your mouth up and nipping his earlobe.

Miguel was practically paralyzed by your touch, and you could feel his heart racing wildly under your hand. He was completely at your mercy, unable to stop you even if he had wanted to.

But you knew he didn't want you to stop.

Still holding a fistful of his hair, you pulled firmly and tilted his head back to expose his neck to you. Letting his earlobe slip out of your teeth, you moved your mouth to his jaw, placing a kiss on the skin there before gently biting it.

He groaned your name. There was a desperate edge to his voice that made your cunt ache for him. When you moved your lips up to his, he kissed you with such fervor that it was less like he was kissing you and more like he was trying to devour you, like being completely pressed against you wasn't close enough.

"I need to...be inside you," he gasped, his lips still trying to kiss you as he spoke. He sounded as breathless as you felt, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, his eyes were hungry with his desire for you.

Maybe if it hadn't been so long since you'd been together, you would've prolonged the teasing, exacerbated his frustration, but you found that you were also desperate to feel him inside you. Every inch of your body burned for him, and you knew he burned for you, too.

Settling back down slowly on his lap, you allowed Miguel to guide your hips to his cock. Your forehead rested against his, and you gave a small gasp when you felt the tip tease at the entrance of your pussy. Giving Miguel another messy kiss, you lowered yourself down his length.

God, he felt good.

Your head lolled back as he stretched you out so perfectly for the first time in weeks. Miguel released a hot breath against the skin of your neck, his hands holding your hips tightly as he slid into your tight cunt.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered. "I've missed this."

If you had been in a clearer state of mind, you would've pointed out it was his own damn fault for making the stupid rule in the first place. But right now, the only thing on your mind was that you needed to move your body against his.

Raising your hips up again, a loud groan spilled from your lips. You'd almost forgotten just how big he was. His cock was buried deep inside you, setting every nerve on fire. Every muscle in your body tightened with the feeling of his dick sliding out of you, and your hands, one still in his hair and the other holding onto his back, curled tightly as you clung to him.

You moved back down again, your eyes closed tightly with the sensations of riding him. Miguel's hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as you moved slowly up and down the length of his cock. His breathing was shaky, and so was yours. Neither of you said anything as you took the time to reacquaint yourselves with the feeling of each other's bodies.

You soon grew impatient with the slow pace you were keeping. You raised your hips off of his lap with greater need, grinding your pussy down hard against him as you did. Miguel's reaction was immediate, and you heard a growl deep in his throat. His hands encouraged your pace and eased some of the effort off of your knees.

The sound of your ass smacking against his lap filled the air, and combined with the sounds of his heavy panting, it only fueled your lust-crazed mind. Blinking open your eyes, you looked at Miguel and found that he was staring up at your face. A shimmer of sweat gleamed on his forehead, and his lips were parted as he breathed hard.

Your eyes locked with his dark gaze. Even as you continued to move along his length, you couldn't help but feel utterly paralyzed by his stare, so brazen and intentional, completely in awe of you. It made you feel powerful, revered.

Loved.

You managed to break out of your paralyzed stupor and crash your lips down on his. Now, you were the one who felt as though you couldn't be close enough to him. Even with his cock pumping in and out of you with ever-increasing speed, you wondered if there was anything that could satisfy your need for him.

Your pace was uncontrollable now. Small, whining moans escaped your mouth with every rise and fall of your hips. Miguel's fingers dug into your waist tightly, and he grunted as he pulled away from your lips.

"Wait," he gasped quietly.

Your eyes snapped open, and you froze. Was something wrong? Were you doing something he didn't like?

Miguel's face struggled to compose itself. "You need to slow down," he finally said. You stared at him for a second before you understood what was happening.

A wicked grin grew on your face. "Why?" You asked deviously. Miguel shot you a glare, his chest heaving. "You know why," he grunted. "Just slow down."

Still wearing your devilish smile, you started moving your hips again. "I don't want to," you told him, your words sounding almost childish as you choked back a whine. Miguel cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought against the pleasure your cunt brought him.

"Wait, wait," he groaned again, trying to hold you still. Now, this was a power trip if you'd ever felt one. You knew you were only a few moments away from causing him to unravel. Now, he was begging you to ease up because he knew he couldn't last against you.

You grabbed his jaw in one hand, forcing his face to look up at you. "Why should I?" You demanded to know. He was panting hard, and his eyes seemed hazy and unfocused.

"I need to take care of you first," he managed to breathe. You huffed an amused breath. He never failed to get you off, and despite the fact that you were more than happy to finish him off in record timing, you were inclined to let him take over for you.

Miguel placed a soft kiss to your lips. "Let me take care of you," he pleaded in a whisper. "Let me taste you."

The thought alone of what he could do with his tongue was enough to make you moan. Instead of replying, you kissed him hard before lifting your hips up off of him entirely. You felt a twinge of regret from the loss of his cock inside you, but when he slowly rolled you over, the rush of anticipation quickly replaced it.

Miguel pulled you to the edge of the bed, careful not to cause your stitches to hit the comforter. With your good arm, you were propped up by your elbow while he slowly moved down your body. He placed tantalizing kisses on your throat, your collar, your breasts, your stomach, practically every inch of your body he could see. With every kiss, you felt like your body was slowly being set on fire, and you moaned impatiently as he slid off the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms under your thighs the way he loved to do.

When his mouth finally landed over your pussy, you nearly fell back against the bed. A cry of pleasure tore from your throat. The hand you weren't leaning on came up and grabbed his hair while you squirmed in his grip. His lips were sealed over your pussy. He was alternately sucking at your clit and circling it with his tongue. You struggled to breathe as he continued working at a careful pace.

"Miguel," you gasped, your thighs flexing beneath his hands.

Miguel moaned against you, his movements growing faster and faster. His head pressed firmly against you. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you tried to keep your arm from buckling. His tongue moved expertly against you, lapping hungrily at your swollen clit. You tugged at his hair as you tried moving under his arms, but his grip kept you in place.

Your head fell back with a long whine. You knew at the rate he was going that you weren't going to last long. He was all too familiar with the way your body worked, and he knew exactly where to focus his efforts to get you off.

Lifting your head up again, you blinked your eyes open to look down at him. Half of his face was blocked by your arm, so you released the hold you had on his hair, letting your hand trace the edge of his face. His dark eyes were gazing up at you intently, watching your every reaction.

Letting your hand fall away from his face, it rested on your thigh as you let out another high-pitched moan. Without stopping his tongue, Miguel released his grip on your leg and took your hand in his. You looked down at him and squeezed his hand while he continued swirling his tongue over your pussy.

"Don't stop," you panted, your stomach tensing from his movement. He tightened his grip in two quick pulses, and even though his mouth never left your cunt, you could practically hear the words he was thinking—I won't.

Your legs were shaking now, and you barely had the strength to keep yourself up off the bed. Pleasure was taking over your body and coiling at your stomach. Miguel knew you were close by the quickening of your breath and the tightening of your grip, his tongue maintaining its steady pressure.

Finally, with a loud cry, your body began trembling under his touch. You squeezed his hand hard as you came against his mouth. The feeling of ecstasy burned in every part of your body while you struggled to breathe from the pleasure that had now completely overwhelmed you.

Miguel eased his pace to lazy circles, his eyes alight with smug satisfaction. You writhed under his mouth, growing restless from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel. "Oh, fuck," you gasped, moving your hips to escape his warm tongue. He let you move away from his face, releasing his grip on your hand and thigh.

Miguel pushed himself off the ground and began crawling over your body. "See?" he said in satisfaction, sounding out of breath. "I'll always take care of you." You moaned again, still trying to recover from your high. "Careful O'Hara," you managed to say. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He smirked down at you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness. Pushing forward, his body forced yours down. You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, clinging to him to keep from laying on the bed. "Not like this—my stitches," you whispered.

Miguel froze for a second before placing a hand behind your back to help you up. "How do you want it?" He asked quietly. You took a second and bit your lip as you considered the myriad of ways he could fuck you.

"Like before," you decided finally.

His subtle smile returned, and he rolled off of your body and onto the bed. Pulling yourself up, you straddled him again, though perhaps not so fast since you were still hazy from your orgasm. His hands guided you back down to where his cock was waiting for you.

Miguel rested his head on your good shoulder as you lowered yourself slowly back down on him. His hot breath fanned against your skin as he groaned at the feeling of your wet pussy around him. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling yourself stretch out again for him. You moved slowly, still halfway stuck in the stupor his mouth had left you in, and everything was still so sensitive for you.

Gradually, you began moving again. Miguel's arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing his body up against yours. His skin felt like fire—burning, consuming, enthralling. You rested your head against his as his strong arms helped lift you up and down his length.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted quietly against your cheek. "You don't understand...what you do to me." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulder as he spoke. The movement of his cock inside you made it difficult for you to formulate a response, but you managed to choke out, "Tell me. Tell me what I do to you."

He groaned softly. "You drive me fucking crazy," he muttered. "I can never focus when you're with me—," he groaned again, "—but I can never stop thinking about you when you're not." His arms were moving you up and down faster as he spoke, and you could tell he was fucking out his frustration. "The way you smell," he continued breathlessly, "the way you feel, the way you look when you're cumming all over my cock."

You gasped sharply, the combination of his words and his increasingly desperate pace rendering you speechless. "I want to have you every second...of every day," he murmured in your ear. You were panting hard against his skin while his cock continued driving deep into your aching cunt.

"Then have me," you whispered so quietly that he wouldn't have heard it over the lewd sounds of your fucking if it hadn't been said directly in his ear. "Have me every day."

He groaned, and turning his face, he captured your lips in a kiss. The taste of your pussy still lingered on his mouth, and you moaned softly against his lips. Everything felt so good, and when you broke away from your kiss, you looked deep into Miguel’s eyes and whispered, “I’m yours.”

And just like that, Miguel's body tensed, and with a long moan against your skin, he came inside you. You stilled as he held you tightly against his body. Beside the sound of your heart beating furiously in your ears, there was only your heavy breathing to fill the silence between you.

You could've stayed like that forever, feeling his strong arms wrapped around your body, hearing his breath against your ear. Your body still buzzed with pleasure, and there was nothing in your mind except that cursed phrase you fought so hard to ignore, the one that whispered to you constantly in the back of your brain every time you looked at Miguel.

I love you.

Over and over, it echoed in your mind, begging to be spoken. You'd heard it nagging in your heart for a while now, and you had tried your best to ignore it. Even after weeks of next to no contact, your feelings hadn't wavered for him.

Now, as you sat there wrapped in each other's arms, you felt those words ringing louder than ever, and for one dreadful moment, you thought you might say it out loud.

No—no, you couldn't. A bolt of fear yanked the words off your tongue. You couldn't jeopardize this. It was too precious to you. Even if this was all you could have, the occasional fuck, sleeping together knowing that he would always have to leave for something more important than yourself—wasn't it better than nothing? Wasn't it better than before when you were all alone? Especially now that he admitted to feeling something real for you, you couldn't ruin it with those three words.

Miguel finally moved when he turned his head toward yours. Your noses brushed against each other for moment as you both gasped for breath before your lips pressed down on his. You moaned against him softly. Still holding your body to his, he leaned back against the bed, bringing you down with him so that you lay on his chest.

After your breathing began leveling out, you shifted, allowing his cock to pull out of you with a groan. You slid off his chest onto your good shoulder with your body still pressed against his. You lay there like that for a while in comfortable silence, enjoying the feeling of each other's warm skin.

"It's been too long," Miguel sighed, finally breaking the silence. You smiled. "And whose fault is that?" You asked as you looked up at him. A small smile formed on his lips. "You were the one who swore you'd catch Ghost," he pointed out. "Is it my fault for believing you?"

You scoffed. "It's your fault for making that stupid rule in the first place," you argued. There was a quiet chuckle that rumbled in his chest. "It's called compromise, sweetheart," he said smoothly. "I can't let you have everything you want."

You tried to keep a straight face, but his snark caused your lips to quirk upward. "And why not?" You demanded to know, propping yourself up onto your elbow to look deep in his eyes.

Miguel looked at you with a subtle smile still adorning his face. "Because then everyone is going to complain about how I favor you over everyone else," he replied evenly. "And then, one by one, they'll all leave until it's just you and me."

You hummed thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound so bad," you said, settling back down next to him. "Just you and me against the multiverse."

He hummed as well. "Just you and me," he repeated, and in his voice, you could hear him imagining it, the two of you together across every universe.

You had imagined it before, too. You and Miguel, together, always, through everything. It was such a sweet dream, and yet the truth was the bitter chaser that always followed your longing—different dimensions, different lives. What future could you have together?

If Miguel was thinking the same thing, he didn't say it. He seemed content to just lay with you in silence while his fingers gently caressed your arm.

After a moment, you sighed. You could feel Miguel's head turn to look down at you in curiosity.

"You know, I meant what I said before," you told him softly.

"Hmm?"

"About being more than just a fling you can ignore outside of the bedroom," you explained.

"Ah."

You felt his head turn back up to stare at the ceiling, but his fingers still brushed against your skin. "I mean, is that what you still want?" You asked, lifting your gaze to look at his face. "Be honest."

There was a beat of silence before he quietly answered, "No."

You waited, hoping he would say more. He sounded almost reluctant in his reply, so you could tell there was more to it.

It was Miguel's turn to sigh. "I don't—I don't want this to be casual either," he began slowly. "I want it to be real, but I can't give up my work here. I won't. And one day, you'll hate me for not putting you first."

You scoffed lightly at those last words. "I could never hate you," you told him. There was a slight pause before he muttered, "Don't be so sure."

It could've been a joke, but the way he said it was so serious, it made you pause, and looking up at his face, you found there wasn't any traces of humor. You pushed yourself up a bit to face him better. His eyes moved back to you, and you held his stare for a moment.

"I could never hate you," you repeated in a soft, earnest whisper. Miguel didn't respond, he only watched you carefully before a tiny, sad smile pulled at his lips, looking as though he wanted to believe you.

"Careful," he murmured. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

You smirked at him and leaned in close. "I'll try my best not to," you said before closing the gap between your lips. He kissed you gently before pulling away to say, "And I'll try—about what you want, I'll try."

Your heart leapt, and there wasn't anything you could do to contain your smile. "Thank you," you whispered before kissing him again. You could feel him grinning against your lips, and his arms pulled you close. When you broke apart, you settled back down next to him.

"If they all start complaining though, I'm blaming you," he said. You chuckled. "Fair is fair," you replied. "If they don't like it, they can leave." He huffed in amusement. "Until it's just you and me?" He asked.

"Until it's just you and me."

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illubean · 18 days

Note

can i request headcanons of any hxh characters your choice (preferably including illumi, chrollo, and/or feitan) with a crush on/unestablished relationship with a gender neutral reader who refuses to fully align themselves with anyone but has an incredibly OP ability that requires their blood or body (can shoot blood in like spikes, detach their limbs to chase down and drag back runners, use their blood and/or tears to heal wounds, can just regrow lost limbs including their head, ect.) that would make being on their bad side more trouble then it's worth

so every fight they kind of /have/ to get injured to use it. Plus their ability weirdly doesn't seem to use nen (chrollo can't copy it and gyo doesn't show anything, ect.)

and when they're finally asked about it they're casually like "oh yeah, I'm not human. I was actually created to be an unstoppable force that infects and destroys humanity, but that's honestly too much work. Plus you give me snacks so I'd rather just hit whoever you tell me to." and their reactions to the fact this insanely overpowered goober they've fallen for is a stray shapeshifting little abomination who could have murdered the entire human race and that they're lowkey lucky reader likes getting bribed them so much

(Sorry if that's too long btw, I thought you'd like the idea but I couldn't think of a better way to condense it 😅)

HXH With an Unaligned!OP!Reader

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

i do not like how this came out but posting anyways lol...

Warnings: mentions of blood, experimentation and violence, reader isn't human if that counts as a warning

Illumi Zoldyck

the way you met Illumi was... not ideal to say the least

he was on a job to kill some scientist guy but little did he know scientist guy had quite literally created a monster

the day he was going to do his mission happened to be the day your power was finally realized

annnndddd Illumi walked in on you killing scientist guy and literally everyone else who worked for him

you had managed to pop your arms off and launch them like missiles, turn your blood into weapons and spikes around the room and also not die????? and grow your limbs back???????????

the weird part was Illumi couldn't sense any of your aura at all

he just assumed you were a super advanced nen user and were able to still keep up hatsu really well while fighting

which led him to the conclusion that he should either A. run away or B. try and get you on his side

when you noticed him just standing there you turned to stare at him like come at me bitch

"So? Are you here to poke me with more needles like the others? It won't end very well." "Actually I was here for the guy in the lab coat, but it seems like you did the job for me."

realizing he wasn't a threat (or trying to be because you know...you cant die) you let down your guard down

you ended up just following him around after that, not really having anywhere else to go so Illumi decided on plan B

turns out it took a lot less manipulating than he thought

he brought you to the estate and you agreed to help him with whatever for a popeyes chicken sandwich

watching how you wandered around the estate aimlessly and lounged about Illumi quickly realized you only use your abilities when threatened or bribed

so you become his personal little treat fueled killing machine

he takes you on missions with him because he doesn't trust you alone at the estate...

eventually he asks you about how your hatsu is so good and you're like wtf is that

and he's like What.

you tell him you we're pretty much created in that lab and they did all these tests and stuff and you didn't even really know how or why you had the power you did but you found out you did the day you met

and you were all like "they were so annoying and they told me to do stuff for free, I'd never kill you though you feed me :3"

he is so glad you are clueless and he got to you before anyone else because you could take over the entire world if you really wanted to

he is going to marry you ASAP

but again, you being clueless did not understand what marriage entails

and you agreed for the same reasons you agreed to literally anything else this man has asked of you

you are Illumi's most prized possession and no matter how freaky you are, he really does cherish you as normal people would their spouse

Chrollo Lucilfer

running into you on a heist was definitely unexpected

especially since you looked like you just got out of captivity

mistaking him for an enemy you shot your fist off at him and barely missed

and he was like woah im not an opp dw

then your hand grows back and hes like !?

he asked why you were there you explain that you were some sort of war weapon yada yada yada the guys got annoying you killed them and yeah

and Chrollo offers you to come back w him and the troupe and you're like sure if you feed me

so after the heist is over Chrollo takes you back to Phantom Troupe hq and then talks with the gang blah blah blah dismisses everyone and then takes you to wherever the hell and buys you whatever you want to eat

and while you're stuffing your face bro is like

"Your powers are pretty impressive. Mind telling me how they work?"

and not caring you tell him, mainly focused on your meal

and he's like huh what a useful ability time to steal it

one thing leads to another and he somehow gets you to touch his weird book and when he flips to where your nen should be the page is blank and he is insanely confused

and hes like "Why didn't my nen ability work on you?"

and you're like wtf is nen

and hes like oh my god I don't think this thing is human

so he asks

and you're like "I literally told you I'm a war weapon. A weapon created for war, but that's too much work."

now he is confused but also intrigued

he offers for you to join the troupe and you're like

"But being in a gang is so much wooorrrkkkkkuuuuhhhh"

you can literally destroy man kind but you don't because you're LAZY!?

you're not officially part of the troupe but you're practically an honorary member because you follow Chrollo around after your first encounter

and he decides it 's better than nothing

Feitan Portor

I can't think of a clever way for you guys to meet LMAO

umm uhhh idk maybe you were created to take out the chimera ants and happened to get deployed in meteor city the same time the troupe was hunting down the 'queen'

so when the troupe got there you were already fighting some ants

you look human enough but your abilities make Feitan think you might not be

soooo he tries attacking you before he ended up getting to the lizzard ant crocodile lady thing i don't remember what she was

and he couldn't beat you and you're like wtf do you want from me I'm trying to do my job

and hes like ??? you're not an ant?

and youre like no

and hes like oh and leaves you alone

then he throws the entire sun at the ant lady and leaves the building

he kinda forgot about you until he felts something lift the back of his cloak

and he's like !!?!?!??!

and he looks behind him to see you crawled under his coat and took the snacks he hides under there for himself

and he's like what the fuck

how did you even know he had those???? (you could smell it because you have super enhanced everything)

ok i just remembered his cloak got destroyed in this scene but pretend it didn't

anyways he snatches the bottom of it away from you and tries taking the snacks back out of your hands but you are quick to dodge

he's irritated but he just lets you have them he's too tired to deal with this

you end up following him after this like a lost puppy and the rest of the troupe is like ??????

but they can't get rid of you

and on the way out of meteor city you were like yap yap yap weapon yap yap created in a lab yap yap yap immortal

feitan could not care less about what you had to say but he was like ??? to the immortal thing

maybe you weren't a bad thing to keep around

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nightingale-ghost-writer · 1 year

Text

Your Wildest Dreams [Soap x Fem!Reader]

Summary: In a mission gone wrong, you and Soap have to hole up in a safehouse, trying to stay warm during the cold Russian winter

Author’s Note: Not me thirsting after Soap for 5.1K words instead of finishing the companion piece I started for Maybe… also, my first ever shot at writing reader-insert! Anyway, here’s a really plot-lacking, self-serving piece for anyone interested

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

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, extremely suggestive, borderline smutty? No actual explicit smut, but let’s call it NSFW to be safe

Shrike /SHrīk/ noun

a songbird with a strong sharply hooked bill, often impaling its prey of small birds, lizards, and insects on thorns

a 10-foot (3-meter), 400-pound (180-kilogram) U.S. air-to-ground missile designed to destroy missile batteries by homing in on their radar emissions

Icy water enveloped you. Pinpricks instantly broke out under your skin, dancing through your blood and your bones. For a blessed moment, your mind went blank. Then, survival instinct kicked in. You kicked your already numbing legs as hard as you could, launching yourself back toward the night sky. Just as you thought your lungs might burst, you broke the surface, gulping in the crisp mountain air. It burned the back of your throat as you bobbed in the current, trying to get your bearings.

What should have been an hour-long intel collection mission had gone to shit in less than a minute.

You and Soap had been dispatched to a safehouse of Makarov’s in the Russian countryside to gather intel. You were anxious- excited to be out with Soap, nervous about the actual infiltration. Soap’s signature flirting melted that anxiety quickly. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed missions with him so much… and one of the reasons you got so flustered around him.

Tensions with Russia were high, so rather than sending a full team, the pair of you had been dropped off by helo three clicks from the site. You’d go in, get the intel, get to the safehouse, and wait for evac. Barring any immediate danger, you’d be holed up there overnight, hiking out early the next morning to be picked up. Price was unhappy about sending you in without comms or backup, but Laswell was concerned with radio traffic and her sources had told her it would be empty.

Laswell’s sources had been wrong.

You’d taken a long, cold hike up the frozen mountainside to a deteriorating stone building that might at one time have been a castle, but was now little more than half-crumbled walls and hastily built wooden shacks. There had been no indicators that anything was amiss- no footprints in the snow, no pings on Soap’s heartbeat sensor, no noise. Laswell’s intel had seemed good.

Then you’d opened the door to one of the shacks and been met with a full squad of soldiers. They clearly hadn’t been expecting you, and you had the distinct advantage. Before they could react, you’d grabbed the nearest soldier, using him as a human shield while you put him in a headlock. Soap had sprung past you, shooting two others before ducking behind a desk. An overeager and overconfident soldier had fired several shots at you, nearly grazing your arm, but killing his teammate in the process. Soap had lunged at him, baring him to the ground and stabbing a combat knife deep into his throat.

The three remaining soldiers raised their weapons, shouting to each other. You’d killed one with a well-placed throwing knife as you threw yourself behind a table and watched in horror as another launched himself at Soap. You raised your gun, but there was no clean shot with them grappling as they were. Then, you were blindsided by the last soldier. He leapt at you as you tried to line up a shot on his teammate, knocking your gun to the ground and grabbing one of your wrists.

Instinct took over as you wrestled, and before you knew what was happening, you and your attacker were flying through the nearby window. You both rolled down a steep, snowy hill toward a frothing river, each trying to get the upper hand. Before either of you could, you went straight into the icy river, sinking instantly. Luckily, you recovered first.

After taking a moment to breathe, you dove back underwater, looking around for your attacker. He was close enough to reach out and touch, back to you as he tried to get to the surface for a breath of air. You swam toward him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hoist yourself up, and stabbed him. Once in the neck, once in the ribs, and then once in the chest for good measure. His body had gone limp at the first thrust, but you couldn’t be too safe.

As soon as his body floated out of your arms, you realized the bigger issue- the current, and the cold. You were already being dragged downstream, the tide splashing over your head and threatening to pull you back under. You swam for the bank, but your progress was minimal. Your muscles were already starting to freeze up. You looked around frantically, desperate for something to hold onto. Just as your fingers met with a sharp rock, you heard Soap’s voice calling your name.

You looked up to see him scrambling down the hill, sliding on snow and loose bits of shale. Blood dripped from his temple and he seemed to be cradling his arm to his chest. You tried to pull yourself out of the water to meet him on the banks, but your muscles refused to work. The icy water was doing its work and you could feel your body beginning to shut down.

“Soap,” you called weakly. He had almost reached you. “I can’t move.”

He waded waist deep into the water, reaching out for you with the arm that wasn’t held carefully to his side. “‘S alright, hen, I’ve got you. Take my hand.” You shakily, slowly, tried to reach for him, barely managing to brush the tips of your fingers against his, and he managed to lean just a bit further out to wrap his hand around yours. He tugged you toward him, and after a moment, was pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing, Shrike,” he murmured, rubbing your arm for a moment. You were shivering violently, barely able to move.

“I am,” you said, teeth chattering. “Your head.” Soap waved you off as he looked around, gaze settling in the direction of the town where you were supposed to wait for evac.

“The intel-”

Soap cut you off, shaking his head. “Forget the intel. Price said if anything went wrong, we get to the safehouse.” His eyes scanned your body, looking for any injuries, as his hand rubbed over your arms. “Are you okay? Can you make it back to town?” You nodded, your violent shaking making it nearly impossible to tell. You reached for his wrist, pressing on it gently. You were no medic, but it didn’t feel broken to you.

You held his wrist with one hand as the other reached up to wipe the blood from his temple. “You okay?” you asked. He winced as you wiped at the blood, but nodded. You breathed a sigh of relief when only a shallow cut was visible.

“Just a sprain,” he said. He pulled his wrist carefully from your grip and unzipped his jacket, pulling it off.

“W-what are you-”

“You need it more than me,” he said. He walked around behind you, tucking you into the jacket before zipping you up in it.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested. Soap only shook his head, offering a lopsided smile.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

You were afraid your legs would refuse to move, but were so grateful when they didn’t. The warmth that bloomed in your chest at Soap’s sacrifice warmed you more than the jacket itself, although it did keep out the worst of the biting wind. You both trudged through the snow toward the village, teeth chattering and bone-cold. You walked in relative quiet, broken only by Soap’s soft inquiries.

“How’re you holding up, hen?”

“I can’t feel my toes, Soap.” “Hang in there, Shrike. We’re almost to the safehouse.”

As the town came into view, your vision began to swim. You’d been given the safehouse address. Now you just had to find it so you could lie down and bundle up until Price could send someone to get you.

You breathed a sigh of relief as Soap found the house, prying off one of the address numbers to reveal a key. He opened the door, revealing a tiny studio. It took less than a minute to clear- the only room with a door was the bathroom. While Soap dug out the radio system hidden under the sink, you turned the heater on full blast and looked for blankets. You found a pile in a cupboard, dropped them onto the foot of the bed, and headed toward the kitchen in search of a kettle to heat some water.

You only vaguely heard Soap talking to Price through the fog in your mind, something about getting some rest and pickup in the morning. Then, very suddenly, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling, wondering when you’d stopped shivering.

“Shrike? Shite!” You only realized you’d fallen when Soap pulled you upright. “Shrike?” He raised one hand to your neck, feeling for your pulse. He cursed under his breath, muttering in an unintelligibly thick Scottish accent as he hauled you up against his chest. You were vaguely aware of being carried into the small bathroom and deposited on the countertop there. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to stay awake. You were suddenly so sleepy.

You opened your eyes when you heard a squelching sound, freezing as you watched Soap strip off his clothes. You’d seen him without a shirt, but only in passing in the halls on base. Never this close, and never with no one around to check your gaze. Nevertheless, you’d memorized his scars the last time you saw his bare chest. He had some new ones since then. You stared at his rippling muscles as he unbuttoned his pants, peeling the wet material off his toned legs, leaving him standing in front of you in nothing but his dog tags and boxers. You tried not to stare at the outline you could see in the fabric as he took one step toward you to stand between your legs. Then his hands were on his jacket, the one you were wearing, pulling the zipper down and your arms out of it.

“Stay with me, Shrike,” he murmured. His hands shook as he unbuckled your tac vest and pulled it off. You raised your arms as he pulled up your hoodie, then your shirt, leaving you i n just a sports bra. You let your own hands rest on his chest as you lowered them.

You giggled, tracing patterns across his pecs and down his ribs. His muscles jumped under your fingertips. “What are you doing, Johnny?”

His cheeks reddened as he glanced up, dutifully keeping his eyes on the task at hand as he hastily pulled off your boots and pants.

“I’m trying to get you warm,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Checking you out,” you said boldly, arching an eyebrow at him and smiling. You weren’t sure where the confidence had come from, but you’d had a crush on him since day one and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of this opportunity. He had just reached up to grip your hips and he faltered for a moment before pulling you down off the counter. He turned you around, walking you toward the bed with his hands on your waist until pulling back the covers. Soap sat, pulling you down between his legs and back against his chest. He pulled up the extra blankets, wrapping them around both of your shoulders. You giggled again, wiggling back against him as his arms wound around you. You couldn’t tell whether he shuddered or whether it was just his shivering. You’d started to shiver again, yourself.

“Stay with me,” he repeated. His body trembled around you, proof that he probably should have kept his jacket after all. His hands rubbed your shoulders, occasionally tracing the straps of your sports bra, and he curled his legs up, bringing yours with them. His knees held yours together and he shifted one arm down to circle your waist, keeping your back pressed to his chest and your hips connected. One hand brushed your hip and he tilted his head so that his chin rested in the crook of your shoulder. His hold on you was tight, but reassuring. You savored the way you fit perfectly in his embrace.

Your bare skin felt numb, even under the pile of blankets.

Everywhere Soap’s skin touched felt scalded.

“You’re so hot,” you murmured.

You felt as much as heard when Soap chuckled low in his chest. “I’m actually freezing.” His voice shook when he spoke.

You leaned your head back on his shoulder, turning so that your cheek touched his. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smiled, eyes fixed on some point across the room. “I’m just trying to save you from saying things you don’t mean, so you don’t regret them later.”

When you cocked your head at him, shifting in his arms to better face him, his smile dropped. “C’mon, Shrike, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Hope flared in your chest like a bonfire. Your mind ran through all the possibilities of that statement, and every one of them suggested attraction to your lovesick mind. You stared blankly at him and he tipped his head back against the headboard, heaving a sigh. “I’m sure Gaz would be none too pleased if I made a move on you when you were only flirting because of hypothermia.”

“Gaz..?” You didn’t understand what Gaz had to do with Soap making a move on you, and you were too confused to focus on either the fact that he said that he might, or that he had just admitted he knew you were flirting with him. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. You barely dared to breathe.

Soap’s face flamed as he looked away. He had stopped shivering so badly, but his voice still shook a bit when he spoke. “You and Gaz. I know you’re… well, something. I’d never-”

You hadn’t imagined it. Your snort cut him off. “Gaz and I are friends, that’s it.” Now it was Soap’s turn to stare blankly. You fought to speak normally, not with the giddy optimism you felt. “Remember the day Price introduced me to you all? Gaz was the first one to shake my hand, and then he showed me around base? I knew right off the bat that Ghost didn’t trust me and I thought you wouldn’t either, since you two were clearly so close.”

That brought a smile out of Soap. As much as Ghost tried to play it off, the two had definitely become good friends over their time working together. Soap loved to flaunt his position as the resident boogeyman’s right hand, to anyone who would listen. But mostly to the boogeyman himself.

You turned again, snuggling closer into his hold. His arms tightened around you, almost imperceptibly. “Anyway, yeah- Gaz was my first friend. But he’s just my friend. Nothing more than that. You and Ghost are Batman and Robin, Gaz and I are Mario and Luigi.” Soap barked a laugh, and you grinned.

When his cold nose nudged behind your ear, you couldn’t even pretend your shudder was from the cold. You gathered the last of your courage, waning with the arctic chill in your bones, but bolstered by his near-confession. “So tell me, Sergeant.” You’d lowered your voice, turning up all the charm you possessed. “What am I making ‘harder than it needs to be’?” Soap froze, and panic washed over you like water as cold as the river you’d come out of. He hadn’t been confessing anything. It had been nothing more than his usual firefight flirting, harmless and silly and just a little cocky and oh-so-hot and why would you ever think he could actually be interested in you and-

Soap flipped you, one arm around your waist as he lay between your legs, propped up by the elbow next to your shoulder. Before your mind could catch up with what was happening, he leaned down, lips a hairs’ breadth from yours, and hesitated. It was the longest and shortest second of your life. You could feel his warm breath on your parted lips as his eyes scanned your face, looking for any sign of hesitation. You half expected him to lean back up, all mischievous smile and twinkling eyes, and tease you. He knew. He knew how you felt and he was going to mock you for it. Then he leaned down, eyes fluttering shut. His lips brushed yours softly, barely touching, and your mind went blessedly quiet. Your body responded of its own accord; your knees came up, framing his waist and squeezing lightly; one hand went to his bicep, lightly grasping there; the other slid to the back of his neck.

You pulled him closer.

The kiss turned feral in a heartbeat.

The arm around your waist tightened, pulling you half up off the bed, as he let more of his body weight rest against you. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You happily gave it. Your tongues slid together, fighting for dominance as you each tried to deepen the kiss even more. You raised a leg, wrapping it around his waist, and he groaned your name into your mouth. When you pulled on his mohawk, his head fell to your neck as he sucked softly on your collarbone.

“Johnny,” you breathed. He swore, lifting his head to kiss you again. He pulled his arm out from under you, running a warm hand across your bare skin from your hip to the back of your knee where it wrapped around him, before wrenching you up against him. You gasped at what you felt. If you’d had any doubt before, there was none now- Johnny was packing. You could feel the heat of him through both your underwear and his boxers. Time seemed to slow as he rocked gently against you, pressing his forehead to yours as your hands cradled the back of his head. He was panting, pressing light kisses against your face. He dropped his head to your shoulder, tucking his face into your neck. He seemed to be steeling himself, trying desperately not to move.

“Not kissing you,” he whispered. It took you a moment to think through the haze of lust and realize he was answering your earlier question. “What am I making harder than it needs to be?” “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Some of your earlier boldness had returned, shored up by his clear physical response. “Only that?” you whispered back.

The groan of your name on his lips was the single most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“What?” you teased. “That’s all you want?”

He tugged at the back of your knee again, pressing you against himself. You both stifled moans. “You know damn well that’s not all I want. I want you. All of you.” He turned his head, ghosting his lips against your cheek. “I’ve wanted all of you from the moment you asked me why a ghost would need soap.”

You started, turning his head with your hands so you could look into his eyes. “That’s the first thing I ever said to you.” He nodded, gaze unflinching. His eyes smoldered, but there was a softness in them you’d only seen a handful of times over the years. When your brother joined the military, following in your footsteps. When your best friend’s husband cheated on her. When your mother died. Any time you’d cried in his arms.

“T-that was the day we first met,” you stuttered out. Again, he nodded solemnly. He turned his head in your hands, kissing your palm.

“I knew right away,” he whispered. Soap had laughed, a fully belly laugh, and clapped you on the back. Ghost had rolled his eyes, and you’d hoped his reservations about you would fade. Not only so you could get closer to the devilishly handsome, charming Sargeant who followed his every step. When you didn’t say anything, he released your leg, mumbling apologies and sitting back on his heels. The loss of his body weight and heat, along with the blankets, made you shiver all over again. Johnny didn’t see it- he was running his hands over his face, head hanging. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I had no right, please forgive me-”

You reached out a hand, grasping his wrist to stop him from retreating any further. “Forgive you for what?” you asked softly. His face was pained as he struggled to hold your stare.

“For taking advantage,” he began. But you shook your head, reaching out your other hand to touch his cheek. You didn’t think he even realized that he leaned into your touch.

“You didn’t take advantage of anything.” You scooted forward on your knees, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You leaned up, kissing along his jaw, before licking a stripe of skin just behind his ear. He trembled under your touch as you ran a hand down his arm and pressed yourself against him. “I want you, too. So you should take me.”

“Steamin’-,” Soap groaned your name. “You can’t just say that to me,” he whined, breathless. His fists were clenched, eyes squeezed shut as your fingertips skimmed his skin.

“And why’s that?” you teased. You were sure that nothing could ever match the rush you were getting from his reactions to you.

“Because,” he ground out. He’d lost the fight to keep his hands off and they now rested on your hips, intermittently squeezing the flesh and hovering. His pupils were blown, nearly eclipsing his irises. You’d never seen hunger like that in your life and it set you on fire. “If I start with you, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice was lower, hoarse. Desperate.

You scooted forward until your knees touched his, pressing as much of your body against his as you could. His entire body quivered in his struggle not to devour you whole. You dragged your lips up the column of his throat, pausing when they brushed the shell of his ear. “Then I suggest, Sergeant, that you don’t stop.”

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice.

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

You woke up to a soft thudding sound in your ear. You were so comfortable that you didn’t want to move, but then you remembered you were on the field. Your head snapped up, looking around the tiny room. The thudding had stopped, and when you looked down, you realized why.

You’d been sleeping with your head on Johnny’s chest, his heartbeat in your ear. His arms were still wrapped tightly around you, face turned toward yours. He looked younger asleep. No worry lines creased his handsome face, and his brows were relaxed instead of their usual serious, lowered state. His lips were just slightly parted, breath softly fanning across your shoulder.

The night came back to you in one big wave. Kissing Johnny, straddling him, holding him close between your legs, his mouth on your neck, your mouth on his shoulder, your name on his tongue, being pressed to the wall, the stretch of him, and both of your hands seemingly everywhere at once. You ached everywhere in the most delicious way. Even your throat was sore from moaning his name over and over and over again as he made good on his promise that his mouth was good for more than just talk.

Your cheeks flushed remembering.

As if sensing your racing heart and thoughts, Johnny stirred. His arms tightened around you, pulling you nearly on top of him as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when his eyes settled on you, slow and lazy.

“I thought I dreamed all of that,” he said softly. His voice was husky with sleep, accent thicker than normal, eyes soft as he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand.

You quickly weighed whether or not you were prepared to deal with the cockiness that would come with your next statement. “Certainly good enough to be a dream,” you whispered. The grin that split Johnny’s face was instant and radiant.

“Oh, aye?” he asked. “Would you say it’s everything you’d dreamed of?”

“I love you,” he’d gasped, holding the back of your head to his shoulder as you fell apart for what must have been the tenth or hundredth time. “I love you,” he’d repeated as he lost control, trembling violently in you and in your arms. “Oh, God, I love you,” he’d whispered as you cried out his name and carried him in a vice grip right over the edge with you. You’d never dared to confront your feelings for him too deeply, refusing to dig beneath the surface of the crush you’d harbored for him. In all your wildest dreams, you’d never begun to imagine him putting to words what you felt- and never in the most intimate moment of your life.

“Better than my dreams,” you mumbled, turning your head away from his and pressing your cheek to his chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a purple bruise you’d sucked into his shoulder. You winced, raising your head to apologize, but before you could even open your mouth, Johnny turned your head and kissed you softly. You kissed him back, and then smirked as a thought crossed your mind. “Dream of me often, then?” you asked.

Johnny’s eyes darkened as he pulled you down for a searing kiss. “Every night,” he whispered. You shuddered. You could already feel his body responding beneath you as you kissed him again, smiling to yourself when he groaned. He reached for the tiny bedside table, muttering about a clock, and found the alarm there.

He turned a wicked grin toward you. “We’ve got time for round two.”

“Round two?” you shrieked. Johnny snickered as he lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Round five was no less impressive than the first four, in no small part due to the added feat of Johnny holding you up against the cold shower wall while the hot water beat down on you both.

“I can’t believe,” he’d panted “That we could have been doing this all this time.”

“You should scold Gaz for getting in your way,” you’d panted back. Johnny had practically growled at that, picking up his pace.

“I’m about to scold you for saying another man’s name while I’m inside you.”

He came undone the moment you moaned his name in his ear, pulling you off the ledge with him.

By the time you’d actually managed to get clean, your clothes had miraculously dried despite laying crumpled on the tile floor all night. You were thankful as you both stepped out into the flurry of wind and snow to trudge up the hillside toward the evac point. You hiked in companionable silence, only breaking it once you could see the ridge where you’d be picked up.

“How’s your wrist?” you asked. You’d been worried about it all night, but Johnny either hadn’t been in pain or hadn’t been in enough pain to pay it any mind.

“It’ll be fine,” he answered, smiling at you over his shoulder. “How’s your… you?” You both snickered at that.

“It’ll be fine,” you parroted. Your Scottish accent was horrible, but Johnny beamed at it all the same. You were about to pull yourself up by a rock when he grabbed your wrist, nudging you until your back touched a tree. He tilted your chin up with his knuckles, lowering his head slowly to kiss you tenderly. You sighed into the kiss, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he held you close by your waist. His lips tugged at yours softly, lightly dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back to look at you intensely. He seemed to be trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“We can’t tell anyone, can we?” you whispered.

For a long moment, Johnny was silent. When he finally answered, his voice was low. Sorrowful. “I don’t know,” he said.

You nodded, pasting a smile on your face even as your heart throbbed. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

He smiled back. “Yeah, we will.” Your smile felt a little more genuine after that. You trekked the last bit up the hill, and by the time you reached the top, you could hear the whir of the chopper. You shared one last longing look at each other from a respectable distance before the bird touched down. When the door opened, Ghost’s skull plate greeted you.

“You guys injured?” he shouted. You both shook your heads, clambering in and strapping yourselves into harnesses on opposite sides of the chopper. Ghost slammed the door, strapping himself in again on your side.

He stared at Soap, some look you couldn’t quite read. When you glanced to Johnny, his eyebrow was raised at his partner.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Ghost rumbled.

Soap looked to you, then back to his friend. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We didn’t get much rest- too cold,” he said evenly. If you didn’t know it was a lie, you’d have believed him. But something in the way Ghost held his stare told you that he didn’t. He could read everyone like a book, but especially Johnny. You needn’t have worried, though. Soap started right in on recapping the mission for his friend, chattering away as he always did, and you watched as Ghost’s shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit while he listened. His gaze flicked to you every so often, and you added to the tale where you saw fit. Ghost took your words as truth- he trusted you now, years later, after you’d proven yourself to him and the rest of the team.

You smiled to yourself. It would be good to see the rest of the team, to be back on base, in the comfort of your own bed… and you were sure Soap would find his way there, too.

#john soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap #john soap mactavish x reader #cod mwii #nightingale writes

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unknown--anna · 2 years

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The Ideal Partner

Plot: You always wanted to help Childe whenever you could, but you could never keep up with him, which often resulted in him saving you. This time, things nearly went horribly wrong, which caused Childe to snap.

Gender neutral reader

Genre: angst to comfort

Character: Childe

Warning: Childe being an asshole

Today you insisted on helping him clear some treasure hoarders, but despite your efforts, everything was going wrong for you. It happened every time, and Childe would always worry, but this time, his worry turned into anger built up from all the other times.

Covered in blood, Childe turned to your injured form. "You could have gotten hurt! Heck, you could've died!" Childe screamed. "I know- I'm sorry, I just-" "Yeah, yeah, you just wanted to help!" He interrupted you. "Every goddamn time!" "Childe, I'm sorry, but could you please-" "No! You want to help?!" He grabbed your shoulders harshly, bruising them in his grip and causing you to drop your weapon. "Childe stop it! That hurts! Let me go!" At this point, you were trembling and had tears forming in your eyes, but Childe's anger blinded him.

"Never fucking come with me if you're only going to be a burden or get yourself killed! That'll be very fucking helpful, Y/N!" He yelled before roughly letting go of your shoulders and walking away, leaving you holding your now bruised shoulders. Did he mean those things? Are you that much of a burden? Now you couldn't stop the tears. The pain you felt in your chest was worse than the injuries you sustained and the bruises he'd left on you.

You didn't bother waiting for Childe and decided to make your way back to Liyue Harbor yourself and treat your wounds. That night, Childe didn't return either. You assumed he was probably elsewhere doing Fatui related things. Laying in bed, you couldn't get his voice and his face out of your mind. The anger he let out was scary. Terrifying.

For days, he didn't return, and during those days you promised yourself to become stronger so you won't burden him, so you tirelessly trained. Whether it was with dummies or with nearby monsters. You were training non stop, barely sleeping. Your eating habits were also becoming irregular. With the lack of sleep, good eating, and stress, your physical state was getting worse.

Don't stop. Otherwise, you're a useless piece of shit.

Thoughts like these kept you training, but you'd always cry yourself to sleep whenever you did get some rest.

This time, you wanted to challenge yourself to be stronger, so you found some ruin guard. You were able to wipe out the first couple, but fatigue was setting in.

No. Don't stop. Keep fighting.

With more ruin guards approaching and shooting missiles, your tired mortal body could only do so much until it would simply give up. Your head was pounding and dizziness kept setting in. Your vision kept turning black every now and then, until you physically couldn't stand up anymore. You were exhausted.

But hey... You got stronger... But not strong enough.

Guess Childe won't ever be burdened with you.

Thoughts echoed until your consciousness gave up too.

Not long after, you woke up in a bed. You recognized the place. Wangshu Inn. You got up and approached Verr Goldet. "How did I get here?" "Xiao brought you back here, as you were unconscious." She answered. "Y/N, are you alright?" She looked at your tired form. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired." You tried to brush it off, but she insisted you stay at the inn until the next morning, and you had no energy to argue, so you complied.

The next morning, everything seemed to be going as per usual at the inn, so you decided to head down. When you arrived down, you froze. You saw the familiar red haired man, who then spotted you too. "Y/N!" He had been gone for days doing who knows what. In reality, he decided to take on a sudden mission to cool off, because he instantly regretted what he did. He felt terrible about what he did the other day and just let his anger take over. As he approached you, your mind flashed back to the other day, which caused you to take a step back and hold your shaking hands up tensely. Childe felt the guilt eat him from the inside out when you did this, and to top it all off, your face matched the fear it had when he lashed out. You were afraid of him, and that broke him.

As he got a closer look at you, he noticed the bandages with dried blood, your dark eyebags, and unhealthy condition. "Hey, Y/N what happened?" He said; keeping his distance. "I've been trying... To get stronger..." Your voice barely came out as a whisper as you failed to meet his eyes. He sighed and stepped closer in order to get you to look him in the eyes. He reached your shoulders, which caused you to flinch, so he stopped himself. He knew that he was the reason for this.

"Y/N, I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that, I just... Hate the thought of you getting hurt or dying." He said. Now he noticed tears silently dripping from your eyes while looking down. "Look, Y/N, why don't you just rest and-"

"I'm sorry, Childe. I'll get stronger. I promise you, I won't burden you," you said through sobs. His heart shattered. He caused this. "No, no-" He slowly brought his arms around you in order not to scare you. "I'm sorry for saying all those things. You don't need to do all of this."

You were shaking. Was it fear? Was it shame? What was it? All you knew is there was still some comfort in his soft embrace. He didn't dare tighten it, because he wanted you to feel alright with him.

Eventually, you gave in and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly, followed by him doing the same around you. He didn't mind his shoulder getting wet. After all, he caused you this pain. Easing the pain, even just a little was the least he could do.

A/N: HI HELLO it's nearly 2am here and idk man my brain is mush soooooo anyways~

#genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #angst to comfort #genshin angst #childe tartagalia #childe angst #childe fluff #genshin childe #childe #genshin impact x reader angst #angst #angst with a happy ending

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wow-thisismylifeiguess · 10 months

Text

hanahaki soapghost

soap spitting out flowers for the first time when they leave las almas. wheels up in ten, but he’s running last minute to the bathroom ‘cause there’s something stuck in the back of his throat and it /hurts/. coughs enough times to finally take a proper breath and…./shit/.

he knows who it’s for, there isn’t a single doubt in his mind. /what inconvenient timing/, he thinks to himself, leaning over the bathroom sink before someone knocks on the door. soap forces more of the petals, not quite yet full flowers, out of his throat and scrambles to clean it up before opening the door. ghost raises an eyebrow at him.

“You okay, Johnny?”

“‘s all good, just needed to piss.”

he…/they/ don’t have time for this, not with hassan still out there with another missile and shepard trying to get away with attempting to kill them. he can tell ghost after all of this is over.

—

soap can’t tell him. he can’t.

he knows gary sanderson, /roach/. he’d worked with him when he’d first made sergeant, and he’s a pretty stand up guy. soap remembers liking him a lot. he remembers being sad when he heard the man disappeared, reported mia but most likely dead.

now, the man stands in front of him being held in a tight hug by ghost like if he lets go, roach will disappear all over again. /fuck/. soap can’t tell ghost. it’s so clear what kind of relationship the two of them have, and the last thing soap is going to do is ruin that. maybe….maybe his feelings will go away, and with them, the flowers that are beginning to find their way into his lungs rather than just the small handfuls of petals this started out with.

it’s wishful thinking, really. soap knows just how in love with ghost he is, he’s had time to analyze and dissect those feelings. it’ll be like ripping off a limb to get rid of those feelings, so he has little choices on how to proceed next, especially since he’s already decided telling ghost is simply….not an option at all.

dying is also not an option. soap is a dramatic man, but he’s not going to let himself /die/ for love, especially if it’s preventable. which leaves him with a final choice. oh, he hates it. just thinking about it makes him feel sick, or sicker than he already is. his chest hurts and he rubs at it uncomfortably before a voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Soap! It’s so good to see you again, man!”

roach looks good. healthy. whatever happened to him during the years of his disappearance, he’s managed to shake off at least the physical effects. the other sergeant smiles broadly at him and ghost hovers over his shoulder like…well, a /ghost/. he radiates a protective aura and soap wonders if ghost sees him as a threat to roach. soap forces a smile though only someone who knows him well would be able to tell it’s fake. ghost is too preoccupied with roach to notice, and roach himself doesn’t know soap well at all.

“It’s good to see you again too, Roach. Happy to have a guy like you on board.”

someone knocks their shoulder against soap’s and when he turns to look, gaz shoots him a worried look. soap’s eyes go wide and he clears his throat, but it makes him cough. oh, he can’t do this in front of them. he tries to swallow but it makes him cough again and he gets a worried look from all three men now.

“Johnny-?”

“I’m okay,” soap rasps and covers his mouth to keep the petals from falling wet and limp from his lips. “Just need water.” his voice is rough and raspy, but he turns away before anyone can ask him what’s going on.

the last thing soap expects is to be followed. he ends up in his room and before he can shut the door, someone shoves their boot in to stop it.

“Gaz?” soap rasps.

“You need to tell him.”

/oh/. he knows. he found out. soap moves his hand, tightens his fist around the full flower in his hand and wipes at his mouth to get rid of any lingering petals.

“I can’t, Gaz.”

1/?

tbc

#hanahakiiiiiiii my dearly beloved #originally this is meant to end with soapghostroach but now I’m wondering if I should switch things up and write two versions #and this one could possibly end with soapgaz?#/I dunno I dunno/#soapghost #ghostsoap #cod #my post

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wallwriterstuff · 5 months

Text

The Night Before Christmas ||John Price x Wife!Reader||

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, suggestive themes, John Price is his own damn warning. Christmas Eve preparation by parents.

Words: 2601

Taglist: For @glitterypirateduck 's CODHOLIDAY2023 challenge. Inspired by the song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause" after a lifetime of watching my parents make Christmas magical for me...and annoyingly kissing every time they hear this song at Christmas. Thanks for that Mom and Dad.

Summary: On the night before Christmas, in John Price's house, a strange thumping is heard that is caused by his spouse. Or, when John finds out just how much of the magic in Christmas is created by his wife.

There’s a rumbling of jet engines plaguing his mind in the enveloping heat of a dry dessert. It’s almost suffocating, the way it presses on his chest, but there’s something mildly comforting about the familiarity of it. There’s a lull in the rhythm, a crack in the foundation. Soap’s laughter’s muffled but his smile’s bright, and the way Gaz’s eyes are twinkling makes him wonder what terrible joke Ghost has told now that he’s missed. Has he missed it? It’s difficult to tell here in the heat haze. He’s everywhere and nowhere, halfway between this world and somewhere new, somewhere undefined that his body knows but his mind hasn’t identified. It’s difficult to take a deep breath to try clear his head. He’s weighed down and weightless. He’s here and he’s gone. He’s lost and he’s found here among the family he’s chosen as the Earth shakes.

The boom is as garbled as trying to hear TV through static. The mortar strikes should be roaring, shattering his eardrums as much as the Earth but they’re not. He frowns, looking around. Why is no one running? Panicking? Another dull thud of what must be an enemy missile of some sort drowned out by the rumbling of those jet engines. He looks around in a daze. He can’t bring himself to feel even a twinge of fear. He just knows, instinctually, that there’s no danger here. The ground’s splitting and quaking beneath his feet but the smell of the Earth weeping for mercy through the fissures doesn’t come. Instead, it’s strong and clinical, almost like menthol. He inhales deeply, frown deepening as he gets closer to the crack in the Earth. Yeah…menthol. Another muffled thud and the gap is swallowing him whole, his team and the dessert all swirling away in a vortex of sand that the sandman retracts. He cannot sleep just yet. There’s work to be done.

Inhaling deeply, his nose stings at the strong smell of Vapo-rub. The tub still sits in his left hand while his right lingers on a small, rattling chest. Long lashes brush the apples of rosy red cheeks and his heart aches at the sight of his youngest, curled into his side in an effort to find respite from the flu that’s plagued him all week. Quietly, John clears his throat, lips smacking a bit to moisten his dry mouth. He gives himself a mental shake, removing his hand and carefully shifting himself off of the bed, old injuries aching and creaking as they always do when he’s given a moment of respite. He was barely home all of two days and he’s had the bedtime shift both nights, his children craving his attention now he’s finally, finally home. With a slight grimace, he cleans off the remnants of the foul smelling substance with a tissue from the nightstand, ensures that the nightlights are all turned on and slinks out of the room to let his son sleep.

He should find his own bed, he thinks. He can feel his own exhaustion in the marrow of his bones, a deep-seated kind of tiredness that robs him of more than just energy, but then he hears it again. The dull thud that roused him from his almost sleep is coming from downstairs, and adrenaline shoots through his veins like wildfire. It burns through that tiredness with whispers of ‘once more’, a drive to push through, fight back, obey every instinct hard-wired into his DNA that places survival above all else. He knows he locked the doors. Triple checked them like he does every night he’s home right before he put the kids to bed. Kids. You. Where are you? It’s automatic, no longer training or instinct but something more ingrained even than that, the way he searches room to room. Two fragments of his soul sleep soundly in their beds but you’re nowhere to be seen.

He's greased every hinge and secured every floorboard in this house. John knows exactly where to put his feet and how much weight to place on every individual board as he eases himself into the shadows. He greets every dark crevice like an old friend, one he knows intimately and has a depth of knowledge of that is unrivalled by any intruder in his home. The front door is closed, but the chain is off. His ears strain, that rhythmic clomping of clumsy boots making his brow furrow. Whoever it is is damn noisy, untrained even, perhaps even –

“What the bloody hell are you doin’?” he can’t help but snort, every muscles unwinding and the alarm bells in his mind fading in the face of his amusement. He settles it in his mind then and there. There’s no intruder, my wife’s just lost her marbles.

“Don’t, do that!” you hiss, hand clutched over your chest and foot raised, his boot dangling and far too big, in danger of falling onto the floorboards if you don’t take a step soon. John’s head tilts, a smirk twitching up his lips as he takes in the fake snow on the floor, the boot prints leading from the door into the living room.

“Since when did Santa wear combat boots?” he asks.

You scowl. “Since Mrs Clause had to throw her Doc’s away back in November...that’s why they’re on her Christmas list.”

He barely stifles his laughter, shoulders shaking as he rubs his finger under his nose. He knows better than to laugh at you right now as you continue to clomp towards the Christmas tree. He leans against the door frame, watching you navigate the sofa with keen eyes and folded arms. He can’t quite keep the grin from twitching his lips upwards as he drinks in the sight of you in his too big boots, Christmas pyjamas on and hair tied up, looking determined. There’s a peek of pink at the corner of your lips where your tongue pokes out in concentration as you try to keep your steps evenly spaced. That suffocating warmth is back and he recognises it for what it is now as he simply basks in the love you’ve woven into every inch of the house. It seeps into every grain of wood and is the stain lacquer finish of the laminate, holding the whole home together for him to return to. You’ve done it alone again, everything from presents to decorations and Grotto Visits. He can’t help his schedule but he wishes he’d been in on more of the magic you’ve woven that kept your little angels up until 10PM with unparalleled excitement.

“You could have asked for me to do that bit. Save you near breakin’ your neck in my boots.” He said. You sprinkle the last bit of fake snow down onto the floorboards and take a step, turning to look at him. John chuckles, crossing the room in three quick strides and scooping you up and away to the sofa. You grip him tight, the momentary shock of being airborne fading as you relax into his grip; trusting, always trusting. John won’t let you fall. He never has.

“I came up to, but you were asleep.” You teased. John huffed, kneeling before you and lifting your foot to his knee. His fingers made nimble work of the laces as he glanced up at you.

“Wasn’t,” his denial his half-hearted at best, “Was just restin’ my eyes.” He delicately slides his boot off your foot, setting it aside with much less reverence than he does your leg as he brings the other one up to untie next.

“Sure thing, cowboy.” You grin slyly. John looks up at you from under his brows, his focus half on the triple knot you’ve had to use to keep his work boots from sleeping off your feet. He chuckles a little as he picks it apart.

“Callin’ me a liar?” his query holds no bite to it. He slips the other boot free and lifts your leg, placing a delicate kiss to your calf. He feels the way your muscles tighten in response and he can’t help but smirk a little, does it again just to feel you respond to the touch of his lips on your skin.

“Liar? No. Big foot? Yes. How you walk in those things is beyond me.” You let your leg drop and shuffle forward. John’s left kneeling between your knees, his hands automatically finding purchase on your thighs, calloused thumbs caressing the smooth skin like it’s the safety on his rifle with a knowing, firm touch. A small smile creeps it’s way onto your lips, and John thinks that he could die happy this way, surrounded by you, kneeling at your altar. Hands cupping his cheeks, you gently rub your knuckles over the whiskers of his beard before leaning in to grant him the swiftest, sweetest of kisses.

Your eyes are bright, but there’s a small crease between them he smooths away with his thumb. John Price is nothing if not vigilant, and the only thing he knows better than the parts of his rifle are the planes of your body. Every minute twitch of a muscle and miniscule expression on your face is a well-read verse in the story of you. Your poetry in motion, and he won’t stand for your beauty being creased by worry and doubt.

“Stop worryin’ so much. Kids’ll be ecstatic to see Santa’s broken in.” He says.

“Broken in? John!”

“What? We don’t have a chimney so only logical explanation is that he’s shimmied the lock.” He grins up at you, letting you pull him to his feet with the most aghast expression on your face he thinks he’s ever seen. He swallows down his laughter because gods, you’re adorable and instead chooses to transfer his grip from your hands to your waist. “Joking, love, joking.” He assures you, stepping into your space and tilting your head up with his thumb and index finger. John doesn’t need to hear your forgiveness. He feels it in the way you let him chastely chase your lips until you push him back.

“We still have work to do cowboy.” You pat his chest and John huffs a bit, looking around the room. For the life of him he can’t fathom what else you could do to the place. Your shared house is cosy, decorated, loved. Fill it with anything else and he’s sure it’ll burst at the seams.

“Love, what could you possibly still have to do?” he looks down at you. You’ve got eyes like Christmas lights and are awash with the colours of them glittering on the tree, painted in stained glass colour like some Saint he knows he’s blessed to worship. The smell of fresh baked cookies and vanilla frosting is etched into your skin from your baking escapades with the kids today, soft and warm and inviting him to take a bite out of you.

“Presents. Had to hide them in the attic from certain sticky fingers. Can you get them down?” you ask.

John nods. “Alright. Anymore to be wrapped?”

“Ye of little faith. They’ve been wrapped since mid-November.” You scoff, crossing to the cookie plate and placing one in your mouth. As it melts on your tongue you hum in delight, and John frowns.

“Save one for me?”

“Sorry, Santa’s sent me for cookie quality control. Missed your chance.” There’s mirth shimmering in your eyes and cookie crumbs resting at the corner of your lips. John shakes his head as he slinks back upstairs, checking in habitually on his still sleeping angels before he pulls down the ladder to the attic. He’s got to admit he’s impressed at your tenacity. The bags are stuffed full. You’ve spoiled the little ones rotten. How you’ve done so much shopping and wrapping is beyond him, and he can’t quite figure out how you’ve managed to hide two very full bags in the attic on your own with two small children hanging off you while he was away. The Santa hat sitting nearby gives him pause. John knows he’s been a bit of a Grinch in the two days he’s been home. Something about coming home to a poorly babe and an overly prepared wife left little room for him to really get into the swing of the Christmas spirit. He endeavours to make a change.

Present bags retrieved, he slips back downstairs and pauses only to pluck a small sprig of mistletoe from the wreath at your front door. He triple checks he’s locked and chained the door once more. Force of habit. With your present bags resting in front of the tree he tugs on the Santa hat and waits patiently for you to return. There’s cookies missing and carrots with chunks eaten out of them in your efforts to make the children believe Santa really did come to see them, but he knows you can’t stand milk. He smiles slightly, knowing full well you’ll be pouring the milk back into the carton right about now.

When you return with the empty glass, you pause at the sight of him. John gives you a grin, lifting the sprig of mistletoe over his head.

“Someone’s on the nice list this year, deserved a special visit from the big man himself.” He offers you his free hand and you snicker slightly, eyes adoring and hand slipping into his. You let him pull you closer, and nothing feels better than his arm sliding around your waist. Now he’s really home. John leans in, eyes closing, and to his surprise there’s a strong smell of vanilla as you smear Christmas cookie onto his waiting lips with a giggle.

John blinks his eyes open in surprise, huffing a surprised laugh through his nose before he leans down and catches your mouth with his. He gives you no time to escape him or to clean off his mouth. It’s messy and it makes you squirm in his grip, but neither of you complain as you kiss and lick frosting away between you. His grip on you tightens, safe, inviting, hands sliding over the curves of you just to reassure himself your still here, still his. The best damn gift he ever did receive.

When you pull back for air, John’s thumb swipes away the last little bit of frosting with a chuckle.

“Where did your mistletoe go?” you tilt your head at him and he unfurls his palm to show you. You take it from him with a hum, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“And just what are you planning on doing with that then?” He queries. Your eyebrows lift a bit.

“Think I know a better place for it.” You shrug. He feels your hands tugging at his belt, his eyes never leaving yours for a moment even as a smile twitches up his lips.

“I thought we only opened presents on Christmas morning?” he glances down to see the mistletoe hanging from his belt buckle. You giggle a bit, reaching into the bag just behind the sofa that has all your wrapping bits and pieces in . You place a sticky bow on your head and wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“I thought you were an advocate for bending the rules on occasion?” You teased, hips swaying as you slowly walk backwards towards the stairs. John chuckles, taking three quick strides towards you before he hoists you up and onto his hips. You don’t squeal. You know he won’t let you fall.

“Quick, before the kids catch Mommy kissing Santa Clause.”

“Underneath the mistletoe?”

“I believe that’s how the song goes.”

#glittery pirate duck #codholiday2023 #captain john price #x female!reader #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #captain john price x reader #john price x female reader #christmas fic

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i-love-scarameowche · 8 months

Text

I'm sorry..

Content Warning ⛈️: Ooc character(?), fluff, blood, major character death, angst/comfort, gn reader, some spelling errors, not proofread.

Summary🔎: He didn't think s stupid dare would cause this.

"Scara!" You said in excitement as your boyfriend walked through the front door. "What?" He said in an annoyed tone. "Ah, can you come with me to do my commissions?" You asked sweetly. "Why can't you do it yourself?" He asked. "I can I just wanna spend time with you.." You said and he sighed. "Fine." He said then started to walk out the door. "Come on then." He said and you quickly walked over to him. (You already had your clothes, shoes and socks on.) He grabbed you hand and asked. "Where are we going?" You smiled and pointed to the spot on your map. "Okay, let's go." He said and started walking there slightly dragging you since he walked faster.

You were almost there but you had to climb, up a cliff.. You groaned sitting on the ground. "C'mon, you're the one who asked me to come along, you shoulda checked Y/n." He said in a mocking tone, and you whined. "I knowww..." You said dragging out the w. "Get up Y/n." He said holding out his hand to you, and you took it. He let go of your hand and started to climb. You gulped and started to climb aswell. A few seconds late you looked up and saw Scaramouche on a ledge waiting for you. You started to climb up further.

A bit later you were almost to the ledge and Scaramouche held out his hand for you and again, you took it. He pulled you onto the ledge and you hugged him, already tired. "Come on Y/n there's still more to go." He said prying you off of him. "Noo." You whined. "Yes." He replied. "C'mon or I'll leave you here." He waited for a bit and started to climb up the rest of the cliff. "Wait! Fine fine I'll do it!" You yelled and started to climb, he smirked and continued climbing. You slowly climbed upwards and sighed.

After a while you got on the top of the cliff you laid down and sighed. "Pleaseee let's take a break!" You said. "Fine, only for a bit, I know you humans are fragile." He said. "Thank you Scara!" You said as he sat down next to you.

After stopping for a few minutes Scaramouche stood up. "Let's go Y/n." He said, which caused you whined but you still got up. And you both started walking.

After walking for a few miles, you finally got there. You felt like your legs were gonna fall off. You groaned and laid on the ground, it wasn't comfortable, but you'd rather lay than stand. Scaramouche laughed. "Oh my, how do you expect to do your own commissions if you can barely walk that far? You're so pathetic and weak." To which you whined. "I am not!" "Oh really? Fine if you're not weak go fight that ruin guard, by yourself." Scaramouche said. "Fine. I will!" You said standing up and walking to it.

You summoned your spear and threw it in the air, you then used your anemo vision to hold it up. You then made it go towards the ruin hunter. The ruin guards spotted it and then you and turned around and started getting ready to shoot it's missiles. You quickly brought back your spear and tried to throw it at the ruin guards eye, but you missed. "Shit.." You muttered. "Need some help over there?!" Scaramouche yelled to you and chuckled. You glared at him for a second but then pulled back your spear.

The ruin guard then shot its missiles at you and you tried to dodge them but only a few missed. You screamed in pain and fell to the ground. "Fuck,

Y/N!?" You heard Scaramouche yell and closed your eyes. You then heard running, crackling then you heard the ruin guard fall. You opened your eyes and saw Scaramouche in front of you. "Hah, I guess you were right.." You winced. "Y/n, please, I'm sorry!" He said picking you up into his arms and hugging you. "Sorry about what?" You said weakly. "For insulting you, I never meant it.. Please don't leave me too." "It's okay Scara I never took your insults that way.." You responded. "A-and about leaving me?" He said hopefully. "I-I don't know if I will.." You said. "You can't die, I don't allow you to!" He said.

You didn't say anything. "If you leave me I'll never forgive you Y/n, do you hear?" He said. "I'm sorry Scara.." you looked up and saw his face, at first he looked angry then worried then sad. You closed your eyes and felt Scaramouche hold your hand. You then felt soft lips on yours. He kissed you gently. When he stopped you felt tears fall on your face. "Please don't abandon me.." He said. "I'll never insult you again or complain or be rude or-" You cut him off. "It's gonna be okay.." You say and smile. "No it won't.." He said, you then held his cheek.

Scaramouche held your hand on his cheek and smiled, not a cocky smile or a mocking smile, a genuine smile. He soon saw your eyes slowly close and panicked. "No please, just a bit longer?" He cried out. "M'sorry Scara.." you replied weakly your hands slipping from his. He picked you up and hugged you tightly. "I love you.." You said. "I-I love you too.." He said knowing it was gonna be the last time he said it to you. Then you closed your eyes, for the last time. Tears started streaming down his face. "I'm so dumb, it's all my fault, I shouldn't have dared her.." He said.

He continued crying he thought you'd never leave, it was silly of him but he did. After awhile it started raining. He took off his hat and laid down next to you and held you while crying. He started to fall asleep and he hoped you'd be there in his dream..

Ending one

The ruin guard then shot it's missiles at you and you tried to dodge them but only a few missed. You screamed in pain and fell to the ground. "Fuck,

Y/N!!" You heard Scaramouche yell and closed your eyes. You then heard running, crackling then you heard the ruin guard fall. You opened your eyes and saw Scaramouche in front of you. "Hah, I guess you were right.." You winced. "Y/n, please, I'm sorry for insulting you!" He said picking you up into his arms and hugging you. "It's okay Scara.." You say. Scaramouche didn't want you to leave him. He put you back down and and ripped off some fabric from his clothes and wrapped it around your stomach. (Which is where you're mostly hurt.) He then tied it enough to be tight but not too tight. He then picked you up. (however you want)

I'm gonna run okay?" He said looking down at you and you nodded.

Timeskip cus meow

You woke up confused and in a bed. You felt someone holding your hand and looked at them. It was Scaramouche. (He wasn't crying)

"Scaramouche?" You weakly said shaking your hand in hopes to wake him, and it did. (he was also laying his head on your hand) "Y/n, you're awake!" He said and hugged you. "Oww.." You wince. "Sorry." He said quietly. "I'll go get a nurse." He said and left the room.

(After you healed he almost never let you fight.)

Ending two

#scaramouche x reader angst #scaramouche x reader #Scaramouche x reader fluff #genshin x reader fluff #genshin x reader angst #genshin x you #genshin x reader #scaramouche x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x yn

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contrivedcoincidences6 · 26 days

Text

gracefully, trying to get a fucking grip

Summary: Gale finally makes his move in act 2 but the dark urge struggles to take hold. AO3 link Pairing: Resist fDurge (Nyx)/Gale

Notes: This was inspired by some gorgeous art by @kudzuoath The wild magic surge that happens is #39 on the dnd wild magic surge table I felt like none of bg3’s limited options were as whimsical as I wanted for this.

****

“Shadowheart!” Nyx shouted as one of the ghouls slashed through Gale’s throat and knocked him to the ground. She shot a panicked glance away from the winged Flaming Fist in front of her to try to spot the cleric only to see her standing between Isobel and a ghoul, not even registering the sorcerer’s shout over the chorus of screams that rang throughout the inn.

Nyx quickly shot off a burning hands spell at Marcus before she misty stepped over to the wizard’s side. Lae’zel took her place in front of Marcus, blocking his path from the rest of the party refusing to let him pass and swinging down on him. Within four swings she had him disarmed, on the ground, and finally dead.

It wasn’t over, of course, but with the biggest threat out of play, she took a moment to focus on Gale. His face was pale, eyes closed, hand grasping at the gaping wound on his neck.

She ran a gentle hand over his hair as she poured a healing potion over the wound on his neck before shooting off a quick-spelled magic missile killing the ghoul that stood over them.

Gale’s eyes opened, they were unfocused but he was alive.

The final seconds of the battle unfolded around them but Shadowheart did find a moment to send a healing word Gale’s way that fully sealed the flesh of his throat. As the last ghoul was defeated the cries of terror died down into a general horrified silence. They’d spent the battle trapped in Isobel’s room and she shuttered to think of what carnage awaited them on the first floor.

Most everyone ran from the cleric’s room to go assist the refugees and Harpers but Nyx stayed with her wizard for a minute, feeling the enormity of what they were facing for the first time as she stared at the mutilated former flaming fist that lay across the room.

A weak cough brought her attention back to Gale who was holding her hand and looking up at her with a look she’d seen from him quite a lot the past couple of months; unmasked longing. He hardly ever tried to hide it, a trait she admired as someone who played all her feelings close to the chest.

“How are you feeling?” Nyx asked after feeding him another potion and helping him into more of a seated position, though still in her arms. She didn’t feel ready to let go of him just yet and found her fingers tracing the delicate black lines that ran from his eyes down across his cheek. He was warm and alive and watching her with shining eyes.

“Much better thanks to you,” Gale said, a smile on his bruised and bloodied face.

They were both quiet for a moment which might have been awkward if it wasn’t so charged.

He broke the silence first, “It’s quite thrilling, to fight off such grim creatures as this region throws at us. Especially being at your side.”

He looked away briefly before continuing with slightly less confidence, “I, um, once read a book that explained in some detail the effect a brush with danger has on one’s desire for… other forms of stimulation.”

Nyx could feel a grin spreading across her face as his eyes finally met hers and he asked, “Have you ever read anything on that subject?” “Read it? I could have written the thing,” she said lightly but felt a pit in her stomach as she remembered the euphoria that usually accompanied her kills. She buried those thoughts though, something she was very good at doing, and focused instead on the handsome wizard.

“I believe you,” he reached up a hand to cup her cheek, “you never look so beautiful as at the end of a stirring battle, your cheeks flushed, gaze bright, muscles glistening…”

Nyx raised an eyebrow at him as her pace picked up a notch.

“Perhaps it’s just the thrill of our near-undead experience talking. But standings at your side through such darkness and disrepair, it only makes me want you more,” his fingers weaved into her hair and she leaned into his palm, closing her eyes for a moment.

She’d wanted Gale for most of this journey she couldn’t even remember where she’d first felt it, possibly from the moment she’d pulled him from the portal, and until just a couple of days before he’d been beyond her reach.

But she could have him now, she moved her fingers further along the lines on his face down his neck until her hand was resting over the orb and it began to glow faintly beneath her touch.

Before Nyx could say anything a throat cleared nearby and she looked up to see an aggravated Shadowheart.

“Jaheira is asking for you, whenever you’re done mooning, of course,” she bit the words out at them but Nyx could hear the humor behind the irritation. The Sharran was gone before Nyx could reply and the two of them shared a laugh at her abrupt exit.

“Unfortunately this is neither the time nor place to indulge such feelings. So, we must be patient and push all such thoughts aside,” Gale said tiredly as he tried to sit up more fully on his own. As he began to move out of her embrace though he kissed her cheek and added, “For now.”

The kiss was sweet and chaste with a promise of things to come but Nyx wanted more and before he could leave she grabbed his arm and pulled him into a kiss. Two months of pent up passion released between them and Nyx could feel her always tenuous hold on her wild magic slipping as his hands landed on her waist and pulled her body against his, drawing a small moan from her.

All of the glances between them, the intimate moments cut short for fear of setting off the orb, the nights she’d touched herself and imagined him burst out between them in a wave of wild magic.

She would suppose later they were lucky she didn’t summon a lava mephit instead, as if it had been choreographed, flowers and moss sprung up at their feet. They hardly noticed the new foliage as they kissed, lost in the moment and in what was to come.

Nyx’s tongue slid between his lips and with a groan the wizard pulled her even closer. Peaking from beneath his robes the orb glowed brighter than it had a moment ago, its danger stripped by Elminster, she was able to simply enjoy the effect she was having on him.

The purple glow slowly brought her back to her senses, if they didn’t get a move on Shadowheart would be stomping back in here again any moment. And so with a sigh, she pulled away, laying one more peck on his lips with a grin.

Swiftly Gale bent down and grabbed a lovely yellow flower that he tucked into her circlet.

“Tonight?” She asked, her tone was breathy, she couldn’t be bothered to pretend any longer.

He nodded and cupped her cheek. “Till then.”

She stayed behind a moment to quietly retrieve the tadpole from Marcus, feeling as disgusted about using them as she had the first time but also unable to deny how much they helped. The room was a mess a far cry from the quaint comfortable quarters they’d entered just a few minutes ago. It felt like the statue of Selûne was watching her as she looted Marus’s corpse and an unbidden fantasy played before her eyes of bludgeoning the cleric to death with it.

“No,” she whispered to herself, to the urge, “I won’t do it.”

A sense of vertigo took over and the need to kill Isobel became one of the strongest urges she’d ever felt.

She took some deep breaths and tried to stuff the feeling away again but as she continued to persist her head began to throb, pain worse than a rusty Goblin blade to the gut, she was blinded by it. The memory of the bard surfaced in her mind and a cold dread filled her, they would not linger at the Last Light her control was hanging by a thread.

Through the pain, Gale’s concerned voice sounded, “Nyx? Can you hear me? Shall I get Shadowheart?”

Fear gripped her at the thought of him seeing the monster that lived inside of her but the sound of his voice and the feel of his arms holding her up cleared away the worst of the nightmare, Gale had always chased away her darkness.

“Sorry, just vertigo, I’m alright,” Nyx said and gritted her teeth against the headache, “been a while since we’ve eaten.”

Lovely brown eyes watched her with concern but he nodded his head, taking her at her word, and leading her out of the room.

“Then let’s get you something to eat,” he said with a look of adoration she didn’t deserve.

Flower and fungi trailed in her wake as she went but when Gale pointed it out with a smile all she could see was a trail of blood and ruin.

Ignoring the madness creeping in she smiled back, she was such a good liar she’d almost convinced herself.

#durge x gale #bg3 gale #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldurs gate 3 #Gale and Nyx #the dark urge #bg3 dark urge #gale romance

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infiniteeight8 · 30 days

Note

Omg I'm so sorry I was keep on writing things that I didn't noticed it was not considered a prompt anymore 🥹🥹 it's okay tho you can just scrapped that away shshdhd I'm still new in this prompt request thing and I really appreciate it that you explain it to me.

Maybe to make up things I'll just send you this "You guys look like will tear each other apart when you're stressed"

Apologies for not replying to this much sooner! I was afraid that if I replied to the Ask, I’d forget to do the new prompt. I’m very forgetful, this is more likely than not.

Anyway, no problem, and thanks for sending a new prompt!

“This isn’t the kind of problem you can solve with a missile,” Stephen snaps, waving at the hologram Tony has created. A strange pod grew overnight in one of New York’s lesser-known parks. It’s six feet tall, apparently organic, and features blister-like protrusions that glow with a distinctly crystalline light. The rest of the Avengers are on crowd control while Stephen and Tony figure out the best approach.

“I’m not suggesting a missile,” Tony shoots back. “God only knows what kind of secondary reactions we’d get from bursting it. I’m suggesting that we see how it reacts to a physical stimulus. Maybe even get a sample.”

Stephen scowls and strokes his goatee as he considers the pod. “Fine,” he says curtly, and stalks away.

“Uh, Mr. Stark?” Tony turns to find Peter watching him with wide eyes while America stares after Stephen, biting her lip. Peter hesitates, then goes on, “Are you and Doctor Strange… okay?”

Tony blinks. “Yeah, we’re fine, why?”

America turns away from Stephen. “Because you kind of looked like you wanted to tear each other apart,” she says.

“Oh!” Tony laughs, a little relieved. “No, that’s fine. Stephen and I do that on purpose.”

America raises her eyebrows. “You get mad at each other on purpose?”

“We yell at each other on purpose,” Tony corrects. “We both get short tempered when we’re stressed, but yelling at other people can be dangerous in stressful situations. We let off steam by yelling at each other.”

“Oh, good,” Peter says. “I was having ‘mom and dad are getting divorced’ visions and they sucked.” America hisses and punches Peter in the shoulder. He goes bright red.

Tony just grins. “So which of us is mom?”

America shoots Peter a dark look before turning a smile on Tony. “You’re both mom.”

#IronStrange #triple drabble

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fanficwriterlover · 11 months

Text

Safe With A Ghost

18+ Readers Only

Chapter 6: Gone

Summary: Ghost and his team arrive at the targets location, immediately upon arrival something feels off, he doesn't know what to expect until it's happened-

Expectations: Be Advise~ emotional trauma, military talk, guns, fighting, blood, graphic description, killing shooting, etc.

Pet-Names: Little Lamb

Word Count: 3k

════ ⋆Safe With A Ghost MasterList⋆ ════

═════════ ⋆Chapter 7⋆ ═════════

In chapter 5 I did some revising where this chapter will be focusing on after the fact General Shepherd and Shadow Company betrayed 141. This will be the aftermath of the end of CODMW2 the revised edition. This is not accurate but simply for story purposes. Enjoy !

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Finally arriving at the base Ghost felt like deja vu again getting out of the helicopter. It felt like the same thing that happened a year ago. Seeing this time new faces on the team. As he made his way down the halls of the base Price noticed him giving a wide grin. They both clasped each others forearm as Price spoke "Good seeing you again Simon, how's the little one ?" The thought of his son cooing made him smile a bit before responding gruffly "Growing too fast" Price gives a hearty chuckle "Don't they all." He could tell Ghost was still torn for leaving you as he pats him on the shoulder "I am sorry my friend. But I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't serious." This made Ghost pierce into Price's "How serious ?" He asks gruffly. Price seems to be frowning. "That last missile is in Makarov possession" this made him tense. The name was enough to clench his fist as Price nodded his head. "Especially after General Shepherds betrayal, Laswell been pulling strings with the CIA to track his ass but nothing. As of now we need to focus on finding Makarov." He nods his head for Ghost to follow. Couple months back, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Los Vaqueros, were fighting like hell to find who gave Hassan American missiles only to find out it was due to General Shepherd and the Shadow team negligence. The Shadow company was already dealt with, but Ghost was eager to handle General Shepherd. He did not like betrayal.

Following Price to the briefing room, Laswell, Gaz and Soap were waiting with Colonel Alejandro on camera in Los Almas. Once they got settled, Laswell had a screen up as she began "As of now Makarov, is in Paris. We don't know why. He was last spotted going into this warehouse-" on screen showed a security camera footage of Makarov entering the building it was a large warehouse, but it looked like a normal factory setup, completely oblivious to civilians. Laswell continued "from what we've gathered, this old factory has machines, large enough to fit a-" Soap spoke in a grumble "a Missile" Laswell nodded her head "The rooftop even had a dome so it could possibly open if a missile were to launch. As of now, we haven't seen if he's left the warehouse or is staying low within." She looks at everyone's faces "Right now, the priority is to stop whatever he's doing within. If he's in there, we got clearance to detain." Looking at the screen of Colonel Alejandro he spoke "From what we've gotten out of Valerie, it wasn't much..." He seemed annoyed with this "But she won't deny that the last missile could be in his possession. The minute I found out, I immediately reached out." Laswell nodded her head "We appreciate the help Colonel" Alejandro nodded "Good luck mi amigos" with that he ended as everyone stood silent. "You all leave within the next hour, we need to move quickly before something happens. I'll be tracking your movements and updating you whatever we get through comms. Captain Price will be in charge from here on out. " Price nodded his head gripping his vest "Alright, you heard the lady, let's move out" with that, they geared up, with all weapons possible, Ghost was loaded with all sorts of weapons on his vest and attaching some of his knives and pistols to his thigh straps.

Soap was gearing up too along with Gaz as Soap grumbles "I hope we fuckin get this shit done for once and all" Gaz nods his head curtly"Me and you both mate, this is starting to be a pain in the arse" Ghost was silent as he was looking at a printed picture of you holding Colton, was the first day they had brought him home. Ghost remembers clear as day-

You were carrying your infant in his baby chair, he was curled snuggled in it after they just got out from a long car ride. Ghost of course immediately grabbed your infants car seat from your hand as you were trying to carry it "Simon-" he looks at you with sharp eyes "Y/n, you just bloody birthed our baby, I won't have you carrying any more weight." You couldn't help but give a giggle, the whole pregnancy process was painful. Of course you had to carry the heaviest fetus imaginable, getting obviously his father's DNA as you sigh softly "Yes, still very much your fault for taking over the genes" Simon chuckles as you made your way to the door of your new house. Opening it, Simon was carrying all the baby supplies, the baby, and your bag. He was impressively strong. You couldn’t help but admire the man you’ve loved. Setting the baby stuff bag down on the counter before making his way up to the nursery. You followed him closely as he cautiously carried your infant in the car seat up the stairs. Once inside the nursery he looked to you to grab the baby. He seemed so nervous to hold your son. Only admiring him from a far. You grabbed the infant carefully as it cooed as you tucked him in your arms.

Ghost was watching you the whole time seeing you interact with their infant, it was a sight he wanted to log into memory when things got rough. You look up at Simon then walk up to him, he seems nervous but you give him a stern look "Simon, you need to hold your son at least once..." His eyes looked at the tiny bundle in your arms "I can't, what if I-" you give him a gentle look "You won't hurt him Simon...I'll show you how to hold him. Trust me." Words Simon didn't think he'd ever believe especially in his world but he relented to that word for you. You instruct him to cradle his arms which he does, even though his arms were large, you gently transfer your son into his father's arm. Carefully settling your son in his arm.

In that moment Simon was holding your son, carefully, he seemed so surprised how light the little baby was, even though your whole pregnancy, when you needed some back relieving you were (respectfully) heavy. Seeing the infant slightly squirm, you smile watching his reaction "You're doing great." You say softly then lean up kissing his cheek over his mask. He blushed then glance at you "It's thanks to you...for giving me this opportunity to be a father" his eyes soften looking at you as you look back at him "You're already a great father to Colton" looking at you surprised, it was a name he had first offered up when you both were discussing names. You truly were everything to him, and now you blessed him with a son, someone he'd protect his whole life for and want to make the world safe for him to grow up in. "I love you y/n" he looks at you as you pull down his mask smiling at him "I love you too Simon" embracing in a soft kiss with Simon holding the little Colton Riley. Simon then hands you back their son as you take him confused "Where are you going ?" Simon silently leaves the room though leaving you puzzled until he returns holding a camera. He raises the camera emphasizing that's where he went as you tilt you head more, something Simon always found cute when you were confused Cute fuckin American women he thought, then clearing his throat nervously "I want to take a picture of you two, so I can keep it on me whenever I get sent away" the idea pulled a chord with you, it was a cute idea. You smile gently "Okay, I think that's a great idea" he nods his head grateful to be wearing his balaclava still to hide his blush as he snapped the picture, as it was an old time camera that printed the picture out. He started airing it out gently, as you walk over to his side to look at the shot. Simon's heart was proud of the final results, the picture of you holding Colton was everything he needed to remind him of home.~

Snapping back into the present Ghost finished tacking up he slid the picture of you and Colton into his vest as he holds his rifle "Soap, Gaz let's go." He was ready to go. The sooner he finished this mission the sooner he could return to you and his son. Boarding the craft, along with his team and other recruits he sat at the far end with Price taking a spot across from him. Price shouts for the pilot to take off, since everyone was boarded. With a nod, the pilot his some bottom then starts going down the runway until eventually they're up in air.

Arrival In Paris Airport

With clearance, they were able to land in a base to head to their targets building. Getting off the craft they were then escorted by someone Laswell knew to take some vehicles. They were bullet proof humvees, of course Soap was eager to drive "Aye ! I take the wheel LT !" Ghost gave a low grumble "Not on your life Sargent" he was already striding to the front door to get in, along with a gloomy Soap and snickering Gaz, Ghost couldn't help but think They act like a bunch of kids sometimes, once everyone was in, Price claiming "Shotgun" to sit in the passenger seat, they drove their way to their targets building. 5 other vehicles were in tow, keeping a good distance from the building they hide the humvees in plain sight, using their camouflage with the trees. Getting out of the vehicle Ghost watched everyone else get out as he began to check his rifle in hand. Something felt off, he was getting a buzzing sound in his ear. He began looking around his surroundings as Soap spoke "You good LT ?" Ghost was too busy narrowing his eyes in a direction but before he could say his next words all HELL broke loose. They were ambushed, someone ticked off their location. Quickly Ghost dropped down taking fire in the direction the bullets were coming from. He could hear some of his men were getting shot at already as he cursed "Fuck ! Price we need to retreat ! Go !" Price gave him a look "No Ghost we all leave !" Ghost gives him a glare "Price get in the fuckin car, I'll cover you all ! Go !" Price seemed reluctant but got Soap and Gaz to load up, shouting for anyone else to do the same too, there was no way they'd get out, but because they were so distracted with the people in vehicles they forgot their attention on the Ghost. He strided up to were one sniper was laying, coming behind him and slitting his throat. Another solider saw this and came at him to attack he of course out matched the man when it came to hand to hand combat. Effortlessly, pinning the man to a tree and stabbing him repeatedly. Just when he was going to pull away he felt something stung. He was shot in the shoulder looking behind another bullet hit him in the chest but he began to shoot back, until another hit his leg making him drop down to his knees. He was bleeding profusely. His eyes were blurring, just then some black boots were in his line of sight as he noticed it was a hooded man who spoke "Good to see you Ghost" with that, the man hit him with the hilt of his rifle. And that's all Ghost could remember.

Three Weeks Later

You were about to finish feeding Colton only needing a couple more bites. However your son has become a bit of a fighter to eat and often times seeming to enjoy giving you a hard time. Laughing when you take a breath. "Colton Riley, you are just like your father" you let a soft laugh after finally getting him to take the last spoonful into his mouth. You then began to wonder if Simon was alright, you knew sometimes he'd go weeks without saying anything sometimes he couldn't help it. Yet, some reason you felt he would've asked about Colton or if he missed anything. The last message you got from him was that he was at base, departing. Deep down you knew he wouldn't bring his phone on missions, mostly as he said, he didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands. Which is why sometimes he'll send a message through a different phone he buys for a new mission to keep it different. And of course remain anonymous and use it shortly. Just thinking about the pictures you had recently sent him, Colton was sleeping in one of Simon's hoodie's, one Simon would wear casually. It kept Colton calm, and you think it was because it reminded him of his father. Just then you heard a knock at the door. It was soft. You finish cleaning Colton off then head to the door, as another knock came "I'm coming" you let a soft sigh. Unlocking the door and latches, until you saw something that made your heart and stomach dropped. Price, Soap, and Gaz. You frowned confused, Where's Simon ? but nothing came out of your mouth. All the men were giving you a look, a look you absolutely hated, Sympathy "Price....where's Simon...." You mind was scrambling, you then began to process they were in military uniforms....you always heard about this when they wore their formal wear but your mind refused-no your heart refused to believe that's why they are here...Price spoke softly you almost didn't catch it "Listen little lamb, Simon...is M.I.A...." your eyes widen you were gripping the door, you began looking at each of their faces praying that it was a cruel joke. But they didn't...if anything they looked more sad, and guilty ? You didn't even feel the tears falling down "What do you mean M.I.A-" Price walked towards you tentatively outstretching his arm almost ready to give you support, you didn't even piece together. "We lost Simon....we tried but....he's gone Y/n" with that, you knees collapsed under you Price already holding you as you began to cry heavily, you even started screaming but he pressed you into his chest holding you. Gaz and Soap came in hesitantly seeing Colton in his high chair deciding to take him to his nursery so he didn't see you breaking down. In the moment you felt selfish for not keeping your composure for your son, but it hurt so much. Your Simon, gone ? It wasn't supposed to end like this.... you were wanting Simon to come home and retire and watch Colton grow up together. For over an hour you cried at the doorway in Price's arms, unmoving, broken, and distraught. He let you though even when you screamed and hit at him on his chest "Why didn't you bring him home !" Or "Simon!" Or "You fuckin idiot you were supposed to come home !" Everything that came from your heart poured out from true heartache. But Price said nothing. How could he ? He was feeling guilty for leaving Ghost, and when they tried to find him again they only found his dog tags, covered in blood. A part of Price wanted to cry to, but he wanted to be strong for you. It was something he promised Simon-

Ghost came to his office one day, it was late at night, of course he never slept. He spoke gruffly "Price." Price looked up from the papers he was filling out "Oh Ghost it's you, sit down" but Ghost didn't move he stood staring at him. Price noticed this it's when he figured it was something important he wanted to say. He sat back looking at Ghost setting his pen down "What is it you need Ghost ?" He just stared at him, processing considering it's when he spoke "I need you to promise- no swear something to me." His eyes stared at him with something Price couldn't figure out "Okay, what is it ?" He asks curiously wondering what it was that he'd ask for, he usually wasn't someone who wanted to make promises or have someone swear on something that was until he heard the reason. "Swear to me, if something happens to me, that you would watch over y/n and Colton" Price's eyes looked wide. He saw you as his daughter and Colton as his grandson the notion of Simon even asking made him more surprised. "You're not someone to easily be killed Simon, I don't think that'll -" but Ghost cut him off "I need to hear those words !" It made Price eye him intently, this was the first time Simon showed any emotional attachment, you really were special. A moment of silence filled the room until Price stood up "Simon "Ghost" Riley, I promise and swear to you, if anything happens to you, I'll look after y/n and Colton in your stead." Price could see Ghost's shoulders loosen and slightly drop, almost like he was holding weights he said nothing only nodding his head. Price grabbed his shoulder "You're not going to die on me Simon. Not ever."

Yet here Price was, holding your whimpering body, he just held you, you were becoming exhausted from crying and screaming though. Slowly, he convinced you to stand up, closing the door behind him, carried you to the shared bedroom laying you down, you didn't fight. You looked frozen in place. But he watched you slowly pass out from exhaustion. He left the shared room only to see Soap and Gaz come out of the nursery. Soap spoke in a low tone "How is she ?" Price looked in your direction "She's passed out..." No words were spoken. But the sight of you hurting made Price feel like a failed father. His eyes became cold. "I'm calling Laswell" as his mind thought but the words didn't come out I need to keep trying to find Simon, no matter the cost, dead or alive.

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Thanks for Reading !

Okay I was crying writing this chapter honestly, legit, I had to take an extra day to compose myself. I'm sorry, but we all gotta cry together....chapter 7 coming soon !

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