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bigassmoonchild · 8 months

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Feral

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

The first three parts give context, but aren't required for this read.

Summary: You had your problems with your squad, no different than anyone else running their first. One Alpha, Michael, gave you the most problems, dragging you from leave to punish them all. It didn't take long for him to become your biggest problem, or for Simon to try and take care of him.

Content Tags: Shouting (not w/ between Ghost & Reader), A lot of Anger, Fluff, Protective Ghost, Violence, Fighting, Ghost shows his Face, Non-Sexual Punishments, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No use of Y/N

A/N: I woke up this morning with over 100 notifications from tumblr, and I've spent all morning trying to think of another part for Maple Syrup. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are wide open <3.

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Ghost could watch you forever. Seeing how you flit around the soldiers, taking care of each of them, barking orders at your own little squad. After being removed from missions, you were able to convince whoever would listen to give you a squad to train, a group of hopeful combat medics.

Sometimes he would find himself watching what you were doing, and he would inch himself close enough to hear what you'd be telling them. Sometimes, it was nothing short of you screaming at them, other times it might be explaining how to stitch someone up. Most times, you sat back and watched as they worked through the exercise that you had created for them.

You were still off on leave, leaving your squad under the hands of Soap and Gaz to train them further on combat situations. Ghost had spoken with them a few times, listening to them rant about the soldiers you had to deal with. Especially one Alpha, who had been demoted from a regular soldier to being entrusted with saving others.

So when Ghost got the first hint of your scent, not the stale one, his head spun to the doors. Your leave was supposed to last another 6 days, not that Ghost was counting, and worry spiked through him. Had something happened? Was everything okay with your family, or did you merely forget one of the gifts you were giving to your nieces and nephews?

When the door slammed open, your eyes gazed across the mess hall. Your brows were furrowed and Ghost could smell the anger lacing your scent, alongside the musty smell of the rain that was coming down. The room had gone silent, everyone looking over at you. Your eyes locked on your squad, body tensed.

"Get the fuck outside," you growled, staring through your squad. They hesitated and your fist slammed into the wall. "Now!" You shouted, watching as they scrambled up and moved. All but the Alpha, who moved leisurely. Your eyes didn't leave his and you pointed. "You move any slower and I'll have you dishonorably discharged for insubordination," the man didn't flinch.

He gave a smile, looking at you. "You're not even a soldier, you have no say in what I do," your muscles relaxed, leaning your head back, eyes falling closed. Ghost stood, moving towards the two of you, opening his mouth to say something.

"You're on my squad, you do as I say, unless you want me to remove you. You want this to be your last strike?" The Alpha looked away, opening his mouth to make a remark.

"I'm sure there isn't going to be a problem, is there?" Ghost finally spoke up, moving beside the man and staring down at him. The Alpha scoffed and walked away, leaving you looking around.

You gave a soft smile. "Leave your stuff, it'll be cleaned up," and you turned and walked away, adjusting a hood onto your head. Ghost stared after you before walking back to Soap and Gaz, sitting beside them again.

"What the hell happened?"

You stood in the rain, having grabbed another jacket to protect you from the chill of the wind, alongside the rain beating against you. Your squad was running until they collapsed or someone admitted who caused the problems. You knew, though, that the stubborn Alpha in your squad was always the problem.

"You need to get back here," Soap said into the phone. "I honestly don't know what to do with them," and you booked a flight.

Now you were waiting, patiently. Someone would give in soon enough, someone always did. There would always be a weak link, and if it took running them until they threw up so be it. A hand fell on your shoulder and you looked back, eyes climbing to find Ghost standing behind you.

"I've never heard you scream," you laughed, looking back to your squad. The Alpha ran at the front of them, no reaction to the amount of running he was doing. You were pretty sure he had lapped everyone at some point, but you weren't paying close enough attention.

You looked back to Ghost. "You have most definitely heard me scream, just not angrily. Soap called, said that the squad was getting out of control and they didn't know what to do," you sighed. "I thought I taught them better, but I guess I haven't treated them exactly like soldiers," Ghost hummed behind you, eyes trailing the Alpha.

A shiver ran through you and Ghost pulled you back into him, letting you soak in his own warmth. "Does he always give you problems?" You nodded, letting him take on your weight as you leaned against him.

"There is rarely a day that goes by when he doesn't give some form of lip, but everyone's grown used to it, I guess," you whispered, sighing deeply. It bothered you, so much, that you couldn't get all of your squad to act like it. Like a pack. "He's just trying to take control back. He was kicked from his last squad because of similar problems, speaking down on Betas and Omegas," Ghosts scent changed a little, but you weren't able to decipher what it was before it had disappeared.

Neither of you spoke for some time, merely watching the group of wanna-be's run around and around. You wanted to be back home, with your family and watching the little ones run around, not some grown adults. You just wanted to be able to control the squad like other people, but you needed a break. So you went on leave, but came back too soon.

There wasn't much of choice, though. Either let Soap and Gaz keep getting eaten alive, or you come back and beat them back down, but maybe if you talked to Simon he would've been able to help. No, this was your squad, they were your responsibility. You'd have to be a Drill Sergeant, and it was already giving you a headache.

You pushed off Ghost, watching as one of the Omegas stumbled before righting herself. You gave a deep sigh. "Get over here!" You shouted over the rain and wind. As everyone gathered, you glared through them. "I am not your mother. I shouldn't be coming back from leave early because your senior officers are unable to control you," you huffed, looking away for a moment.

The rain still pattered down, and the Alpha was looking away. You couldn't decipher how you felt about him, but you knew it was heavy dislike. Something about the man made you uncomfortable.

"You'd expect a group of adults to behave better than a group of pups, but I suppose none of you have grown," the Alpha opened his mouth to speak and Ghost took a step forward, daring him to make a comment. "I haven't been treating you as soldiers, clearly, so from now on you'll be meeting up with Task Force 141 to being your morning training," a smile graced your features.

You'd spoken with Price briefly over the phone on your flight back. It didn't take much to convince him, and his tone gave you the chills once or twice as he described what he could do. You didn't mention anything to Ghost. You weren't entirely sure what he would do if he found out you were being dragged away from your family because of a problem child.

Everything was still in the air, what you would end up doing with them. As you gazed across, the only person not having any form of regret was the Alpha. Michael. If you could, you would have rejected him from being a part of your team. You'd read his file, it was nothing short of infraction after infraction.

You gave a deep breath. "You're going to go into the mess hall and clean it, if I come in there tomorrow and find even a crumb you'll be stuck cleaning it every day until you leave," no one moved. "What are you waiting for?" They scattered into the wind, Michael still taking everything at his own speed.

Ghost grabbed his soldier, eyes not leaving the mans. "You'll be with me," and you watched him get dragged away. You were finally free to take a warm shower, perhaps curl into your nest for some sleep you'd lost while traveling.

It was late in the evening when you heard from Simon. He had walked into your room, taking his boots off and crawling next to you in your nest. His balaclava scratched at your neck as he scented you, brushing his cheek against you.

You turned the page in your book, letting the large Alpha nearly curl around you. Your fingers found the top of his head, scratching at him over the balaclava. Yet to see his face, you never pushed it. It was none of your business to push him, even as his mate.

You could hear him chuffing softly, nose digging into your neck slightly. It was quiet for some time, outside of the chuffing of Simon and the pages turning from your book. His hands were around you, tugging you closer to him as your fingers continued scratching.

The chuffing quieted, a bothered grunt coming from him. "Want to feel your hand," he muttered, tugging at his balaclava before being able to pull it off entirely.

You didn't look, didn't move, just kept on reading as your fingers found hair. That made you pause, brows furrowed as you turned to look at him from where he returned to your neck, his chuffs returning.

Purring, you tugged him to look at you, book falling from your hand. Simon groaned softly, trying to pull his head out of your grip. A quiet be still, coming from you before he paused, eyes opening to glance down at you.

Scars littered his face, your fingers finding some of the larger ones to stroke at, trying to memorize every part of his face. You could see his cheeks growing a little red and you laughed softly, pressing your hands to his cheeks.

"Little embarrassed of being looked at so thoroughly?" Simon looked away, finally pulling out of your grip and hiding his face back against your neck. You could feel him lick you slightly, laying down a nip or two, his hands tugging you against him again.

It was a few moments later that either of you finally said anything. "What did you do with Michael?" Simon huffed against you, a quiet who?, coming from him. "The Alpha you pulled away from the rest of the squad," you added.

Simon pulled away to look at you fully. "Nothing illegal," you looked at him, smile dropping. He gave you a little grin. "Just gave him some things to do to get all of his energy out, he had a little too much to be acting that way," you laughed.

The next morning, you had a knock on your office door. "Come in," it wasn't anyone you would've expected. Not Ghost, nor Soap or Gaz. Michael.

He slammed his hands on your desk and leaned over it. "I want out," you raised your brows. "I'm not gonna let some little doctor think she can control me," you gave out a deep sigh. "And what about Ghost? You fuck him to get where you are?"

"My relationship with the Lieutenant is none of your business, soldier," you answered, crossing your legs. "You want out? You leave this squad and it's the last place you'll be. You know you can't join the military again if you get discharged. Too many infractions," you shrugged, pulling his file out of your desk. He looked at it.

Lunging for it, you pulled it out of his reach. "Who the hell gave that to you?" You laughed at him, his scent changing to something reeking of anger. God, why were you able to smell him? "Or, is it because you're an Omega?" He smiled shortly.

You stood. "You haven't been taking your suppressants as prescribed, have you?" There was no other answer for why he was so angry constantly. Without a consistent dosage, the androstenone in him would be too high to think properly. He could go feral.

Lunging for your phone, you were only able to get one number dialed before he threw it into the wall. "A little Omega bitch, fucking Ghost in order to get where she is," he snorted. The door was cracked open still, but Michael was in the way. There was no leaving.

Looking away, you blinked slowly. "I'm assuming this is how you were removed from your last squad," he threw your chair into the wall and you opened the file.

"You have no right to read that, you bitch," he growled, trying to grab it over your desk. You pulled it back, Michael growling deep in his chest. "You're gonna give me that, or I'm gonna fucking kill you," you could feel your heart in your stomach. Sure, you could fight but it was nothing with an almost feral Alpha trying to kill you.

Glancing around, you had to look for something to hopefully protect yourself with. A man like Michael could easily kill you, you didn't doubt it. One wrong punch and you'd be in the infirmary, another and you could be out of it. Forever.

"You touch her and you'll find out why I'm feared," Simon. You could feel the relief coursing through you. He wouldn't let anything happen to you, let alone allow another Alpha to hurt you. You looked between the two, seeing Michaels face slowly start to drop.

You dove under your desk the second either of them moved, a growl ripping through the area as you heard a body slam into the wall in front of you. You knew the fear on your scent would be pungent, especially to Ghost.

And it was. He could smell it from down the hall, causing a spark of fear to course through himself. The only other thing he could smell was another Alpha, and he hoped to god he wouldn't be too late. When he opened the door just a tad bit more, he heard the threats.

It set something off in him that he hadn't felt in a long, long time. He didn't hesitate before throwing the other Alpha into the wall, seeing you dive under your desk in his peripheral. His fists found the man, but it barely did anything. A feral Alpha would do anything to kill whoever he saw, and Ghost could hear shouts coming from the hall.

Michael charged at Ghost, who braced for impact, colliding with him and being dragged into the hall and on the wall across from your office. Ghosts knee found Michael gut, throwing him onto the ground and climbing over him.

Some MP's had come careening down the hall, guns up and shouting commands. Ghost tried holding the man down, but it didn't do too much before he was bucked off and climbing to his feet. The fear was still pungent on your scent and it set Ghost off.

He couldn't do anything before gunshots echoed down the hall and Michael collapsed. A few tranq darts scattered along his back.

Ghost was put on administrative leave, pending investigation. You'd used the rest of your leave to be able to stay with him and for the entire duration you weren't out of his eyesight.

Showering? He was standing against the far wall, staring through the doorway.

Trying to use the bathroom? The locks on your bathroom doors had never been used more, and when you left he would be standing in front of it.

For some time you had also been far to shaken to let Simon leave your eyesight. There was nothing he would do that you weren't following him for, his showers left you sitting on the counter and talking to him, even without a response. You didn't go into the bathroom with him, but sat by the door as your eyes flittered around to each corner of the room, looking for feral Alphas.

Before either of you became more comfortable, Simon wouldn't even go into your nest. He would sit outside of it, never moving much at all. It took you panicking in the middle of the night for him to start going back inside of your nest.

Neither of you knew what the future would look like, but as long as you had each other, you figured you'd be alright.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #no use of y/n #canon typical violence #fights #Protective Ghost #cod mw2 #call of duty #ghost mw2 #modern warfare ii #reader insert #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #alpha/beta/omega verse #i got to season 4 #i hope you guys like it #Maple Syrup

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itsmealaiah · 2 months

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Request for johnnie with fem reader

Maybe like a virgin johnnie and reader is his first relationship and he's super nervous to have sex and he avoids the topic whenever you bring it up and you don't know why but then he finally tells you that he's a virgin and you teach him everything and he's a sub

ofc!

I think he mighta lied

tags/ warnings: virgin johnnie, shopping for sex toys, sex education, p in v, trip to spencers, use of a vibrator, just overall smut 😭

minors do not interact

pairing: johnnie x fem

Johnnie had always been a nervous wreck around you. He'd stutter and stammer, fidget with his hands, and sometimes even turn beet red when he looked at you. You couldn't help but wonder what it was about you that made him so uncomfortable. One night, as you were cuddling on the couch, you decided to bring it up. "Johnnie, sweetheart… is something bothering you? You seem… I don't know, a little off tonight."

He hesitated for a moment, his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. "I-it's just… I… I've never really been with anyone before," he blurted out, the words tumbling out of him in a rush. "I mean… not like this."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "You're a virgin?" You whispered, not quite believing your ears. He nodded mutely, his face burning up even more. "Oh, Johnnie… I had no idea," you said, your voice filled with sympathy and understanding. You reached out to stroke his cheek, feeling a rush of protectiveness and tenderness wash over you.

"It's okay, love," you assured him. "We can take it slow, and I'll make sure you feel comfortable and loved every step of the way." He looked up at you, hope and uncertainty warring in his eyes. "You know I'll always take care of you, right?" you said, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. He nodded slowly, his expression softening as he leaned into your touch.

Over the next few days, you found yourself becoming more and more curious about his sexuality. You wanted to explore it with him, to help him discover what felt good and how he could best express himself. You considered asking about his fantasies or if he'd ever used any sex toys, but you didn't want to push him too far too quickly. You wanted him to feel safe and secure in your arms first.

One evening, as you were making dinner together, you casually mentioned a sex toy you'd seen in a shop. "Oh, that sounds interesting," he said, looking thoughtful. "I've always been curious about those." You exchanged a sly smile and decided to take the plunge. "Well, why don't we go check it out together?" You asked, leading him by the hand toward the shop.

Inside, you browsed through the selection of sex toys together, your hands occasionally brushing against each other as you examined different items. "This one looks pretty cool," you said, picking up a sleek, black vibrator. "It's waterproof, so we could even use it in the shower." Johnnie blushed deep red but didn't pull his hand away. "Y-yes," he stammered. "That sounds… nice." He seemed to be growing more comfortable with the topic as you continued to discuss it, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of pride and affection for him.

Eventually, you decided to purchase the vibrator and a few other items. As you checked out, Johnnie's face flushed even deeper, but he didn't complain when you suggested that you could test out the toys together that night. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of being so intimate with him, of helping him explore his sexuality and find pleasure.

Once you were back at home, you led Johnnie to the bedroom, your movements slow and deliberate. You undressed him carefully, revealing his soft, smooth skin, and then helped him remove your own clothes. He lay down on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, his breathing labored. You knelt beside him, running your fingers lightly down his chest and abdomen before reaching between his legs.

As you guided his hand to the vibrator, he looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. You smiled reassuringly and showed him how to turn it on. The low hum filled the room, and you could see the anticipation building in his eyes. "Take your time," you whispered, "and just focus on how it feels." He nodded, hesitantly pressing the vibrator against his erection. His eyes widened in surprise as he felt the sensation, and then he let out a shaky breath.

You watched him as he explored the sensation, his hips beginning to move in time with the vibration. His hands trembled slightly, but he didn't seem to mind. In fact, it only added to the endearingly human quality of the scene. You reached out to stroke his cheek, feeling a surge of love and protectiveness well up inside you. "It's okay, sweetheart," you murmured. "You're doing great." He turned his head into your touch, his eyes still fixed on the vibrator in his hand. "It feels… really good," he whispered.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, enjoying the sensation and finally beginning to feel comfortable in his own skin. You moved to kneel between his spread legs, taking the vibrator from his hand and guiding it expertly against his flesh. He arched his back, letting out a moan as the vibrations intensified. You watched him closely, admiring the way he moved, the way his body responded to pleasure.

As his breathing grew ragged and his hips began to thrust into your touch, you reached out to explore his body further. You ran your fingers lightly over his chest and stomach, teasing him with the promise of more sensation. He gasped and squirmed beneath you, his erection throbbing in time with his heartbeat. You couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and arousal at the power you had over him, at the trust he'd placed in you to help him discover this new side of himself.

With a soft moan, you pressed your body against his, guiding him into you. The sensation of being filled, of feeling so connected, was overwhelming in the best possible way. You wrapped your legs around his hips, urging him to move deeper, faster. He met your rhythm with eager strokes, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he lost himself in the pleasure.

The sound of your skin slapping together filled the room, and the smell of sweat and arousal hung heavy in the air. You looked down at Johnnie's flushed face, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a silent cry of ecstasy. You could feel the tension building inside him, the impending release of all that built-up desire and anticipation. You knew that it wouldn't be long now.

You slowed your movements, drawing out the pleasure for as long as you could, savoring the feel of him inside you and the way he moved against you. His breathing grew ragged, his hips bucking harder with each thrust. You could feel the muscles in his back tensing, preparing for the release that was rapidly approaching.

As he reached his peak, you felt his hot seed spill inside you, filling you up and connecting you in a way that seemed to reach beyond the physical. His body went rigid for a moment, then relaxed, collapsing onto the bed. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling the aftershocks of his orgasm pulse through your own body.

You rested your chin on his shoulder, breathing heavily, and looked down at him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly parted, and his eyes were glassy with pleasure. "That was…," he began, and then trailed off, unable to find the words to adequately describe what he'd just experienced. You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the sight of him so thoroughly satisfied.

As your heart rate began to slow, you moved to lie beside him, propping your head up on one hand. He reached out to caress your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingers. "thank you," he whispered, his voice still husky with desire.

might start writing for colby brock/ sam golbach soon 😏

#johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert smut #johnnie guilbert #smut #goth #emo #fanfiction #scenecore #emo boy

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scribbledghost · 6 months

Text

Something New

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (gender neutral, no Y/N)

Rating: M

Word count: 3,180

Warnings: non-explicit smut, d/s undertones, sub!Simon kind of, mention of previous torture (if you've read the comics, you know already), collaring, Simon gets overwhelmed by praise :(

Note: Had this idea bouncing around in my head for weeks now, and finally decided to sit down and write it. Please note that there is no explicit smut in this one, but it is mentioned and there is some spice. Depending on the reception for this one and the demand for it, I may write a part 2 that's more explicit. Tagging by request: @sillylittlereader

For as much as Simon Riley prides himself on being able to read others, you've noticed that he has a tendency to forget that you can read him just as well.

"Simon, could you come here for a second?" you call to him from the kitchen one late afternoon.

Almost immediately, you hear the soft padding of his footsteps, a stark contrast to how one would assume he walks, given his size.

"Yeah, love?" he asks as he comes to a stop behind you, both hands resting themselves on your hips.

"If I ask you something," you say, turning in his light hold to face him and lean back against the kitchen counter, "do you promise to give me an honest answer?"

"If I can."

You nod with a small smile. You know - have always known - that there are certain things Simon can never reveal to you. This is not one of those things.

At least, you hope it's not.

"Why have you been so nervous lately?" you ask softly into the space between the two of you.

He pauses.

"What d'you mean?"

"You've been... fidgety lately," you explain, loosely placing your arms around his neck, "quiet. Quieter than usual, I mean. Like you've got something heavy on your mind. If it's something with work, I understand, you don't have to tell me. I just want to know if it's something I can help with."

Another pause, this time much longer. Simon's eyes flicker across your face, as if he's searching for something.

You're not sure if he finds what he's looking for, but he offers a partial answer nonetheless.

"It's not about work."

"What's it about, then?"

This time, he takes a deep breath.

"I want to ask you for something," he says, "but I... I don't want to scare you off."

Your brow furrows. It's not like Simon to be tentative like this when it comes to asking for something he wants. Especially if it's you he's asking.

"Why would you scare me off?"

"It can be... a big ask. For some people."

He's still hesitant. Reluctant.

"Okay," you begin, trying to think of some way you can ease him into admitting what he's after. "How about this, then: I'll try to guess what you want to ask me. How about that?"

"Don't think you'll be able to, love, but sure. Give it a go," he says, a quick huff of a laugh leaving him.

"Do you want to hurt me?"

His demeanor shifts on a dime.

"What?" he asks, a quiet panic lacing his features as he rears back from you. "Christ, no, of - of course not, I -"

You place a soft hand at his lips to quiet him. You had known this would be his reaction, but you still needed to get it out of the way. You already know Simon's worst fear is hurting you - either intentionally or not.

"Do you want to hurt someone I care about?" you ask, your hand still at his mouth.

He keeps his lips shut, but quickly shakes his head in a "no" pattern.

"Then I can't think of much else you can ask for that would scare me away," you say, removing your hand. Simon seems to relax somewhat, but you can still feel the tension radiating from him.

"Simon, the worst I can say is 'no'," you offer, reaching up to tilt his head forward so you can rest your forehead on his, "I'm not going to judge you. And I won't run away from you."

The silence stretches once more. Simon's hands tighten and loosen on your hips, as if he's squeezing them for comfort. Then, after several moments, he sighs.

"Okay," he breathes, then leans back.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and opening it before staring at the screen in front of him. He takes another deep breath, then turns it for you to see.

"I want to ask you for this."

Whatever you could have predicted would be on the screen would have been wrong.

Because on Simon Riley's phone, staring you in the face, is an online listing for a collar.

And it's not one for an animal.

It's a simple thing: plain black leather, thickly cut with a silver buckle and silver ring at the front. Nothing fancy, nothing extravagant. Had the listing not specified what it was for, you would have been forgiven for assuming it was for a very large dog.

In your shock, you forget to immediately respond until you notice regret begin to roll off of Simon in waves.

"And... do you want to put this on me?" you ask before he can pull away and tamp down the shame you know is growing in his gut.

He swallows thickly.

"...No."

Ah. There it is. The crux of the entire issue, the reason why he was so hesitant. Simon has long since had the tendency to tell you that he is yours, that you own him - especially during more emotionally-charged and intimate moments. But you weren't quite aware of the extent to which he had apparently meant it.

There are some details Simon has revealed to you over your time together about his sexual experience. How there was a split in him - before he was tortured in Mexico, and after. Before, he'd had a few encounters, mostly quick flings or one night stands in which it was rough, fast, and little else. He'd always been the more dominant one, the one who took the lead. It came naturally, and he was still that way now, to a degree. But he had always done his best to ensure his partner for the night left his bed satisfied.

And then there was after Mexico. When his desire completely evaporated, nearly to the point of repulsion. One night stands were exceedingly rare, and any sort of meaningful connection was a thing of the past. On the wildly rare chance that he became so pent up he couldn't handle it on his own, the encounter would border dangerously on violence; solely focused on him and his need to get off. He didn't bring them home, didn't care for them afterwards, didn't even bother to learn their names. And every time, he'd feel the guilt crawling up his spine the next morning.

It had taken him time to work through his trauma. To give up his need to completely control and dominate his lovers because that control had been so thoroughly and viciously ripped from him in Mexico.

He is gentle with you. So afraid to hurt you that you remember the first time he had accidentally left bruises on your hips from gripping you too hard. He had refused to touch you for a solid week afterward until you had managed to convince him that it had been an accident and that it had done no lasting damage.

But there is still the fact that he is more comfortable taking the lead. More comfortable being in control, even if that control only goes as far as soft touches and gentle commands.

Now, here, Simon stands. Requesting that you take his control from him.

It will take careful, meticulous navigation. A step too far and you know he will yank back and close off from you.

You can't quite think of what to say to assure him you're willing to take on the responsibility he's offering you, so you settle for pulling him in for a soft kiss.

And another.

"Go ahead and order it," you murmur against his lips. "We can talk about the specifics once it gets here."

He takes you to bed, then, settling you on top of him and giving you a taste of what is to come. When he reaches his peak later, he breathes your name against your mouth and tells you again that he is yours.

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

The collar arrives in the mail a week later.

Simon has been watching the tracking updates like a hawk, even going so far as to meet the delivery driver outside when they stop. He brings the box to you, sitting next to you on the couch as you open it. He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close as you cut the tape and pull the contents free.

The collar is much the same as the one he showed you last week - thick black leather, with a silver loop. It has a nice weight to it, but doesn't appear to be too heavy. Completely average and standard.

Except for one detail.

Off to the side, next to the plate that attaches the ring, is another silver plate. It's small, not overly loud and noticeable, but the shine stands stark against the leather. On it is an engraving of a series of letters.

It's your initials.

Your head swivels to Simon once you notice it, and a serious gaze greets you in return. The two of you stare at each other for a bit before Simon leans in and nudges his nose against your temple. He presses a kiss there, then rests his forehead in its place.

"I can return it if it's too much," he offers. "Get a plain one."

"No," you blurt out, "no. You don't have to send it back. I… I like it. Just wasn't expecting it."

Once again, you are brought to terms with just how much Simon means it when he tells you that you own him.

He hums lowly in response, and gently takes the collar from you. He pulls back, running his fingers along the material as he inspects it.

"Got a nice weight," he says. "Bit stiff, but that should be an easy fix."

He tugs at the ring on the front, seemingly pleased that it appears sturdy enough for his liking.

"Now you can really get me where you want me."

He speaks softly, as if he doesn't realize he's talking out loud. Maybe he doesn't. But his words still send heat crawling up your face.

He hands the collar back to you, hands brushing against yours as you take it from him.

"So," he says. "Specifics."

Ah. Right.

Specifics. Expectations. The ground rules that need to be thoroughly discussed before this goes any further.

"How often do you want to wear this?" you ask.

"Not all the time," Simon answers. "Just… just when I ask for it, yeah?"

You nod in agreement.

"And uh… I want you to always be the one that puts it on for me. Seems right that way."

Some type of emotion that you can't quite place begins to constrict your chest as you nod again.

The conversation continues, both of you setting guidelines and limits and requests. He does not want you to be too forceful, does not want to be completely helpless. He does not want you sickly-sweet and condescending, but does not want you cruel and angry, either. He wants a softer type of domination, a light pushing of his comfort zone without it being further than he wants to bend.

You are willing to give him all of these things, and more should he request it or discover he enjoys it in the moment, provided one stipulation:

He tells you immediately if anything feels wrong.

No second-guessing himself, no guilt at stopping the activity. As soon as the thought enters his mind that something doesn't feel right, he is to tell you. A safe word is established - the standard traffic light analogy - but you make it clear you will also accept any variation of "no", "stop", "don't", or anything similar.

This is new, uncharted territory for the both of you, and you want to ensure Simon does not come away from this with a sour feeling on the matter.

"Do you want to try it on now?" you ask softly when it seems the proper details have been discussed. "Or would you like to keep it for later?"

He goes quiet, eyes flickering down to the collar you still hold in your hands before returning to meet your gaze.

"Now."

You nod and stand from the couch.

"Come on then," you say, "grab a chair from the kitchen table and meet me in the bedroom."

He obeys without a second thought, placing the chair in the middle of the room for you to sit in. It has no armrests, allowing you to spread your legs wide enough for him to kneel between them as he looks up at you.

"Do you want to touch me?" you ask. When he only nods, you lean closer to him, placing the hand that is not holding the collar on his jaw as you run your thumb across the scar extending up his cheek.

"Words, Simon," you say softly. "Gonna need you to answer my questions with your words if we're gonna do this."

"Yes", he breathes as he leans his head into your touch, "wanna touch you, love."

"Go ahead, then."

He reaches up and rests his hands on your legs, just above where your knees are bent. He runs them up your thighs slowly, blinking slowly at you.

"Tilt your head up for me, my love," you murmur as your fingertips rest beneath his chin. "Present yourself for me, and I'll put your collar on for you."

He raises his head, eyes still on you as he bares his throat to you.

Even now, his gaze holds an undercurrent of trepidation. He is still analytical, still holding onto the thread of unease that is wound through him at the idea of showing such vulnerability. He trusts you, you know he does or he would not be in this position at all, but you also know he is still wrestling with his instincts and with the shadows of his past.

"It's okay, Simon," you soothe, "if it's too much, we stop. We can always try again later if you want. This is about you, darling."

He swallows, taking a deep breath and nods.

"Okay," you warn softly, "I'm gonna put this on now."

Simon inhales, filling his lungs slowly as you take the collar in both hands and place it around his neck. You watch as his eyes slip closed while you thread the leather through the buckle and up to the second tightest notch in the material.

He winces, a small and almost imperceptible movement.

But you see it.

"Too tight?"

"Just a bit."

You loosen it, this time going a few notches wider before you thread the pin.

"How about now?"

He hums quietly, eyes still closed.

"...Too loose."

Once again, you adjust, threading the collar so it sits snug against his neck, but you can still fit your fingers between the leather and his skin with little effort.

"Better?"

You watch as Simon's shoulders fall, releasing their tension in time with exhaling the deep breath from his lungs. Slowly, he opens his eyes, staring at you as he gives you a rare, soft smile.

"Perfect."

You return his grin and bring him closer for a kiss, feeling as his hands slide up to your sides. Your hands find purchase in his hair, pulling him in to deepen the kiss. He accepts the air from your lungs, the quiet sighs you give him as he slips his hands beneath your shirt to grip your skin.

One of your hands snakes away from his hair and towards his neck, running along the collar and tracing the metal plate on it that bears your initials.

"You really are mine, aren't you Simon?" you ask softly.

"Yours," he breathes in between kisses. "All yours."

You shift your hand to the silver loop dangling from the collar and thread a couple of fingers through it. You pull away slightly, then tug on the ring to force Simon to follow.

The groan that erupts from his lungs is pure lust dipped in sin. The hands on your sides tighten their grip in surprise, then slowly release their tension as Simon gazes up at you.

"So good for me, Simon," you murmur, tracing the scar by his lip, "always so, so good to me."

You watch as his eyes tilt upward, and for the first time since you've known the man, he preens.

You realize, then, that this is what he wants. What he needs.

To be good for you.

To be worthy of you.

He already is, of course, but under any other circumstance he would never believe you if you said as much. But here, with him looking up at you as you have him collared and bound to you, you finally have the power to make him believe it.

"So good," you repeat, almost absentmindedly as you pull him in by the collar to kiss him again. "So perfect. So much better than you ever give yourself credit for."

He grunts, sharply inhaling through his nose as his grip on you tightens again. When he breathes your name in quiet warning, you only offer a gentle shush in return.

"I know you want to tell me I'm wrong," you say against his lips, whisper-quiet. "Don't. Don't fight it, Simon."

You look into his eyes as he heaves a shaking breath, the warm brown irises beginning to well over with tears Simon refuses to allow himself to shed. He clenches his jaw, eyelids slamming shut as exhales through his mouth.

It's too much.

"Do you want to stop for now?" you ask gently, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It's okay if you do. This is new, and I know it's probably a lot."

He pauses, contemplating his actions before giving you a miniscule nod. You kiss him once more, moving your hands around to where the collar is buckled against his throat, but before you can do so you feel a pair of hands lightly grab your wrists.

"Not yet," Simon mumbles into the space between you. "Just… just a bit longer."

You give him a soft "of course" as you pull back, leaving the collar where it lays as you stand from the chair. You help him from the floor and over to the bed to sit, letting his hands guide you to where he needs you in this moment. It is now your turn to stand between his legs, thick arms wrapped around you as Simon tucks his head against you and takes several deep breaths.

In due time, you will extract yourself from him and suggest something for dinner. You will make sure he is fed, hydrated, and comfortable, and when he is ready, you will remove the collar for him and tuck it away close by until he next asks for it. You will discuss what just transpired, picking apart what he wants more of and what he can do without in the future.

But for now, you stay with him. Allow him to hold you close as you cradle his head to your body.

And you take solace in the fact that you are his just as much as he is yours.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

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writefightandflightclub · 3 months

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter One (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genres: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings here. Please note this series is NSFW / 18+ and minors or ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written. Posting schedule is here.

Author’s note: (If you read the original one-shot this slightly amended chapter will already be familiar to you, so I'm sorry for the initial lack of surprises. I promise though - there are many surprises from here!) Some of you may remember that this all started as an angsty smutty one shot, way back in 2020. Let’s just say, some of you really liked that story (thank you!) and a “part 2” was requested so that I could “fix” things for these two idiots (affectionate). Well, I guess part 2 took a while, because now it’s four years later, and I have written 87,000 words (ish). Oops. So, as you might infer through the accidental novel length spew, this series means rather a lot to me. It’s the longest piece of writing I have ever seen through to completion, and so, whilst it’s definitely not perfect, I am pretty proud of it! I hope with all of my little orange heart that you enjoy it, and if you do, any RBs, comments - or anything at all really - would mean the world. These two have lived in my head for four years and I will miss them, but I'm so excited to finally share them with you all! Honestly, I could say lots more, but for now I'll leave you with one more thought, which sums up this whole experience quite frankly: the characters made me do it.

Finally, I have to thank you all, lovely pocket friends, for being so supportive and encouraging the whole way. It means so much to me! Especially, I GOTTA thank the fabulous @astroboots, who has hyped this project from literally before the beginning and been so encouraging, and @foxilayde, who is an incredible cheerleader for all my hare-brained endeavours. ILY!

Word count: 9.7k for this part (it’s broken down into 3 sections, if you prefer to read in stints!).

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to the taglist if you are 18+ (or removed!). Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

You love your squad. You really do. However, if you are being honest, it can be tough being treated as “one of the boys”. You know it’s a good thing that they don’t treat you any differently - but sometimes, you have to admit you want to be seen as a woman first and a soldier second. Especially on evenings like this when testosterone and drinks are flowing freely. Evenings when you have an ache in between your thighs that, in your case, calls out for a man. Okay - calls out for Santiago “Pope” Garcia, to be specific.

“I hope you can handle something stiff going down your throat,” you announce crudely to the group, arriving to whoops of appreciation as you slide the tray of hard liquor and beers on to the lofty bar table.

The squad is celebrating a successful bust, and the relief and revelry in the air after the months-long operation is palpable.

“Cheers to that!” Frankie winks with a dumbass grin, rubbing his palms together with glee. “You’re a saviour – Pope’s taking far too long.”

Will helpfully conveys the shots and beers around the table, glasses and bottles clinking and jovial smiles rippling through the group as a direct result. Ready for a cold one, you bring the rim of your beer to your lips for an immediate swig, condensation pooling on your fingers and making you realise how close the air is in this buzzing but dingy place.

“Bottoms-up, boys,” Tom directs as he passes you a shot, earning a good-natured side-eye from you. “And bottoms-eth up-eth, Mi’ Lady,” he adds, along with a regal hand wave to match his faux Olde English tone.

“To busts!” you ‘cheers’, clinking your glasses in the centre of the table. The innuendo earns a throaty, gruff chuckle from Frankie who bumps shoulders with you, inviting you to share in the camaraderie. You give-in with a broad smile, unable -as ever- to resist Frankie’s tittering.

“Oh, hang on,” Frankie says, flitting quickly to a now unoccupied bar stool at an adjacent table (seats are in short supply tonight) and dragging it over to you.

“This for me, Catfish? How gallant.”

He grins. He knows you hate gallant. “It’s actually for Pope and his creaky knees… but you may as well make use of it while he’s pre-occupied,” Frankie chortles. You sit gratefully, your decision to wear heels after months in your beloved combat boots feeling like a definite mistake.

Speaking of mistakes...

“You fucking seeing this?” Tom asks, nodding his head over towards your squad mate, apparently simultaneously in awe of and amused by his current interaction at the bar; the very reason the drinks had been failing to materialise.

Twisting on your perch, you follow his gaze towards Santiago, eyes boring into the back of his head and his wash of grizzled curls. Involuntarily, your eyes trail over his form, the midnight blue button-down taut over his muscled shoulders as he casually props himself against the bar, jeans snug over that impossibly shapely rump. He has the barmaid rapt, eating out of his hand, all batting eyelashes and tongue slack in her mouth. Abandoned, a tray of shots sits unnoticed in front of Santiago as he lingers in conversation with her. All you can do is watch as, next, she leans over the bar brazenly, letting her thick, dark mane cascade across her ample, showcased cleavage. You can’t see Santiago’s expression as he -respectfully, you’re sure- admires her, but you can imagine it.

Occasionally, you are on the receiving end of those expressions too.

Unfortunately, Santiago has a raw talent for making… connections. Besides off-shore bank managers and corrupt lawyers, that also inevitably extends to hook-ups. He is never short of distractions. Or, apparently, you never can hold his attention for long. When you do, though? When he does notice you, he makes you feel like you are the only woman in the world, his focus so intent and unrelenting you feel like he is viewing you through a sniper scope. Like the attention might end you.

You bristle thinking about his selective interest, the dull ache between your legs intensifying.

“Never mind that deserter. Let’s celebrate without him,” you encourage to a ripple of agreement. You toss your shot back in-time with the boys and screw-up your face, shuddering in response as the spirit burns down your throat. You stick your tongue out with a “bleuch” as the aftertaste lingers.

However, your distraction doesn’t work for long, as your comrades seem determined to continue gossiping about the object of your desire.

“How does he do it?” Tom asks in disbelief, with more than a side of jealousy. He’d always given off the vibe of envying Santiago, you’d thought. “We’re all good-looking guys, man. But that little shit’s rolling in it.”

“I don’t know what it is. He’s not even tall,” Will snickers, knowing that Santiago hates being teased about his height.

Frankie interjects. “MaybeFrankie interjects. “Maybe it’s the big dick energy.”

No comment.

You’ve certainly never had any complaints about his stature. He is large enough to feel sturdy and surrounding, and small enough that you can take control of him when the mood strikes you. Oh, and you’ve certainly never had any qualms about his big dick energy… or his big dick for that matter.

Frankie chuckles again at the good-natured teasing and bumps you with his elbow. You are grateful for his easy, infectious laughter, acting like an umbrella against the moody, Santiago-shaped storm cloud which threatens above your head.

“For real though,” Tom interjects, leaning forward over the table as if he’s sharing classified intel. “Has he been getting frisky with the informant again?” His eyes travel around the table, meeting each squad member’s gaze in turn. “I feel like he’s definitely got something going on there too. Tell me I’m seeing things.”

“Luci?” Will asks, then whistles in surprise at Tom’s accusation, his brows converging. You’re not sure if he’s surprised by Santiago’s potentially compromising choices, or impressed by his unparalleled ability to pull. “That sly dog.” Perhaps it’s a little of both.

You tense. Santiago getting involved with an informant. A beautiful informant. Sounds entirely plausible, although Santiago has neglected to tell you if it is true. Besides building connections, another skillset of Santiago’s is his uncanny aptitude for mixing business with pleasure. Realistically, he can do whatever the hell he wants with whomever he wants - it is no business of yours - but, in truth, you are tired. Tired of being the one he only picks up when he has no-one else. Tired of going unnoticed the rest of the time.

“Actually,” Frankie leans forward to drop this juicy titbit of gossip into the conversation. “Luci broke it off. Requested a new contact.” He taps the side of his nose as if to indicate that he has his sources too, trying to drum up some air of mystery. “Coincidence? I think not,” he adds, tipping his head towards the continued scene at the bar.

You stiffen then in cold realisation. That’s why. That’s why he was noticing you earlier tonight. It wasn’t that he finally saw you. It wasn’t you in this dress. It wasn’t you. Yet again, he’d simply run out of distractions.

“Huh,” Tom says, looking a little too pleased with Santiago’s misfortune, swilling the dregs of his beer around absent-mindedly. “Well. He doesn’t seem devastated. It took him all of two minutes to get back on the horse.”

“Come on. You know Santi famously doesn’t get attached,” you snipe, partially serving the sentiment up as a reminder to yourself.

Santiago does have a... reputation. Honestly, you have no problem with that. There is no shame in having casual sex, after all. So long as it is safe and consensual, what does it matter? You’ve even acted as Santi’s “wing-woman” on a number of occasions. It had never been a problem; that is… it hadn’t been a problem until he started having casual sex with you.

Santiago is loyal almost to a fault in many other areas of his life. He is abundantly loyal to you, and there is no doubt in your mind that Santiago sees you as a friend first. As a soldier second. You know he respects you deeply for your sharp-mind, your humour, your straight-talking, and your lethality in equal measure. And, you also know that Santiago desires you. Or, at least, he does when it suits him. When he is paying attention. These various roles never seem to converge, though. As a friend? You and Santiago go way back. As a soldier? You’ve been on his squad longer than anyone has, since decades before you all went freelance. As a lover, though? Well, that is new. And he can’t seem to reconcile this new role with the rest of the ways he knows you.

Yes. Sure. Sometimes, Santiago desires the soft parts of you. Sees you as something other than a friend or a soldier. But you wish he would notice all of you, all at once. He sees you in fragments, like shrapnel. You wish he would piece things together. You wish he would notice you consistently. Not only when you’ve been out in the field too long, spending days bunched into hot and confined spaces, too close for comfort. Not only when hails of bullets send him reeling, searching for any kind of foothold on feeling alive. Still, over and over, you let him. You let him dip you back, with urgency - on to a mattress or a roll-mat or simply down on to the jungle floor - to thrust himself into you.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia is the man you crave. He gives it to you good. He makes you feel like a woman. Of course, there is no one particular way to be or to feel like a woman. There are infinite ways. For you though, very specifically, it is simple. It feels like Santiago desiring the soft parts of you which lay secreted under your tactical gear and your tough façade. It feels like him kissing you, soft lips and abrasive stubble. Strong hands and that muscled body writhing in a mess of breath and flesh. In those moments, you are a soldier least of all. Free of any mission, you become unadulterated; reckless abandon. You cease to be clipped and tactical, precise and lethal, and instead you become a soft, fluid thing beneath him.

Every time you arrive back in the city though, distractions abound. Santiago apparently ceases to desire you. Notice you. You had wrongly believed that tonight felt different. Something about the cool but heady night air. The way he was looking at you in this dress during your walk to the bar to meet the rest of the group. The way his hand lingered on your back as he guided you over to the table. But it mustn’t have been so. It must have been wishful thinking, that’s all.

You’ve done an increasing amount of wishful thinking, lately, it seems.

Too much.

You sigh deeply. You don’t even realise you have zoned out from the group’s banter until Santiago arrives back with the tray of drinks -and no doubt one more phone number in his contacts- by which point, you are riled up enough to grab the shot of tequila right off the tray and down it without thinking, salt and lime be damned.

“Woah, cariño. Feeling spirited tonight? Not wanna wait for the rest of us?” His smile is broad and easy and annoying as hell and suddenly you are adrift.

“Nah, I’m done waiting, Santi,” you bite. He doesn’t catch the double-meaning in your words, because of course he doesn’t. Why would he?

Your skin flushes with instant heat as a result of his presence- definitely a recently acquired response. And so, you hastily dismiss your leather jacket, revealing a strappy, red, form-fitting dress beneath. Your appearance even earns a low whistle and murmur of approval from your buddies.

“Someone’s gonna get lucky in that cute little number,” Frankie says pointedly, even as he’s staring curiously at Santiago staring at you. Maybe he’s on to you two.

You smile, happy -as ever- to take a little flattery. Plus, you do find it hilarious to watch these guys squirm when they remember that you do, in fact, have a body concealed underneath all your tactical gear.

“Well I won’t get lucky if you chumps keep staring down every man who looks at me,” you complain, already having clocked the defensive perimeter which has formed around you, simply from the way they have positioned themselves.

The squad are protective of you, unnecessarily, and you simultaneously chide and love them for it.

“Big men protec’, chiquita,” Frankie teases, puffing out his biceps and chest like a gorilla. He says it knowing fine well you could take out any one of them if you wanted.

You hear the warm rumble of Santiago’s laugh next to you too, chiming in time with yours, his body closer than you’d realised as he dishes the remaining shots out. “Please!” he scoffs, casually slinging his arm around the back of your bar stool, the shot primed in his other hand. “You know damn well she doesn’t need protection!”

“She’s gonna need protection when she gets laid,” Will quips, causing Tom to almost snort beer out of his nose in amusement and Frankie to high-five him from across the table. You would scold him but you’re laughing too, even as you roll your eyes good-naturedly at their ‘bro’ humour.

You drop your head towards Santiago as the others continue snickering like a pack of hyenas, the alcohol clearly having gone to their heads already. That’s what they get for drinking on empty stomachs. You and Santiago’d had the foresight to hit up a first rate food truck on the route across town, like sensible people.

“Dance with me, Pope?” you ask, giving him a subtle yet seductive bat of your eyes.

“For the love of God, Pope. Leave some women for the rest of us,” Tom pleads -partially in jest, you’re sure- as Santiago curtly nods, not knowing quite what you’re up to but taking your hand anyway.

“Ok. I hear you. Let’s ditch these losers,” Santiago joshes, smiling as he gets a predictable rise out of his squad.

It isn’t so unusual for you two to dance together when you visit bars, so it doesn’t earn too much suspicion from the group (plus, you’re military - you two have been pretty damn good at hiding your hook-ups, covering your tracks). Dancing with you might undo the careful ground-work Santiago had laid with the barmaid just a moment ago, however. Even so, Santiago opts to follow you into the sweaty throng of people on the floor all the same, your fingers loosely twined with his as you lead him. You find a relatively private spot, away from the prying eyes of the squad, and come to a standstill.

You turn into Santiago at the last available moment, meaning he ends up disconcertingly close. Almost chest-to-chest with you.

“Put your hands on me,” you command, a little more throaty than intended. You sling your arms around his shoulders, fingertips brushing at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. Santiago hesitates, but following a search of your eyes he plants his hands firmly onto the small of your back. You instantly feel the broadness and the warmth of him through the thin fabric of your dress. Those lethal hands. The hands that have pulled triggers and grenade clips. Choked the life out of assailants. Those lethal hands that have traced gently down your back as you laid bare beside him, killing you softly.

You let his hands rove over your body, wherever he wants to put them. Apparently, he wants to put them everywhere he can, like it’s a compulsion to touch you. He trails his hands up and down your back, ghosts them over the globes of your ass, snakes them down to the lip of your dress where his fingertips brush against your bare thighs, tacky with heat. And, after wandering, his hands come to rest low-slung on your hips, exactly where he likes to grab you when he thrusts into you. He gives you a subtle squeeze there, and the feel of him floods back to you. You are reminded of the way, when you’re with him, your own lethal hands are finally occupied by something other than battle. Of the times when you relinquish any preoccupation with victory, in favour of reaching perfect surrender. The times when your heart throbbing in your throat feels like safety instead of danger.

His hands on you feel... natural. You move together symbiotically. Your bodies are always, easily in sync. On the battlefield, on the dance floor, in the bedroom. Always moving as a team. After so long side-by-side, it would be hard to exist in a manner to the contrary. It would be hard to exist without him at all.

Will be hard.

You let Santiago press against you as you sway together on the darkened dancefloor, gyrating and slinking your hips in time with the music. You feel him half-harden against you and his grip on your hips tightens, a feeble but gruff sound involuntarily escaping his lips and causing a coil to tighten in the pit of you.

You think Santiago looks into your eyes meaningfully then. With something deep and unspeakable. Though that must simply be the wishful thinking you’ve become so practised at, and so, you immediately dismiss the thought, even as you nestle your mouth closer to his ear in order to speak. As your breath fans over the corded column of his neck you could swear he engorges further. And, the ache between your legs becomes almost unbearable at the spike of his cologne in your nostrils, his familiar scent curling within you.

Santiago doesn’t smell like spice or musk or woodsmoke. Not to you. To you he smells like memories and possibilities - a heady paradox. Like your past and future. His scent inspires a quickening within you. Something under your skin is spurred into motion, tending toward collision. Yet at the same time, his scent curls in you and feels like… a stilling too. Like someone entirely arrived at a place so familiar that they forget ever having arrived at all and can’t imagine leaving.

You dismiss it. You try. You fracture the moment. You must, before you collide.

“I hear you’ve had some informant woes? I hope to God we got the intel.” You feel him tense instantly against you.

“Uh-huh. I got it.” Santiago‘s not really listening. Instead, he’s dropping his eyes to your body pressed up against his own, the heels of his hands now kneading into your hips. “You look good.” His voice is a husk in the shell of your ear as he leans into you, ensuring he can be heard over the music.

“Good for Luci, breaking it off though.” You dismiss his compliment, barely able to obscure the animosity in your tone despite all attempts to sound casual.

He snaps back from you an inch or so, enough to look you directly in the eyes. You think that maybe, he looks almost disappointed. “Jealous?” he probes, ticking-up one eyebrow.

He knows you far too well. Yet, despite his on-the-mark observation, the question makes you feel called-out and so, your next tack becomes unnecessarily cruel. Vengeful almost. “He’s getting there.”

“What?” Santiago asks in evident confusion, his hands slipping back-up to the neutral area of your back as the mood slips away too.

“The tall drink of water at 9 ‘o’ clock. Guy who’s been eyeing me all night. Doesn’t he look like he wants his hands on me instead of yours?” You know that you sound cruel, and petty, and the words feel bitter, like salt and lime in your mouth. You’ve said them all the same though. It’s already done.

Santiago’s jaw clenches, eyes flicking subtly over as he rotates you to get a better look at your target.

“He does,” he states, with a thin attempt at neutrality, his neck roped with tension as his eyes skim over the other man.

“Great. Then thanks for the dance, Wingman. You’re relieved.”

Santiago puffs out air, his jaw clenching and eyes darkening.

You tick an eyebrow up at him. “What’s wrong? You jealous, Santiago?”

Then, you saunter towards the bar, where the other man is stood. He very blatantly gives you the once over, evidently liking what he sees. You lean in with a flirty smile, letting the image of an aggrieved Santiago dissolve into the throng of people as you allow yourself to be entirely distracted.

You are done waiting.

You want to be noticed, and this handsome man in front of you is certainly providing you with his undivided attention.

***

Later, Santiago watches you prepare to leave with the other man, disgruntled and forlorn. He’s watched you all night via snatched glances through the crowd. Watched the man laugh at your jokes, watched him work up the courage to brush your arm. He watched you eventually move in for the kiss, your eyes turning hungry as you pulled away, teeth biting down on that delicious, pillowy lip of yours.

The bar having quietened down a little by now, Santiago sits in a booth opposite Tom and Frankie, Will having found his own company for the remainder of the night as well. Santiago’s head is propped on his elbow, a half-empty beer nestled in his other hand. His buddies’ eyes needle him as you toss a casual salute over to the table, your hook-up leading you out by the hand and your eyes shining gleefully.

“What?” Santiago hisses defensively, as Frankie continues to stare knowingly at him from the opposite side of the table.

Frankie’s head simply shakes in amusement. “Nothing. Only… when in the hell are you gonna figure out it’s her you really want, huh?”

“She’s just a friend,” Santiago bristles, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, hunching in on himself.

“And a fuck-buddy,” Tom ventures.

Santiago looks down, taking a masking swig of his beer. “You know about that?”

“Didn’t until just now. But thanks a bunch for confirming,” Tom replies in a self-satisfied tone, earning a chuckle and a bump on the shoulder from Frankie.

“Well… fuck.” Santiago sighs, his face becoming pinched.

“I already knew,” Frankie states. “Christ. You’re loud enough, man. Hard to keep the secret that you’re nailing one of the squad when we’re camped out in, like, 3ft of jungle.”

Santiago absent-mindedly picks at the label on his bottle with his thumb. “Don’t talk about it like that, man. It’s not… Fuck.”

Frankie just looks across at him in sympathy, Santiago’s reaction revealing more than he probably cared to about the true extent of his predicament.

You’d risen through the ranks together. You’d been through a lot. Everyone on the squad knew Santiago was your ride or die and you his. You had each other’s backs. Had tended each other’s bullet wounds for Christ’s sake. Your friendship and the trust between you both -on the battlefield and off it- was deep and unshakeable.

“And you don’t want more than that?” Tom probes.

Despite being indoors, Santiago picks up his baseball cap from the seat and pulls it down over his eyes then, in an attempt to shield himself from this line of questioning.

“What ‘else’ is there? There’s not much time for romance in between a hail of bullets.”

“Maybe.” Tom tips his head, contemplatively. “But you’re not getting any younger, Pope. How many years do your Goddamn knees have left in them?” He lets that one simmer for a moment, before nodding pointedly towards the door through which you had retreated. “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“She could do a lot better,” Frankie interjects, earning a snigger from Tom and causing Santiago to huff, expression turning surly. Frankie holds his hands up defensively then. “Look, you do you, man. I’m just saying... I’m sure you’re having a great time getting your dick wet all over the continent… but if you don’t step up soon? You might regret it.”

Santiago whips his eyes towards his buddy, gaze interrogative and piercing. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” Frankie shrugs, searching Santiago’s eyes with equal vigour. Santiago drops his gaze first, feeling exposed.

Frankie kicks his buddy gently under the table. “Come on, hermano. Use your words. Share your feelings.”

Frankie’s words may sound mildly taunting, as ever, but Santiago recognises the invitation to open up is genuine. He purses his lips, brows knitting together as he resists it, picking through his choice of words carefully before he allows them out of his mouth. He massages his palm over his roughened jaw and it rasps like sandpaper. “I don’t even know if she wants more.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Tom responds in amusement. “The guy who can get information out of a freakin’ stone, make any informant sing, ‘doesn’t know’ if she wants more? That’s what’s stopping you? A fucking intel issue?”

Frankie titters again, narrowing his eyes at Santiago and trying to figure him out. “He’s scared,” the man accuses, before his tone softens involuntarily. “That it?”

Santiago takes an idle swig of his beer, polishing off the dregs before shrugging his jacket on, jaw twitching in irritation.

“Oh shit, he’s moping! He’s moping now. Can’t handle the truth,” Tom mocks.

“Come on, Santiago,” Frankie reasons. “We just want things to work out for you. You two are a good match- any chump can see that. Heh. Except maybe you.”

Santiago doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply continues his silent preparations to leave, stuffing his wallet and keys into his jean pockets.

“Plus- there are a bunch of reasons we’d like you off the market,” Tom teases. “More women for the rest of us. Golden opportunity to tease you for being so whipped.” Tom flashes a shit-eating grin up at his friend.

Nodding gently, lips twisted in a pout and refusing to rise to it, Santiago tips his head towards his squad members. “Gentlemen,” he offers by way of farewell, before starting towards the door.

“Want me to walk you home safe, chiquito?” Frankie calls.

“I’m not going home.” Santiago turns and gives the two men an affectionate middle finger before beelining toward the exit.

“You’re not going over to her right now, are you? Pope? Santiago? That’s not what we... She’s gonna be pissed, man. Think this through!” Tom shouts after him, but it’s futile. Santiago has already swept out into the night, leaving Tom and Frankie to exchange helpless glances.

There is a beat.

Then: “I bet the bastard gets laid as well,” Frankie snorts.

“Right?” Tom hums softly in agreement. “If anyone can turn up to a girl’s apartment while she’s banging another guy and still end up getting down? It’s that little shit, no word of a lie.”

There is a moment of silence as the pair sip their drinks and contemplate what Santiago has, precisely, which causes women to become so enamoured with him.

“Maybe it’s his ass?” Tom offers, finally.

Frankie clicks his fingers. “Ah. You’re probably right. That ass won’t quit.”

Meanwhile, Santiago steps out into the fresh air, the slight bite of it taking the edge off his alcohol buzz.

His thoughts are overwhelmed with you. Have been overwhelmed with you. In truth, Santiago is finding it harder and harder to keep this up. Especially whenever it is just the two of you, he finds it harder and harder to resist you.

It is typically easier in the city, where there are plenty of distractions. He is grateful for it - other people he can tangle with to take his mind off of you. In the city, it is easier to push that side of you out of his mind and to fall back into the clear-cut ways. The way it used to be before the lines had become blurred. Easier to compartmentalise his feelings for you. A friend first. A soldier second. A lover, only intermittently.

Santiago was determined not to let everything bleed into one, because once those barriers, those delineations fell, he was convinced he would never be able to rebuild them.

Most of all, he was convinced he wouldn’t want to.

The thing is... the “distractions”? They never really worked for long. You are the only woman for him, in truth. And for all it might be crazy, he is headed towards your apartment right now to find out if you feel the same way. To find out if you want more. To find out if you see him as more than a friend and a soldier and a lover, or if you see him completely, and all at once.

To find out if he is everything to you, like you are to him.

***

There is a loud rap on your door and it tears you, regretfully, from the tangle of limbs you are in. When the knock becomes more insistent, you apologise to the man blissed out beneath you and extricate yourself from his embrace, hastily cloaking yourself in a sheet and traipsing through your temporary apartment – home for the time being. Adrenalin piqued, you peer through the spyhole, relief flooding you when you see who it is.

“Santi? What the fuck?” you ask, opening the door to him and pressing the sheet to you with your remaining hand.

“Hi,” he says casually, the brim of his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes.

“I’m in the middle of something,” you bite, emphatically. “What in the hell do you want?” you hiss at him, keeping your volume low.

“You,” he says plainly.

Santiago looks you over; your flushed face, plumped lips and blatant post-orgasm glow. His jaw visibly clenches.

“What?!” you exclaim in confusion.

“I want you.”

You tear his blasted hat off to examine his eyes for sincerity, pushing it into his chest all bunched-up. He hastily stuffs it in his jacket pocket. Eyes narrowed, you appraise him a moment longer, clicking your tongue in disbelief at the nerve this man has before abruptly closing the door on him.

“Bye, Santi.”

“Wait!” he pleads, jamming his foot in the door and muscling through.

“What in the hell are you doing?!” you hiss again, backing-up and almost tripping over your sheet, which Santiago now has his mucky boots all over.

By this time, your hook-up for the night has heard the commotion and blustered through the dark apartment -in the nude- to ward off your supposed intruder. Your companion is bigger, sure, but he certainly shouldn’t mess with Santiago. He wouldn’t fare well at all.

You raise your hand to diffuse the situation. “It’s ok, he’s a friend. Sometimes,” you add with a tilt of your head.

Your companion’s face flashes with recognition as Santiago emerges from out of the shadows. “Oh. It’s you, from the bar. Here I was thinking we’d gotten rid of you already.”

Santiago simply glowers with bubbling aggravation at the man, who has the cheek to just stand there with his fucking schlong out, entirely undeterred. Santiago puffs his chest out, making himself larger.

“Please.” Santiago addresses you, tearing his eyes away from the man. “Can we talk?”

You sigh, unable to believe that you’re being stupid enough to agree to his demands. You turn back to the man you were enjoying being on top of until a moment ago. “Can you give us five minutes? I’m so sorry. I’ll be back.”

“Well - she might not be back,” Santiago suggests, and you glare at him, irritated.

The man looks between you and Santiago in disbelief before addressing you only. “Sure,” he says with a languid, sultry smile, ignoring Santiago entirely. “I’m willing to wait if we get to continue the fun we were having.”

“Oh he’s a cheeky fuck,” Santiago grates, his whole body tense, and you quickly grab his elbow to bundle him into the kitchen before he can do any further damage.

“You’re the cheeky fuck, Santiago.” Apparently that’s your type. You vaguely wonder why you keep subjecting yourself to this, but you certainly don’t wish to pull on that thread too hard. Not right now.

As you release his elbow, Santiago comes to face you in the narrow slip of a kitchen.

“Well? What in the hell are you doing here?” you rage whisper at him, folding your arms across yourself and tapping your foot impatiently on the tiled floor.

Santiago simply squares up to you, his expression formidable, unphased. His dark eyes trail over you again, snagging on the places where the sheet drapes over the contours of you. You are suddenly uncomfortably aware of how naked you are beneath it. “Told you. I want you.”

Normally, those words were enough. But not any longer. You scoff. “I know all about how you want me, Pope. Half-heartedly. You want me when it suits you. When you can’t have me. When there’s no-one else around for you to want.”

It is his turn to scoff now. “Casual is what you wanted. You gonna throw that back in my face now?”

You sigh, tiredly, refusing to get embroiled in this. This is all meaningless. He can twist things and make excuses all he likes, but Santiago is a man of action. If he wanted you? Really wanted you? He wouldn’t let a Goddamn technicality stand in the way.

You don’t have the energy for excuses. For this conversation. You’ve waited too long for Santiago to even realise there is anything worth talking about. So, instead of fighting back, you let it go.

“I’m done, Santi. I’m out.”

Your words feel like a relief to you, after bottling this up since you came to the decision. The relief extends through your body as you sag backward to lean up against the cold fridge door, that too relieving on your hot, sheening skin.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Santi dismisses your assertion instantly. He tended towards tunnel vision about some things. Just because he didn’t want out, he tended to assume that was true for everyone else. He was a connector, an enabler, and these factors combined meant the squad had stayed together a long time; far longer than it ever should have, like this time. He’d pulled his “retired” buddies back in, yet again.

“I’m for real, Santi,” you say in a small voice. “It’s already done.”

A veil of shock then betrayal passes over his face as the truth of your words sinks in. He takes a step back from you, as if he’s been sucker punched in the gut. His brows knit together and he looks down at the floor. “When?”

“Three weeks.” You figure you may as well rip the band-aid off in one go.

He turns his mouth down at the corners and slowly nods his head, doing an admirable job of containing whatever it is he is feeling, for the moment, while he gathers his intelligence. Mission above emotion, as ever. Santiago looks at the world through a scope sometimes, and he often forgets about the big picture. It always surprises you how a man so perceptive and attentive to detail -when he chooses to apply it- could fail to notice something right under his nose.

“Where?”

“Home. Desk-job, by the ocean. Private firm and a nice salary too. What’s not to love?” You add the extra information in an effort to detract from the thing you least wanted to face. Home is far. Far from him.

“Fuck,” Santiago breathes, finally looking up at you. “Because of me?”

You bristle again. “You arrogant piece of....” you sigh heavily, biting your lip and reminding yourself it isn’t worth it to grow aggravated. Plus, there’s a kernel of truth in his question, after all. You gather yourself before speaking again. “I stayed so long because of you, Santi. But I’m leaving for me. I’m tired of waiting.” Maybe he’ll notice you when you’re gone, you think. Maybe he’ll want you then.

“You can’t go. Someone with your skillset will be impossible to replace at short notice. How the hell am I supposed to keep the operation afloat without you?”

You shake your head softly, smiling in disbelief, his response confirming so many of your reasons behind going. Always focussed on the mission.

“Frankie’s looking into someone, actually. He knows a guy. He’s not as good as me, of course, but-”

“-You told Frankie?!” You can hear in his voice that the revelation hurts him. He has always been your confidant. But hey, things change, even if Santiago never does.

“Yeah, well,” you say thinly, through your teeth. “There’s plenty you don’t tell me, Santi.” You look at him pointedly. “Besides, I think you’ll manage. You always seem to find someone to meet your… needs. Don’t you?”

Santiago brings one arm up beside your head, leaning against the fridge with his palm, his dark eyes turbulent and boring into yours. “You’re the one who’s got some guy in there. What do you want from me, huh?”

He crowds you, but you can’t bring yourself to push him back. Instead, you languish more readily up against the fridge door, your grip on your sheet becoming less and less sure.

“Oh! That’s your fucking grand gesture? You came here to ask me what the hell I want from you?” Your passions rise, heart thrumming in your chest. You try and tell yourself it’s entirely from anger and nothing at all to do with his proximity. That it’s certainly not because of that look he’s giving you.

Speaking of proximity, Santiago’s now close enough to smell the other man’s scent on you. He’s leaning into you, breath ragged and desire clouding his eyes, even as you still bear the signs of being ravaged by another between your legs. Or perhaps… because of it.

Even as you stand here, like this, signs of another lover temporarily strewn over your person, it’s ludicrous to think another could claim you. You belong to Santiago. It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the marks all over you serve as a reminder of the times Santiago has been there for you. Pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away. He is your ride or die, and your body knows it.

Equally, as he stands there fully clothed, you know that his body similarly hosts a constellation of scars from all your shared moments; in the field, on missions, over continents. One of you could not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies would forever move through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you left his side.

You were each the key to cartographing each other’s lives. To imagine that the hickey on your neck or the slick between your legs could begin to compare to the way Santiago had marked you as his was almost comical.

“You really need a grand gesture to know I care about you?” You know what he’s asking. Is running into a hail of bullets for you not enough? Hasn’t he proven himself to you time and time again?

“Santi. I don’t doubt you care about me. I could never. I just… I don’t feel like you know yet what you want from me. And I can’t wait anymore for you to make up your mind.” You shrug. “I don’t know. I just feel like… like sometimes you don’t even see me because I’ve always been right in front of you.”

Santiago looks at you, pained, expression weighted, as if he can’t find the words to tell the story of you. But your bodies are not stories. They are maps, and maps are to be understood through being travelled. That’s why, when his hand slips to you shoulder to slowly trace the scar there, it makes sense. It is understood without words as his fingers journey over your skin, a varied terrain of memories flashing through Santiago’s eyes. His touch retracing years in only moments.

“I see you,” he insists, his voice a husk, his calloused fingertips trailing over your smooth, delicate skin. Making you feel weak. Making you want to become a soft, fluid thing beneath him. Oh, he’s looking at you now. There’s that attention that feels like it might end you. You commune wordlessly, breath quickening, that pulse of desire tending toward collision, the stillness of having arrived home as he touches you.

“I see you,” he purrs, his hand moving to your sheet, gently tugging it away from your grasp and giving you ample opportunity to protest. But you don’t. You don’t protest. You are symbiotic with him. You move as a team, and you can’t help but want to merge. Maybe that’s why you let him tug the sheet from your grasp, fabric pooling at your feet. Maybe it’s the ache between your legs. Maybe it’s because you know he gives it to you good.

Santiago exposes you completely to him, eyes then hands hungrily trailing down over your contours. His fingers grip your hips firmly as his mouth sinks into your neck, his hot breath fanning over you as he speaks.

“I see you, baby.”

Your arms are still pinned to your sides as you pretend that somehow you can resist your urges, despite being naked and needy and oh so ready in front of him.

“Fuck you, Santiago,” you breathe, voice trembling, and you know exactly what he’s doing as his lips and his teeth snag angrily over your skin. Reclaiming you. Marking you as his. And instead of pushing him away, you pull him closer to you. Instead of recoiling you arch your body against him, breasts pushing up against him, the cold metal of his chain harsh against your skin. The sturdy mass and heat of him beneath his clothes only highlighting how exposed and vulnerable you feel, your desire entirely on display like a flare in the dark.

His mouth has already ravaged your neck, your collarbone, his stubble abrasive against you, leaving a pleasant burn in its wake. His cologne is the only scent enveloping you now. Then, his hands rove over you, everywhere, like he’d wished they could in the bar, your skin still cloying, tacky with sweat. He paws at every bit of you as if to reinstate his claim on you. Your breasts, your ass, your hips, your thighs. He isn’t gentle. His hands showing their strength in a way they haven’t with you before now. He tongues your salty skin and the way his mouth punishes you is bitter like lime, foreshadowing his words.

“Did he make you come?” he asks into your neck, his hand slipping between your legs and finding you wet and welcoming. “Did he?”

“Yes,” you breathe, his voice commanding enough that you want to answer. Your face contorting as if in pain as Santiago continues to grind two girthy fingers over your folds. Your companion had made you wet, but nothing like this. All he’s doing is feeling you, coating himself, and Santiago has you drenched already; you can feel it slick against your inner thighs as you tremble under the weight of yourself, suddenly so heavy with lust that you can barely stand.

Your arms wind around his neck to steady yourself and he pins you between him and the fridge, your fingers inching up through the buzzed hair at his neck, nails trailing over his scalp and up into his grizzled curls as you finally become molten against him. Your hands fist in his hair and you tug his head up towards your lips, earning a grunt from him as pain needles across his scalp. The sound is growled into your mouth as his snarled kiss crashes against yours.

He’s frustrated, and he’s jealous, and he wants to show you that you’re his. What’s more, you want him to show you. Oh, how you want him to.

You shudder against the sudden blunt pressure of two of Santiago’s fingers at your entrance, your need urgent and a tightness building so immediately in your core. He pushes himself more firmly up against you, pinning you between his taut body and the fridge. His tongue ravages your mouth and your pleas for him to touch you become incoherent sounds that you work into him in return. His kiss is rough, his teeth scathing you, lips on yours in a crush, stubble grating at your chin and cheeks as he opens himself up as if to devour you. Then, he sucks your bottom lip in between his own and clamps his teeth down until you howl against the sting of it, bucking your body against the pain as you cry into his mouth.

With the bucking of your hips, you grind yourself against his hand, and Santiago barely needs to move as you willingly spear yourself on his fingers. He leaves you wanting though, allowing you just an inch of him when he has so much more to give. Already, the ridges of him against you are providing divine friction, his fingers curling and scissoring inside you, but he leaves you begging for more. Begging him to plunge himself all the way in.

“Did you think about me when you took him? Did you use him and wish it was me between your legs?” Santiago’s voice is like gravel in the shell of your ear, and his words curl into the depths of you. With them, he thrusts his fingers angrily into your heat, driving himself in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes practically roll back into your head as he thrusts harshly and asks you again, even more insistent. “Did you?”

“Yes,” you admit, in a broken voice, tugging him closer to you, crushing your lips onto the column of his neck, tugging the collar of his shirt aside until you can bite down into the meat of his shoulder, stifling your moans there as his pace intensifies. His fingers are curling relentlessly towards your sweet spot and your walls are already fluttering against him. The heel of his hand is rocking against your excruciatingly sensitive clit, applying steady rolls of pressure as his fingers delve into you. His watch strap digs into your pubic bone but for some reason it only adds to the heightened sensations coursing through you.

“Do I make you feel good? Do I make you feel better with my fingers than he could with his whole body, huh?”

His words practically make you sob into him. It’s dirtier than you’ve ever heard him talk. It’s more intimate and further from friendship than anything you’ve done with him so far. Yes, you’ve fucked but this… this is something else. This is you admitting you are entirely his. This feels simultaneously more like battle and more like surrender than it ever has. And you wholly surrender.

You moan. You moan out loud despite the fact you shouldn’t. Despite the fact there’s still another man in the apartment who you had underneath you only moments ago.

“Are you gonna come on my fingers – show me who you belong to?”

You agree. You agree wholeheartedly.

Santiago pulls back just to watch you. To see the pleasure play over your face, both the overabundance of it and dearth of it as every touch satisfies yet has you craving more. You see a prideful glow in his eyes that he has you this wrecked, mewling and writhing on him as he adds a third finger into your wetness and pumps himself hard in and out of you.

“Fuck,” he intones, his voice hollowed-out. “You’re fucking drenched. Wettest I’ve ever felt.” God. You can hear how wet you are.

In dire need of some relief himself, Santiago presses his clothed, hardened length against your hip as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you. Even through the substantial fabric of his jeans you can feel the thick, hard promise of him as he begins to grind himself against you, low and guttural moans escaping his sweet lips. The fact that he’s so fucking desperate for you, that you have made him hot enough to get off from only this has a knot tightening in the pit of you as you watch him start to unravel alongside you.

“Fuck, Santi,” you moan into the air, not even caring that there’s someone else in the apartment. Past caring about anything at all except your need for him to keep touching you, his fingers filling you up so well.

“That’s it, baby. Say my name, say you’re mine.”

Santiago is still grinding his clothed length against you, even as his fingers overflow with your essence. He dips his head into the crook of your neck and the growl he emits fans over your skin. Makes it sound as if he’s about to lose it too, simply from this. His spare hand dips down to collect one of your breasts and he lifts your nipple into his mouth, sucking and tonguing and biting the peak of you, squeezing you -not gently- as you topple towards your end.

He continues to grind against you, and the thought of him exploding in his pants for you tips you over the edge, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as you flutter and clench around his fingers. The feeling spreading outward through your body like an explosion, leaving you levelled, a resounding buzz reaching all the way to your extremities and whiting out your vision like a flashbang. Your fingers tangle in Santiago’s curls as you spasm against him, his fingers eking every last drop of pleasure from you - as though he knows his way around you better than anyone could.

At the feel and sound and sight of you coming undone, his hardened length grinds on you with renewed vigour, a wracked and disbelieving moan stuttering through him as he loses it without you having laid a finger on him. His body becomes stiff against you as he pulses his seed out beneath his clothes. Something about him being so lost in desire for you that he’d make a mess of himself like that has you clenching with deep, generous aftershocks, adrift with the thought of his hardened length pearling with his warm release.

Santiago’s head settles into the crook of your neck as you both come down together, even as his fingers continue to lazily pulse in and out of you - just to feel you. Your arms lovingly cradle his head, fingers tangling in his curls, your lips finding their way to his hairline to plant gentle kisses there. Your Santiago. In your arms.

You stay there a moment until your jagged breathing and thrumming heart settle, enjoying him languorously touching you. With a shiver of contentment, he withdraws from your heat, wrapping his unsullied hand around your waist to pull you closer.

For a moment, everything is in soft focus, like the break of day before an alarm. You close your eyes against his touch and breathe him in as he whispers lovingly into your neck, planting light kisses where a moment ago his puckered lips left angry bruises.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you. I adore you. I need you.”

When you don’t respond though, Santiago stills against you, lifting his head to look you dead in the eyes. He finds them tearing in the corners.

Your voice begins weakly. “You love me, Santi. But do you want a life with me? A life outside of the mission, outside of all of this?”

He brushes his thumb softly over your jawline. “I know I haven’t been all in. But I swear it to you, baby... you’re my end game. It’s just, we’re not there yet. We’re too deep in this shit. If we can get one more of Lorea’s deputies then maybe-”

“-Sure,” you say sadly, the word heavy and the intimacy of the moments prior dissipating quickly. You know fine well what “one more” means. You dip to collect your sheet from the floor and tighten it around yourself, using the motion in a vague attempt to distract both Santiago and yourself from the tears threatening more violently in your eyes now.

The footsteps you hear approaching the kitchen are a further welcome distraction, and you surreptitiously clean off Santiago’s hand on the already soiled sheet before your first companion of the evening (now fully clothed) pops his head around the doorframe.

“I’m just gonna leave,” he interjects awkwardly, and your cheeks flush in humiliation. You’re sure one day, far into the future, this may be a funny story you tell, but, right now? It feels more than a little mortifying.

“I’m so sorry. I…” You reach for a more robust apology but come up with nothing, far too aware that Santiago’s eyes continue to needle you. What are you going to do? Tell him it was fun? And so, since you opt to leave it hanging, your companion simply pumps his eyebrows once before striding smoothly out of your apartment. You jump slightly as you hear the door slamming shut behind him, evidently feeling a little on edge despite being wrung out so recently by bliss.

Your eyes linger on the doorframe a little too long, staring at nothing except the now vacated space. You’re not ready to turn your attention back to Santiago quite yet, and you’re much less ready to deal with what will follow.

It turns out, you don’t even have to look back at him, because your cowardice says it all for you. Instead, a small voice escapes him.

“You’re still gonna go, aren’t you?”

You look at him then, and you see a sadness blooming in his eyes which is so heart-breaking that you're half-glad when tears gather in your own, blurring-out the sight of him. His pain always was too much for you to look at.

Your gladness is short-lived however, as your own tears begin to spill out of you. You wipe the deluge away with the heel of your hand, but the tears are coming quicker than you can mop them up. Your chest shakes as you speak your next words.

“I love you, Santi. Believe me. I love you. But it’s always ‘just one more’.” One more woman. One more mission. One more way to break your heart. “You’re living like... like you can get to the end of the line and wish for one more fucking chance.”

“Don’t go. Please,” he pleads, moving close to you and wrapping his arms around you. His broad, warm hands at your back. “Please. I’m putting it on the line here. I want you. I love you.”

You smile thinly at him. You know he’s trying and God, you love him too. But this? For you, it’s too little, too late. For him, you guess you’re asking for too much, too soon. He’s not ready to leave this life. He’s not even ready to imagine leaving it. But, oh boy, you are. You are.

You sniffle and take a deep, steadying breath, giving it everything you have to stay firm, despite every fibre in you telling you to surrender. To just stay with him. It would be too easy to do.

“It’s a hard out, Santi.”

He senses the finality of your words and nods slowly, his eyes shining with tears, his whole face becoming taut with emotion. His silence is prolonged as he draws in ragged breaths. His hands slip away from your back and the moment slips away with them. You miss the warmth of them instantly.

“Okay,” he says in a small, curt voice. “Okay.”

He about turns, precise and efficient, swivelling towards the door and tracking along the hallway leading out of your apartment.

“Santi, wait!” you call, traipsing along after him, slowed by the material bundling at your feet. “Santiago Garcia, don’t you dare leave it like this,” you plead. “Not after everything.”

He turns his head back towards you as he swings open your front door. His eyes are cold, face set as he looks at you, his voice monotone. “I’m not the one leaving.”

An anger and a sadness erupt in you at the coldness, the cruelness of his words, and, apparently, not even the sight of the fresh batch of tears spilling down your cheeks can slow his retreat from your apartment.

Santiago “Pope” Garcia turns and swiftly walks out without looking back, leaving the door swinging violently on its hinges. The fucking nerve of this man.

You start after him; but he’s already making his way down the stairwell and you’re in no position to chase him. Your pain boiling over you yell, voice creaking under the weight of your emotion.

“I hope your fucking knees give out on the way down, you asshole.”

Your cruel, cheap words carry down the stairwell, yet an echo is all the response you get. Santiago is gone. He didn’t stop for a second.

He doesn’t know how to stop.

He’s mission over emotion. Near-death over living. He’s seemingly in this until it kills him, but you can’t be in it anymore. You have always been his ride or die, but now is the time for you to live, even if that means you can no longer be side-by-side with him.

He is the other half of you and no matter where you are to go, your bodies will move through the world as a team, one unable to be read without the other. Santiago is written all over you, and nothing can change that.

Besides, you know if he really wants to, he can always come find you. He has a map for loving you, if he would ever follow the route it was trying to take him. But he’s not there yet.

He just has one more mission to go.

And then the next.

And the next.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac

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saintslewis · 3 months

Text

❝ 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ❞

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc

summary: we’re still in america 🗣️ . let’s party with nadia, shall we?

warnings: outfit descriptions, cussing, social media environment, slight jealousy, typos, links to tag are down below and let me know if you want to be tagged in this series!

saint’s team radio 🎀: let’s not talk about how long overdue this chapter is, okay? 🫶🏽 hope you guys enjoy and i hope y’all missed Lewdia as much as i did!

pls like, comment and reblog!

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig!

pic cred: pinterest. dividers: @cafekitsune

With the jingle of the house keys, the pair laughed into the night as Nadia carried her heeled boots in her hand. Lewis held onto her as she was on his back, his kind self offering to carry her since they left the arena.

"Out of all the songs they could've used, why'd they choose old school Drake when we showed up on the jumbotron?" She chuckled, removing the last of her tears of laughter with her thumb. "Nah, I'm still on the baby who wouldn't let go of you during halftime. Your jewellery was like the most interesting toy ever." He smiled at the memory, someone randomly handing Nadia their baby and started taking pictures.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that many cameras around me. The kids back at work are gonna have so much to say.” She admitted, watching the large front door open up and the entry hall greeted them. Nadia tapped his shoulder and he took that as sign to let her get on the ground. “Thank you for the piggy back ride, Sir.” She smiled and turned on her secret sock covered heel to enter the house.

He’ll never admit how much he loves when she calls him sir. Maybe one day he will, maybe he won’t.

Although sad that Roscoe wasn’t there to greet them due to him getting to be with his other dog friends, Nadia pushed that to the back of her mind and thought of her Gucci sandals for the comfort of her feet. “If we ever go anywhere where you know i’ll be cheering, please remind me to take my sandals with me.” She said out loud, slowly heading upstairs when an idea popped into her head.

The night was barely over and ending it so awkwardly didn’t sit well with Nadia.

“I have a feeling that you’re plotting something.” He stated, standing still waiting to hear what she could possibly come up with.

“Would you be up for ice cream right now?” She smiled while turning around to face him from the bottom stairs.

“At this time? Wouldn’t most shops be closed by now?” Lewis asked, confused by the idea but he knew he didn’t want to decline it.

“We could take a drive to find out,” The smile on her face was mischievous. “The night is way too young for us to come back from a game and sit in the house in silence.” She continued.

After a beat of silence, he had made his decision. “Let’s go change and you’re driving.” Lewis gave in. He felt it was right to let Nadia lead such activities, getting her used to such a busy lifestyle.

She walked out of the guest room with a basic athle-leisure romper and the same simple gold jewellery from earlier and her uggs were hugging her feet. “Hey Lew? Do you have a hoodie I could borrow?” She called out as she reached his room door that wasn’t closed all the way. Although not answering her, he walked out with a hoodie that smelled exactly like him, seemingly from Dior. Only written “CD” on the top left of the hoodie and just like she preferred all her hoodies, it was oversized.

“Dior? Are you crazy? I could stain this.”

“We have a laundry room downstairs, Nads. I could always buy another one and the whole store for you.” He slightly smirked.

“If that’s not the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She jokingly put her hand on her chest and they burst into laughter a few seconds after.

Sitting in the almost empty ice cream shop, Sweet Oasis, the two were on their second sugarcone bowl of their respective ice cream flavours. Nadia with cookies and cream and Lewis with vegan vanilla. The first round of desserts were deemed free by the all too excited cashier who was a big fan of Lewis.

“So in hindsight, Mission 44 is to help uplift the youth into STEM spaces including f1. Man, that’s so cool and to hear it growing so fast makes me feel proud.” Nadia nodded as she played around with her ice cream.

“Thank you, I really want to expand even further in different countries such as Brazil and surprise surprise, South Africa.” He chuckled at her face once mentioning her country of origin. “You’re already in my good books, Sir. Once you meet my friends and Rea then maybe you’ll be in the top five.” Nadia smiled, biting down on the wooden spoon.

“What are your friends like? Feel like I have to prep myself to meet them.” Lewis joked by moving his shoulders around. “They’re really cool and incredibly funny. They tried their best to make me famous but looks like I did that all by myself.” She teased.

Taking another bite of the ice cream, she spoke again. “The boys will try and intimidate you, especially Chunks and Filly. The girls will be welcoming, just always bring chocolate with you.” Nadia informed him, smiling at the thought of her friends.

“Then Rea is like my child although she’s my cousin. She’s gonna stay with my mom while she finishes year 12 but I think I might just take her in, I miss her too much.” She said, not wanting to let him know all about the tension with her mom just yet.

Looking at the McLaren that Nadia drove to the ice cream shop, Lewis could tell that she wanted to switch topics because of the tone in her voice and her completely avoiding eye contact with him.

“Do you want to talk about something else?” He asked and all she did was nod. She mouthed a thank you to him afterwards, feeling herself become safe with him. “So we’ve got quite the week ahead of us. Rhode, Hailey Bieber’s skin company, is hosting a party and we were invited.” He spoke.

“You wanna give me a heart attack or something, dude? I’m gon’ be around the Biebers? I still haven’t recovered from Beyoncé!” She replied, whispering the last words to him so that the few people around them wouldn’t be able to hear them.

He grinned at her reaction, her dramatic excitement along with her smile that she would always try hide would always make him feel something in his heart. He didn’t want to think that far. Lewis wouldn’t allow himself to think that far.

“Then the big news that Tia shouted at me to tell you is that we’re going to a Versace event in Cannes on Tuesday I think. Then it’s the Monaco gp which is a spectacle on its own.” He informed then chuckled at her putting her head in her hands.

“Your surprises are going to send me to the hospital one day, what do you mean Versace? That’s like a lifelong dream for me, dude.” She expressed, not sure whether to feel excited about experiencing all of these things or terrified for the busy schedule.

Finishing the last of his ice cream, he pushed the cup to the side and held out both his hands towards Nadia. Taking the sign to put her hands in his, he held them tightly. “Are we bout to pray right now? It’s a little too late for that, the ice cream’s done.” Nadia joked, looking i between their hands and his face.

“Nads.” Lewis started. “Sorry, serious stuff now.” The man couldn’t resist the smile on his face as she joked around, revealing more of her personality to him.

“My life gets incredibly busy, even I get exhausted. So, you don’t have to be everywhere with me. It would be cool to see how you do things while we’re at all these events but you need your time to yourself, y’know?” He continued.

Nodding her head, she spoke up. “Yeah no, I get you. It’ll take some time to get used to everything and I don’t mind the travelling, you’re cool to be…around. Pookie, we gotta go.” Nadia’s eyes were concentrated on whatever was going on behind Lewis.

“Don’t look back, they’ll know we’re watching them. Let’s just get up and go to the car.” Nadia said, still holding his hands and she put on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

And as she said, the pair stood up and threw away their trash, saying goodbye to the worker whilst ignoring the flashes from the large window shops. She lifted her hood before walking out the door that Lewis opened for her and the flashes tripled. Looking at her husband, he already had his sunglasses on and dug in his pocket to give her the car keys.

Once in the McLaren, the car front was surrounded by the paparazzi but the tinted windshield gave them a little bit of privacy. In the driver’s seat, Nadia took out her phone and connected her phone to the car after igniting the engine. “Have you heard of Amapiano?” She asked him, watching him get comfortable being the passenger.

“Uh, kinda. Why?”

“Wanna take a lil drive and listen to it?” And there was her mischievous smile once again. Before he could get his answer out, different beats started playing until the beat started to flow and the artist started singing in a different language that Nadia clearly knew very well.

Rolling down the windows a bit, she reversed the supercar and drove off, leaving the paparazzi speechless.

nadiahamilton

liked by lilymhe, nataliatheedon and 484,828 others

nadiahamilton rhode ready <3

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loriharvey i’m actually obsessed with you, i can’t wait to meet you

nadiahamilton i’m too excited

lewishamilton you’re so welcome for me curling the back of your head

nadiahamilton sleep with one eye open, pookie 🫶🏽

user blasting amapiano at night while driving to you is cool?

nadiahamilton it’s one of the best things i’ve ever done

user it’s just unnecessary publicity

nadiahamilton you wanted to be in the car with me, didn’t you?

justineskye your face card is insane, i’m hyperventilating

nadiahamilton that’s all you 🥹

user mother

user it’s still weird that you guys are here praising a woman who spawned out of nowhere

user like why is no one talking about this???

user it’s very simple. they’re married and she’s only showing herself to the public now

haileybieber i want to be your mirror, just stare at you forever

lewishamilton that’s what i’m there for!

beyonce 💗

user WAIT WAITTTT HOW TF

user THERE’S NO WAY BEYONCÉ COMMENTED

user NADIA YOU BETTER SPILL

nataliatheedon 5,6,7 what?!

amarawinston ATEEEE

charlotteparks my friend is so super stunning

nadiahamilton awww you guysss 🤭

user idk what he sees in her, she barely is dressed

yungfilly come back to the UK nads, it isn’t the same ☹️

nadiahamilton i willllll, i’m just doing stuff with my husband 😝

chunkz tell him to come back as well 🫵🏽

lewishamilton 👋🏾

chunkz ay big ups brotha, the champion 🙏🏽

nadiahamilton chunkz pls 😭😭😭

user does anyone know if she’s got a studio for styling??

user i actually don’t know if she does

centralcee not yet, she works through emails and shit

user and how tf would YOU know

ajshabeel alr, pack it up cench 😐

user WHAT’S THE BEEF? THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

user please come back home to south africa 🇿🇦

nadiahamilton ofc i will 🥹

versace 🪩💗

“How do you do that? So easily too?” Lewis questioned as he read through her instagram comments. The way she casually spoke to everyone as if they were long time friends was absolutely fascinating to watch.

“It’s a technique I learned from my kids. I always want them to be comfortable in class especially when it’s a tough topic like post-Renaissance.” She shrugged her shoulders like it was nothing and continued to fluff her hair a bit more.

The two, coincidentally, were matching in colours. Nadia’s corset wasn’t too tight but it complimented her jewellery and she felt comfortable wearing such short shorts because the high top Rick Owen sneakers were just the right fit. Her Dior saddle bag sat next to her as they rode in the back of the Escalade.

And of course, they were both wearing their grillz.

“Thank you for introducing me to Amapiano fully. I can’t get any of the songs out of my head.” He said, constantly bouncing his hands on his legs to whatever beat he was thinking of. “It’s addictive! I told you, sthandwa.” She smiled softly but didn’t see him whip his head towards her.

“…What?”

“Oh! It’s a term of endearment from South Africa, it means ‘love’ then sthandwa sami is like my love. Just like how you brits say love.” Nadia explained. Lewis definitely heard everything she said but he was hooked on how she said it. If he thought that hearing songs with her native language was addictive, he could most definitely get used to hearing her speak it.

“Just to clarify, it’s Zulu. Whereas in Sotho, it’s something completely different. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you so that you don’t fuck up when we go to sa.” She chuckled but then stopped in her tracks.

“That’s if we do ever visit, don’t want to be too forward.”

“Of course we’re going to South Africa, are you kidding? I feel like I’ve just discovered a whole new world.” Lewis assured, basically jumping in excitement.

“What have I created?” Nadia joked to herself.

Although she knew that this was Hailey’s event and she knew that it was going to be full, Nadia didn’t expect it to be this full.

Leaning into Lewis as they walked through the crowd of paparazzi and hired photographers, she turned to him a little more. “I feel severely underdressed with my sneakers.” She worried. “You look amazing though, your feet are still not fully healed from yesterday right?” Lewis asked as discreet as possible.

“I mean I knew damn that I wasn’t going to wear heels because of yesterday.” She replied, waving to the photographer calling her and Lewis’ name. All of this was very weird. It felt weird to just be called by paparazzi.

“Exactly, so you’re cool. As long as you feel comfortable and you feel good, then I’m good.” He reassured her.

Before she could answer, they had reached the door and there was a girl standing with cocktails on the tray she was holding. They thanked her but politely declined to it and entered and the atmosphere inside was lively.

The colour scheme for Rhode was beige and other earthy colours which fit the aesthetic perfectly of the decor of the event. Sow r&b music was playing quite loudly while everyone in attendance was talking amongst themselves. As soon as her and Lewis stepped foot inside, many people’s attention went to him and Nadia.

Squeezing his hand a bit tighter, Nadia and Lewis made eye contact and he slightly relaxed because she looked calm but obviously a little nervous.

“Oh my God! The Hamiltons are here!” Someone shouted in a singsong voice and as Nadia was trying to identify who was that, Hailey Bieber and Lori Harvey appeared right in front of them with the the biggest smile on their faces. “Oh my goodness, welcome to Rhode! I’m so excited to see you guys and,” Hailey gasped as she took a look at Nadia.

“Nadia! You’re so beautiful, whoa. Where are my manners? I’m Hailey!” “And I’m Lori and girl, I was serious when I said i’m obsessed with you.” They introduced themselves and their smiles were damn near blinding. “It’s nice to meet you guys, this is exciting.” She smiled, grateful that they couldn’t see how nervous she was.

“Okay okay so let’s go take pictures now then I’ll introduce the products then we party!” Hailey said all too enthusiastically. In all of this, Lewis watched as Nadia interact so gracefully with the same people she was nervous to meet and he couldn’t help but feel proud of her and how she handled everything.

After taking photos with everyone and meeting Justine who damn near fainted at seeing Nadia in front of her, they were seated on their own little table just like everyone and were served hors d’oeuvres during the presentation of the skincare brand.

“How are you feeling?” Lewis leaned in and whispered as one of the products were being shown.

“I’m good, feeling much better. Wasn’t expecting so much love from the girls today.” She leaned over to him as well, careful to not make a noise for other guests.

“I knew they’d love you. And maybe you work with them in the future?” He mentioned, noticing her head resting on his shoulder so he moved a little closer where she could be more comfortable.

“When I get my own studio or truly advertise myself to such a crowd.” She replied. He nodded and she felt it, making her smile a little. “I have the strongest of feelings that there’s an after party when this is all done.” Nadia said, slightly lifting her head to look around the crowd that looked it was ready to party.

“Yup, it’s at their house. It’s like 5 minutes away from home so whenever you want to leave, we can.” And there go the butterflies in her stomach.

Walking into the Bieber’s home and seeing how it came alive, Nadia felt like she was in a movie. People who she always thought she would be lucky to see in person were introducing themselves to her and greeted her husband with the most excitement she’s ever seen.

After ‘settling in’ and finding a designated sitting spot to come back to from the dance floor, Nadia could be seen having the time of her life singing lyrics to the group of girls she met earlier including Jordyn Woods. The music shifted from hiphop to Afrobeats and the energy in the whole room was ignited.

Random people that she didn’t know started partying with her and hyped her up after each song. Once Amapiano started rolling in, all eyes were on her as she was dancing but didn’t want to use all her energy. With only a shot in her system, she started feeling rather thirsty and knew that it was time to go sit with her.

As she walked towards their table, she watched as Lewis danced in his seat at the song she was playing earlier in the day. “Now I have to take you to SA. Look at you shimmying.” She laughed as she flicked her hair back and sat next to him on the couch.

“Look at me? You were the party! Miles calls you Ms Party.” He laughed as Nadia saw where he pointed at and there was Miles and Amara but her eyes were closed. “Miles! Hey, damn it’s like i haven’t seen you in forever!” She greeted, opening the water bottle that Lewis saved for her. “And what’s up with Amara? Is she good?”

“I just got here with Amara and she ate two edibles on the way so she’s sleepy.” He smiled, not moving much as Amara was laying on him. “And Abel says hi.” Lewis said, tapping Nadia’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“Abel? As in Abel ‘The Weeknd’?” Nadia asked, gulping her water down as soon as she realised. All Lewis did was nod and just smile at her, their faces quite close already.

“Damn. Let me go find Justine, she got chocolate for me somewhere-” Nadia’s sentence was cut off short because she stood up and bumped into someone. She was still close to the table so she held onto the small table for balance.

Looking up, she saw a tall white man with a very obnoxious smile and recognised his face to be Jack Harlow. “Oh damn, I’m sorry, Ma. I really should watch where I’m going.” Jack apologised, reaching for her left hand and held it in her hand to hold in between his hands.

With her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes watching this man’s actions, she didn’t bother to answer him. “Don’t you feel the ring on my hand?” She fired at him with all lifted brow.

“You’ve got rings all over your hands and by the way, they’re quite soft, damn.” He straightened up his posture to feel on her hand even more. “What’s your name, Ma?” Jack asked with a dopey smile.

Feeling a hand circle her entire waist, she felt her body being pulled down and landed on something that didn’t feel like the couch. Looking down, Nadia was sat on Lewis’ lap. His lap and his hand was still on her waist quite securely.

“Go on, say your name love. He wants to know.” Lewis’ husky voice traveled through your ears and brought chills down your spine.

“Nadia Hamilton.” She managed to get out, shimmying her hand out of Jack’s hold to formally shake his hand. The white man’s face dropped at the sight in front of him. He really tried to flirt with a legendary f1 driver’s wife.

All Jack could muster up the strength to do was nod. “I’ll catch y’all later, it was nice meeting you guys.” He pursed his lips together and walked away.

Turning her head towards Lewis’ face, she resisted the urge to smirk. Deciding to be a little messy, she made herself comfortable on his lap and moved a bit, feeling an even tighter squeeze on her waist.

“You’re gonna be jealous of a lil white boy?” She teased but his smirk could not be wiped off his face. “Never that, Mrs Hamilton.” He responded, knowing he succeeded because she looked away as she was blushing.

“I’m so happy I was awake to see that.” Amara whispered to Miles as they watched their friends catch feelings for each other in real time.

nadiahamilton

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nadiahamilton miss party

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user i’ve never suffered from fomo like this before

user i wish i was an influencer rn

kehlani what can one do to party with you

nadiahamilton come to next week’s race 🫵🏽

kehlani already got the tickets 😝

fencer MISS PARTY 🗣️🗣️

nadiahamilton is this nickname going to stick?

spinzbeatinc you know it!

haileybieber you’re so much fun ily

nadiahamilton ily!!

loriharvey is this a sign to take a girl’s trip to sa?

justineskye i hope so!

ryandestiny can i come? it looked so fun

jordynwoods i’ve already got my bags PACKED

theestallion count me in, i’ll get to know you on the plane ride baby 😝

lewishamilton sthandwa sami 🕺🏽💗

nadiahamilton 😚🫶🏽

user HOW DOES HE KNOW ZULU???

user he’s got a Zulu wife bro

user this is so shocking to see 😭

user this better be a public holiday when they come over

niko now come back and party with us

nadiahamilton can you give me like a week?

ohnosharky this needs a celebration

nellarose_ Nadia’s homecoming if you will!

kingkennytv ‼️‼️‼️

student now you HAVE to spill the tea with us in class

nadiahamilton ugh fine 🙄

amarawinston 🪩🪩🪩🪩

user i was a server at the rhode event and omg you’re gorgeous in real life 😭

nadiahamilton thank you my angel 🤍

user i was a server too and since nobody’s saying it, you’ve got an ASS on you ma’am (i’m a girl)

nadiahamilton tears thank you 🤭

saint’s team radio 🎀 (once again): my fingers hurt from typing. Hope you enjoyed! Lewdia rises once again!

tags: new post

#saint writes #renaissance: the series #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x oc #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #f1 x black!reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #Spotify

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leclerc-s · 3 months

Text

snow angel - track two

series masterlist // previous // next

2 YEARS AGO

i'll fucking fight him. i swear it.

no honey, you don't have to.

i saw this coming.

how on earth could you see this coming?

he was distant.

i've told him i loved him for days and he always responded me "me too" or worse he said nothing back

oh sweetie

how did you put up with that? you deserve so much better.

it's okay. i'm moving out of our apartment tonight. ryan said i can stay with him for a few weeks.

i love him lily. i don’t know when those feelings will go away. i hope they go away soon. i can’t keep loving someone who hurt me this bad.

i promise you i’ll fight him when i see him in bahrain next season.

i hope he dnfs

i hope you write a fucking day destroying album because of this. he will never know peace

oh lily, i'm going to ruin his fucking life with whatever i come with.

lily muni he removed lando norris

lily muni he fuck that guy

charles leclerc i do not understand what happened? george russell you're telling me the chronically online guy doesn't know what just happened? alex albon the grid's #1 gossip girl doesn't know what happened? charles leclerc NO I DON'T KNOW THAT'S WHY I'M ASKING CONNARDS!

pierre gasly lando cheated on rhea

max verstappen i can crash into him in bahrain next season?

yuki tsunoda i will bite his ankles. lily muni he i'll poison his food yuki tsunoda we will not go that far. food is sacred.

esteban ocon does this mean that **** can finally **** ***?

lance stroll how about you shut the fuck up esteban? max verstappen what the fuck are you two going on about now? lance stroll ignore esteban. he's a bit delirious.

daniel ricciardo i promise to make his life miserable next year.

rhea reynolds i'm just pissed that he was too much of a coward to end our relationship before he went on to publicly cheat on me.

rhea reynolds at least try to not get caught.

charles leclerc what is it the kids say? he fumbled?

lance stroll please never use that phrase again

pierre gasly she's probably crying to taylor swift now

rhea reynolds LET ME BE PEAR GASLY! daniel ricciardo yeah, pierre let the girl be emotional! rhea reynolds if i'm crying to all too well that's nobody's business but mine

charles leclerc you can come to bahrain with me!

max verstappen or me! daniel ricciardo you're both thinking too small. show up with me. can't promise i'll have a good race or win but it'll show him!

rhea reynolds thanks guys but i'm not really up to going to races anytime soon.

lily muni he never let a man take anything from you. GO TO THE RACE!

rhea reynolds nah, not really up for it right now but i could change my mind in a few months. it's literally december!

charles leclerc i will save a spot for you regardless.

yukitsunoda it's okay, i can bite his ankles if he comes near you.

rhea reynolds i appreciate the sentiment yuki

rhea reynolds besides, i'll never date another fucking driver again.

rheareynolds posted new stories

nothing better than taylor swift to help with heartbreak who needs men when cats are much better company?

liked by lilymhe, charles_leclerc, mickschumacher and others

rheareynolds home for the holidays update: i adopted a cat, i got cheated on (i should stick to dating women), and goats hate ryan. p.s. the first picture is what i sent to max when he made fun of me for getting cheated on.

tagged: vancityreynolds

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maxverstappen33 THAT’S NOT TRUE AND YOU KNOW IT!

↳ rheareynolds you told me and i quote, “that’s what you get for dating a guy who looks like a walking orange.”

↳ maxverstappen33 i called him ernie and then a walking orange. get it right.

lilymhe my offer still stands

↳ yukitsunoda0511 mine too! i can bite ankles!

↳ rheareynolds thanks guys but i'd rather not have to bail you out of jail for assault.

user01 so did they break up? or what? the chismosa in me needs to know

user02 it's okay rhea, he didn't deserve you

user03 fuck men, am i right?

comment liked by rheareynolds

vancityreynolds you're lying to everyone blake made those cinnamon rolls, not you.

↳ rheareynolds must you ruin everything?

↳ vancityreynolds it's my job as your older brother.

georgerussell63 why get an orange cat when he's a walking orange?

↳ alex_albon because rhea is the embodiment of an orange cat

↳ rheareynolds it's true. i've been told many times

user04 love to see that loser's friends are on her side. how are you going to publicly cheat on your girlfriend?

↳ user05 but did he cheat? what if they were broken up?

↳ user06 either you can't read (no offense) or you didn't read the caption, she literally says, "i got cheated on" they were very much together. stop trying to invalidate her pain because you love l*ndo

user07 it's okay baby, you can date me instead

↳ rheareynolds thanks for the offer babes but i should stick to being single for a while ❤️

↳ user07 i'm screaming!

user08 rhea's better than me fr. i would've destroyed his car carrie underwood style.

maxfretwell going to miss your cookies. that's the worst part about all of this

↳ rheareynolds yeah cause fuck my heartbreak right?

↳ maxfretwell that's not what i meant and you know it!

↳ rheareynolds can't wait to see the gossip pages say max fretwell says rhea reynolds' heartbreak is not validated

↳ maxfretwell i take it all back this is why he cheated on you

↳ rheareynolds TOO SOON FRETWELL!

↳ user09 curse n*rris for taking this duo away from us!

taglist: @emilyval @ihateyougunthersteiner @lesliiieeeee @firetruckstuckley @cashtons-wife @landonorizzz @yoremins

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

CLICK HERE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

¡leclerc-s speaks! i was listening to say don't go while write the first half of this. hence, the reference to the song.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #snow angel series #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 fic #f1 x female oc #lando norris x female oc #mick schumacher x female oc

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bellatriestowritesometimes · 3 months

Text

To Know - Part 2

aaron hotchner x reader

you can read Part 1 here!

warnings: none i don't think? just the usual angst.

tags: @jazzimac1967 mrs-ssa-hotch

word count: 6,4k

A/N: (scott foley (jake from scandal) is who i picture henry as). i'm aware that timelines don't match up, i simply just took the characters i wanted and wrote them into this story the way i needed them to fit.

**i haven't proof read this so there may be errors which i'll get to tomorrow**

hope u enjoy xx

It was 8 am when your alarm went off, however you were already awake. You hadn’t slept at all, a mixture of guilt and confusion kept you awake. Avery was still asleep next to you so you decided not to wake him.

You made your way into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water get warm whilst you slipped off your pyjamas. Once all of your clothes were off you stepped back in it and let the scolding water run down your skin. You began your shower routine but your mind was elsewhere.

You still couldn’t figure out if you regretted your actions. If you regretted going up to his room with that damn phone instead of leaving it at reception. You hadn’t thought about him for a long, long time and you were adamant that seeing him at your best friend’s wedding wouldn’t make you feel any different, but you were very obviously wrong. If you had known, you would’ve told Henry to remove him from the guest list.

You were happy with Avery is what you kept telling yourself and you never once questioned that until today. Henry was the one that introduced you to one another and you were dating for over a year before he proposed and the two of you had eloped a few months later in Rome.

That was the fastest you had let anyone in, especially someone you were dating, but you thought surely things couldn’t end up worse with Avery than they did with Hotch.

You were now downstairs, fully dressed with a cup of coffee in your hand. You received a text from Henry informing you that there was a change of plans. Him and Luca were going to skip brunch but he didn’t want you to miss out on spending time with your former teammates so he left the reservation in place. Henry knew you didn’t get to see all of your friends from the BAU often anymore so he thought this would be a perfect time for a catch up. He had already paid for their flights and the hotel for the weekend and thought this would be a good way to end the trip before they all had to head back home tomorrow morning.

You heard shuffling upstairs which meant that Avery was now awake as JJ and her family were staying in the guest house which was situated towards the back of your garden. A few minutes went by and there he was in the kitchen with you.

“Good morning my love,” he spoke softly and placed a kiss on the top of your head,

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” He asked as he headed straight for the coffee machine. He was still in his pyjama bottoms and had thrown on a sweatshirt, you assumed it was because he didn’t know if you were downstairs alone or with JJ. As you watched him make his coffee, you couldn’t ignore the twinge of guilt that took over you.

“Just thought you deserved some extra rest,” you mustered up a small smile.

“Besides we don’t have to leave until just before 11,” you continued.

“Did you get home okay? I didn’t even hear you come in” Avery asked as he sat down opposite you.

“I did. Got in just after half past 3 I think, you were already asleep,” you replied and saw Avery furrow his brows slightly.

You could tell he was trying to silently work out why it had taken you close to two hours to get home when the hotel was only a 10 minute drive from where the wedding reception was, and it was only a 20 minute drive from the hotel back to your house.

“Emily threw up as soon as me and Spencer managed to get her upstairs to her room” you lied, “I stayed with her for a bit and got her settled,” you explained hoping that would be the end of the conversation.

You didn’t like lying to Avery. In fact, this was the first time you had done it, but you decided that for now you would keep what happened between you and Hotch a secret.

“That was nice of you,” he spoke and gave you a smile.

You heard someone slide the kitchen door open and turned around to see JJ making her way in with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“Good morning,” she chirped and took a seat next to you.

“Morning,” you and Avery both replied in sync.

“Looks like everyone is on the caffeine first thing today,” Avery joked as he stood up and saw the grip JJ had on her mug.

“Tell me about it – I could barely get myself out of bed let alone the boys so I’ve left Will in charge of getting them ready,” she replied.

Avery had excused himself to jump in the shower, leaving just you and JJ alone in the kitchen.

You indulged in light conversation with her about the wedding yesterday, leaving the minuscule detail of you sleeping with Hotch out. She was showing you the pictures she had taken on her phone and you did the same. She was swiping through pictures of Emily and Rossi until she got to one with Beth and Hotch. Her thumb hesitated slightly over her phone as she decided on what to do. She eventually continued swiping to the left, showing you the rest of the photos she had taken.

“Did you get a chance to speak with him last night?” She treaded lightly as she locked and laid her phone down to one side.

“Uhm no not really,” you lied once again. Although that wasn’t a complete lie because you genuinely didn’t… You were busy doing other things to him.

“Are you going to…?” she questioned sympathetically.

You let out a sigh, not out of annoyance but out of defeat. You couldn’t deny that you wanted closure, to know why he did the things he did. You weren’t stupid, you could piece most of the parts together, but you longed for the explanation to come out of his mouth and not out of your head. But that was something you were too stubborn to admit out loud. You had acted like this didn’t hurt as much as it did. You had put on a happy face for everyone and pretended that everything was okay and that you were fine, until one day it began feeling like this could eventually be okay, and that one day you were going to be fine and move past this.

And you truly felt like you had reached that point, up until now where everything you had suppressed was coming back up.

“You need closure Y/N,” JJ said as if reading your mind. “I know it’s been years since the incident and you both have moved on but do you really want to waste any more time trying to figure things out on your own when you have the chance to do it now with him?” She placed her hand over yours, giving it a squeeze of encouragement.

“Just this once swallow your pride and go get the closure you deserve,” she finished.

The drive to brunch didn’t take long, you and Avery had taken both of your cars. JJ and the boys came with you whilst Avery and Will followed behind. It was a sunny day out and you welcomed the warmth you felt as you stepped out of the car. You had been to this brunch place several times with Avery before. It was a cosy little restaurant decorated with plants and flowers, with large floor to ceiling windows looking over the seating outside in the garden, which was where Henry had booked out a large table for everyone.

You made your way through the little restaurant until you reached the doors leading out to the garden area, you noticed everyone else was already seated and immersed in light conversation between themselves. Emily was sat at the end of the table so you took the free seat on her left with Avery sitting next to you. Opposite you sat Penelope and right next to her sat Beth along with Hotch.

You greeted Beth politely as you sat down, avoiding Hotch but you could feel his eyes on you.

The atmosphere seemed easy going as you all waited for the food and you had managed to avoid any direct conversation with Hotch or Beth, until the topic of wedding locations had come around.

“I don’t think I asked you where the two of you got married?” Beth asked innocently, aiming the question towards you and Avery.

Your eyes briefly shifted to Hotch who was watching you attentively. Bringing your eyes back to Beth, you answered her question.

“Rome” you said, “We got eloped in Rome,” you gave her a smile and placed your hand on Avery’s as you turned to him, your eyes silently begging for him to take this conversation over.

“Aw that sounds so lovely!” Beth replied.

“Yeah it was quite sudden actually, we had been engaged for a few months and were on holiday and just decided to do it then and there…” Avery continued explaining, but you had zoned out completely and all you could focus on was Hotch, and the way his eyes hadn’t moved from yours since Beth’s question.

….

“I can’t believe we’re married,” you whispered in disbelief to your husband as he held you close during your first dance.

“I know. I am the luckiest man alive,” Hotch whispered back as his lips grazed gently over your ear.

He wasn’t much of a dancer and you knew he hated the attention so the two of you gently swayed to the music whilst your friends surrounded and watched in awe, probably all just as relieved that this day had finally come, knowing they didn’t have to watch you and Hotch hide your feelings for each other any longer.

“I want to go to Rome,” you declared softly, “just you and me, away from everyone and everything for a little while.”

“We can go wherever you want baby. I’ll have the flights booked for first thing tomorrow” he agreed.

The music continued to play and you moved closer to Hotch, resting the side of your head on his chest, feeling him breathe in and out which brought you some sort of tranquillity.

Everything after that happened in slow motion. Your breath was suddenly knocked out of you and your whole body felt almost on fire. You couldn’t understand what was happening, until you felt another blow to your chest. You had looked down, and what was once a white wedding dressed had now quickly turned into a deep shade of red.

You felt your legs give way and felt Hotch’s arms wrap around your waist in an attempt to catch you and gently lay you down. You remembered him taking off his blazer and using that to try and stop the bleeding that was coming from your chest. You could see his lips move and you could hear the commotion around you but couldn’t make out a thing he was saying. It wasn’t long until your vision got worse and the blurriness took over.

…..

“I’ve never been to Rome,” Beth’s voice brought you back to reality, “I’d love to visit one day.”

“You should, its beautiful,” you replied and looked at Beth bringing your attention to her instead of Hotch.

“Just going to use the ladies room,” you said quietly to Avery as you stood up and excused yourself.

You were trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill as you rushed to the nearest bathroom. You didn’t know if it was your mind playing tricks but you could’ve sworn you felt someone run after you. Your suspicion was quickly confirmed as you saw a hand reach in as you were shutting the bathroom door. You hesitated slightly and considered slamming the door shut anyway, but Hotch had used a bit more force and managed to get the door open just enough for him to squeeze in.

You turned away from him and gripped the sink as you threw your head down. You really didn’t want to do this, especially not now but you heard the lock click and knew he wouldn’t let you leave until you had spoken things through.

“Can we talk about what happened last night?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth. The bathroom was already small enough as it is and it had now felt even smaller with Hotch standing behind you watching your every move. The air felt thick and your heart was beginning to race.

“Nothing happened Hotch, it was a mistake. A mistake that you need to move on from instead of locking me in a bathroom and forcing me to give you an explanation - I’m not the one who needs to explain myself!” You raised your voice slightly and turned around to finally face him.

“Have you told Avery?” He asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Have you told Beth?” You retaliated getting visibly annoyed.

“No,” he stated simply as you looked away trying to focus on a painting that was hung on the wall.

The more you looked at him the more you wanted to crumble and you hated that. It made you feel weak. You had your own way of dealing with your emotions, which frequently involved supressing everything down and acting like everything was fine. Although it wasn’t the healthiest way of coping, it helped you become stronger. But there stood the man that was going to completely break down the wall you had spent so long trying to build up in a matter of seconds.

“I wrote to you every day,” were the next words that fell out of his mouth.

“Where? In your diary?” You questioned knowing damn well you hadn’t received a single letter, email, text or call.

“I wrote you letters every single day,” he kept his tone gentle and calm as he tried moving closer to you.

“I didn’t receive a single fucking thing from you aside from the divorce papers!” You spat trying to take a step back but that was as far as you could go without falling into the sink.

“Maybe you should speak to Henry about that,” he replied dryly.

“So let me get this straight. You followed me into the bathroom, have practically trapped me in here just so you could blame my best friend for your own actions-“

“That’s not what I’m doing,” he interrupted to defend himself.

“That’s exactly what you’re doing Hotch, and the worst part is you’re telling me all of this now when Henry isn’t here to speak for himself!” You were having none of it. You couldn’t believe the audacity he had to try and spin this on Henry, who was the one that was actually there by your side when you needed him to be.

“Y/N I did what I thought was best. What everyone thought was best to keep you and Jack safe. I tried reaching out to you once Jack and I were safe to come out of witness protection, but you sent me a letter saying that you’ve moved on with your life, and that it was best for us to go our own separate ways.” He took another step closer trying to grab you but you pushed him away.

“Get away from me!” You warned as you tried to process everything that he was saying.

“Y/N please. Why would I lie to you? Do you really think that low of me?” You could hear the desperation in his voice once again, just like you heard it the first time in his hotel room.

“You don’t want to know the answer to that,” you let out a laugh. You felt dizzy, like the rug had just been pulled from beneath your feet. You could hear what he was saying but none of it was making sense, or you didn’t want it to make sense because that would mean the one person who was pretty much the only family you ever had, had spent years lying to you.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve to go through any of it. You may not think much of me now but you have to believe that I didn’t want for any of this to go the way that it did. It killed me leaving you behind, not knowing if you were going to be okay or not. I waited until you were out of surgery but I couldn’t stay any longer without putting anyone else at risk.” He was finally saying all the things you wanted to hear but instead of them bringing you comfort or relief they brought you anger and pain.

“You need to go,” you tried to keep your voice steady.

“Please just go, I need a minute,” you spoke as you turned your back to him once again, trying to focus on the sink that was in front of you.

After a few moments had passed, you eventually heard the lock click again and the sound of the door shutting told you he left. You walked back to it and locked the door once again ensuring you had the privacy that you wanted.

You let out a sob that you were trying so hard to contain when Hotch was in here with you. Your hands flew to your mouth in an attempt to stop the uncontrollable cries you were letting out. You let yourself have 3 minutes to get everything out of your system before you left the bathroom and made your way back to your seat.

You looked just as you did when you left and no one even batted an eye when you came back.

“Everything all good?” Avery leaned into you.

“Yes love, just got a text from Henry. I’ll need to stop at his once we’re done here if that’s okay? Something about a case he’s working on,” you lied to your husband once again, but it was absolutely believable. Henry was a workaholic so Avery didn’t even question why he was working on a case just a day after his wedding.

Once everyone had drank, ate and spoke as much as they could you all decided that it was time to wrap the afternoon up. The group began dispersing with some going to do some sightseeing, some going to do shopping and some had headed back to the hotel.

JJs family had decided to do some sightseeing and decided to walk from the brunch place so you didn’t have to worry about driving them anywhere, but you and Avery offered to pick them up once they were done.

Your incident with Hotch had left you feeling even more confused than before and there was only one other person you could go to for answers. Avery had some errands to run and you told him you might be a while with Henry so that pretty much cleared the rest of the afternoon for you.

You made your way to Henry’s and Luca’s apartment, you weren’t sure if they were going to be home but that didn’t matter as you had the spare key that Henry had given you.

You had banged several times on their door and were about to use your spare key until Luca opened it.

“Hey what are you doing here?” Luca asked, surprised to be seeing you.

“Where is he?” You yelled as you stormed into their home, completely ignoring Luca’s question.

“He’s in his office, is everything okay? Has something happened? What’s he done now?” He questioned whilst trying to catch up with you as made your way to Henry.

The door to the room was slightly ajar and he was sat behind his task typing away on his computer.

“Where are they?” You shouted angrily, marching into his office.

“Where’s what?” Henry replied not even lifting his eyes away from the laptop.

“The letters Henry!” You called out and slammed his laptop shut almost trapping his fingers.

“What the hell was that?!” He asked as he abruptly stood up from his seat.

“What letters? What the hell are you on about Y/N?” He continued but once he took a good look at your face his confusion was replaced with realisation.

“You know exactly what I’m on about,” you hissed, “the letters that Hotch had sent me. You know the ones you forgot to tell me about?”

You heard Luca mumble an ‘oh god’ before he turned around and left the two of you in his office.

“Fine! You’re not going to tell me where they are I’ll just fucking find them myself!” You spat and began pulling everything out of his cabinets leaving a sea of papers all over his floor.

“Okay! Alright! I will give them to you, just please stop and let me explain,” Henry finally blurted out after having enough of watching you wreck his office.

You stopped in your tracks and watched him as he moved to a cupboard near his desk which had a safe inside. You heard him enter his pin and shuffle around inside until he pulled out a shoe sized box.

He cautiously handed it over to you, and you took one of the seats opposite the desk Henry was sitting behind before you stormed in there. You opened the box slowly and began pulling the contents out. It was filled with letters; some were opened some were not but it looked like there was close to a hundred of them in there. You couldn’t stop your hands from shaking as you tried opening an envelope that was on top, and immediately recognised the handwriting as you eventually pulled the letter out.

“What is this…” you whispered “Why do you have these?” You began taking more out, skimming over the writing.

“Why do you have these?” You asked again but this time a lot louder.

“Henry why the hell do you have these?!” You asked for the third time whilst shoving them back into the box and standing up.

“I can explain everything Y/N but you need to promise me that you’ll see my side of this too,” Henry pleaded.

“Promise you? You think you’re in a position to be demanding promises?? You’ll be lucky if I ever talk to you again after this! Now you better start explaining why you have kept these from me for all these years!” You swallowed the sick that was rising up your throat.

“You have to understand that I didn’t want you to end up like Haley…” he began, “I was scared of losing you okay? I couldn’t live with myself if you had ended up dead and I did nothing to protect you. So myself, Rossi, and Hotch all agreed that it was best to put Jack and Hotch into witness protection as soon as possible once we realised that it was Peter Lewis who shot you. He was stalking both you and Jack for weeks before you got shot. You were still in surgery and it wasn’t looking good so we agreed that whatever the outcome was going to be, that I’d stay with you at all times and as soon as we would get the OK from the doctors we would have you moved to a private hospital in London.” Henry explained, but you already knew this information.

“Henry – I already know all of this. Can we skip to the part where you tell me why on earth you hid all of these letters?”

“I am getting there Y/N. Hotch only agreed to go into witness protection if he could still get updates on how you were doing which we agreed would come from me. Once you had come out of your coma and understood what had happened I had obviously told Hotch the good news. He wanted to reach out to you, but I thought it was too risky as we had gotten nowhere in locating Peter Lewis and I didn’t want to endanger you again. We then eventually agreed that I would set a PO box up where he could send you letters, which was still too risky for my liking but he wouldn’t give up. You were recovering well and it was such a relief to know that you were going to be okay...” He paused, “but then Lewis had kidnapped Tara’s brother and managed to escape once again, and that was enough of a reason for me to keep all of his letters away from you and ask Hotch to divorce you.“

Your mouth had practically fallen on the floor after you heard his last sentence.

“But that wasn’t your choice to make Henry,” you began sobbing.

“I know but I didn’t care Y/N. I was not going to have you at risk again, and this time if Peter Lewis came looking, you wouldn’t be a target anymore. Hotch had left you after you were shot and served you with divorce papers. That didn’t sound like much of a reason for Lewis or anyone else, wanting to get to Hotch to come after you again.”

There was a few minutes of complete silence before you spoke again.

“And what about me? What about how I was feeling or what I wanted?” You cried. “How could you do this to me? I am not some doll that you get to play with and control!” You felt the angriness come back in full force.

“How could you face me every single day knowing that you were lying about something this big and not have an ounce of guilt? How many times did you listen to me cry over Hotch and what a fucking mess my life had become and never once did you have the decency to tell me the truth!” You yelled.

“I was going to tell you everything once Lewis was caught but when that day came you were seeing Avery and you were starting to look and act more like yourself and I thought that it was better to not bring the past back up, so I decided to keep the letters to myself and-”

“You wrote one back to Hotch pretending it was me, telling him that it was best to go our separate ways,” you finished his sentence.

“You make me sick,” you uttered as you stood up and made your way towards the door not wanting to be in his presence any longer.

“That’s okay you can hate me all you want. I’d rather have you spend the rest of your life hating me than for you to not be here at all.” Henry replied.

“And I would do it all again if I had to!” You heard him yell as you left his office.

You made eye contact with Luca who was sitting at his kitchen island. He gave you a sympathetic smile knowing how cruel Henry could be when he wanted to.

“He’s despicable,” you sighed in defeat.

“I know. But he cares about you,” Luca replied.

Without saying anything else you left the apartment, making a run to the nearest bin and had threw up everything you ate at brunch.

You had spent what felt like hours in your car, reading through the notes and letters that Hotch had sent you. He had wrote to you almost everyday up until him and Jack came out of witness protection.

His letters were filled with apologies and things you had never gotten the chance to hear him say to you. They felt intimate, like he had taken the contents of his heart and spilled everything out on pieces of paper.

Once you had enough of torturing yourself you decided it would be best to head home. So you took the longest route back hoping the drive would help clear your head. That’s what everyone always says, that they’re going for a drive to help clear their head. Well they’re liars because you felt no different when you pulled up to your house. You felt like you needed to down at least 4 bottles of wine and that’s what you decided to do.

You noticed that Avery’s car was still gone and none of the lights inside your house were on. Part of you was relieved that he wasn’t home. He knows you well enough to know when somethings wrong no matter how well you try to hide it, and this was the last thing you wanted to explain to him.

You had grabbed the most expensive bottle of wine you had along with a glass and set up camp on your sofa, intending to completely drown your sorrows and be too drunk to explain anything to Avery once he finally gets back home.

You were well into the first bottle when you heard shuffling in the kitchen and JJ popped her head into the living room.

“Hey I didn’t know you were home, I thought you were still out, come sit!” You patted the seat next to you.

“Yeah we were, but the boys were shattered so we came back home. Will and Avery both left not too long ago for a drive and said they were going to grab some food. Is everything okay?” She asked as she sat down next to you on the sofa.

“Let me get you a glass before I explain everything, trust me you’re gonna need it.”

You retuned back to the living room with a glass for JJ and another bottle of wine and then you told her everything. From the hotel room, to the bathroom incident at brunch, to when you went to confront Henry, and lastly about the letters Henry had hid from you.

By the time you fished talking, the second bottle of wine was almost empty and her face was in complete disbelief.

“Wow,” was all she could say.

“I know.. But there’s one thing that I don’t understand,” you said taking a sip of your wine and JJ nodded her head indicating for you to continue.

“Why would Hotch agree to divorce me simply because Henry said so.. I mean I can certainly blame Henry for keeping the letters from me and feeding me all these other lies but at the end of the day it takes two to tango..”

“Henry could be very persuasive when he wanted to and Hotch would’ve agreed to anything if he felt it would help keep you safe, even if it was something that he didn’t want to do,” JJ spoke softly.

“I guess..”

“They had a fight at the hospital you know,” JJ revealed with a smirk.

“They did?” You almost gasped as this was news to you.

“Yup. Me, Morgan and Rossi were outside so we didn’t see it but Henry had stormed out with a bloody nose and a cut up lip…and then the weirdest thing happened..” she paused.

“What?” You urged her to continue.

“I don’t even know how to describe it.. But once Henry left the room Hotch had let out this noise. I can’t even compare it to a cry more of a wail or something. It was frightening.. Rossi went in to check on him but told me and Morgan to wait outside,” she shrugged her shoulders slightly and neither of you were smiling anymore.

“Believe me Y/N when I tell you that this has hurt him just as much as it has hurt you. I don’t think he wanted for any of this to happen at all..” JJ finished.

You considered her point. This whole time you had thought of Hotch as almost the villain, but you were thinking what Henry wanted you to think. You never considered how he must’ve felt, to have to watch his wife get shot on your wedding day and then not be able to stay with you through better or worse without putting you or his son in further danger.

The sound of the doorbell brought you out of your thoughts but JJ was already up on her feet and offered to get it.

You split what was left of the wine between yours and JJs glasses until she was back in the living room with a wary look on her face.

“Who is it? If it's Henry tell him to go away," you said to JJ but noticed there was someone was behind her.

“No Henry just me,” you heard Hotch speak as he moved from behind JJ and was now standing next to her.

“I’m uh going to check on the boys,” she announced as she grabbed her wine glass and disappeared from the living room.

"May I come in?" Hotch asked as he shifted his weight from one foot to another with his hands in his pockets.

"Why are you here?"

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay from earlier." He kept his tone soft and gentle just like he did when he had followed you into the bathroom.

You couldn't believe that this was still the same day and it still hasn't ended.

"Well I'm obviously not Aaron, you were right," you sighed in defeat and watched him take a seat next to you.

"I'm sorry," he whispered for what had felt like the hundredth time.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what else to say. Without realising the both of you were now inches apart, with your eyes on the ceiling whilst Hotch watched you from the side.

"We're horrible people," you mumbled and turned to face Hotch.

"I think we're just two people who are still in love," he replied as though it was the simplest answer in the world. As though it didn't matter that both of you had cheated on your partners.

"It doesn't matter, you're with Beth and I'm married to Avery."

"I know, but if things had been different you would still be married to me," you heard him say as one of his hands gently cupped your face and his thumb traced the outline of your lips.

The gesture alone was enough to make you melt into his skin. You had missed his touch so much.

"But they're not, you have a flight to catch and I have a life here.."

"I would move here for you. I would move to wherever you wanted me to. I would wait until Jack's finished school and we could both move here, all you have to do is just say the word, it would be a fresh start for him and me."

He was talking like a crazy person. You would never make him and Jack move to another country. It wouldn't be fair on Jack having to leave all his friends and family behind and start all over at a new school, that poor boy has gone through enough. In all the years you had known Hotch he never did anything on a whim, he always thought everything out to the last minuscule detail, so to hear him say that he would up and move his and Jack's whole life made you feel like he hadn't thought this out properly.

"But I don't want you to," you lied to yourself and to Hotch. "You ever thought that all of this has happened for a reason?"

"Please don't tell me you're into signs now, you're a profiler you should know better," Hotch rolled his eyes and you could see a small smile playing on his lips.

"Don't you dare laugh at me Aaron," you gave him a playful shove on his shoulder and at that point he couldn't contain his smile or his laughter.

The sound of him laughing was intoxicating and you couldn't hide your own smile that was now sprawled across your face as you joined in. You had to laugh or else you would cry.

"I'm serious, we already had one chance and look at the way that turned out. Maybe this is for the best.." You said as the laughter died down reminding you of what the reality was.

The light from Hotch's eyes and his smile were now gone, replaced by a stoic expression.

"You should get back to Beth Aaron, we're only making this worse for ourselves," you spoke and placed one of your hands on his knee giving it a squeeze and began standing up.

"I don't want to leave you again," you heard him quietly say as he followed your lead and stood up.

You didn't reply, you just slowly walked through your hallway and stopped at your front door.

"So I guess this is a goodbye?"

"I guess it is.." As much as you didn't want it to be, your gut was telling you that this was the right thing to do.

You took one last look at him as he took one last look at you, neither of you wanting this to be the end.

"Take care of yourself Y/N."

"Wait!" You called out.

"Kiss me before you go!"

And that's exactly what he did. He took three long strides to get to you and wrapped one of his arms around your waist whist the other ran through your hair as he pulled you in. All the tension between the both of you unravelled in the kiss. You parted your mouth allowing him to slip his tongue in, feeling his hot breath against your lips. It wasn't a soft, gentle kiss it was rough and longing. You had spent many nights thinking about how he would taste, how his mouth would feel on yours, and now that it's finally happened you didn't know how you could ever survive without him.

You were both almost gasping for air as he pulled away.

"Go before I change my mind," you breathed.

"But just call me sometime," you added as he placed one last kiss on your lips before leaving.

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callsignangel · 1 year

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screen rant babe - jack champion x interviewer! reader

warnings: none! fluffy but not a ton word count: 1059 requested by @gcidrvsh <3 ↳ "hi!! could you write something for jack champion? like where they meet on the set of scream (cuz they’re friends with jenna ortega) OR whatever you really wanna write its up to you" a/n: hi friends!! sorry this look so long. this fic is the first part of what's going to be a series about jack champion. i gave the reader some background (and a surprise relative) in this fic just to add some substance. i misplaced my list of people to tag, i'm so sorry! i'll be sure to set up a proper tag list for future parts of this series. i hope you enjoy!! reblogs and feedback about my work is deeply appreciated. <3

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it had already been a long press day, having been interviewing the cast of avatar: the way of water for it's upcoming release. it was finally nearing the end of the day - you just had one more interview left with trinity bliss and jack champion. the interviews had been done in pairs, like sam and zoe, sigourney and jim, bailey and jamie, and now trinity and jack.

they had been sitting there when you walked in, patiently waiting as you arrived on time for their next interview. making sure your mic was on properly and working, you greeted them both with handshakes and quick small talk before you all seated yourself in those god awful uncomfortable directors chairs. "okay, it's so great to see you guys!" you began, a big big smile on your face. "my name is y/n and i'm here in partner with screenrant interviewing some of the cast from avatar: the way of water which is in theatres worldwide on december 16th," you finished your introduction, allowing them to begin theirs. "hi, my name is trinity jo-li bliss and i play tuktirey," she smiled directly into the camera and waved."and i'm jack champion and i play spider," he waved quickly and beamed for the camera before quickly returning his attention to you. "awesome, thank you for setting aside the time to meet with me today," you began again, “i’ll just get right into it here, did you learn anything from this movie? what was it?” you kept your formalities on for the camera, but your words were silent in his ears as he tuned out your voice and focused solely on you. your mannerisms, the way you read your questions directly out of the notepad you brought so you didn’t forget them and how eloquent you were when speaking and being spoken to. he was so enchanted by you that he didn't realize it was his turn to answer your question. “jack,” trinity whispered, nudging him softly to tell him it was his turn to answer you. “sorry, what was the question again?” he snapped back to reality and a nervous, breathy laugh escaped him. trinity looked at you and you returned her puzzled face before breaking out into a fit of giggles. “did you learn anything from this movie?” you repeated. “oh yeah, totally. the importance of family is a repeating theme in this movie and because i’m so close to my family, i’ve learned to protect them and make sure to keep them close because nowadays you never know what could happen,” he recovered quickly, and you smiled at him. he was cute, chivalrous and quick on his feet. definitely your type.

the interview continued for another 20 minutes, asking questions regarding working with james cameron, what it was like working with motion capture, how they prepared for their roles and other smaller questions regarding the other cast mates. trinity is a natural born story teller, so she would take charge regarding funny cast moments on set or even in other interviews. jack still kept his attention on you, but this time making sure to listen incase you had another question for him. he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of you anymore than he had. when the interview ended, you asked them both if you could take a quick picture of them for the article and for screenrant’s socials, both of whom happily obliged.

as you were getting your mic removed by the camera crew, you were surprised to see jack lingering by. “oh hey, thanks for letting me interview you today!” you spoke up, noticing his newfound nervous nature and trying to ease the awkwardness. he smiled, “i think you were the most fun interview we’ve had this entire press tour,” he admitted sheepishly. you giggled, “well, i’m glad. some people take interviews way too seriously and i think it takes away all of the fun and excitement about being in a big blockbuster movie like this.” you finished, double checking that you had your bag and your waterbottle with you before heading out. but before you could leave, jack stopped you again. “hey, do you live in LA or are you just here for work?” “oh, i’m actually just here for work! i’m originally from new york. i’m leaving in a couple days for the premiere in london actually,” you watched as his face lit up. “are you going to be at the premiere for work too?” he questioned, and you laughed. “not exactly. sigourney’s actually my aunt, and she invited me to come with her!” you declared, “i don’t think she was expecting me to be here for an interview today honestly.” giggling, you watched jack’s mind connect the dots. “oh my god haha that’s so cool, how come i never saw you on set?” he inquired. “never had enough time during school and her filming schedule. i would see her on holidays, or sometimes she would come and visit me while i was working in quebec.” you conversed a little more, talking about how you started working for screenrant, and if you had any plans to become an actor yourself. you hadn’t realized how easy he was to talk to, or how attractive he was now that it was just the two of you speaking in such close proximity. “do you have a date for the premiere?” he blurted, taking you both by surprise. “i mean, besides being there with your family and sigourney, of course.” you shook your head. “i guess i’ve been so busy with work i haven’t been looking for a date,” you responded, watching his shoulders relax as he heard you didn’t have anyone to go with. “i mean, neither do i besides my family. we could go together?” poor man was so nervous. he was scratching his neck as he awaited your response, and you grabbed it to help calm his nerves. “i’ll happily go with you, jack.” you gave his hand a tight squeeze, as if trying to tell him that this wasn’t a dream. “okay, great. that’s awesome,” he sounded relieved. you both giggled quietly, hands still conjoined. “i have a couple of days off before i leave LA, would you want to go out sometime before then?” you asked. “how does disneyland sound?” he grinned. “sounds perfect.”

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alicerosejensen · 6 months

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Find me

Warning: mention of blood, violence (physical and psychological), mention of viruses, parasites, zombies; kidnapping; the reader has a slight anemia; Fem/reader; established relationship with Leon.

Synopsis: You could have a quiet wedding and a good life with the person you love most in the world. Leon was ready to protect you to the death from his enemies and viruses but… it seems that someone is also interested in you. And the price for life will be very high.

A/N: The idea from this post that I wrote about quite a long time ago. "Together forever" I'm not very good at writing (apparently the Yandere theme is not mine, no matter how much I like it). So I'm going to try this plot. I don't know how many parts there will be, but if everything goes well, then probably a lot (maybe 10-12 or so). I hope someone likes it because I have serious notes on this work in my notebook, as if these are sketches for the 9th part of the resident).

Tags will be added to the following parts. I was very much inspired by the remaster and Haunting ground when I was taking notes. After all, both games were made by Capcom.

Feedback is welcome (but no insults!)

Sometimes the worst horror happens in the name of love. It's not the worst plot for books, films or paintings that are more than a hundred years old and it's impossible not to admit that sometimes we want to be loved until our death.

And maybe after it.

The words sound soft, with a slight taste of regret, as if somewhere between the letters there is a treacherous "I'm sorry". But in fact it was so predictable. Leon hugs you too tightly, experiencing an inexhaustible sense of guilt, because he promised to decide together where you will spend your honeymoon, which is unlikely to last exactly a month, he promised to watch a movie with you that you have been planning for a long time and… and everything went to hell.

Leon nuzzles your cheek and devoutly kisses you gently, leaving a wet trail with his eyes closed. Another sign of his eternal love, his lips are imprinted on the bridge of your nose, making you smile from the slight tickle caused by his stubble. He had no power over not being called to work for at least another week, but the government is not interested in the personal life of his best agent. And yet you enjoy the way he puts his arm around your waist, holding you as tightly as he can.

"Okay, Mr. Kennedy," you joke kindly, inhaling the almost faded scent of his cologne. "I forgive you, once again. Run to save the world" You smile looking into his crystal blue eyes filled with sadness and longing.

"I promise that I will ask the authorities for a good vacation," Leon swears very sensually, continuing to hold you tightly in his hands and look with those puppy eyes from which the soul is torn apart and kisses again this time on the forehead, "If necessary, I will harness Ingrit and no one will bother us. We'll plan everything the way you want, even if it's a tour of all the castles in Europe"

You laugh sincerely, removing the bangs from his face, hoping to stretch the moment of intimacy with him longer. It was so warm and safe next to him that you snuggled up to his chest and he gently cradled you in his arms like a child.

"Don't do anything stupid in my absence"

"I still need to do an exhibition and maybe I'll finally clean up the bookcase," you lie knowing full well that the books will still lie randomly on the shelves and you won't even touch them. Actually, your work was the only thing that could save you from the all-consuming longing for Leon.

"Be careful, okay?" with some hidden fear, he asks, reluctantly releasing you from the ring of embraces. "I'll call as soon as I get a free minute and I'll really be back soon"

Leon is already out on the street and you follow him with a sad look, noticing some dark car to the side. Rightly deciding that they came for him, you lower your head, sighing heavily and literally taken aback when Leon's lips abruptly cover yours with a demanding and somewhat rude kiss that you forget how to breathe. At some point you try to seize the initiative, but strong hands push you against the wall and you hit the back of your head a little painfully, allowing him to dominate. As always.

"I would eat you right here," Leon said sarcastically and quietly stroking your hips, "But I really have to go."

And you silently bite your lower lip while watching him move away from you and get on his bike.

Well, that cool car wasn't for him, but this thought quickly leaves your head and in the end, tired of standing on the street, you just go back into the house, closing the door, grabbing the phone and immediately sending him an impatient "I miss you already." However, this does not prevent you from also ordering food with home delivery and watching some movie to pass the evening that was hopelessly spoiled.

The evening really became disgusting, neither delicious food saved him, nor a good movie will save him.

"Complete shit" a quiet curse came off your lips when you looked at the phone screen for the hundredth time in the evening and endlessly reread Leon's last message "My love…" which seems to have been imbued with such despair that tears came to your eyes. He was like a big kid who couldn't live a day without you and besides, only with you his sleep was like a more or less healthy one. You were his only light and he wanted that light to stay with him forever. Well, you could send him a hundred more messages, but it's unlikely that he will have the opportunity to read them in the next few hours or even days. So with bitterness, you just turned off the TV and went to the bathroom to get ready for an earlier than usual sleep.

Hot water pleasantly calmed and warmed the skin flowing down the body. You spent 15 minutes in the shower, brushing your teeth and doing all the usual and favorite cosmetic procedures, smeared your body with a lotion with a pleasant floral scent, waiting for it to soak into pale skin. The mood even improved a little when you changed into pajamas and straightened the bed once more before putting your head on the pillow and looking at the phone.

Nothing.

There's no point blaming Leon or doubting his love. It wasn't up to him. Sometimes he was dragged out of bed late at night and you could not see him for weeks without even being able to talk on the phone for one minute. But when he returned, he turned into a puppy clinging to his beloved owner and covered your body with a lot of kisses, not letting you get out of bed. Not that you mind… You always miss him and worry about him.

Sighing, you turn over on your side, putting the phone on the bedside table and not seeing the desired message from your fiance. Therefore, grabbing Leon's pillow, the lungs are filled with his smell and instead of feeling his presence, you experience only a deep feeling tearing apart that makes your heart beat a little faster.

And closing your eyes, you reach for the switch, when suddenly for a second the phone quickly notifies you of a new message from the addressee next to whose name the heart turns red.

"Don't forget to take the pills that the doctor prescribed for you. I want this sickly pallor to disappear. Love you"

Well, smiling, you took a screenshot of the message for some reason, saving it in your gallery on your phone. After sending Leon the answer, you still remembered that you really forgot about those pills once again, but you didn't want to get up anymore, so you left this matter for the morning. Sighing once again, trying his luck in the hope that Leon would write something else, your mobile was treacherously silent while you were just flipping through the social media feed.networks thinking only about how dependent you are on this man. However, the same can be said about him. The phone went out, as did the light in the bedroom, and sleep slowly overtook your mind when you hugged else's pillow without hearing quiet footsteps in the next room. The uninvited guest, thanks to Leon, had to tinker a lot with the lock of the front door before he unlocked it, quietly closing it behind him so as not to attract your attention while you were in the shower. Merging with the surrounding darkness, it was necessary to wait for the right time and prepare the syringe so that everything went as it should and the target was quietly neutralized without attracting the attention of neighbors.

The order was well paid and the fact that Leon left the house on that day was only to his advantage. After all, a government agent can ruin everything and getting rid of him threatened big problems that were not needed by anyone, but who will remember about his pretty bride, about whom he will probably quickly forget everything himself? The unknown person only needed to stick a pomeranian, inject the substance and quietly take the target out of the house by throwing a fake note with a handwriting similar to yours that you and Leon do not see the future for yourself. Pick up a few personal items and throw them in the nearest trash as proof of the truthful departure of the unfaithful bride.

Not the worst plan, especially since Leon Kennedy will think about your disappearance and how natural it is, no one really cares. Even if he suspects this ill-conceived plan, by that time you will be too far away from here anyway.

The problem was solved by itself because you are a simple art worker did not pose any threat even if you tried to resist. One step, two… the blessed victim will not suspect anything until the very moment when someone else's hand in a black glove closes her mouth and sticks a needle into her body. You fall asleep without suspecting anything, somehow reflexively reaching to the left side where Leon usually sleeps with his back to the bedroom door.

You are separated by literally a few meters from each other before one inept movement spoils everything.

The sound of falling books that Leon has been asking you to arrange exactly for so long makes you open your eyes by squeezing the pillowcase of the pillow and the "guest" freeze without touching the door handle. However, you felt a gaze on you that did not let you be deceived that someone had entered the house.

In Leon's bedside table there is a 9mm pistol fully loaded. It's not that you were very accurate, but Leon took you to a place as entertainment, where you trained shooting at targets under the watchful eye.

"not the worst result for a beginner," he said condescendingly so as not to upset you, but it was fun even if the gun was real.

Except now there are no jokes! You heard another step towards your side and held your breath, gathering strength for a jerk to pull out the gun and remove it from the safety. From fear, the heart beat faster, causing the blood to roar in your ears and before the intruder's hand landed on your face, you abruptly rolled to the left side of the bed, throwing a pillow at the person standing over you, winning for yourself a couple of seconds from his confusion.

Jumping to your feet, you quickly grabbed the gun pointing it at the man with trembling hands, removing it from the safety.

"Your own life is more expensive," you thought when a man of impressive size in a mask stood a meter away from you without a weapon, because his goal is to deliver you alive because you will not be of any use dead.

You held his floor at gunpoint, but your hands were shaking from the unusual weight and you really wanted to lower them down, but you held on trying not to panic. A step towards you and you pulled the trigger without aiming so stupidly hitting the closet, startled by the loud noise of the shot, immediately shrinking and from unaccustomed frightened by the strong recoil of the weapon.

"Fuck," he swore loudly, immediately rushing to you, forcing you to scream at the top of your voice while miraculously dodging. Rushing to the door, the first thought was to run outside and ask for help from neighbors, especially since the sound of a gunshot and a woman's scream certainly did not go unnoticed and someone probably should have already called the police. We just need to hold out. However, you only managed to jump out into the corridor when suddenly a strong man's hand roughly grabbed you by the hand in which you were holding a gun and your finger pressed the hook again making a shot.

Again a loud noise, your screams and a small hole in the ceiling.

Again the bullet flew by.

"Get off me, you bastard!"

A ringing slap in the face and you abruptly fell to the floor dropping the gun somewhere to the side. He immediately hung over you, but grabbing the first book that came to hand, you threw it in her man's face and taking advantage of another hitch jumped to her feet, running on without thinking about how much lip hurts.

And yet, the chances of escape were initially small, especially when shortness of breath began due to anemia and the chest began to ache sharply. A deep breath did not help even if your body was filled with adrenaline, he still knocked you to the floor, pressing your whole body to the floor, taking that ill-fated syringe out of your pocket and sticking it into you by quickly pressing the plunger . It only takes a few minutes, but because of your screams and shots, even they could put the entire mission under the "failed" icon, so without wasting even these precious minutes, the kidnapper grabs you by the hair and just hits your head on the floor suppressing resistance at the root. The world before your eyes becomes hazy and barely audible when a strange and unusual feeling of lightness covers you despite the pain in your head.

"Bitch ruined everything"

This bastard threw you over his shoulder and quickly ran out of the house, leaving the syringe lying there on the floor because there was no more time. Throwing you carelessly like a sack into the backseat, he slammed the door and gave gas to get away from the crime scene as soon as possible and dump the tail by moving to another car. They'll pay him well anyway.

You only blurred vision being on the verge of consciousness silently watched your loss until a long sleep covered you.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #resident evil leon #leon kennedy resident evil #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon scott kennedy x reader

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