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webshooterrr9 · 7 months

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based on @nymphomatique's nerd!miguel au

CW: afab!reader, nerd!miguel, slapping, oral sex (f receiving), degrading, praise, got carried away, body worship, college students, smut under the cut!!!

"It's good enough, I guess."

Miguel just finished typing up a biology essay for you, his eyes slightly hazy from staring at a laptop for the past 2 hours. You were standing in front of your floor-length mirror, getting ready for the frat party you were planning on attending.

It took everything in his power not to stare at your body. The way the skimpy, black dress hugged your curves was a mouthwatering sight. Your freshly curled hair fell neatly over your shoulders, allowing Miguel perfect vision of your skin under your backless outfit.

His heart is racing faster than ever before as he watches you from the corner of his eyes. He places his laptop back in his backpack, before deciding that he has to say something.

He has to.

"You look... good" he manages to whisper out, half-hoping that you didn't hear it.

"Thanks." it was almost a mindless reply, like you weren't paying much attention to him. "Now get the fuck out."

"W-wait a second," Miguel suddenly gathers some courage as you brush aside his compliment. He knew you were somewhat of a mean girl, but he wanted to see this transaction through. "I... I deserve something - payment for finishing your homework for you."

You turn your head around to look at him, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah?" There's a bit of intrigue in your voice, but you're still harsh. He watches as you cross your arms and look at him in a demeaning fashion. It wasn't often that this nerd got the confidence to ask for any sort of reward. "And what exactly do you want? I'm not giving you money."

Miguel is a little shocked that you were willing to hear him out. "I-I'm sorry... I'm just..." He sighs cautiously.

You stare impatiently. He hesitates before forcing out his next words. "I just... I really like the way you look and-" his voice shakes when he notices the rude stare you're giving him. But he won't give up.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Just- you know, for doing your essay for you?" just as quickly as the words leave his mouth, he covers his face in shame. You laugh a bit at how dumb his request is.

"That's it?"

Miguel lowers his hands to look up at you. You can see the embarrassment painted all over his face. "You got all shy just to ask for a kiss?"

Your expression calmed and you relaxed your body language. He looked humiliated, feeling stupid for even asking that from someone as stunning and popular as you.

"Fine. C'mere." you wave him over dismissively.

He's taken by surprise, but doesn't hesitate to cross the room and approach you. His heartbeat is racing faster than ever before. Despite how he towers over you by almost a foot, he's staring down at you with doe eyes, like a lost puppy.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

You raise your hands to gently cup his cheeks, then bring his face in for a small kiss. Miguel's heart leaps into his throat when your lips make contact. It's so casual for you, but it's everything for him. A wave of euphoria washes over him, it's almost too overstimulating - to know he's finally able to kiss you.

He moans quietly and leans forward, trying to deepen the kiss. His mind races, his head spins. He's so giddy that he feels like he's going to die. All he wants now is more... so much more.

Your hands find his chest, pushing him back. His eyes shoot wide as you break the kiss.

"There. You got your reward. Happy?" Your hands rest on your hips while you speak nonchalantly.

"Y-yeah... super happy..." he chuckles nervously and runs his hands through his messy hair. It was kinda hot.

"Can I... can you do that again?"

"No, you've had enough." You return to your mirror, adjusting the little details of your outfit. "You got what you wanted. Now get the fuck out of my room."

"What?" despite how you were typically mean to him, he seemed to be surprised by that. "You can't... just be heartless like that."

That struck a nerve with you. "Heartless? You're calling me heartless?" There's a desperate look in his eyes, but you can tell that he doesn't have much courage to push the issue further. After all, he's just a nerd. But he can't shake the feeling your kiss gave his mind, his heart, his stomach, his cock...

"I did everything you wanted - I did your homework. I want something more... please." His body language shows that he's almost afraid of you and your dominatrix attitude. "Please, just one more."

"God, you're so pathetic..." you sigh, shaking your head. You can't help but laugh at his desperation - he clearly has never touched a woman in his life.

"Please..." he begs once more. "I want it more than anything..."

Something in his voice sends electricity up your spine. This is much more entertaining than that dumb party. "Mm, yeah? More than anything?"

You shove him back, causing him to stumble and fall onto your bed, his back making a thud on your mattress. "I don't think you deserve it, Miguelito... you haven't done anything for it."

His heart leaps into his throat. "I... I'll do anything. Please..."

"I want you to do something for me..." you grin with lowered eyes. "Can you guess what it is?"

"I don't know... I'm nervous." he didn't know what you meant. It made you roll your eyes. I mean come on, he was laying on your bed, with you practically on top of him - how could this dweeb not get the message?

You slap him across the cheek, hard. His cock twitches when he feels the sting, causing his cheeks to burn up in embarrassment. "You want another kiss? You have to earn it."

"Make me feel good."

---------------------------

He lets out a pathetic whimper when you sit on his dick, still clothed by his boxers. You haven't even started moving yet and he's already turning to mush. Virgin loser.

He watches anxiously as you reach for the elastic waistband of his underwear, sexily pulling them off. Fuck. What a sight. Proportionally, his dick is a pretty average size. But there was no way that it would fit all the way in.

A mean smirk forms on your lips as you stare at his boner, palming him gently and eliciting a frustrated whine from Miguel. "Your dick is so fucking pretty..." you mumble. "I don't know why you're so shy about it."

"Wait, re-really? You think so?" no one had ever seen his dick before, let alone call it pretty. His breathing shallowed.

"Mhm." Miguel whimpers again when you begin to stroke him, coating his entire shaft with all the precum he's releasing. "Aww, you poor thing..."

"You're already so whiny and I'm barely even touching you. You're such a baby."

"Please..." he breathes out.

"Please what? Use your words, baby." you don't call him "baby" as a pet name, you're mocking him. He tries to hide his face from you, but you grab his chin and pull it towards you so that you two make direct eye contact.

"Tell me what you want."

"You want me to use you, hm? You wanna be my little sex toy?"

Yes. Yes. Yes. He'd love that.

"Yes... please..." he whispers. He desperately needs your attention, so he'll take anything he can get. He'll be your toy, your lap dog, anything you want him to be. All those nights where he laid in bed alone, jerking off to the thought of someone wanting him, was finally becoming a reality.

Miguel's eyes shoot wide when he sees you lift up your dress, letting your panties drop to the floor. The frat party was long forgotten by you, since this was so much more fun.

"You wanna kiss me, yeah?" You smirk, crawling further onto him. His hardened cock leaks with pre, making you giggle a bit.

You hover over his face. "Then kiss me here."

----------------------------------------

He eats you like a man starved, needy for attention. Your hips roll firmly against his face, his mouth closing around your clit and suckling on it.

"Fuck- Miguel... so good." the nerd groans when your nails scrape at his scalp, gripping his dark hair tightly. His tongue explores every inch of your cunt, leaving behind traces of saliva as he licks and kisses the sensitive flesh.

Miguel feels his entire body tingle with joy. He's so excited to be pleasing you, to prove how good he is for you, that he's completely ignored his own needs. Lucky for him, the sound of your sweet moans are enough to get him off.

His hands grip your hips hard, pulling your wet cunt closer to his face as he feasts. His hands were sure to leave bruises later.

"Mm, god... yes..." he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice making your pussy throb even more. You grind against his face even more feverishly.

"Mig, I'm-" you sigh, trying to contain your moans as he gets more excited with his ministrations. "... 'm so fucking close, baby."

His hands run all over your hips and thighs, worshipping you like the goddess he thinks you are. His dick twitches some more, and his tongue becomes more furious around your hole.

"Mm- fuck!" you let out an unexpected wail as you feel your orgasm wash over you, your mind clouded with white. He eagerly laps up all of your juices, drinking in all of your release.

When you pull away from his face, you notice that he came too.

Miguel snaps back to reality after a moment, his cheeks flushing in a sort of embarrassment. He looks so fuckin' pretty. His hair is all messy, glasses discarded to the side, and of course, your sweet cum coating his puffy lips.

After you've caught your breath, you flash him a wicked smirk. He looks at you in panic. "Wh-What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

You sink down on the bed, lowering your face towards his cock - which was dripping with his release. His face looks worried, he knows what you're doing.

"Since you've been so good for me," you start, letting your lips hover just above his aching cock. "I figured I'd help you out too. It's only fair..."

He was gonna be in for a long night.

Poor little thing. Such a sweet boy.

CREDIT TO @nymphomatique FOR THE NERD!MIGUEL

#i love subby men #miguel o'hara #webshooterrr9 #fanfic #atsv miguel #smut #im in love #omg #he's so hot #gonna cry

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shaisuki · 9 months

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｡‧˚ʚ°ɞ˚‧｡ ─── A SENSE OF SECURITY

"i'm protecting you."

you scoff at him with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. throwing the hoodie in the couch and the embarrassment seeps through your whole being, remembering the earlier dilemma rin bestowed to you.

"protecting me? are you out of your mind?! that man hadn't done anything to me!"

"yet. a little gratitude from you wouldn't hurt." he quips at you. removing his coat and hangs it.

"gratitude? do you think you deserve it from what you'd done, rin?" your voice raising a bit at him and rin only gives you a side eye glance with a raised brow.

"i sure deserve it, I did it for you and you should be grateful for it. no one but me will ever be able to protect you from harm's way."

"what the fuck you talking about rin? harm? that's it? i sure don't need protecting. i'm a fucking adult rin!" you snapped at him. you can't believe sometimes at rin. his reasonings and outbursts at things are a little over and it ends up hurting you without him realizing.

now, you were being stubborn and as much he don't want to use the word. you were being a bitch but he doesn't say it aloud. he knew how much the word weigh and being the stable and the reasonable one in the relationship, he's going to give you a piece of his mind.

that includes pinning you in the couch. his body hovering above yours and his hand squishing the cheek, putting enough pressure to hear him out.

"you're an adult. a oblivious one. i'm telling you right now. you're the unreasonable one. what would you do if he continued touching you or did you want him to continue? tell me." he firmly says. challenging you and the tone of his voice it was condescending. as if it was telling you, you were the immature one in the relationship and you need from protection in which he thinks.

you can't believe what you were hearing coming from him. staring at those teal-colored eyes of his who swirls with coldness and seriousness that there's no care for you in those gaze of his.

"no." defending yourself from his accusations at you. "why would i like him touching me and..." your words dying out and you can't find yourself to defend your point. mind becoming jumbled and conflicted. you tried to find your voice and with rin looking at you like you were the biggest mistake of his life.

the tears came rolling and it wouldn't stop. his expression seems to soften. you were helpless sometimes and naive. not knowing how many filthy fuckers had tried to make a move for you and you should be glad. you have him. itoshi rin. your boyfriend who would gladly burn the world if it means to protect you.

"i told you so. i'm just protecting you." he coos at you. caressing your cheek with his thumb.

well, he got point. a voice in your head told you. he's right, you were being unreasonable. too oblivious to pick up what things may come to you. be it to bring peace of harm to you and rin was just protecting you. in his own little ways.

"i'm sorry." you began to apologize to him. holding his hand in your cheek. the tears continuously falls and breaking out in sobs.

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry.i'm sorry.i'm sorry." you repeated like a broken record. begging for his forgiveness. the tears blurring out your vision.

rin's cold but he's no heartless. deciding you earned his forgiveness. he comforts you that only can him do to you. letting you cry yourself out until it reduces to hiccups and sobs.

pulling you closer to his and placing your head to his chest. wiping the dried tears in your round cheeks. his fingers drawing patterns in your back.

"i'm sorry, rin."

"ssh. it's fine now, okay? you're forgiven."

kissing your forehead and rin's assured. you won't be doing anything to upset him. maybe. just make sure he's around to correct you.

#ᝰ.ᐟ shai's drabbles #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x chubby reader #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x chubby reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x y/n #itoshi rin x you #tw gaslighting #chubby reader #plus size reader

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shortpplfedup · 8 months

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Only Friends Character Rankings Episode 6

Another outstanding episode as chickens start coming home to roost and Sand sets a ball a-rollin' that is gonna roll right over him in the end. In a surprise upset, Sand's mom won the audience vote last week, with Top and Boston tied for second place. You really never know who the Tumblrinas are going to favour from week to week, keeps us all on our toes! Here are this week's highly scientific rankings.

🔺1. Ray (4)

Let me talk to my friends. It’s his birthday. I’d like to say something.

Ray said NO SURVIVORS and sprayed the entire room at Mew's birthday party, and honestly? Kinda deserved. From calling Sand a whore (OUCH) to reading Cheum for filth for her shitty little backhanded comments, to almost letting the cat out of the Top/Boston bag in front of everybody, our resident mess came for every neck in the building. Boston primed him, Sand aimed him and Cheum lit the match, and it's no coincidence those three got hit with the blowback of his explosion at Top. A seething ball of pain and resentment fueled by alcohol and god-knows-what-else was never gonna fire a clean shot.

🔺2. Sand (5)

Stop thinking about Mew and focus on me for once. Can’t you really see that I care about you?

Well now we know why Sand didn't blink an eye at Nick bugging Boston's car; he's just as fucking unhinged. Sand, a poor, breaking his own phone just to get his hands on Nick's and that recording (which, by the way, calling the file 'That Car' is really too much Nicholas PLEASE 🤣)...WILD. We've all had Nick pegged as the bunny boiler but Sand might be worse and I can't WAIT because I still believe in that baseball bat. But him begging Ray to give a single solitary shit about him even AFTER Ray calls him a whore in front of a bar full of people...I remain embarrassed on his behalf.

🔺3. Mew (6)

Cocky much? I don’t even know if we’re gonna last that long.

Ok, when Mew said 'I love the sound you make when having sex' I literally screamed out OH FUCK HE KNOWS and listen, I have been WAITING for this moment. That was a baller fucking moment. You just KNOW Top's blood ran cold. Of course these two aren't breaking up, because couples like this NEVER break up. Game always recognises game. This is gonna be the first confrontation of many. But I'm pretty sure this is the last time Mew is gonna cry about it. Top might have just picked the wrong one. Mew has two moms, pretty sure he knows how to destroy a man.

🔻4. Nick (2)

I don’t give a shit about what number I am. Screw it. I’m not that into you.

At some point Nick is gonna have to stop threatening to walk and actually fucking walk, but it's clearly continuing to work for him as he and Boston are clearly the boyfriends Boston insists they're not. Dates, couple photos, meeting the dad, tender lovemaking, Boston's deep, dark secrets: Nick's getting it all...except the label he wants so very badly. And now he's shook because he knows Sand stole that recording, and he knows if Boston finds out about it it's all coming crashing down.

🔺5. Cheum (8)

I’m so happy everyone has a lover. Even a heartless slut like Boston has one.

Girl, you absolutely earned that smoke Ray blew at you. Sly Comment Susie got a minor taste of her own medicine and didn't like that shit one bit. It's all fun and games until it's your dirt under the microscope. Maybe Cheum just learned a lesson about minding her own business a little more, or at the very least keeping some of her thoughts to herself.

🔻6. Boston (3)

If I was a nice guy, you wouldn’t like me.

A surprisingly quiet week for Ton as everybody else gets so messy he looks relatively drama-free. But under the surface he's still paddling like mad: screwing Nick like a lover rather than just a fuckbuddy to keep him from leaving, clearly not out to his dad but bringing Nick round to meet him (once again using him for free work), pinning Ray so decisively that he causes a full-on meltdown. Though, 'I don't hate Mew'...well that might actually be true, because he's giving more fear than hatred.

🔻7. Top (1)

I get anyone I want. What about you? Who do you get?

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Top spent the episode feeling totally smug as he finally won the game and is basking in his spoils, swinging his dick around, feeling like King Shit. And then Mew played that recording and LOSER TIME. I have the distinct impression that Top hates to lose...

#only friends the series #bless this mess #only friends weekly character rankings #i support gay wrongs #only friends #only friends series #bl meta series

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mahi-does-some-art · 3 months

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Lily probably hears/is aware of alot of c3 propaganda due to having served the Alicein family for so long

OH ABSOLUTELY but he can't do anything about it because he serves the Alicein.

He has to keep his mouth shut about a mountain of things he'd really rather not be so quiet about to keep trouble off of his, his children's and the Alicein family's back and some of that backlash would be from the Alicein, via Mikado. Mikado doesn't believe that the peace between vampires and humans within the manor can be replicated in a broader, maybe even global scale. Plus now that we know Lily set him up to cheat (Not that Mikado cheating was any less his fault. It is. If he were less of a weak man Lily's plan would not have worked.) we know why and how he's scared of Lily, his sin and by extent likely most of the Servamps and subclass that break from the range of Lily's children so he wouldn't bother doing much to stop it outside of Lily subclass. Since they're, you know, children. And Mikado, despite being a pathetic sock of a man has nothing against children for what they are or who made them and I do believe he thinks all children should be raised with love and care. I know this bit is a little off target but he is pathetic but he is not heartless. If he were then Misono wouldn't have been raised with love and held so close to his heart. He'd be like an MC from those cookie-cutter webtoon comics.

ANYWAYS, Lily would not be able to do much if anything at all. We can all assume that the propaganda gets ridiculous too like. For all the majority of C3 workers who don't have the more insider knowledge of what the Servamps are like, they could think they're some harbingers of their sins. Like horsemen of the apocalypse but for sin.

Honestly I could absolutely see more of the uh. misguidedly faithful spewing shit like the Servamps being the reasons why there's sin in the world since I'm sure we all know sometimes people can jump to wild conclusions without evidence and just. Decide to die on those hills. Poor Lily hates hearing people who don't know anything dragging his sibling's names through the mud for no good or real reason. Even if he doesn't think it's possible or deserved for him to be loved, Lily thinks everyone should be and that rightfully includes vampires.

#servamp #c3 servamp #snow lily servamp #lily servamp #the alicein family servamp #puff speaks

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nelapanela94 · 2 years

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Hey Nela! Hope you're doing great. I wanted to ask for canonverse where reader is having her first symptoms of pregnancy, canonverse, post war, and Levi's reaction! Just an idea! Love your work and writing! <3

ANON!! You know I'm a dad Levi sucker!! Working on this had my weak heart fluttering.

WC: ~5.5k

TW: A bit of mild language (It's Levi's fault)

Years after the war, Levi and you have earned the respite you deserved. You both live a quiet life, sticking to the routine, until one day, unexpected news turns your world upside down.

“Have I gained weight?” You can’t resist spinning around and around, catching all your angles in front of the mirror. The lightweight skirt billows like a bell around your knees with every swirl.

Why do you have to be so heartless and trap Levi between Scylla and Charybdis? Now, he faces a question with not right answer. His arms are folded over his chest, the back of his knees pressed against the end of the bed. His mouth twitches as he rummages in his head for something that would not unleash a war.

You loop the golden stem though your lobe and lean forward to admire the glint, but his sour grimace eclipses the earrings effect. You swivel around, your hands anchored to your hips, and you cast that look that tells him he’d be sleeping on the couch tonight.

“I think you’re prefect.” He shoots, hoping the bullet doesn’t ricochet and pierce his leg.

Now your reflection is scowling at you. A drawer creaks open, and you pick out the paddle brush. “That doesn’t answer my question, Levi.” You wince as the bristles struggle to run through the knots of your disheveled strands.

“It’s all in your head.” The bullet strikes right next to his foot. Cold sweat dashes down his spine.

Your eyebrows sink, and creases knit between them. “Levi…” Pouting, you split a lock that cascades from the curve of your thumb and forefinger. The wooden pins sink and slip through the ends.

“Spare me.” He tosses his hands in the air for surrender.

“It’s just, the dress feels tighter around my waist.”

“Sure it shrunk in the dryer.” He shrugs.

Making a face, you put the brush on the vanity, tuck your hair behind your ears and turn around. The wrinkles between your brows smoot down, and you pad toward him, moistening your lips. “You’re just trying to be nice.” Your hands roam up over his chest, drinking the steady beating through the linen as you reel to place a sweet peck on his cheek.

“You know I’m always a dick.” He rasps, closing his eyes. His arms wind around your waist, drawing you into a melting embrace. The pads of his fingers play a soft melody on the small of your back.

And there you are, nestled and safe in his arms, imbibing his warmth you forget the shot-at-close-range question, and the matter that’s been tugging at the edge of your head for days. Sandalwood and bergamot sail into your lungs. You gaze up, prodding your chin against his chest, relishing in the sudden flare of joy, and the closeness. “I love you, Levi.” You purr and plant another kiss beneath his jaw.

A faint laugh pours out from him at the tickling your lips elicit in his skin.

This is the side of Levi you wish the entire world knew, and at the same time, you yearn to keep all for yourself.

Levi’s downy cheeks dimple when he smiles.

His laugh is mellow like a cotton candy melting in your ears.

The Levi with the purest heart, which, owing to the blows of life, he had to keep hidden inside a safe for so long. Years impersonating an aloof lunatic.

But the war is long over, and with the rocks you stumble upon in your road you built an empire. Your empire. And it’s perfect.

His hands sneak south, breaking goosebumps on your flesh, and you snatch the dimpled grin beaming on his face. No matter how many times his hands have traversed the lines of your skin, and the lighter spot cased under the band on your ring finger, your body still reacts to his caresses as it did the first time.

His fearless fingers dive into the supple roundness of skin, squeezing and closing any gap between the two. And you feel it. Your eyes widen as something stiff nudges your lower belly. “You get me so hard.” He grunts, rubbing his cheek against your head, and his hips against your tummy.

“Levi!” Flattered and indignant, you break apart, blowing out your cheeks.

“You knew what you were getting into when you said yes. And worry about it when it stops happening.” He twits, looming closer, rubbing the tip of his nose blithely over your cheek.

You bite off a giggle, feeling your face tingling with heat. A coltish snort breaks from him as you playfully shove him back, but he immediately grabs you by the shoulders so as not to lose his balance, and you go on with your silly game of pushing and pulling, lighting up the room with your guffaw, until his leg gives up, and you both, in a tangle of limbs, topple on the bed.

A mesh of belly laughs whips through the room as you try to peel off him before he suffocates. You sprawl next to him, with your cheeks suffused in pink and sparks of bliss shimmering inside you. His husky voice, laced with mirth, caresses the syllables of your name. You roll onto your side, and the dwindling tittering leaves behind that toothy smile that reminds him that the universe can still surprise him with beautiful things. The one that knocked down his walls and made him realize that crying inwardly is a torture. That pretending to be strong all the time is an act of terrorism to the heart. After all these years, he still wonders what the fuck you saw in him that no one else could. Maybe your eyes were made different. Made to rive his layers; and your heart was molded to stay with his.

Levi is facing you. His knuckles brush down your cheek as you thread your hand with his free hand. You bring it to your mouth and press plumose kisses on the stumps. His chest flits with suppressed giggles as your lips devour his hand with woolly caresses. Kissing every inch of him is therapeutic.

His gaze flicks to you, seeing his image flaring in your eyes. A fingertip traces along the line of your upper lip and he muses, “you do look different.”

“How different?” You smile amusedly and raise an eyebrow, bending your elbow to casually prop your head on your hand.

“Radiant.” He smooths your hair behind your ear. “More radiant. I don’t know how to explain,” he says, pinching your cheek with the back of his fingers, “but you glow.”

Your hand splays on his chest as you lean closer to kiss him, a butterfly flutter against his lips, and you mutter, “you’re doing great, Levi. Keep going on and I might reward you tonight.”

His tongue slips between his lips. “Now I’ll be thinking of that pretty ass all day.”

“You’re like a hormonal teenager.”

“It’s you.” He captures your lips. “I.” Kiss. “Fucking.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” His palm baths your cheek with his warmth.

Time freezes as you stare at each other for a while. Your fingertip redraws his lines, tracing the bridge of his nose and his cupid’s arch, his rosy bottom lip. It marches up, guided by the large scar, and he closes his eyes as your finger follows the path of his lash line. Three years ago, he wouldn't have let you touch him, he would have pushed you away. He would’ve hidden from you. Levi has never been a shallow person, but seeing the vestiges of war in his reflection, a constant reminder of what would never be again, lacerated him. It felt like barbed wire scourging him, tearing off his skin. And even though he behaved like the king of assholes to you, to the person who least deserved his rage and bitterness, you stood by his side. Always his light, his support, his guide. Now, he revels when you touch his scars, his heart flutters when he feels your fingers wandering over the bumpy tissue, when your lips curve against his right eyelid. A sweet reminder that, through good and bad, you’re fighting together.

He and you, the perfect tune. What else can he ask for?

You are the first to roll out of bed. You flatten the rumples on your dress and lend him your hand to tow him on his feet. Levi wraps up his sleeves while you tug at the collar of his shirt. “I don’t want girls staring at your arms. Makes me jealous.” You fake pout and split in giggles as your hands slip down his shoulders.

“It's called marketing strategy or so.”

You pat his cheek and kiss him again. “Winter children are not compatible with summer.” You tease.

You’re right. The clock hasn’t struck eight yet and he swears he’s going to melt as soon as he sets a foot on the street. He sweeps some messy strands away from his face and groans. “Damn weather.”

Another kiss. “Are you ready to adult today?”

He ducks his head and sighs, then straightens his back and meets your eyes, pinning his thumbs in his pockets. “Do we have another choice?”

His arms hook around you from behind as you cross the living room in your way to the kitchen. His chin huddled on your shoulder. Lavender suffuses the air, the curtains dance at the rhythm of the soothing morning breeze in a golden glow stage.

You split ways. Levi trudges to the stove and swings out the copper pot filler. Waters gurgles out, echoing against the bottom of the kettle, and he eyeballs for two. He turns off the handle and buckles back the faucet. A fleecy whistle wrests out, pleading for oil, and he pins a mental note that will soon fall off. Blue flame rings around the burner. An ashy thread swirls up and ebbs, and Levi dumps the corpse of the match on the granite counter.

While he handles the tea, toasts, and scrambled eggs, you finish packing his lunch. One compartment, the largest one, brims with rice for an army; the other third you fill with a stir-fry of shrimp and veggies. Levi became a huge fan of seafood ever since he tried it for the first time on the island, and luckily for him, you listened heedfully to Nicolo’s lessons, grasping his finesse and knowledge. Shrimp season began about two months ago, so at least once a week, you've been pampering your husband with a good dose of…

Your eyes bulge out when realization dawns.

You gulp, and the stainless-steel lid clacks close. The dull thud of the food container, the one with kitties doodled on the top, yanks you out from your reveries.

“Are you ok?” He reels and busses you on the side of your head.

“I’m alright.” You give him an assuring smile he doesn’t buy, yet he doesn’t push.

Your eyes glint with curiosity as your fingers slit open the lid by a wedge, taking a peek of what he made for you last night. You suck in a long whiff, relishing in the blend of basil and parmesan.

Fusilli with pesto, dried tomatoes, and grilled chicken breast. One of your vices.

With a swap of lunch pails, you set the first stone of your morning ritual.

The slices of bread jump out of the toaster, and the kettle shrill bursts through the kitchen. Levi plates the eggs and pours the tea. A smidge of honey for yours. Sacrilege.

You set the jar of blueberry jam and the butter dish on the table and retrace your steps. The cutlery drawer pops out. A rustling sound raises as you delve into, slinking through the knifes, and a simper plasters on your face when your fingers sweep over the cow handles. You pluck them out. A quick hip nudge, and the drawer reels close.

You shuffle to the table, humming a song you listened to in the radio last evening, so sticky you couldn’t wrench it out of your head.

“Mine with double jam.” You slip one butter spreader into his hand, the other you set it on the toasts plate. Wooden legs creak against the floor, and you dunk onto the chair.

One elbow tucked on the table. You prop your cheek on your hand and watch him slathering a layer of butter, topped with a thick slab of jam. From time to time his gaze scoots to you, stealing glances, exchanging smiles. Words are not needed. Levi talks louder with his eyes.

“Here.” He slides the toast on your plate and grabs the naked one. A thin coat of butter is enough for him. His teeth clamp and tiny crumbs pelt onto his dish. He freezes with the toast in his mouth, squinting at you.

A hill of scrambled eggs lies over your toast, threatening to spill over. You set your fork down, and bring up your breakfast to your mouth. The soggy toast sags in the middle, cradling the blend of sweet and savory Levi finds gross. Eggs with specks of marmalade fall from the other end as you claw your menacing fangs on your bizarre meal.

He eyes you with concern, crinkling up his face at your odd combination, but you fend off his grimace, humming in delight as you rub your fingers clean.

“You should try too.” You fold the napkin and dab your lips. “The flavors are so balanced.”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

You shrug. “Save me some chocolate cake for this afternoon.” You chime in and nab the last chunk. “And quiche too.”

You’ve never been a calorie-counter freak, and back on the island, it wasn't like you had a huge fan of options to whim on food, but lately, you’ve been quite lenient with your choices, leaning towards high sugary treats. But he keeps quiet before you bombard him with questions he doesn't know how to answer.

He leers at you, smirking.

Delicate fingers loop through the handle of the floral mug. Your palms flood with the balmy heat through the ceramic, and you smile back at him, raising the cup to your mouth, the spiciness stroking your lungs. Your breath fans over the rim, conceiving waves.

“I was thinking of refurbishing the guest room.”

“What’s wrong with it?” He takes another swig.

You raise your shoulders. “It kinda lacks personality, I don’t know.”

You baptized it ‘guest room’; in truth, it’s only a soulless room with a single bed and a nightstand. And you’ve never had any guest camping there. It’s the only place in your apartment that doesn’t have your stamp.

“It’s a guest room, it doesn’t need a personality.”

“But-“

The pendulum clock strikes eight thirty. Your eyes go round, and jumping off the chair, you gobble down your cool down tea.

“We can continue during dinner.” Levi jabbers, picking up the dishes.

You nod, rushing to your bedroom while Levi does his magic to leave the dining room and kitchen sparkling clean.

You brush your teeth, wash your face, and put makeup on to conceal the dark circles under your eyes. The lipstick glides smoothly. You rub your lips together and apply the second coat.

A smile framed in red gives you the thumbs up, and you hustle to the entryway, passing by Levi at the hallway, walking in the opposite direction.

From the shoe rack you pick the flat sandals, and slump down onto the cushioned bench. You buckle them on. Your forefinger cleaves inside the strap and gauge the tightness, so it doesn’t mar your ankles throughout the day. It must be the heat that worsens fluid retention.

Levi sits next to you, the lunch bags perched on each side of him. While he finishes putting on his shoes, you give the house one last look so as not to forget anything. The breeze falters, and the natural light turns off.

You hit the lively streets. Car honks, engines revving. Levi’s cane sets the speed. You strut down, hand in hand, people making way to the limping man. Levi despises being treated differently because of his condition. He prefers to stand in the regular line rather than use his priority pass, but in emergency situations, he takes advantage of its benefits.

The blazing sun melts your layers and chars your bones. August's sticky heat, and the tree leaves hardly whir. A cough muzzles in your fist. The dense air polluted with the lurid smoke is something you have not been able to get used to.

Three stoplights later and a right turn, the beaming postman carboard cutout greets you. You stop before your workplace, and Levi slings your lunch bag on your shoulder. He kisses you good-bye and brushes off the warp smudge of red of your lips, and you do the same on his.

“See you at The Burned Leave.” You muse and dash into the post office.

Your coworkers whisper, their eyes nailed on you as you duck behind the counter. Not to brag, but yes, you are the luckiest person in the world because you have Levi by your side.

You uncap the pen with your teeth and jot down the tasks for the day as well as the ‘to buy’ for tomorrow’s breakfast. You also need to stop at the pharmacy for Levi’s medicines. The pen swings between your index and middle fingers, tapping on the desk a melody that conveys your concern. A mangled paperclip slips off from your idle hand.

At the end of your list, you scrawl ‘Iron supplements.’

With one hand in his pocket, Levi continues his way. The Burned Leave is just a few blocks further downtown.

“It tastes like burned leaves, Levi.” You scrunch up your face at the bitterness. “A bit of honey might help.”

He wishes he had you with him all day. Sure, your smile would lure more customers, but you didn't want to get in the way. It was him, his space, his dream, the corner where he could do what he loved best. Plus, during dinner, you could exchange anecdotes of hesitant customers and pain in the ass Karens.

It's just another ordinary summer day. The sky is clear, and the sun scorches the city without a bit of mercy. The teashop stirs up with the motions of customers entering. They dive in for the cold drinks and the famous lemon cheesecake. Something Levi owes you.

It’s noon, and there’s a huge line before the counter. Falco takes the orders diligently; Levi scurries around blending, steeping, pouring as Gaby completes the orders with the desserts and summons customers to the Pick-up-here. A perfectly synchronized sequence that doesn’t allow room for error.

Drained and sweaty, respite swaddles them by 2PM. The afternoon runs smoothly since most clients are office staff who return to their hives as soon as lunchtime is over.

“You did great, brats.” Levi ruffles Falco’s hair as the teenage boy sweeps the floor. The ravenette leans against the counter, arms folded over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles.

“You should consider a raise.” Gaby prods while wiping clean one of the tables.

“Don’t get too smart.” He raps his fingers on his upper arms. The brunette traipses back to the counter, flings the cloth on Levi’s shoulder, dodging her boss’ deathly glower. Her hands hook to the edge, and she heaves up on the wooden surface.

“Oi! Don’t stick your ass on my counter.” Levi blows off a lock of hair of his face, his eyes plunged into a scowl. But she ignores him and reaches out for the slice of oreo cheesecake that Falco had started and left in plain sight of predators.

“Gaby!!!!!”

“What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine.” She licks the spoon.

“Go grab lunch.” Levi breaths, tossing a thumb over his shoulder. “No making out in the staff room.” He casts a mocking grin, and from the corner of his eye he catches them, brushing fingers as they head to the backroom. Gaby fiddling with her necklace and Falco rubbing a hand behind his head.

Thank goodness they don't know the beginning of your story. Flustering and stammering whenever you came around.

His smirk falters, and his face unsettles with disquietude when he spots his lovely wife through the glass. Head bowed; arms wrap around yourself.

His hand curls around the grip of the stick, and he plods to the door. He wedges it open with a foot and welcomes you in an embrace. “Hey.” He croons, caressing your hair.

You pull apart and gaze up, your stinging red eyes crash with his. A drumbeat of pain and concern spreads in his chest. Your eyes are dull and leaden, lacking all their gleam from this morning. His brows draw together, and he tilts his head. Apprehension grazes up his features. You nuzzle your face on his chest as the tip of his finger assuages you with lazy circles on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Levi helps you to the couch in his office and sits next to you, drawing you to his chest.

“I started feeling sick in the morning, so they took me to the infirmary. They told me I could take the rest of the day off. I didn't want to be home alone, so I came here.”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

“No, I need some rest.” You mutter, pressing a hand on your forehead, your face crinkling in discomfort. “It’s just a headache.”

“I’ll get you a pill.” He kisses your head, but you don’t let go.

Running a hand through his hair, he sighs. He pats his thighs, inviting your feet, and you shuffle on the couch, raising your legs. The ghost of a smile flickers on your pale lips. He frees your swollen ankles from the ordeal, and blood fizzes back to your toes, delivering alleviation to every inch. His fingers pamper the red marks where you were mauled and strangled. Your shoulders feel light, and you slump against the arm rest, cocking your head and perching your cheek on your hand.

“I love you, Levi.” You give him a weak smile.

He brings one of your legs up, and his lips douse your shin with a trail of tickles. “I love you too.”

Your eyes leap from the picture of you and him roasted in the beach, to the lamp on his desk, to the succulent Gaby and Falco got him for his last birthday, to the clock on the wall, and after a tour around his office, they land back on him.

A lock of hair twirls around your finger. “You know, sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve someone like you.”

If only you knew he mulls over that every night, wondering what he did for the universe to grant him so much bliss.

A tangle of voices buzz from the corridor, dwindling when the sappiest couple– only one step above you–frosts at the door. Blushing, they snap each other’s hands away, smuggle them behind their backs.

“Hey,” you spout, waving a hand.

They gasp your name in unison. “Are you–“

“Go get the first aid kit.” Levi cuts them, and next second, heavy steps are filling the air.

“Are you treating them nice?” You raise a brow.

His deft hands allay your upset feet. He knows where to knead, and squeeze and press his knuckles. “I’m not a nice person, Y/N.”

“You can deceive them all, but not me.” Light fades behind your lids, and a moan of relief falls of your lips.

“Something’s wrong with your setup.”

You bite your lip and nudge his thigh with your toe. “You’re saying I’m blind?” Your eyes greet light again.

“I can't find any other reason for you to have fixated on me.”

“C’mere.” Your arms stretch out, grabby hands persuade him. You make room for him, wriggling and shifting into a more comfortable position, and he curls by your side, half his ass suspended in the air. Levi holds you in his arms, nestling his cheek on the side of your head.

“I can assure you that madness didn’t sting my eyes.” Your voice comes out in a weary whiff.

“You sure you’re ok?”

Your fingers plait with his, seeking shelter. “Yeah.”

“Did you like your lunch?” His voice caresses your temple, soft and husky like evening breeze.

You contort your face, scratching something behind your ear, eyes scooting around “Well…” You don’t want to break his heart.

“You didn’t eat…”

“I wasn’t hungry.” Maybe it's not a good idea to mention that you almost threw up as soon as the smell of parmesan and basil hit you.

Levi’s eyes twitch, and he opens his mouth to speak, pausing to collect his thoughts. You could eat a jar of pesto by spoonfuls as if it were not an olive oil bomb and carry on with your life. Something is wrong. Definitely wrong.

Falco breaks into the room with an ibuprofen tablet and a glass of water.

Lines pleat on the boy’s forehead. “Should I call a doctor?”

“I’m alright, Falco. Thanks.” The corners of your lips quirk up in a gentle smile. “It’s not necessary.” You swallow the pill, and close your eyes, cuddled on Levi. Your unfurled hand swills the beats of his heart.

But before Falco is dismissed, he reads from Levi’s mouth ‘call them.’

With his head down, and his hands fumbling in his pockets, Levi paces from side to side, impatient, trying to chase away the bad thoughts before they drive him mad. His heart pounds in his ears. His jaw clenches tight. For the nth time he glances at the door, then at his watch. It’s only been five minutes, Levi. Relax. Grumbling, he stops, and takes a long, appeasing breath. He slants against the wall and runs a hand down his face.

As a pester as they might be sometimes, he wishes those brats were here, but someone needs to run the shop and take orders.

The door clicks open form the interior and Levi’s straightens up in a lurch. The man, with salt and pepper hair, smiles at him. An assuring smile. Levi tips his head. Creases in his forehead tug up one eyebrow.

“Congratulations, Mr. Ackerman.” A gentle squeeze in his shoulder, and amid the mental blur only few words he grasps. “…six weeks pregnant… nothing out of the ordinary… regular checkups…” His mind yanks him back to the word ‘pregnant’.

It bangs in his head like a bass drum.

Suddenly, his legs begin to weaken, the ground moves, or so he feels, and he scrambles forward, clinging to the wall before he smashes his face at the doctor’s feet. “Hey, Mr. Ackerman.”

A pat on his back.

Then an arm winds around him; next, he’s sitting on his chair. Levi blinks several times until the light sets and the edges of reality smooth down. Dr. Ziegler is waving goodbye; a broad smile strains his pink, plump cheeks.

“Pregnant.” Slurs out of his mouth. His face snaps at you. You’re staring back at him, chin tucked on your arms folded over the armrest. Your head swing from side to side.

Wide eyes startled, white specks, like tiny diamonds, flicker on is quavering irises. His hands clench at his thighs. He fills his lungs with the scarce air and puffs out “Pregnant?” His chest rises and falls, trying to ski down the hill of shock. “You’re with child?”

“Well, I guess that’s the definition of pregnant,” you quip.

Battling against his quivering legs, he urges himself on his feet and slogs to you, shutting his mind to the lash of pain whipping though his leg. But it yields, making him topple before you.

“Levi!!!” Your voice is a shrill with worry. “Levi!” Your hands grapple him by the shoulders, waggling him to wake up.

And then, you feel a velvet touch sauntering up and down you’re your calves. A sob wrings out from him, followed by a long sniffle. Dazed with the news, he bottles up his breaths trying to calm down, unsuccessfully, and raises his face, stained with tears of joy. His eyes red and swollen; his chin wobbling as his lips try to pull out a smile.

His heart burst, and his thoughts, scattered around, curb him from thinking straight.

Fuck. He’s going to be a dad.

Him. A dad. Someone will call him dad with that chirping voice. A little brat will wake him up in the middle of the night with their strident cry. Between him and you, they will seek protection from the monsters that lurk in the night, thwarting any indecent approach. Changing diapers, preparing bottles, reading bedtime stories.

Is it too soon to buy a toy tea set?

New papa guide.

Fatherhood for dummies.

We’re pregnant!

The expectant father.

He scrolls down through infinite titles that doubtlessly will join his collection. Tomorrow he will start with the sketches to remodel the room.

Feather-like tingles swamp his chest, enraptured with waves of love and pride and joy.

However, all those ‘what ifs’ push him down into a vortex of insecurities and self-consciousness. All those questions pricking in his chest, spreading their venom like a scorpion sting.

What if the brat doesn’t like me?

What if they don’t love me?

What if they’re scared of embarrassed of me?

He is about to face something he wasn’t groomed for. But he wouldn’t let panic weighed him down. He has you, and now he has to be stronger than ever to fight for two.

A dazzling smile and a lulling caress quell his fears. Your fingers curl under his chin.

“I told you I wasn’t sick.”

“You knew?” He snivels as your thumbs, fuzzily, brush his tears away. Levi ties his arms around you, snugging his face on your lap, your fingers weaving through his hair, coddling his scalp. The weight of age peeks in the form of gray strands.

You are that love song on the radio, the warm sun caress on a winter day. An ice cream of lemon and vanilla in summer. A gentle kiss; a clumsy ballroom dance. A soft squeeze of hands.

And soon, the mother of his child. His child. Your child. Shit. He’s created a life with you.

He shudders, grasping the oxygen he can.

Your walk without a destination it’s not intimidating because he is with you.

“I was suspicious.” Scratching the side of your face, you bite your lip. “I didn't want to tell you until I was sure.” A nervous laugh ripples out of you, taking your lips from hooked to a beam. “Can you believe that? We’re having a baby.” You chirp excitedly. “What do you think they’d look like? I hope they have your hair and your eyes and your nose.” You pinch his cheeks. “And these too.”

“They will have your eyes.” Levi burbles.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone!” You fiddle with the hem of your dress. Levi hums, those brats won’t leave him alone. He can already hear Connie squeaking in disbelief.

You scavenge in your thoughts, a finger tapping over your mouth. “You know what? I am actually surprised it took so long.”

Levi chuckles. You offer him a hand, hoist him up, and he flumps at your side.

A webbing of emotions he can’t unravel and put into words clogs up in his throat. But thank walls Levi ladles out his feeling through his eyes. Now, it’s him curled up in your chest, unfurling his hand on your bloated belly. A new life is forming in you, a life that’s half him, half you.

Shit. He’s terrified.

Your fingers sink through his, impregnating him with the reassurance he needs.

“No onesies with the word brat.”

He pulls away, bumping with your furrowed eyes. “I already have three designs in mind.” He wipes his tears with his forearm and snorts. “And I'll sign up for embroidery classes.”

A thread of giggles spools out from your lips, and with a silly smile, he watches you until your laugh peters out.

Mindful of his overprotective instincts, you remind him, “I don't want you to overexert yourself, Levi. Don’t sling more weight over your shoulders. Don’t forget I'm not sick.” You stress out the last words.

To treat you like a goddess and cater to your every whim so that you only have to worry about that life growing healthy inside you?

Message sent. Message received.

239 notes · View notes

bacon-sandwich-of-dionysus · 4 months

Text

Bloodhound. (A Ghost x AFAB!Reader fic)

Act One, Chapter Nine: In the Eye of the Storm

Hey guys! I'm back! Yay!

So, so sorry for the super long delay- med school has been extremely busy and on top of that, the Christmas hols have been busy as well. I had family functions, Christmas itself, and my birthday on New Year's Eve ( :3 ). I will also admit that I did briefly lose motivation for this fic, writer's block is a curse, and it was a little bit of slug to get started writing again, but I'm very happy with this chapter and I hope you are all too.

Nevertheless, here's Chapter 9- a.k.a the penultimate chapter of Act One! Yay! I'm so excited for Chapter 10! I don't want to spoil much, but let's just say we'll be getting our first glimpse of an Arcadian Son in his wolven form! 🐺

Feedback is welcome! Let's drum up some hype for Act One's finale!

Warnings: Strong language, threats of violence, emetophobia warning, violence, gore, mild body horror and animal death (I will say this happens under the final asterisk of the chapter almost at the very end and it is a bit nasty)

P.S: Fun fact- half of this came to me in a dream! Seriously, it did!

Her resolve was breaking, crumbling away like sand through her fingers. She was faltering, stumbling over a root as she dragged her body to continue on. Valeria looked behind to see she had lost sight of the base. Slowly, she returned her gaze to what was in front of her: the vague path back to their camp.

She had cast that awful mask aside, leaving it to be found at the edge of the base, where the back of that dilapidated building met the woods, hoping you’d find it and that it’d light a fire under your arse.

A life taken was, in her eyes, better than a life doomed. At least, with murder, there came some form of closure. Some form of a definitive… end.

How long until it would set in? Until he’d unravel and consume them all?

Consume you?

She prayed that the anger she had seen in your face, as she had grabbed a fistful of your hair, bringing your bloodied visage to look upon hers, meant you had it in you to fix this. There was a good chance you’d reject Ghost and flee the moment you discovered his newfound nature. And… you’d be right in doing that- you know, to kill him before he’d get into their hands. Valeria hoped you’d stab him with a silver stake in his sleep or do her the kindness of making him scream. Oooh. Something inside her giggled with sadistic joy at the thought of an Arcadian Son screaming in agony at the hands of a lamia. What a triumph that would be! An arrogant man with strength he didn’t deserve nor need, squirming about at the feet of a trafficked child. Valeria hungered for that, and she had found a substitute in reigning supreme over the Las Almas Cartel but, now that she thought about it, it wasn’t the same. It was play. It was her living in a fantasy, rehearsing all the things she wanted to say and do to her overseer. There were many people that sat at the back of her mind, giving voice to her innermost doubts and fears, whom she wanted to see burn by her hands, and he was one of them. That heartless fucker who managed to worm his way into her very being, one who she’d still want to see in awe of her, to feel a swell of pride as she’d slit his throat.

Every Arcadian Son was the same. Every single one. They all did nothing but hurt, exploit, and terrorise. Throwing around their gifts without a care in the world and making sure everyone was constantly feeling their anguish, their pain.

But what about mine?! What about my pain?!

She trudged on, doing her best to halt the tears pooling in her eyes. In an ill attempt to self-soothe, Valeria found her arms slowly snaking around her, her body pulling her into an embrace. It stung as the cartel queen felt a tear trickle from her eye, rolling down her nose, clinging to the end. Then another, and another, and another once more. Valeria wanted to beat someone half to death. She wanted to feel powerful again, toying with people. She had thought that all these years she had spent on herself, spoiling herself rotten with an underground empire and plenty of men to crush beneath her boot, she had grown. And yet, here she was, a sobbing, snivelling mess, nothing more than a weak, little girl.

Little girl.

“You wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for me.”

Little girl.

“I will always be with you.”

Little girl.

“You will always be scared of men like me. You will always be scared of men.”

The way those words had been uttered to her, all those years ago, with no anger, no emotion behind them, uttered like cold, hard facts. As if she was made to be a certain way. As if she couldn’t escape her nature. As if she was destined to be a caricature, an idea of a person. It was as if everything Valeria had ever done had meant nothing, because all this she had created, had accumulated, had achieved, was merely boiled down to a response to him. Essentially, Valeria realised that she was and would always be nothing more than his lamia.

A quivering breath escaped her, and she became still. Glossy brown eyes stared into the middle distance.

She could have said no, died in defiance.

And yet, she obeyed.

How far was she from camp?

“Valeria?”

Quick as a whip, she snapped back to reality and saw Graves, directly in front of her, standing amidst the shrubbery. His posture indicated he was concerned, slightly leaning forward, one unsure foot put in front of the other, hands hovering in place, shaking with slight trepidation. To him, she didn’t look well. Something about her indicated she wasn’t entirely here and as for her slightly unkempt armour and bloodstained face, Phillip feared she wouldn’t be able to give a decent report.

Still¸ he sighed, no harm in tryin’.

“Valeria?”

“You disgrace the army.”

Every single fucking man she had ever met had, in some form or the other, left a nasty mark on her. Every. Single. Fucking. One.

As she watched Phillip approach her, with a patronising dose of caution, her lip curled.

“I want the missiles. I want the target. And I want Hassan. And you’ve got ten seconds or I’m going to show you the difference between military and me.”

Phillip Graves was feeling sorry for himself now, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he’d be back to his usual self, or perhaps even worse.

“Valeria?”

“What?!” she snapped.

“Have you delivered the package to the target and…”

She could tell he was looking her up and down.

“… Did the renegade do that to you?”

Valeria wasn’t fooled by his softened voice. She took a disgusted step back as he took one towards her.

“What do you think?” Valeria sighed, making to brush past him and collect her things at camp so she could leave this promptly.

He grabbed her, hard, by the wrists. She looked at him like he wasn’t even human, her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, a face depicting someone who was taken aback by not a man, but an animal.

“I need a full report of what happened,” he spoke to her like she was a mere child.

She looked at him, trying to find his eyes behind that blank visor. Although there really wasn’t much of a height difference between them, she felt as though he was consuming her whole field of vision. Angry tears should have told him enough, but it was evident that he wanted to hear it from her lips.

“Let me go.”

“I need a report.”

“Let me go.”

“You can have your tantrum afterwards, Garza. I need a report. You do realise that this is technically a mission-”

She pulled away, trying to break free of his grip, but to no avail. Over his shoulder, she could see the tantalising shape of camp. Valeria wriggled, demanding to be released. Phillip’s grip only tightened.

Stop.

STOP!

Valeria kicked him, screamed at him and, in a moment of brief freedom, before he’d trap her in his embrace once more, she hit his armoured chest. Again, and again and again. All that came out of her were shrieks and curses that sounded as though they had been trapped in her gullet for centuries. She punched and punched his chest, fighting to break free from his grip as he reestablished control. Graves supposed he’d let her have her moment for a few seconds, however, he soon grew tired of her hysteria.

“Valeria… Valeria, will you just… Val-”

He sighed.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GIVE ME THE GODDAMN REPORT!” he roared.

Then, Phillip fell silent, as if surprised by his own voice. He sounded a lot worse than he did when she last spoke to him, merely hours ago.

Valeria glowered at him but did as he said, regaining composure. She was breathless, panting as her whole body rose and fell in time with her stifled gasps for air. Her hands were raised in front of her, held in place by his, almost framing her face.

“The renegade was there. They saw me. And as for the target… Riley’s received the package.”

He eyed the woman, seeing if he could smell any lies on her. However, it seemed she was telling the truth. Phillip let go of her hands and watched them drop to her sides.

“Clean yourself up and go log it on the lexicon-thingy. I received a call from them not too long after you left. They said they want to hear it from you.”

She pushed past him, wiping away the salty water on her lips with the back of her hand.

Dawn would be approaching and with it, heaps of planning for the final stage. They hadn’t been here for long, but to Phillip, he felt as though he had aged aeons. A sliver of him had just made its absence finally known, having spent the past few days teasing him with its liminal existence. Absentmindedly, he rested a hand on his chest, picking at the crevices of his armour as he stared off into the middle distance. He wasn’t the same. He’d hit rock bottom and now had to get on with things despite it all because he didn’t have anything else to do but that. Never had a man truly encapsulated the word ‘undead’. Phillip Graves in a sense had died in Las Almas, in that tank, at the hands of John ‘Soap’ MacTavish, but he hadn’t been reborn or redeemed in any way. The man was a soulless continuation of the previous iteration. Although he knew the inescapable reality of his situation, he couldn’t fathom it: particularly the fact that he was alive. This didn’t feel like being alive, though. He was simply… going through the motions. There was no agency here. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he did have some agency which led him to the decision he had been procrastinating on making.

The matter of the girls.

***

“What?!” 72’s voice cracked; her indignation just barely being contained. “What do you mean we can’t go?!”

Phillip winced a little, trying to find the correct footwork needed to get around the girl and get on with his life. Much to his chagrin, though, the young lamia firmly put herself in front of him, blocking his path with her feet squarely placed hip-width apart and her arms crossed. She had an aggravating scowl on her face as she looked up at him.

“Kid…”

“Kid?” she scoffed.

“72,” he sighed, pausing for a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “you and 23 need to stay put. For your own safety. You know, I’m doing this for your own good.”

“We’re supposed to be working,” she growled, “We’re supposed to be on a job.”

Phillip noticed the way her brows lowered, eyes narrowing, it brought about a sense of familiarity to him, like he’d seen that expression elsewhere but couldn’t quite place it.

Him.

Suddenly, he was aware that he was pulling the same face under his helmet.

“You’re going to be doing me a lot of favours by staying back here. So, stay.”

“But-”

“That’s an order, 72!”

She was taken aback by his raised voice, her lip trembling a little as her mind couldn’t make up whether she should be scared or continue to be angry. Graves rose to his full height no longer bringing himself down to meet her eyes, thinking that had done the trick.

He gently moved her out the way and walked past, feeling an odd sense of pride that he’d managed to avoid a teenage girl’s wrath successfully.

“What are you so afraid of?”

Phillip stopped dead in his tracks.

“Are you scared you’re going to hurt us?” 72 taunted, “I know that you were the one responsible for 23’s injury after we extracted the drug lord.”

He couldn’t… He couldn’t even bring himself to look at whatever smug grin she was probably pulling, knowing full well that it would send him over the edge. The last thing he needed right now was an excuse to lose it, especially when she was in the line of fire.

“You…” He could hear his voice had become gravelly once more, like it had done so when he’d yelled at Valeria. “… You, young lady, are skating on some mighty thin ice.”

“I don’t even need to read your mind to know you’re full of guilt.”

“72-”

“We’re here for you! We’re your lamias! You can’t just leave us here, they’ll find out we weren’t working properly, and they’ll do something about it!” she cried, throwing her arms out and vaguely upward.

He turned to face her.

“I’m supposed to be dead. I was supposed to be in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere, not atoning for my fucking sins but here I am yet on another mission… with two children that I now have to make sure don’t get fucking killed because...”

“Because?”

“I’ve killed so many people. I’ve been a damn good contractor. But I draw the line here. I draw the line at children.”

“We’re not just children.”

“No, 72, you are and you’re in my care. I tell you what to do and you do as I say. That’s the fuckin’ deal. Got it?”

Her lips were pulled into a thin line.

“Got it?!”

She hung her head low.

“Yes, sir,” 72 said, resignedly.

He nodded to himself.

“Go into your tent and stay there until I come get you for food or whatever. If you need anything, you call me, and I’ll let you out.”

Tail between her legs, she sulkily walked back to her flimsy shelter. He watched her unzip the flap and crawl in, hearing the shrill sound of the zipper being angrily pulled along the teeth. Phillip found himself lingering a little longer, watching her silhouette greet 23’s in the warm glow of the hanging torch he’d managed to fish out of their bags for them when they first set up shop here.

Though it stung, Graves knew it had been the right thing to do. They weren’t built for the battlefield, and he’d got a glimpse of that when Valeria had been taken.

23…

His mind was still foggy on what exactly happened with her. As much as he wanted to ask, he feared it would either confirm his suspicions or leave him with only more questions. And so, Phillip had opted to wallow in his apprehension, hoping that once he’d finished this mission and hopefully be rid of them, he could either forget about his guilt or drown it in a fuck ton of alcohol like he used to.

Taken a heavy hit? Simply rock up to the nearest bar in the area and drink and drink and drink.

Having awful flashbacks to Al-Mazrah? Sip some tequila, then sip some more tequila… then keep sipping until you’ve somehow arrived at the next day with only faint recollection of how exactly you got here.

Phillip wondered if he could even get drunk anymore thanks to his newfound condition. Perhaps that’s why the rest of the Arcadian Sons seemed so… excessive, the senseless violence and enforcing of power kept them from acknowledging the tragedies that were their own existences. Maybe he should get with the programme.

No…

It felt wrong.

Then again, he’d most likely done just as bad before. Still, his previous transgressions never made him feel like this, even thinking about spilling blood made his stomach both churn and burn with hungry excitement. It would be giving into something, something that was steeped in sin.

He needed to get this job done and hope the Foundation would give him another one so he would have no time to be alone with his thoughts.

***

You took another pump of soap and rubbed it into your hands before bringing them under the tap once again. Warm water washed over you as you picked at your nails, trying to get the last bits of brown, dried blood which were stubbornly sitting in the crevices of your fingers. Eventually, you looked back up to see the red smeared across the lower half of your face, coming to almost a point, where the source was: your nose.

Damn it.

The blood was beginning to dry, becoming a nasty crust over your skin. You couldn’t help but stare at yourself- bloodied, bruising with tearstains to boot.

You thought about the lamia once more. She had been hanging about in your head for some time now, her face briefly gracing your mind’s eye with her presence. You wondered who exactly she was, not from an identity perspective but rather, you were curious about her intentions. It was just… why?! Why was she there? Why did she help you? Why help and still work for the Foundation? Why show such solidarity, tell you about the Arcadian Sons in the forest, undeniably a few kilometres away, and yet, still, presumably, enter to confirm your location?

Or was this all a ruse? No… it couldn’t be!

It wasn’t like you were going to wait around to find out, you were going to pack your shit and leave first thing in tomorrow morning. You swore to yourself that come dawn tomorrow, you were out of here.

You just hoped that the Arcadian Sons weren’t planning anything tonight.

They couldn’t be that fast, could they?

They could. They very much could.

Damn it.

You sighed, watching your reflection frown. All you really had going for you at the moment was the hope that some god above would take pity on your plight and have the Arcadian Sons miss their window of opportunity.

A long sigh escaped you as you rested some of your weight on the sink.

Ghost’s bout of nausea hadn’t been helping the overall atmosphere in the base either. He’d hogged the bathroom pretty much all morning, vomiting loudly. Soap had been lingering outside for pretty much all of it, occasionally knocking on the door to ask the man if he needed the medic… to which Ghost would reply with, “No. Gaz is keeping ‘em occupied anyway. Besides, I think I just ate-” and then he’d get cut off by puking back into the toilet bowl.

You were curious about what exactly was wrong with him but hadn’t had an opportunity to even catch a quick glimpse of his state, with Kate and Price immediately pulling you aside to ask about the events that had transpired last night the moment you were out of the medical room. Alejandro and Rudy had also interrogated you in the office with the others earlier but that resulted in them having more questions. Then, a massive argument had broken out between Alejandro and 141, with Rudy doing his best but being an unsuccessful mediator. Everything came to an end though when Ghost had sat back down after getting a word in, only to suddenly rise from his seat and make a break for the bathroom. Everyone heard his retches down the corridor, and you wouldn’t be lying if you admitted that the sounds had made you feel a little nauseous yourself.

Bewildered was the word you thought best described the base at the moment.

A pit was slowly growing in your stomach. You were dreading what nightfall would bring. They were coming for you and there are only so many times you can escape the Foundation’s clutches before luck runs out.

You were glad you had packed your silver-plated knives and stake, feeling the sweet relief of reassurance as you grabbed your toothbrush, eager to finally have a moment to yourself to freshen up.

***

The clues at the bottom of her crossword were slowly blurring into one inky blob on the page. A pen, slightly shaking with mild anger, hovered over the third row spanning across the answer area. Usually, 72 would make light work of this, but today, she seemed preoccupied.

23 looked at her with caution from across the tent as she fiddled with the new compression bandaged Phillip had quickly slipped onto her slowly healing knee. The swelling had gone down a little, but it still looked sore. She watched, with increasing anxiety, as 72 grew more and more tense. Eventually, she caved and lashed out with a loud growl, throwing her pen to the side.

“You okay?” 23 asked with trepidation.

“Can you believe he’s making us stay here? Instead of, you know, letting us do our jobs?”

23 shrugged, turning to pick up her camcorder and searching for the switch as 72 continued her rant.

“Like, the Red Room clearly thinks we’re ready or we wouldn’t have been deployed, you know? His report is what’s gonna get us out of the Red Room and actually into a definitive pack. That we’ll stay in…”

She drew her knees to her chest, hugging the newspaper.

“… Instead of being passed from one packmaster to another.”

23 shrugged.

“Maybe he’s right,” the girl suggested, flicking through her footage.

72 grumbled.

“We’re going to end up paying for this. We always do,” she mumbled into the paper, “He thinks he’s doing the right thing but as soon as he mentions on the final report that we did nothing-”

“How do you even know he’s gonna say that?” 23 looked up at her with an exasperated expression, only emphasised by the blue glow from the device’s screen highlighting her features.

“Because he has to?!” 72 sat upright. “They’ll ask.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Why are you sticking up for him?!”

“I’m not!”

“You are! You’re on his side!”

If 23 had pearls, she’d be clutching them in response to such a false and heinous accusation.

“72, I’m not taking anyone’s side. We both know that he’s nice so he’s not going to do anything to get us in trouble, okay?”

“He’s the reason your knee’s fucked up.”

72 pointed at the bandaging on the girl’s leg. 23 cast her gaze downwards and to the side, covering the dressing with her hands.

“Are you scared of him? Is that what it is?” 72 asked, before bringing her hand to her forehead. “Oh my God! You’re scared! You’re doing as your told for once because you’re scared of him!”

“I’m not scared of him! Besides, it was my fault my knee’s screwed up, I was the one that tripped… It’s just-”

“Just what? Scared the big bad wolf is gonna eat ya?”

23 glared daggers at her.

“No, I’m not scared. I’m just being reasonable. Maybe, he has a point. Maybe, we should stay here.”

72 leaned back, her eyes narrowing.

“If I left and followed them to the base, would you let me do it alone?”

Silence fell upon them briefly, only the sounds of awkward rustling filled the tent.

“Well?” 72 asked impatiently.

“I mean…” 23 trailed off, scratching her upper arm idly as she thought.

“Yes or no!”

“Fine!” the girl groaned, throwing her head back.

***

Kate’s fingers were interlocked, her hands tightly wrapped around one another, in a ball, resting on her head as she looked at the ground. Y/N was in their prime. They knew. She, on the other hand, clearly was losing touch and at an alarming rate.

Price sat across from her, a steaming cup of tea sitting atop a small table was the only barrier between the two. He let out a sigh, the air whistling a little as it left his nose. His hands were comfortably placed on his lower abdomen, a contrast to his right leg, which jigged up and down, giving away his brewing anxiety. The captain was growing to resent this silence, waiting and wanting Kate to fill it because he couldn’t, he had no words.

The tense quiet was what was left of Alejandro’s panicked anger and Rudy’s unsuccessful attempts to quell it. He had shouted, paced, accused and demanded that Y/N needed to leave. Kate had stated that she could only let Y/N go once the contact had confirmed it was safe, and as much as she hoped you’d agree, you took Alejandro’s side.

You would leave come tomorrow’s sunrise and just hope that by the time you’d reach the border, the people Kate had been talking to would be there to greet you… like the angels at the Pearly Gates.

Marks of Alejandro’s outburst were everywhere in this room: the door only now just ceasing its swinging from when he’d stormed off, the slam of his fist still ringing in Kate’s ears, the scattered papers and the empty dossier precariously hanging off the table’s edge.

Price’s brown eyes looked over to the old electric fan atop one of the filing cabinets, feeling himself become engrossed in its soothing blanket of white noise as it whirred away, fighting to do its job.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken on Y/N.”

Quickly, he turned back to Kate.

“What?”

“We already have enough shit going on. Y/N… I didn’t need to add them to the list of our problems,” she muttered, shaking her head, “Did you hear what Ghost said? And how Alejandro responded?! I could’ve sworn I saw it n his eyes for a second that he was ready to kick us out.”

“No… No!” he implored, scooting his chair, trying to close at least some of the distance, “You did the right thing.”

She looked at him, her blue eyes intense, darting, doing their best not to give away her bubbling emotions.

“It’s difficult to see that right now. We’re here because Alejandro is allowing us to be here, he’s already jumping a lot of hoops for us.”

“And you’re doing the same for Y/N. We don’t leave each other. Where would they be right now if you hadn’t found them?” Price asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Dead,” Kate stated, plain as day, “Or worse.”

Price’s eyes creased and his mutton chops rose as he gave her a small, reassuring smile.

“Exactly. And besides, neither of you have screwed us over. They said it themself, the soldiers after them won’t come for us if we keep out of their way.”

“Usually, John.”

He nodded, being a little too nonchalant for Kate’s liking, as he took his cup of tea to his lips.

Then, it clicked.

“Wait, John, I know that look-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I think you do.”

Price shook his head.

“John!”

“Kate!”

She sighed, leaning back.

“I’ll go to try and appease Alejandro by telling him we’ll all- well, I’ll who’s feeling up to it- take night watch tonight, save him and his men the trouble, you know. Then, if those lads show up to take your friend, we’ll be ready and stand firmly in their way. Then, Y/N will have a clear path of escape… theoretically.”

“John,” Kate chuckled weakly, “I appreciate the offer, as I’m sure Y/N would, but these are no ordinary soldiers.”

“Neither are we.”

“No, you don’t understand. What I mean is-”

“Kate, I suggest you think about heading to the barracks soon to rest up, we’ve got a long night ahead of us,” he said bluntly, rising from his seat.

With a shaking head and tight lips, she conceded. Laswell supposed it didn’t really change her plan, which was hoping that whatever pack of Arcadian Sons were out there would decide tomorrow night would be their time of attack. However, at the same time, she didn’t want to put her friends in harm’s way. And yet, having people available to raise the alarm would be beneficial, should they rock up tonight. They didn’t know what she knew though, and… well, Kate decided she’d take up Price’s advice to retire for the rest of the day to reflect on how she should prepare them, should the wolves turn up at their door.

Captain Price wandered towards the window, trying to peak through the fogged-up pane to see if there was anything interesting happening in the wilderness just outside the base. Suddenly, he yelped, staggering back, as a small bird landed just outside. Its wings hit the glass harshly as it steadied itself, before looking in to observe the strange giant beholding it.

“What kind of bird do you think that is, Kate? Looks like some sort of blue magpie to me,” Price mumbled.

Then, he straightened up and gave it a proper salute.

“Hello, Mr Magpie. How’s your wife?” he asked, giving a quiet but hearty laugh as he heard Kate snicker at one of his many British eccentricities.

“What?” Price pretended to take offence, turning around.

“I always forget you do that with birds!”

“Just magpies,” he corrected, “And they’re gorgeous little things so what does it matter!”

Kate shook her head, smiling.

Price gave a playful glare and turned back around, only to see that his small, winged friend had gone.

***

“How are you shaping up, Si?” Soap asked as he squatted down by Ghost’s bedside.

“Feel like I’ve been hit by a bus,” Riley replied, voice muffled by the pillow he was speaking into, “I’m dying.”

“I don’t think you’re dying, mate.”

“I am.”

Soap rolled his eyes. Ghostie may have had a reputation for being a stone-cold killer, and a very intimidating one at that, but MacTavish had found, as he’d gotten to know him, that the lieutenant also had a subtle flare for the dramatic.

“I don’t think you are,” Soap laughed quietly, removing the lid of a hot cup of tea he had retrieved from the mess hall.

“You can’t say anything, you’re not a medical professional.”

“Well,” Soap retorted, placing the lid gently on the ground, “the medic checked up on you a few mins ago and also said you’re not dying. I don’t think yer condition has changed much from then. I think you probably just ate something that didn’t agree with ya.”

“Fair enough,” Ghost said with a groan, his voice finally becoming clear as he turned his head to face Soap instead of the pillow.

He noticed the tea in Soap’s hand.

“That for me?”

MacTavish briefly looked down at what he was holding, and then back up at his friend.

“Oh aye,” the sergeant chuckled as he handed it over, “I made it black though, I’m worried the milk might set you off again.”

“Thanks, Johnny,” Ghost sighed, pulling his mask up to take a sip.

Soap sat himself down on the floor, fiddling with his hands as he watched Ghost drink up.

“You sound better,” MacTavish remarked.

“Really?” Riley asked between swigs of tea, “I feel worse.”

“Ah, that’s because it’s coming out,” Soap happily informed, “So, layering a fuck ton of blankets on top of you and making you sweat is working!”

“You’ve been pestering the medic all morning, haven’t you?”

“Maybe.” Soap shrugged.

“Ugh, Johnny. I told you not to bother her. She’s supposed to be helpin’ Gaz.”

Soap was about to say something, then paused, reevaluated, and tried again.

“I’m sorry,” The Scot folded his arms. “One minute you’re acting like you’re on your deathbed and the next, you’re telling me that I can’t be seeking out medical advice on your behalf?”

Ghost scoffed, giving him a playful punch in the arm. Only it wasn’t as light as it was playful. Soap took it well, not quite getting knocked over, but, once the shock had worn off, he couldn’t help but nurse his shoulder.

“Oh shit!” Ghost hurriedly pulled off the covers, practically leaping out of bed. “Sorry, Soap, I didn’t- Fuck!”

As he had tried to remedy the situation, the poor man had spilt his tea all over the floor.

“It’s fine, Si.” Soap brushed him off, rising to his feet. “I see you’ve not quite lost your strength. That’s good, I guess. I’ll go get some tissues.”

“No, I’ll go. I made the mess.”

As much as Soap wanted to protest, it’d be no use. He could see Simon’s mind was already made up.

“Sure.”

Soap conceded, giving way for Ghost as he grabbed his balaclava and rushed out.

***

As he was making his way there, he couldn’t help but feel this sense of unease. He was pretty certain it was what remained of Alejandro’s outburst. Though it was shocking, Ghost could understand where he was coming from; Riley himself had initial reservations about Y/N’s presence here. However, those reservations quickly died once Ghost had seen them and their desperation. He understood that kind of fear. Y/N was vulnerable right now, and needed time to rebuild their strength, hence why Ghost had vehemently protested against Alejandro’s demands to do away with Y/N.

That had led to a stern reprimand from Price and a very surprised look from Soap… and then of course, Ghost had to worsen everything by being this stupidly ill.

Simon actually had no clue what was wrong with him. It was like it had happened overnight; just suddenly, the poor bastard had come down with a pounding headache, high fever, nausea and these weird cramps in his lower abdomen and legs.

Just as he was thinking about them, another wave of pain hit him. Ghost took a moment for himself, resting a hand and his forehead on the wall, trying to find some relief in long, steady breaths.

“Are you alright?” a timid voice asked from behind him.

He turned around ad saw you, toiletries in hand, looking up at him with a worried expression.

“Yeah,” Ghost replied, “What, uh, what about you? Are you okay? You recoverin’?”

You nodded.

“That lamia got a few good hits on me, but I’m in one piece and alive, so that’s good.”

You both chuckled as you casted your gaze off to the side.

“I just… feel bad, though,” you confessed, drawing your belonging close to your chest, “Alejandro seemed so scared, like I was bringing some curse to this place.”

Ghost sighed.

“He’s been through a lot recently. That-”

“Lamia.”

“-lamia,” Ghost continued, “and her break-in probably was the last straw for him.”

“I see…”

Ghost watched as your eyes shifted, a ponderous look emerging on your face as you seemed to process this new take on prior events. He felt a small smile creep onto his face, under his mask, as you fell into deep thought, clearly having really taken in what he had said. The man would’ve let you fully enter a meditative state if it weren’t for the small splodge of dried toothpaste he noticed on the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, Y/N.” His rumbling voice snapped you right out of your trance. “You’ve got a little something on your mouth.”

“Where?” you asked, brows furrowing.

Your hand began to hover at various places around your face as a non-verbal game of ‘hot-n-cold’ ensued, with you trying to gauge whether you were near the right spot or not from Ghost’s expressions… which of course was incredibly difficult, because most of Ghost’s face was concealed.

Eventually, Ghost couldn’t take it anymore.

“Here, let me.”

Before you could even give or deny permission, he reached forward, swiping the blob away with his thumb. His touched weighed heavy on you, the sensation lingering as he drew his hand away. A shudder, confusingly hot, spread through you.

It… it was nice to feel the hand of another just touch you. It felt affectionate, and the way it felt menial, simple… you wanted him to do it again.

You couldn’t help but smile giddily.

“Thank you,” you said as you tried to locate exactly where his hand had been, “I’ll be around in the barracks, so if you need me to get you anything, just let me know.”

“Sure, Y/N.”

With that, he watched you hurry off. Then, he turned around and continued on his quest to find some tissues.

As Ghost continued down the corridor, he finally found himself at the fire exit. He stopped in his tracks, looking around for clues as to how he’d gotten here. The mess hall was back where he came…

He was quick to realise his error: you. When he saw you off, he went down the wrong way, taking him to the fire exit, and beyond that, the woods the base sat at the edge of. Ghost was about to take his leave and retrace his steps when he heard something. A rustle, then a call.

He wasn’t sure why, but he felt himself being drawn to the incessant cawing coming from around the corner, just outside. Slowly, making sure his steps were as quite as possible, Ghost crept across the threshold and onto the soil.

There, on the ledge of a window, was a small bird.

Ghost cocked his head to one side, uncertain as to why such an innocuous thing had grabbed his attention.

Then, for the first time, all day, Simon Riley felt hungry.

A warmth began build in his stomach, churnings threatening to surmount into a loud grumble. He didn’t want to give himself away to the poor thing, not when it was perfectly faced away from him, chittering away at whatever was on the other side of the glass.

Ghost’s eyes were focused, as his surroundings began to blur.

Hackles raised, he lowered himself a little, placing one foot carefully in front of the other. Under his mask, his mouth was filling with saliva, his tongue running over his teeth as he grew nearer and nearer. His jaw was tense, mouth almost trembling with anticipation.

Blood.

He could smell it on the bird, almost see it pumping throughout its body. The creature was filled with sweet, sweet red nectar.

Riley could barely contain himself, his hand ready to wrap around its neck and-

SNATCH!

SNAP!

CRUNCH!

It had been given a quick death, Ghost’s hands making short work of breaking its neck. Frenziedly, he pulled his mask up and stuffed as much as he could into his mouth, moaning in relief as he lapped up as much blood as he could take. Then, he stopped, examined the opening he had made for himself, and pulled apart its broken chest. The heart was easily squished into smithereens by his teeth, releasing more and more of what Ghost had desperately craved. Inebriated by the pleasure, he found himself losing balance, saving himself by planting a firm hand on the wall in front of him, just under the window, as he continued to tear and chew and lap up.

As he did so, he felt an ache emerge in his arms and legs, culminating in his extremities.

“Oh… fuck…” he mumbled between mouthfuls, digging his nails into the brickwork.

It grew, becoming more intense in his fingertips.

His muscles began to tighten, his hands locking in place, either around the bird or raking against the wall.

A distorted, inhuman groan escaped him, as claws pushed apart his nails, black and shining wet. It was in a staggered motion, in time with his fingers lengthening a little as his palm grew and thickened.

One would’ve thought this was it, that now the rest of his body would follow suit and twist and change, but instead, the painful adjustments made soon receded. In a mere minute, maybe even seconds, Simon Riley’s hands were back to looking human.

He dropped the poor bird’s corpse, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He paused, looking at the bloodstain now on his half-clenched fist. His stomach lurched, demanding to not let it go to waste. And so, Ghost licked up the red from his hand, before turning to the other one and cleaning up the mess.

“Oh God…” Mid-lick, Simon realised what he was doing. “Oh God… What the-”

He brought a hand to his mouth, wanting to gag, but nothing came of it.

What did he just do?

Did he just…

“Si! There you are! I thought you were taking too long to come back from the mess hall and Y/N said they saw you head this way.”

Quickly, he pulled the skull-print balaclava over his bloodied mouth, stuffed his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants and whipped around to face Soap.

“What’re you doing out here?” MacTavish chuckled as he jogged his way over.

“I… uh…”

Before Simon could formulate a satisfactory response, Soap caught sight of the eviscerated bird on the ground.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” the Scot lamented, “A coyote probably got to it. Poor thing.”

He looked up to see Ghost was staring at it, his eyes unnervingly devoid of pity or any emotion for the matter.

“Simon?”

Soap smiled uneasily as he saw him snap back to the here and now.

“Sorry.” Ghost spoke with a slightly quivering voice. “Spaced out for a moment.”

The sergeant eyed him, and Ghost felt himself tense a little.

“Shall we head back inside?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on, then. That cold’s clearly going to your brain.” Soap gestured for him to follow.

“Right!” Ghost chuckled.

Soap couldn’t shake the feeling something was off with the lieutenant, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was, nor did he want to ask about it for fear that Riley might push back, and harshly. Ghost had never liked to feel interrogated; he had a tendency to lash out like a cornered animal would.

Besides, it was probably just that he was feeling poorly. Colds can make people a little delirious from time to time.

As they entered the base, Soap noticed there was a distinctive smell in the air. A vaguely metallic musk, which seemed to be hovering around Ghost.

“No offence, LT,” Soap nudged him. “But I think all that sweatin’ I made you do with blankets and everythin’ is starting to… make itself known.”

“Hmm?”

“With all due respect, Simon, you smell like a wet dog,” he said bluntly.

Ghost stopped and looked at Soap sceptically. Then, he raised his arm and took a whiff to see for himself.

“Shit, you’re right. I need a fuckin’ shower.”

It would give him a good excuse to get the last of the blood out anyway.

#bloodhound fic #cod mwii fic #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #simon ghost riley #phillip graves cod #cod mw2 werewolf au #cod mw2 #valeria garza #task force 141 #kate laswell #captain price cod #john soap mactavish

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mi-rae07 · 7 months

Text

Kang Yeosang : Prince Of Hearts (Extra-2/2)

Pairing : Kang Yeosang (Ateez) and named character (Moon Yena)

___________________

Yeosang walked through the hallways that led to his and yena's chambers, his eyes red and puffy.

Yi-wen : kang yeosang!

Yeosang looked up as the sight of his mother-in-law rushing up to him with furious eyes came to his view, knowing the reason behind her anger already. Yeosang deserved it, and he knew it.

Yeosang : mother, I'm sorry-

Yi-wen : what is going on between the both of you, yeosang. If you can't even handle your own marriage, how in the world are you going to handle an empire?

Yeosang looked to the floor, not having an excuse. Yi-wen let out a breath, trying to calm herself down as she said

Yi-wen : son, marriages will always have it's ups and downs. But you cannot let that come in between your rule, ever. The both of you left the official dinner just like that and I had to go around explaining to the officials why their emperor and empress had left them.

Yeosang : I'm sorry, mother. It will not happen again.

Yi-wen : my daughter loves you, yeosang, she's given you her entire heart. Please, do not break it.

Yeosang pressed her lips as he nodded, yi-wen patting his shoulder one last time before walking away to her chambers to rest for the night. Yeosang let out a breath and opened the door to their chambers, stepping inside as yena looked up at him. But as soon as their eyes met she looked away, leaning back further against the bed with a sigh. Yeosang shut the door behind him and walked up to the bed as well, sitting down on it before saying

Yeosang : yena, your hand-

Yena : forget whatever it is that my mother told you, she might blame you for this but I did this to myself.

Yeosang : you don't think any of this is my fault?

Yena : I don't ever think anything is your fault, yeosang.

Yena slid back down against the bed, pulling the sheets over her as she closed her eyes. Yeosang pressed his lips together, tears filling his eyes as he asked shakily

Yeosang : won't you show me your hand?

Yena shut her eyes tightly, a tear streaming down her cheek as she said

Yena : it is better you don't see it.

Yeosang let out a shaky breath and laid back down on the bed as well, closing his eyes already knowing he won't get a wink of sleep tonight.

______________________________

Yeosang sat against the chair, looking out into the palace gardens as the wind blew against the leaves and flowers. This was yeosang's most favorite place in the palace, probably because it was the closest he could get to a place that looked at least a bit like Kedah. Yena didn't like flowers, but yi-wen did. And it was the queen mother who had maintained this garden all while long. Now, yeosang played a part in it too. And it brought him happiness to see that the garden was doing better because of it.

Yeosang let out a breath, fiddling with his wedding ring as he thought back at what yena had told him yesterday night. It made sense, to think of it that way. Yena was someone who kept most things to herself, especially when it came to her own pain and weaknesses. Even yeosang, despite being the closest person to yena barely knew about yena's weaknesses.

For someone like that, it made sense for yena to try and act heartless in front of her enemies so they knew she could go to any extent to win. It made sense she could watch a child get executed and pretend as if nothing was wrong with it. Yena was an amazing actress.

And maybe, even if she wasn't really acting, maybe it was yeosang's fault. Yena had told him what would come along with being emperor, she had told him what it meant to go into war and how brutal it could get. Maybe yeosang was just too weak for this, because how else was one supposed to win a war without killing the enemy head?

And losing the war would mean dying, it would mean having to give up their empire. Yena was only trying to protect it, and yeosang had made her the villain out of all this.

Maybe he was the problem after all.

__________________________

Yena looked outside the carriage as she realized they were now entering the territory they had newly conquered, having won the war. And god damn, the entire town was a mess. Most of the building were burnt, the ones standing looking like they needed serious reconstructions. People continued to roam around but all of them looked like they hadn't eaten for days. Yena had known how bad the enemy dynasty had ruled their people but she hadn't expected it to be this bad.

Yena looked over at yeosang who was sitting opposite her, his eyes staring out as well. Yeosang's fists were clenched against his lap and during normal circumstances yena would hold them, telling him everything would be alright. Except now, she didn't know whether yeosang wanted to hear those things from her anymore. Especially not when he probably blamed her for all that he was seeing right now.

And soon enough the carriage stopped right in front of the crowd of people gathered around, waiting to see their new king and queen. Yeosang got out of the carriage first and held his hand out for yena to hold, her now gloved hands holding onto yeosang's as she got down as well. The people around bowed as yeosang smiled, giving them a small bow as well. Yena could recognize the usual shock on people's face, making her sigh as she let go of yeosang's hand and walked towards the old officials of the kingdom. She needed to know how the kingdom actually was right now, only if she understood the problems could she find the solution.

It had been about 5 minutes when yena felt someone move past the security banners, the guards shouting at the person to step back. And right then yena saw the man lifting his hand, a glass bottle held in his hand as he threw it towards yena. Her eyes widened, knowing that if it hit her, it'd mean causality. But before she could do anything she felt someone hug her, shielding her body with the back of his as the bottle crashed against it, the glass shards falling down.

Yena : yeosang.

Yeosang had worn a leather jacket, and the glass bottle had hit that instead of skin. Hence he hadn't been harmed, but what if he wasn't able to reach on time? What if it had hit his wife instead, like the man had meant for it to?

Before yena could say anything more yeosang unsheathed his royal sword, the people around gasping as they stepped back. He was different from the smiling, kind man he had been while talking to the people around a few minutes ago. Now as yeosang walked towards the scared man, sword in hand and fury in his eyes, even yena was surprised.

Yeosang blocked the man's weak punch as he kicked the man's legs, causing him to groan as he fell on the floor. The crunch that was heard at the moment made sure that yeosang had just broken the man's bone. Yeosang pointed his sword at the man's neck before he could move further as he said

Yeosang : you tried to hurt my queen, and for that you will face death.

Yena's eyes widened as yeosang lifted the sword away from the man's neck, seconds away from slashing it. Yena quickly ran towards them and held yeosang's sword right before it could lower down, the edge of the blade only cutting through yena's gloves as yeosang quickly pulled it back.

Yeosang : yena-

Yena : no, you're not killing anyone.

Before yeosang could say anything more yena kneeled down, coming face to face with the man who now looked up at her with fearful eyes.

Yena : I understand your anger, but killing me will not solve anything. Instead, it will lead only to more violence. Whatever it is that you require, I will give you. Money, housing, clothes, food, anything.

Yena looked towards the now surprised people as she stood up before saying in an even louder tone

Yena : and that we will give all of you, because we won this war not only to protect our rule but to save your nation from it's ruins as well. Right now, you must be angry at us. And rightfully so, as we have caused the deaths of your loved ones. But trust me, I will make sure to give each and every one of you a better life than your predecessors have ever been able to provide you with.

The people whose faces earlier held anger slowly started dying down, their clenched fists loosening. The former ruling family had painted a picture where Moon Yena was considered to be ruthless, slaughtering anyone and everyone in her path. This seemed to be different now, and it was a good difference.

Yena : proper housing, water, and basic necessities will be given to all of you no matter how poor or rich you are right now. That is my word as your new queen. And my word, is royal decree.

The people around suddenly started clapping as yena let out a breath, turning towards the officials as they all gave her a smile. It had been a success, yena had managed to make this kingdom hers as well.

______________________________

Yena : you do not just kill someone like that, yeosang, not in front of so many people. What does that make us?

Yeosang : he tried to hurt you, yena. If as a husband I don't protect you, what does that make me?

Yena : that doesn't matter here! They already hate us, because we're alien to them. Now if you were to hurt one of them the very first time you meet them, do you think they would ever accept us as rulers?

Yeosang : we are their rulers already, aren't we?

Yena let out a breath, looking outside their carriage that was now headed back to the palace as she said

Yena : you told me once that being a ruler means to conquer the people's hearts with love, not loyalty by war.

Yeosang : well, when someone tries to cause you harm, I don’t give a bloody hell whether I conquer their hearts or not.

__________________________________

Yena was in her studies going through some papers when the door burst open, revealing a panting yeosang. Yena frowned, keeping the paper away as she said

Yena : yeosang?

Yeosang : it's…it's thundering.

It had started thundering almost an hour ago, and the thunders here were known to be quite ferocious, although it came rarely. Was yeosang worried for the others?

Yena : I'm aware, yeosang.

Yeosang shut the door behind him, locking it as he said

Yeosang : I…I uhm, I just-

Yena : yeosang, what is it?

Yeosang : I tried holding back, alright? For an hour, I did. I even tried to get myself to sleep-

Yena : yeosang-ah, tell me, what’s wrong.

Yeosang : I'm scared of the thunder.

Yena paused, partly confused. And then once she got a hang of the situation, yena stood up, walking towards yeosang as she said

Yena : and I thought you'd killed someone.

Yeosang let out a shaky breath as yena hugged him, resting her hand against the back of yeosang's head as he closed his eyes before nuzzling his head into yena's neck. He had missed this. Yeosang inhaled deeply as he muttered

Yeosang : you smell so good.

Yena : it's the soap bar I stole from you.

Yeosang smiled as yena chuckled, rocking yeosang softly as she continued patting yeosang's back slowly. She knew he liked continuous rhythms, it made him calm.

Yena : it's just thunder, love. It's going to pass very soon.

Yeosang : I'm sorry.

Yena : you don't ever have to be-

Yeosang : no not for that.

Yeosang pulled back, looking into yena's eyes as she blinked in confusion

Yeosang : I'm sorry for everything I said, for blaming you unnecesarily.

Yena let out a breath, shaking her head. She had stopped being angry at yeosang a long time ago, after she realized that it was the first time he was facing war. And yena had kept so many things to herself instead of having communicated with yeosang. She knew this was partly her fault too.

Yeosang : this was…it was all new for me, yena. I've never even seen a war happen, let alone fight it. Being out in the battlefield, having to kill my own soldiers because they refused to live without arms or legs, it broke me apart. I have only ever killed animals, and that too after apologizing a million times. Having to kill human children, it was all too much for me. I needed an outlet, and I chose you. And that was wrong of me, utterly wrong.

Yena : yeosang.

Yeosang : you have only ever loved me, and I have only ever brought you pain. But I know this has to work out, that we, have to work out because I cannot live without you. You are my wife, you are a part of my heart, I cannot lead a life where you're far away from me. I need you, yena, I need to be able to love you until the moment I die.

Yena : you can love me for as long as you like, yeosang. I'm all yours to love, all yours to hurt.

Yeosang connected his forehead with yena's, ignoring the thunder outside as he said

Yeosang : I love you, yena. I have never for a moment stopped loving you.

Yena smiled, resting her palm against yeosang's cheek as she whispered

Yena : I love you too. And, there's something you should know.

Yeosang opened his eyes as yena held one of his hand with her free one, placing it against her stomach as yeosang's eyes widened in shock

Yeosang : oh my god.

Yena smiled, looking up at yeosang as she whispered

Yena : we're going to be parents, darling.

Yeosang let out a noise of disbelief, squealing as he picked yena up and spun her around. Yena laughed, wrapping her arms around yeosang's neck as he finally lowered her down before saying

Yeosang : thank you thank you thank you!

Yena chuckled as yeosang kneeled down, kissing her stomach. Yena tangled her hand in his hair as she said

Yena : we've both made mistakes, but this child? This baby is a promise of our future together, yeosang.

Yeosang : and I hope it's a girl, so she can grow to be just as strong as her mother is.

Yena smiled as she said

Yena : you know what else this means? That we're going back to Kedah for a while, and you'll get to visit your people again.

Yeosang smiled wider as he stood up straight and kissed yena as hard as he could, his hair tangling in her hair. Yena wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her as he whispered

Yeosang : I love you, the both of you. And I promise to protect our family with everything I have, until the moment I die.

Yena : well, lucky for you, I'm planning to do just the same.

_____________________________

30 years later :

Yeosang had been dead for a year now, and the people still mourned the loss of their great emperor. Yena had been heartbroken when her husband died, because no matter how old he was, for yena he was still the prince she had once fell in love with. The prince who had given her 4 beautiful children, the elder one being a son who was going to be crowned emperor within a month's time.

Kang Yujun was everyone's dream. As yeosang had wanted he had gotten his mother's strength and power in ruling, but as yena had wanted, he had gotten yeosang's kindness as well. Yujun could be ruthless if he wanted to, but he had a big heart. He had been a good son and an amazing elder brother to his three other siblings, and the people loved him. It had been yeosang's last wish for yena to crown the next emperor of their nations herself, and yena was going to do it.

Because yena's wedding vow to yeosang had been to live, as he considered living for someone a much bigger sacrifice than dying for one. And right now, and every second since yeosang had closed his eyes for the final time, yena had been doing just that. She was living for him, living for their children.

Yujun : eomma, haven't you slept yet?

Yena looked over at her son who had just entered her study, his face looking tired as well. Probably from all the preparations he had to do for his coronation, he was always doing something. Yena smiled at her eldest son, shaking her head as she motioned for him to sit on the sofa beside her.

Yujun : seriously, you need to get proper sleep. You're old now, eomma, let us not forget that.

Yena : I haven't forgotten anything, my son, I have great memory still.

Yujun : of course you do.

Yena : I heard the neighboring kingdom's causing some ruckus around our borders?

Yujun let out a breath as he leaned against the sofa before saying

Yujun : it's a woman, eomma.

Yena : a woman?

Yujun : Yang Haneul, she was a palace dancer, known for her gracefulness and kindness towards others. But now she's assasinated the ruling family, killing even the newborn son of the king. She kills anyone and anything that's in her way now, the people in her kingdom fear for their lives every second.

Yena : what?

Yujun : she is now queen, eomma. And our spies say she is planning to conquer the neighboring kingdoms as well, one by one.

Yena : a lowly palace dancer suddenly becomes queen, of course she's greedy for more power.

Yujun : she's dangerous, because she has nothing to lose. Someone who came from nothing will have the thirst to conquer the world, and that's what has concerned our borders.

Yena : we have to overthrow her, yujun-ah.

Yujun nodded, sitting up straight as he said

Yujun : I will. Once I become emperor, all that will remain of her will be ashes. For someone who didn't show mercy even to a newborn child, that is all that she deserves.

Yena was about to say something when the door to her study burst open, revealing a panting guard who bowed and said

??? : your majesty, your highness, someone has come to see you.

Yujun : at this time of the night? Who?

??? : Yang Haneul, lord prince. She wishes to have a treaty with you.

Yena's eyes slightly widened, looking over at yujun who seemed to be trying his best to maintain posture as he said calmly

Yujun : if it's a treaty, we will need the ministers-

??? : no, my prince. This…it's a marriage treaty. She wishes to marry you.

_________________________________

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starlightshadowsworld · 10 months

Text

You know who desreves a break?

Sora.

Sora deserves the biggest warmest hug, a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and a day off from everyone's shit.

My boy had to go save his best friend from his other best friend.

Went all over the world's to find them.

Literally gave up up heart for a bit to save Kairi, became a heartless and than somehow managed to return.

Donald and Goofy drop his ass the second it's revealed Riku was the chosen one and not Sora.

Because yeah they have a duty to fulfill but the fact they thought it was okay to just abandon him in some random ass world like yesterday's rubbish.

Is just all kinds of awful.

Fuck me I'd never trust anyone again if I was Sora.

And yeah he gets em back and everything's fine.

Cept everything is not fine.

The mark of mastery exam is bullshit.

The whole thing was bullshit.

And the nerve, the nerve people have to make fun of Sora and tease him for not passing.

Is complete bullshit.

The whole thing was hacked.

Xehanort was this close to claiming Sora's soul.

I'm sorry when was that part of the test?

Thank fuck for Lea.

And just oh Sora your not a master why didn't you try harder and not get almost Norted.

Talking as if he hasn't saved all of your collective asses.

Multiple times.

Mock and make fun of him all of the time and laugh when he's upset.

Sora is the single most kindest best person in the world's.

He gave Ventus sanctuary as a kid because he heard a person in need.

How sweet is that?

I just know Ven absolutely adores him.

How can u not?

And yet these asshole's are always on his back for something he literally had no power over.

Riku literally turned evil and no one says anything.

But Sora almost got possessed and he's the actual worst.

I hate it here.

Sora deserves only good things.

#sora kh #sora kingdom hearts #Kingdom hearts #A rant

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ravenwitch45 · 11 months

Note

I can imagine that if Octavia ever finds out about Stella being behind Stolas's attempted assassination and confronts her about it, it would go down like the confrontation between Bayonetta and Father Balder:

I can see Octavia telling Stella like, "I've had enough of your philosophical pretensions!" or "You are truly beyond salvation!" or "I can never call the woman behind this nightmare 'mother'!" or even describe everything Stella says to her as "diarrhea of the mouth" like Luka said, before both break down into the familiar swearing and name-calling usually done between Stella and Stolas.

If Stella ever demanded Octavia to tell her how she can be like that towards her own mother, Octavia would just give a retort like "You tell me! I'm just the egg that fell out of you!" and leave Stella with nothing to say in her defense.

This would lead to both demonesses throwing hands with each other, and Octavia showing Stella just how exactly she's as much her daughter as she is Stolas's in the most violent way imaginable, in a manner fittingly making her a spitting image of Stella. Octavia might even finish with a one-liner similar to Bayonetta's "Don't f- with a witch!" quote.

(Bonus points for being a conflict between a corrupt light-themed parent and a dark-themed child who only loves their similarly dark-themed loving parent whom said light-themed parent had that child with.)

Okay first of all I am so glad I was able to save this ask whew! Almost thought I lost it, but onto the actual question. I could certainly see this a little bit, I mean I know for a fact Stella would excuse herself of all wrong doings, meanwhile Octavia calls her out on it, so fucking done with her, realizing this whole mess of a home life only happened cause of her. The "I could never call the woman behind this nightmare 'mother'" Fits especially well, though I honestly think it'd be more a scream then a confident and cold declaration like Bayonetta does.

Honestly my biggest disagreement with this, is that while Bayonetta kinda only knows Balder at this point as a insane zealot, who happens to be her father, a notion she's quickly able to tell off cause even with her memory he never earned that title to her.

Octavia with Stella on the other hand? No matter how distant Stella was, it's clear Octavia cares about her to a degree, She was her mother even if not a very good one, The knowledge that Stella cared so little about her happiness, to attempt to have the person she's closest to murdered, it would break anyones heart to realize that about a parent, I think. I still think they would scream at eachother, emotions running very high, and actually hitting and fighting, I could so see Stella trying to claw at her after getting so mad at the 'disrespect' but Octavia catches her hand just like Stolas and glares deep into that cold heartless soul before tearfully screaming "How could you!?" and punching Stella right in the face.

No matter what, I don't think Octavia, would ever intend to kill her, maybe in her rage she pushes Stella back, making her fall off a ledge, her terrified scream being the last thing Octavia ever hears of her Mother before the slam on the ground and then haunting silence.

Almost frozen before she starts shaking, Octavia falls to her knees sobbing for a good while before pulling out her phone, tearfully calling Stolas, barely able to get through a pained "I-I need you..." through her tears.

Bayonetta had the luxury of only really knowing her father after he had died, but I feel Octavia, is going to go through a confrontation like that, fully knowing the Mother she had known for years, couldn't give two shits about anyones happiness but her own. Octavia deserves such a better mother let's be real, She doesn't even have the excuse of being possessed by the evil half of a chaos god XP Sorry, trying to lighten the mood.

#I didn't expect to sorta write Octavia accidently killing Stella but hey. Stella sure deserves it XP #ask reply #helluva boss #bayonetta #octavia goetia #stella goetia #bayonetta balder

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seijorhi · 2 years

Note

rhi rhi rhi RHI!!!

i'm so sorry it took me so long to comment, but god. wow. wow?? that title /alone/ deserves a round of applause--totally captures the whole vibe of iwa (though well-intentioned?) being reckless of the comments he made, and of course, oikawa being heartless. although you've written a hefty list of oikawa × iwa x reader fics before (not complaining at all of course) this one still feels so novel. in the past, you've talked about how the bond between iwa and oikawa is too strong for them to be pitted against each other. yet, in this fic, iwa completely just stole away his "best friend's" wife. the set up (friendships are a complicated thing) was so so brilliant because at the end, we see how iwa essentially tossed all those years of friendship out the window for the reader. of course, it could be argued that oikawa already did that as soon as he sent that vid

also. ALSO. i love how it wasn't oikawa just breaking the reader's heart through that whole set up. he took it a step further and also gave iwa hope that he had a chance with her. those comments about her having a crush on iwa.. provoking him by talking about her in a sexual way as if he didnt plan to steal her all along...

insane

i suppose my questions for you are what do you think drew oikawa to the reader? we got a bit of iwa's initial thoughts and reactions to her, but i'm curious as to what sparked oikawa's fascination/obsession. lastly, your thoughts on the long term? do you think oikawa ever gets the reader back? he knows so much about iwa so a part of me is like.. he finds them and gets her back. the other is like iwa would go to the ends of the earth to keep the reader as his.. nwlwnkwa that's how you KNOW you killed a fic, you leave the reader thinking!!

thank you so much for indulging me with this one!! your talent knows no bounds - the commissioner <3

i stand by the belief that iwa and oikawa when they're working together can't be pitted against one another. when there's that basis of friendship, i wouldn't say it supersedes their obsession, but it becomes almost a second foundation for it. there's no you without them, and no them without each other kinda deal. when they're in it together.

this time, though, it isn't the reader who comes between them (well, it is, but–) oikawa does that all on his own. and kinda vindictively, too. i like to think that heedless, heartless is both of them at their absolute worst – at least in terms of selfishness.

and to be honest i don't think even oikawa knows why he's drawn to her initially. sure, there's a spark of... something the first time he sets eyes on her, and it's enough to casually bring up their lack of a manager and their new classmate to makki and let him connect the dots and go from there. she's interesting, and pretty, and has absolutely no interest in him whatsoever, and he thinks that maybe that's it. he likes a challenge, and she gets so beautifully worked up when he annoys her–

but then he wonders how it would be if things were different. if she were like his fangirls, desperate for an ounce of his attention, utterly charmed by every word that falls from his lips, every wink, every smile, and he likes that thought more than he should.

in the end, oikawa's greedy. he wants both, he wants it all. everything she has to give, and he wants it for himself.

as for what happens next, there's no way oikawa's gonna sit back and let anyone run off with his beloved wife. unfortunately being a professional athlete a few weeks out from the start of the season, he can't just up and go chasing after them – yet.

and iwa for his part has no intention of relinquishing his happiness so easily.

even if they're not friends anymore, they are the two people on the planet who know each other best. what happens when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force?

#n thank you for the ask bby!!#i'm so thrilled you liked it!#<33 #rhi answers #fic asks #heedless heartless #ily ily ily

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tojikai · 2 years

Note

Hello again Kai, sorry for popping out of nowhere but I just had to let this all out after thinking about chapter three for the 'nth time now.

Also, warning, a lot of cussing from me :')

Look, Rie, hun, we get that you feel a bit (more like a LOT) threatened and jealous by the fact that Satoru is putting a lot more attention and thought on Y/N instead of you but you do NOT have any fucking reason to just pop up like that after she woke up in a goddamn coma. She's already emotionally unstable (maybe also mentally, poor girl 🥺) and you just had to add more gas into the fire by saying that... All I can say is that you lost your fucking chance to redeem yourself (for me anyway, dunno about the others 👀)

Shoko already put you in your goddamn place and you had the fucking guts to waltz in like that when you know that Y/N is in a bad condition. I really do hope that Satoru drags you to your apartment and start a conversation about it (and maybe start a heated argument) because what you just did is unforgivable.

Bet that if Shoko finds out, she's going to bite your fucking head off while Suguru let's her do it.

Now let's talk about Gojo Fucking Satoru... Little warning, I'm gonna be a bit heartless here, ehe-

Satoru, you dumbass hoe, first of all... This is your fucking fault so don't start getting all emotional about it you piece of trash and shit. Yeah, I get the whole "I've changed" or "I can learn to change" but you just don't throw away a healthy and wonderful relationship for someone that you've been crushing on ever since you were in high school because, sometimes, it's just not fucking worth it no matter how that person fits your... Uh... Categories??? Anyway!

You and your new dumbass girlfriend are fucking stupid! Why would you go to a party and "flaunt" it to everyone, mostly in front of Y/N who is trying her best in recovering and accepting the heartbreak? Bet that you both fucking share dead brain cells, that's why you both got together, huh?

Yeah, fine, you're defending Rie's actions in the party and the other times when Suguru and Shoko were biting your head off but after what she just did/say when she woke up? Nah, you're going to my blacklist if you even TRY to fucking defend her so you better stop with your fucking bias or something because no "sweet and caring" person would ever say that to someone who fucking wokE UP IN A COMA (sorry, got angry there, ehe). And the fact that you were thinking of Y/N during sex means that you, too, are not over her and is still in love with her so cut the shit amd just come out clean, yeah? Cuz that will lighten up everyone's day but I hope that you and Y/N never come back together because you don't deserve anything after what you just did... Reason? You all can already guess why...

I hope that someone-ANYONE could give Y/N some comfort, reassurance, love and a shoulder to cry on because the poor soul is close to breaking and reaching her limit. She deserves a the whole universe after what fucking happened and is still happening, mostly for her to find someome that will really love and care for her.

I can list a few people that can give her comfort but I already have 2 people in mind:

Nanami Kento & Geto Suguru

I know that Nanami isn't present (or is just there but isn't saying anything) in the story but we all know that this man might (or, most likely, will) take a step forward and start biting the living daylights out of Satoru (Rie not so much but she'll also get her own head bitten off) because we already know that Nanami does NOT respect Satoru and now he won't even trust the motherfucker after what he just did to Y/N. I hope that he gets to give Y/N the love, comfort, reassurance and care that she definitely deserves like, for example, holding her to him while cradling her head to the crook of his neck as he let's her cry on him.

Suguru, we all know that this man right here has a soft spot for Y/N (but we need confirmation if he has a tiny crush on her so that we can say it for certain so we're waiting, Kai 👀 but take your time hun) and he has every rights to feel this pained and worried for her because she was his best friend's girlfriend... The fact that he and Shoko knew that she cut herself as they tried their best to help her just makes my heart ache. I think that when he finally loses control over himself, he wouldn't give a shit about hurting his best friend while he glares and seethes at Rie because, let's just admit it, these two are nothing but assholes. I can imagine Suguru talking softly to Y/N while he holds her in his arms with her head buried on his chest, hand rubbing her back and rocking the two of them back and forth.

And I think I'm done with the Ask, I'm so sorry if I'm spamming your Ask though but I just had to let it all out after giving these three chapters some thought 🥲.

Also, thank you again for this lovely chapter and can't wait for the next one but don't forget to take care of yourself first because your well being comes in first place while the other ones take the other place.

With love and care,

RJay

I HAD FUN READING THIS OMG your feelings for satoru and rie are radiating through my screen LMAOOO but i definitely get you !! and you're so right about yn trying so hard to recover and accept everything all on her own 🥺 i feel so sad when i think about it :(( and those scenarios with nanami and suguru got me smiling on my phone!!!!! like that's so cuteeeee😩🥺 anyways thank you so much for that, bb !! <33 i really appreciate that, and please do take care too~ i hope you're doing great !!

#🍭—kaitalks #f: permanent mark

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jaspersenpai · 2 months

Text

!Eeveelution Explore Beyond your Limits!

Chapter 4 [The Rivalry of Love] +Valentine Special Part 1

As the week go by Mike and the other would head to town to go grocery shopping as they also get stuff Ollie wants to.

"So we splitting into 2 teams, one team goes get groceries as the other helps with getting stuff for Ollie's room. I'll go with Laz as you two go together, better to have someone keep a watch on her at all times."

Karen explains as she heads off with Laz looking down at a note with stuff they need. Mike would take her to girl related shops, mostly cause Karen had a phase for it.

"So how you been so far this week?"

Mike would ask trying to break the silence for a bit, they've gotten more awkward after what happened. They know it's in the past, but the idea she isn't the same Sylveon has bothered them for some time now.

"I'm doing alright, it does help eating berries and other healthy diets. I just don't know how to process I'm not the same Sylveon. I've been trying to accept it even though I'm probably never gonna be related to my parents again. All three of you have made it comforting to accept this new odd experience."

She isn't sad, but at least her smile will never get old.

"Mhm you deserve a second chance."

As she was about to say something pokèmon around them began to say stuff about her

"I wouldn't stay near that heartless killer."

"why is Ice next to her. End her life."

Mike would take her to a store Karen and him gone before.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that the rumors have been spread badly let alone they believe you are the killer, well to be fair every Sylveon in this town has been getting it's fair share of accusations or getting bullied."

Mike would try to distract her as he hands her some items she might like.

"Yeah I understand what they see isn't true, but I have to prove it. I can't talk back when I'll just add more fuel to the fire."

She would pick a rubix cube and look at Mike.

"I don't mind getting this to play and dis—"

A random Pokèmon would try to sneak on him, but Mike would sense her presence and step aside as both watch her crashing into some items dropping them on the floor.

"You are so mean Ice!"

A Absol would get back up and stare up at him she is smaller than him.

"You know I'll keep rejecting you Vixy."

Mike sighs picking up the mess she made as Ollie helps too.

"Your with a Sylveon??? I didn't know you were on a date!! Grr!"

Vixy would glare at Ollie as she is also glaring back?

"We aren't dating, I'm just helping her settle in into our treehouse."

"oh. OH I remembered why I followed you here."

Meet Vixy a Vaporeon who forgets stuff too quickly, and sorta has a thinking delay.

"yeah what is it?"

Finishes picking up the mess and puts it back in it's correct places.

"I finished graduating and I wanna live with you guys! I'm the only Vaporeon in this whole town! So I wanna fit in with roommates who are trying to get one of each eeveelution!"

She isn't wrong, we are looking for every type of eeveelution if they want to stay with us in our treehouse. I technically pay for it anyways, so they are welcomed to stay if they obey the rules.

We gotten a bag of what Ollie wanted as we sat down in a eeveelution like table which are for every other Pokemon who sit differently.

"Alright as of now Vixy & Ollie are both part of the family, so they are roles in the household. You two are now sisters unlike someone who refers us as step family."

Mike would feel a shiver like for some reason he feels targeted.

"He-hey I said I'm sorry, I'm not used to having a growing family."

Laz would stand up for him.

"Hey he may call us his step family he gave you a home you don't know where he came from I don't, but I don't complain if he wants to say that or not. He still gave us a place to stay considering what he gone through to get it."

Mike would look at him like a thank you without saying it outright.

"But!! Let's enjoy our newly members of the family by eating or it'll go raw cause of this negativity!"

Everyone would agree and begin eating having fun talking and sharing stories.

#parody #pokemon #writers on tumblr #furry

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trickstyrss · 1 year

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Speaking of Dylan, have my playlist created for him where each song is associated in some way.

Blue Stahli - The Devil

Dylan had spent multiple years being manipulated by Leeroy to torture and kill without remorse, and despite the fact that in the end he kills Leeroy to try and move forward, ultimately he does not break the damage Leeroy caused and Dylan embraces the murderous nature that was forced into him, convinced that it was always a part of him and not Leeroy's fault. He blames himself more than he blames those who hurt him, believing that had he not deserved the torture, it would not have happened to him.

The Devil's Carnival - Trust Me

Dylan often wears a friendly and polite mask around others (with some exceptions) to keep a positive appearance for himself. He can be very kind and helpful towards others in public, wanting to be seen positively and not pitied for his scars or looked down upon for being Chromatic. But, those who get too close will often end up hurt by him either physically or emotionally when Dylan ultimately betrays them to save himself. People who stick around long enough will see underneath his mask, a man who will throw you under the bus or even kill you if he believes you are in his way.

Creature Feature - The Greatest Show Unearthed Returns

This one is a bit hard to explain as it's mostly the chorus that I associate with Dylan's PTSD induced nightmares and flashbacks to the events that took place between him and Kevin and Leeroy. The pain and suffering that the two put him through effected him to the point that he often suffers from vivid nightmares and occasional flashbacks to that night and it haunts him severely. Also, the upbeat sound of the song really fits Kevin's personality and how he loves to toy with his victims and revels in the pain that he had permanently inflicted on Dylan.

Shinedown - MONSTERS

It's mostly the repetitive lyrics like "Good for you, you fooled everybody" and "Good for you, you hurt everybody". Dylan has caused a lot of pain for those around him in a misguided attempt to protect himself from getting hurt, thus digging his own grave as he has less and less people to turn to when he so desperately needs help. He has created a name for himself in Theta as being a person who his heartless and unstable, incapable of loving or caring for anyone when it's far from the truth (though he is unstable, that's not a lie), Dylan chooses to hide behind a mask to protect himself, although well aware that he is only hurting himself more and hurting others in the process, he doesn't know how to be any other way.

8 Graves - OK

This song I almost feel could honestly be Dylan's theme song with how many of the lyrics fit who he is, how he acts and what he believes. A few notable lines are "Maybe I'm just masquerading as way beyond saving so I don't even have to fight" really fits his negative mindset about himself and his tendency to refuse help as he believes it won't do any good. He knows he needs help, but it's so much easier to view himself as a lost cause and just stick to the masks that he wears to hide his true emotions. "But in spite of my trying, I feel like I'm dying and I can't hear a word you say. All of the drinking and lying, the games that I play, nothing seems to make me feel OK" Essentially the chorus of the song, but this first version of it, Dylan has tried many times to make things right, to better himself, to make amends, to distract himself, to cope with trauma, but nothing ever lasts or often makes things worse. Anything he has done to fix things or make himself feel better often falls flat or he gives up before giving it a chance, leaving him feeling hopeless. The rest of the song generally fits Dylan's personality and who he is as a person, someone who has gone through a lot, has made many mistakes, tries and fails to better his life and ultimately feels like he's fighting a losing battle with no one to turn to for help.

Digital Daggers - Still Here

This song I feel best represents Dylan during his teenage years after the death of his older brother, Ray. His death was an extremely traumatic experience for 12 year old Dylan and it has haunted him no matter how many years pass. Ray was a huge part of Dylan's life and was pretty much his only protection from a harsh world, with him gone, it left Dylan feeling vulnerable and hopeless, so much so that he has on multiple occasions considered suicide to follow his brother and not have to deal with everything he is going through. As an adult, Dylan is not actively torn up by his brother's death and has moved on, more focused on current events in his life, but he still often thinks back to his brother and the depression that follows often sends him into a slump for a few days. The thought of ending it all has returned here and there, especially after more recent events, but he has never followed through and has no desire to yet.

Hollywood Undead - Another Way Out

This song I feel represents Dylan's inner struggles against himself. He fights with the mindsets he has created for himself, the feeling of being hopeless and incapable of changing combatting his desire to do good and prove himself better than those who hurt him. Dylan never wanted to hurt people, he never want to torture and kill, and while no one but himself forced his hand to kill that girl back in high school, he believed it was the only way to stop the torment. Such action however dropped him down a rabbit hole of more death, more pain, more and more of something he never wanted but eventually accepted as being a part of himself. He wants to be a good person, to prove his worth and be better than those who wronged him, but he doubts he can be, and often wonders if he should even bother trying to improve himself or be a better person. Maybe he's better off being a heartless murderer, its all his coworkers see him as anyways.

The Temper Trap - The Sea is Calling

This one is a bit obscure and more up to interpretation, however I view this song as speaking of someone who felt lost, lacking purpose or direction eventually finding their way in life and bringing hope back into their life. This is a lot like how Dylan's life is currently, he views himself as a lost cause, someone who made too many mistakes and went through too much to bother moving on or changing, however with the support of Danny and Tobi, Dylan eventually pulls free from this mindset, taking the steps to eventually allow himself to heal and move forward, away from the traumas that have plagued him for so long. It's a slow and tedious process but one that he eventually will make through.

#my ocs #original characters #dylan #glitch in the system

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boylikeanangel · 2 years

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ok I've been avoiding saying this for a bit cuz I didn't wanna ruin anyone's fun and I love the whole "ed tries to kill stede when he returns in s2 via dramatic gay swordfight" as much as the next girl but the thing is that I REALLY don't think there's gonna be this whole deal about ed being furious with stede and unable to forgive him like I really don't think that's where this is going. stay with me on this one please <3

not to be like "you're misunderstanding the text" about all this cuz the narrative does not treat stede as if he's innocent in this situation for breaking ed's heart but I really do think people are forgetting that period in between ed returning and becoming blackbeard again where he was just?? sad?? not even angry, just dejected and hopeless. he wasn't plotting revenge, in fact it's pretty heavily implied he was plotting suicide by the time lucius gets around to him. he's absolutely wrecked by stede leaving him, yeah, but not once does he turn those emotions outward. if anything hiding himself away for days suggests to me that he simply felt foolish. of course stede didn't love him back. he should've seen this coming, but in spite of all that, he loves stede, so he surrounds himself with the all the things the man he cannot have left behind, and wallows. he's hanging onto the happy memories of stede, his fine fabrics and his nice food, because if he lets go of what little he has left, he may as well curl up into a ball and die. and after his chat with lucius he's on the up - tidying and singing and planning fun activities for his crew - he's not angry! he's trying to move on in earnest and find new purpose and happiness without stede! throughout all of this, not once does he express anger or resentment towards stede. he died when stede left him, yes, but now life is beginning again. he truly does believe he can begin anew with the power of all the things stede taught him.

and when he stumbles from this path and reverts back into blackbeard, he doesn't do this because he's angry at stede, either. he does it because again, he feels foolish. he feels insecure and weak, feels unsafe being just edward. he thinks the only way forward is to fall into old habits, because being ed is scary and new and he thinks he doesn't deserve to try, and whilst blackbeard is someone he desperately does not want to be again, he knows he can do it, whilst edward needs to watch his step. once again, it's on HIM, not stede. he throws away his silk, his heart, because he cannot have a heart as long as there is love in there for stede. being heartless is better than being heartbroken. it's vitally important to realise that ed does all of this not because he hates stede, but because he still loves him. despite himself, he cannot stop loving stede, and that is the most dangerous thing in the world when you're trying to become a monster. throwing all of stede's things into the ocean and marooning his crew, quite literally destroying all of the things that remind him of stede, is not the behaviour of someone who is no longer in love!! he has to literally kill everyone and everything that has a connection to stede because he doesn't trust himself to commit to being blackbeard as long as he has these ties to the man who keep him wanting to be edward! the only thing ed keeps, of course, is the lighthouse painting. as a reminder. a reminder to not be stupid again. a reminder that his love will lead him to destruction. you're supposed to avoid lighthouses, don't you know that? you got drawn in by the light and cracked up on the rocks, and it's your own stupid fault. you'll never make that mistake again now you've learned the hard way.

now I'm not saying stede is free of blame here, don't get me wrong. ed's motivation for throwing away the silk was definitely tied to stede - he was reminded of the thing his mother told him, that he's not the kind of person who deserves good things, and stede leaving him was the final proof of that. from ed's perspective he was just another one of stede's playthings, something for him to entertain himself with until he finally got bored and abandoned him to go back to his old life. but my point is that it's extremely important to recognise that those misunderstandings come from a place of pre-existing self loathing on ed's part. stede's abandonment simply confirmed all of ed's worst fears and insecurities. of course stede was really just some bored rich boy. of course I was just a toy to him. of course we could never be happy together. I should have known better than to believe something so stupid. haven't I been told as much all my life? he believes all of this because he had already been taught from a young age that he's not the kind of person that gets to love and be loved. stede DEFINITELY has some apologising to do, but this isn't about ed forgiving stede. it's about him opening up his heart again after he took every effort to close it up forever. it's about him choosing to believe that all the things he told himself were wrong. and that's a decision he has to make for himself, not something stede can magically fix by getting on his knees and grovelling.

i've said before that if season 1 is the emancipation of stede bonnet, then season 2 is going to be the emancipation of edward teach. I have full confidence that season 2 will focus heavily on ed's character and his journey to self acceptance - his struggle with unlearning the idea that "edward" and "blackbeard" are two totally separate people and accepting that all these different sides of him are parts of the same person, and stede will help him reach that point by showing him that he's lovable for all of his parts, not just the bits that he personally considers palatable - and that can't happen if he spends the whole time trying to kill stede. stede's return will likely kickstart his arc for the season. in other words, stede's return is not the resolution to edward's problems, but the beginning of his journey to fixing them. stede showing up and loudly proclaiming his love for ed, even when he looks like this, is going to be the inspiration he needs to start really working on himself, to become someone worthy of stede's unconditional love. ed desperately needs stede's presence in his life - he needs that soft guiding light to keep him on track, needs someone to break him out of his destructive chains of thought, someone to shake some sense into him. stede is good for ed, and he knows it. it was only when ed loved stede, and couldn't have him, or believed stede didn't love him back, that he lost all sense. stede showing up with his new prince charming swag is going to leave ed with no room to doubt how wrong he was. stede is a lighthouse, and he's going to be so full on with his love-crazed tunnel vision it will quite literally be blinding. ed won't have the CHANCE to ignore him!!!

so if we do get the epic homoerotic swordfight of our dreams upon their reunion in season 2, I truly don't think it'll be because ed is angry with stede or actually does want to hurt him. it'll be his defense mechanisms kicking in once again. he's blocking out any hope of a second chance. he's not going kill stede because he's angry he left - he's going to kill him because knowing he came back is too good to be true. if he does want to fight stede, it'll be because he's trying desperately to convince both of them that he doesn't need stede or his love. that he's just blackbeard now. edward teach is dead, and blackbeard has no use for the romantic hero here to rescue him. blackbeard doesn't need saving. blackbeard can kill stede bonnet easily. which is going to make it all the more delicious when he realises he can't. when he realises that he does want to be saved. he does want to be loved. he wants to believe he deserves it. and who is he to say no to a man so willing to give him all of those things?

#again this is absolutely nothing against anyone at all #i just had to get some words off my chest here #having a lot of thoughts about eds motivations i guess #i think its the fact none of this is said out loud that leads people to think hes angry with stede #so it's not anyones fault for misunderstanding. but i truly dont think thats what they want u to believe #he doesnt hate stede baby he just hates himself <3 #our flag means death #wails from the abyss #meta tag #suicide mention //

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