#i better see y’all masking | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vrisrezis · 11 months

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need a part 2 for the atsv love triangle where the reader is actually in love with them and after they get together they tell them about their alter ego 😩

Your wish is my command y’all!

Gwen is was carrying you, bridal style, swinging away with you in her arms. Not that you knew it was gwen anyway. Spiderwoman, upon meeting you, often decided to take you home as a means of protection, because for some reason you decided walking home in the middle of the night was a swell idea. She offered to swing you home as a result. If you didn’t know any better though, you’d say it was because she loved flirting with you so much. She never denied it when you brought it up. Honestly, she’s just not used to such a flustered look on your face, she can’t help herself. Though she does secretly envy how the real her can’t manage you make you all shy and embarrassed like that.

Today though, you seemed rather… off. Something was bothering you, and she could tell. Nothing seemed off at school, so she figured something had to have happened. “What’s got you so upset?” she questions before dropping down on top the roof of a building. “Somebody I gotta knock some sense into?” she asks, putting you down to stand next to her, looking at the scenery before you, it was nice out today. You smile, but even that feels forced. She can’t help but frown under the mask and the worry she carries is radiating off of her. You shake your head, “it’s nothing to worry about” you say before shrugging, “just normal highschool stuff.”

“What does that mean?” she inquired, and you sigh, albeit rather dramatically.” “It’s so stupid.” You admit, but before you can assure you it probably isn’t, you continue “there’s just this girl I really like. More than like. I think I love her.”

As soon as those words come out of your mouth, she feels her heart drop. Girl? Was it her? Spiderwoman? Or some other girl at school? You didn’t talk to many people aside from her, who could it possibly be?

“O-oh..” she says, looking down for a moment. She hopes you don’t hear the crack in her voice. She can’t help her curiosity, she needs to know. “Well.. who is it?” she says, trying to recover as quickly as possible. She nudges you with her elbow, “need to know if they’re good enough for you or just some tool.”

You laugh, and give her a smile. “Her names… gwen..”

“G-gwen?!” she shrieks out, her body stiffening. You don’t seem to notice.

“Yeah.. gwen… gwen stacy…”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, but she eventually grabs onto your shoulder.

“Y/n…”

“Yeah?” you ask, confused for a moment, before you see her pull at her mask. Your eyes widen, and you suddenly feel a wash of shame upon seeing who’s under the mask.

However, she gives you a smile.

“I… love you too… by the way..”

Miles had a very simple plan, no big deal at all. All he had to do was confess he was in love with you and then eventually down the line if it works out in his favor, confess to being spiderman. No big deal…..

Or should he do it in the opposite order?

And should he still confess to being spiderman if you two end up staying friends when you reject him?

He has a lot of questions racking his brain, and to be fair he doesn’t think it’s completely unreasonable. Maybe he should’ve told you from the start. Would you even be accepting? Supportive? He’s been lying to you for a whole ass year now, you were kind, but were you that kind? He feels like there’s just no way, right? Then again, you never failed to surprise him.

He doesn’t have time to think about these questions any longer though, as he hears chaos going on outside. Not the normal kind of chaos, this was his cue.

His confession would have to wait a little longer.

—

He’s quick to his feet. Not that spiderman didn’t give it his all when it came to saving civilians, but he saw you in the fray. He bounces from building to building, webbing civilians to safety along the way, he sees you fall and he’s never jumped so fast in his life.

He reaches his hand out to yours, and finally you’re able to grab on and he’s able to pull you into his arms, picking you up bridal style all while in the air.

“We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this..” miles mutters to you, and you chuckle lightly. “Yeah well..” she look off to the side, before looking back at him. “You could always take me on a date, miles.”

Miles?

Date?

“Excusemewhatnow?”

as soon as he lands, you manage to escape his grip. Maybe it was because he was so caught off guard, since normally escaping his grasp was near impossible.

“We’ll talk later!”

You were going to be the death of him.

Hobie had enough.

If you weren’t going to figure this out on your own, he was gonna have to tell you.

I mean seriously, he loves you but you are so clueless sometimes and he genuinely wonders if you admire spiderpunk so much that you don’t want to consider he could be your best friend. He wonders if he’s being selfish and if this ruins the imagination for you but at this point he’s too pent up to even care, something he isn’t used to being. He’s typically so honest about the way he feels, never holding anything back. This should be no different.

He leaves his bag zipper carelessly open, in hopes you find it. And you do. He’s busy cleaning up his guitar, but he sees you look at him, then look back at the spider suit in the corner of his eye.

But you say nothing.

You go on about your day like you didn’t just see that.

Is he the one being played?

He eventually decides he needs to simply confront you. There’s no way around it. So he does.

It’s one of those many nights where you two are hanging out, as friends do. You’re both lying on his bed, side to side, he’s writing a song, you’re reading a comic book. He turns over on his right side to look at you, and you do the same on your left side. “Hey.” he whispers, “hey yourself.” you whisper back with a smile. He rolls his eyes.

Just be cool, man. He tells himself.

“You know..” he starts slowly, a bit unsure of the next words that will come out of his mouth, “you know I’m spiderman, right?”

He doesn’t have time to dwell on just how casual that was, to drop some information like that so simply. Then again, he did that constantly. This felt so different though.

“Yeah..” you let out a sigh, and hobie realizes that you really were playing with him the whole time. But before he can rely, you say “you know I’m in love with you, any version of you, right?”

He feels his heart stop for a moment, but he gives no indication that he’s flustered by your words.

“About damn time you said somethin, darlin”

Pavitr thinks about it, over and over and over and over and ov-

He just doesn’t know how to tell you he’s spiderman. He’s been so buys living the life as spiderman, it felt so simple, so easy. Go to school, beat up some bad guys, take some breaks to see you and his auntie, go back to fighting, come home. It was the same everytime and he didn’t seem bored of it, yet.

He hadn’t really gotten to see the consequences of being spiderman.

And then he did, when he nearly lost you. He was only able to save you because miles, gwen, and hobie were there to help him.

And from then on he knew he couldn’t lie to you anymore.

Things have been.. weird lately, to say the least. Some weird ass dark black abyss in the middle of mumbattan left many civilians curious, including yourself.

Though Pavitr felt like he could explain those bits later, he knew he just needed to tell you what was on his mind.

Because he and you both knew, he had something to say.

Spending time in your room wasn’t a rare occurrence but Pavitr found himself doing it a lot more lately, which in your opinion was good given how busy he’s been lately. You figured he must’ve been freaked out by mumbattan nearly falling apart at the seams, and you tried to be there for him. He made it clear he was there for you, too.

“Y/n I have to tell you something.” he says, turning to look at you.

You look back at him, knowing this would be a serious conversation. He never called you by your actual name, usual nicknames. You nod and place your hand on top of his, and you give him one of your warm smiles. He feels heat rush to his cheeks, but for once he doesn’t let his nerves stop him. He moves his hand to intertwine your fingers together, “I’m…” there’s a pause, and you figure you have to assure him you know.

“You’re spiderman?” you ask, and there’s a moment he looks at you, shocked. His mouth is agape, and you can’t help but smirk. “You know?!” you scoff, “yeah of course I know pav I’m not an idiot!” you say with a laugh, and a lot of his tension dissipates before he remembers what he wants to tell you.

“Well.. while that is true, that isn’t what I was gonna tell you.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised, you raise a brow. “Yeah?”

He takes a moment, before blurting it out.

“I’minlovewithyou!” the words all come out jumbled at once and he almost considered repeating himself before you give him a kiss on the cheek. “In love with you too, pav. But I also knew that already.” you say cheekily, “what?! How?!” “You’re not exactly subtle” you shrug.

“Can I have any victory today? Can we start over and you just pretend you didn’t know?”

you smile and shake your head, and he groans.

But honestly, the only reason he’s being so silly right now is so he doesn’t absolutely melt into your hands like putty over the fact you kissed him on the cheek.

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ghouljams · 11 months

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Y’all want the Cowboy!Ghost meet-cute? This one’s longer because I’m ripping it straight from the Cowboy fic’s first draft.

He holds up a twenty neatly folded between his fingers without even looking at you, "how much is it gonna cost to get you to leave me alone?" He asks, the bass rumble of his voice making you all the more sure of your decision. You glance from the skeletal mask to the black Stetson tipped low over his eyes.

"The hat."

"Not for sale."

“Not even just for tonight?” You ask, feeling buzzed and bold as you lean against the bar. There’s the slightest turn of his head as he looks at you. The warm brown of his eye as it peaks from under the shadow of his brim hits you better than any shot could.

“How about a drink,” He says after a long moment, motioning for the bartender.

“How about two,” You grin, his mask shifts, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, “What are you drinking?”

“Piss,” He says, pushing his mask up enough to get a swallow of his beer. He’s funny, you’d laugh if you weren’t so entranced by his lips against the bottle. You rip your eyes off him when he pulls the mask back into place. You gotta get this man a decent drink. You press up onto your toes to lean across the bar and talk to the bartender.

“Are the Sisters still making hooch?” You ask, the tender nods and grabs two shot glasses for you. You settle back on your feet, feeling the pleasant weight of your companion’s gaze dragging over you. You wait as the glasses are filled with 2oz of the only thing you missed on the coast. Well, maybe not the only thing. Your cowboy’s fingers pinch around the sides of the shot, his hand dwarfing the glass. You both tap your shots to the bar before throwing them back. You shake your head at the burn as he lets out a cough.

“Oh that is dead,” He says, lord his voice is so thick when it’s pleased. Rumbling nicely in his throat, you’re desperate to see what it tastes like.

“So,” You draw his eyes back to your face with just one word, “What’s a Manchester boy doing in this shithole?”

He lets out a breath through his teeth, flicking the brim of his hat back to get a better look at you. His eyes make you warm all over in a way that the alcohol can’t. “Manchester, huh-” He motions for another shot, “You even know where that is, Princess?”

“North of Birmingham, west of Sheffield. Do I need to answer any more trivia for you to take me home?” You smile, tapping your refilled shot against his before downing it. His fingers hesitate on his glass as he looks at you, eyes following your tongue as you lick the last drop of moonshine off your lips.

He reaches up and takes off his hat, settling it on your head. It’s big and warm, and sits just a little too low on you, but you don’t care, it’s his. His claim on you. He takes his shot clean, pulling his mask back up as he tosses far too much cash on the bar and grabs your hand.

You barely get to his truck before you’re pressed against it, his hands gripping your face as he presses his lips to yours. It’s warm and cotton-y. You laugh, feeling bubbly from the moonshine, as he growls and rips his mask off before kissing you again.

And oh, he’s good with his mouth. You can tell by the slide of his lips, the way he holds your face just the way he wants to. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you open eagerly for him, letting him taste the cheap sugary booze you’d been sipping before you saw him. He licks into your mouth, skimming your teeth before twisting his tongue against yours in a way that makes you shiver. His mouth is warm and wet, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. You want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. He tips your head back and back, his hat held to your head by the closed cab door as he crowds you against his truck forcing you to take everything he gives you.

Your chest is warm and you can feel your blood pumping want through to your fingertips as you twist them into his shirt. You want to be drunk on him, you think this is the best decision you’ve ever made. Especially when his hands leave your face to grab your hips, his leg wedged between yours. He drags your hips to grind against his thigh, all hard muscle and oh you can feel him. The hard line of his cock just at the apex of your movements. It makes all your heat pool between your legs. Mm, he was absolutely a good decision.

“What am I screaming for you?” You murmur, between kisses, desperate to know your cowboy’s name.

“Simon,” He tells you, ducking to mouth at your neck. “Simon,” he says it again, bites it into your skin, like he’s reminding himself.

“Simon,” you sigh, enjoying the way saying his name makes his hold on you tighten.

#weird how I'm more nervous posting my fic stuff than just riffing #different vibes I guess #spoiler this is actually so immediately a bad decision for both of them lol #cowboy!Ghost #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost x reader #cod ghost #cod x reader #reader x ghost #call of duty modern warfare #ghost mw2 #ghost cod

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tallulah477 · 4 months

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Pretty, But Not Stupid

Extra of Hunting the Tawtute

Kinkmas Day 10: Breath Play

Pairing: Lo’ak x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: AgedUp!Lo’ak, Dark!Lo’ak, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Breath Play, Choking, Size Difference, Alien Genitalia, Oral (male receiving), P in V, Belly Bulge, Creampie, Scenting, Mention of knots (but no knotting yet), Slight threesome (and Dark!Neteyam), Mentions of death/dead bodies, Reader is not having a good time (although idk...i think she’s having a great time), Mentions of war

A/N: Guess who’s back, besties!! Been MIA, slacking on prompts, and about to lose my fucking mind with all my family around, but I somehow got this done and I’m about to read as many fics as I can before someone else demands my attention.

A/N 2: This was not intended to be a full Part 2 yet, but it's way too long to be called a drabble. So I’m calling it an extra for now until I decide what to call it lmao. Hope y’all like it 🧡

A/N 3: DEDICATED TO @oakbuggy AND THEIR AMAZING ARTWORK (Everyone stop reading and go look at their art rn, all of them are god-tier but the one for Hunting the Tawtute definitely holds a special place in my heart. Thank you again, Buggy! You're amazing!)

Summary: With their father’s impending retirement as Olo’eyktan, Neteyam has more responsibilities to the clan and less time to see his favorite human. Thankfully, Lo’ak is there to pick up the slack.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Vrrtep - Demon

Tawtute - Human

Sevin - Pretty

Palulukan - Apex predator resembling a lion or panther

(Mountain) Banshee/Ikran - Large, dragon-like aerial predators

Mawey - Calm

Narlor - Beautiful

Tam tam - Calm, be content, there there

Srane - Yes

Yawne - Beloved

Paskalin - Sweet berry (term of endearment)

Their father is stepping down as clan leader - at least that’s what Lo’ak tells you when he comes to visit you in the isolated hut the brothers have set up for you on the side of a cliff face. It was for your own protection, they told you. You couldn’t stay in the village yet, their father would never allow it, and you clearly couldn’t be trusted not to run away if they built you something on the forest floor.

“Tawtutes with their tiny brains are stupid,” Neteyam had sneered as he hauled your combined weight up the cliff side. Your arms locked around his neck tightly, legs wrapped around his lithe torso as your eyes squeezed shut, determined not to look at the insane height you were being pulled to. “You might think to run away and then become the next meal of a hungry Palulukan.”

“Nah, bro,” Lo’ak said, the grin on his face audible in his teasing words as he climbed up the cliff behind you, ready to catch you if you decided to end it all right there and try your hand at plummeting to your death, no doubt. “Our little vrrtep would never run from us. Right, sevin?”

The hut they built for you was as cozy as it could be. Assembled further into the cave and away from the treacherous cliff side, thick material wrapped around sturdy posts to keep out any harsh weather that the cave itself couldn’t keep out. They’d given you plenty of blankets, assuring you that even though your human nose can’t smell it, their scent is all over them.

“To keep you smelling like us, when we can’t be here to do it ourselves.”

But they’re always around, day after day they come for you. Lo’ak grinning a deceivingly sweet smile and Neteyam’s amber eyes burning holes into your face as they grab at you, pulling you towards them as they all but rip off the loincloth and chest covering they gave you, baring your marked up body to their hungry gazes. They spread you open, fucking you and fucking you until you’re a crying overstimulated mess, drooling and teary under your mask as they fill you up.

They know exactly how to touch you, where to press, where to rub, where you’re most sensitive. They learned how to play with your body better than you could ever know how, dragging orgasm after orgasm out of your trembling, exhausted body until your left limp and they’ve decided they’ve had enough for the day.

Your body still struggles to take their cocks (although they love to tell you that you were made for it - “made to be our little cocksleeve”). Your only saving grace is that they’re still not sure if they can knot you. They’ve gotten close to trying, instincts desperate to push that large ball of tissue at the base of their cocks inside your already stuffed to the brim pussy. You feel how they test the resistance, pushing juuuusttt a little deeper, the swollen knot stretching you even farther than you ever thought you could stretch before they back off.

When they fill you full of their cum, it’s with their own hand squeezing tightly around the knot.

Usually, it’s both of them. This time, you’re shocked to see only Lo’ak climbing over the edge of the cliff.

“Neteyam sends his regrets,” Lo’ak says, kneeling down to wrap his arms around your body and press his face into your neck. His flat nose presses against your rapidly increasing pulse point and breathes in your scent. “He said to tell you that he’s sorry he won’t be able to visit you today, but that he’ll make sure to come see your pretty face and fill your tight pussy tomorrow.”

Your face flushes hot at his words, shivering when his nose slides up to nudge just behind your ear, but you stay silent.

“But that’s good news for me,” He continues. “Because that means I get you all to myself for tonight.”

Neteyam isn’t coming to visit you today because their father is stepping down as clan leader, which means increased training, more hours at council meetings, and less time to sneak off with his captive human.

“What does that mean?” You can’t help but ask. Lo’ak’s hands smooth down your sides, large palms dragging over your bare skin until they’re squeezing your ass. Your voice cracks at the feel, but you push on, your eyes doing their best to keep contact with his bright amber ones. “Your father stepping down? What does that . . .”

What does that mean for me?

“Nothing you have to worry about right now,” He says.

Without warning, he stands, pulling you with him so your legs wrap around his torso as he supports you with a hand on your ass. A loud yip rips from his throat, echoing through the cave as he walks you both towards the cliff’s edge. The responding roaring shriek makes you cower against him as the large dragon-like animal lands on the platform behind you, wings flapping hard against the wind.

“We’re going on an adventure,” Lo’ak says as he walks you closer to the banshee. You whimper, arms locking around his neck so tight you’d think you would be choking him if you could think straight. But you’re not, head whipped around staring wide eyed at the monstrous creature as it turns its head sideways to stare back at you.

“Lo’ak, no,” You beg through gritted teeth, but he ignores you as he approaches the banshee, his hand settling lovingly on its snout.

“Mawey,” he coos, carefully rubbing along the blue leathery skin on the banshee’s snout, but you’re not sure if he’s trying to calm the large animal or you. “Mawey, narlor,”

“Lo’ak, no,” You plead, still clinging to his upper body. Tears pool in your eyes and a panicked whimper escapes your lips when you feel the puffing breath of the mountain banshee on your back. “Please, please, no!”

But you’re ignored again, even when your body goes rigid at the feel of that rounded snout pressing against the curve of your spine, hot exhales practically burning your skin as the banshee sniffs at you. Fuck, fuck–you could die. Right now, you could die in a second, that snout pressing into your skin could disappear, replaced with dual rows of long curved teeth that would take only a second to open and bite down and rip you clean in half.

You can hear the smile in Lo’ak’s voice from where your mask is digging into his collarbone, his soft murmurs of encouragement loud even through your terrified thoughts. “Srane, tam tam. Look at my two beautiful girls, getting along so well.”

He moves swiftly, not leaving room for any more pleading as he bonds with his banshee and climbs on, bringing your clinging body with him. The rush of air as the large animal takes flight makes you squeeze Lo’ak tighter, desperate for safety as you feel the wind bat at your back as the banshee cuts through the sky like a bullet from a gun.

“Is this all it takes for you to cling to me, sevin?” Lo’ak teases as he rests a secure hand on your trembling figure, all five fingers spread so wide that they nearly span the entirety of your back. “A little ikran ride and I get you all cuddled up, nice and close?”

You ignore his dig, teeth clenching together as you fight to find your voice around the wind rushing around your ears. “W-where are we going?”

Lo’ak nudges his chin against the top of your head. “You’ll see,”

The flight feels like hours. Hours of watching miles and miles of trees and forest thousands of meters below from over Lo’ak’s shoulder. Logically, you know you’re exaggerating. It hasn’t been hours, and even though you’re still high enough to die as a splat on the ground if you were to fall, it's probably not as high as it feels. But heights have never been your friend, and frankly, neither has time management.

It’s only when the banshee lowers to the ground and Lo’ak dismounts, depositing you on your own two unsteady feet, that you realize where he’s brought you on your ‘adventure’.

Your mouth opens in horror at the remains of your old home. The RDA outpost, a once tall and strong fortress that housed the lives of hundreds of humans, now practically nothing more than a heap of rubble. The walls once meant to provide safety to those within them have crumbled down, victims of their own explosives used against them by the enemy. Debris lines the paved ground, thick boulders and metal platings that were once walls, bullet shells glinting in the sunlight. There’s a few AMP suits scattered around the battlefield - you can’t see inside them from your vantage point, and you’re terrified of what you might see if you get too close.

“This way, tawtute,” Lo’ak says, reaching for your hand, but you yank it away before he can grab it.

“No,” You say, but the firmness in your voice is overshadowed by the shakiness. “No, I’m not going in there.”

“Yes, you are,”

Another headshake. “No,”

Quick as lightning, his hand shoots out and grabs the bottom of your mask, gripping on the valve at the bottom as he bends down so his face is level with yours.

“Demon,” He growls, fangs on display for just a moment. A warning. “You are pretty, but not stupid. You do as I say.”

Fear claws at your throat and your hands immediately latch onto his wrist, silently begging for him to not pull your mask off. He never does, and neither does Neteyam. Not as a punishment at least. When they use your mouth, there’s always a warning - a “hold your breath, yawne,” before the air is cut off from your lungs and your mouth is full of alien cock. But the fear never leaves, the possibility is always there at the forefront of your mind, and you cling to his wrist like the lifeline it is.

Lo’ak’s face softens at your expression, grip loosening from your mask as his hand slides to cup the back of your neck. “You know I would never hurt you. You need to trust me,”

Hesitantly, you shake your head again. You’re pushing your luck, you know it. But you’ve learned Lo’ak is the more lenient of the brothers and will tolerate more ‘disobedience’ than Neteyam will. “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can. Nothing in there will hurt you. If anyone is left in there, they’re dead,”

And that’s the problem. The terror of facing the place where life as you knew it was ended in a heartbeat. If there’s still people in there, people you once knew, people you talked to, some people who were good, lying on the ground . . . lifeless . . .

In the end, it’s not a choice. Lo’ak sighs, pulling you back in his arms and cradling you to his chest like a toddler. You sniffle, eyes sliding shut, determined to not watch as he walks you towards the remains of the outpost.

It’s hard to admit, but being carried by the brothers can be really soothing if you let it. They move swiftly, with grace and confidence in every step, careful not to jostle you despite the usually uneven terrain of the forest. It’s even smoother now as Lo’ak walks across the flat pavement of the base. If you close your eyes, it can almost feel like you’re floating.

There’s a loud chu-chunk sound followed by the rapid hiss of air and the loss of sunlight behind your closed lids. You open your eyes to see that Lo’ak has found a still intact entrance, the airlock working to adjust the oxygen levels to whatever lies beyond the interior door. He smiles when the pressure stabilizes, opening the door and stepping into the inside of the base. This time, he doesn’t warn you when he pulls off your mask, the sound of escaping air hitting your ears, but you don’t choke. Instead you can breathe, deep complete breaths without the need for a mask covering your face.

Lo’ak wastes no time nuzzling his face against yours, sliding his cheek across every new inch of face and neck that he can comfortably reach, a deep content rumble vibrating through his chest.

Scenting you.

“I can smell you,” He whispers, lips pressing against your cheek. “Not just you right now, but where you were, where you’ve been, here, within these walls.”

“W-what?”

His feet carry him, guided by an old scent that you can hardly believe is here after so long. But it is, it has to be - you know the journey, have walked it hundreds of times during your time on Pandora, but you can’t imagine that Lo’ak would. You don’t think he ever went inside the outpost during the attack. He shouldn’t know that it's the second hallway instead of the first, shouldn’t know it’s two left turns and one right, and that your door is the 3rd on the left. But he does.

He even knows which bed was yours and which was your roommate’s, only confirmed when he drops you down onto the thin RDA issued mattress against the far side wall. You land with a yelp, bouncing slightly from the force of the drop, but your noise of surprise is cut off by Lo’ak’s lips against yours.

“Stupid humans,” He growls against your lips. “Can't even breathe air without help. Wish I could teach you, so I wouldn’t have to go without your pretty lips on mine every day.”

You whine into the kiss, his big lips nearly twice the size of yours as they capture your mouth completely. It’s not the first time he’s kissed you, but it’s the first time you can breathe while it happens.

He pulls away after a few more kisses, his breathing shallow as he reaches for something tied to his loincloth. It’s only then that you see the CO2 mask that’s been attached to his hip this whole time. He pulls the cross strap around his body, the mask hanging low on his chest and the CO2 canister hanging around his hip. He brings the mask to his face with one hand, taking in a few deep breaths, while the other hand works at the ties on his loincloth.

The material of his covering falls to the ground and he drops the mask in favor of gripping your chin, thumb rubbing soothingly across your cheek.

“Someone wants to play with you,” He purrs. “Be a good girl and invite him out, okay?”

Your breathing is shaky as you rise up on the bed, knees pressing into the mattress as you come face to face with the flat plane hiding Lo’ak’s cock. His hand moves to the back of your head, guiding you forward until your lips press against the smooth space between his thighs.

Experience has you knowing what to do now, how to hold onto his thighs with both hands to keep yourself steady as you pepper gentle kisses along the hidden slit. Lo’ak tips his head back at the feel of your tongue sliding along the seam, little teasing kitten licks against the engorging slit that are always from him demanding them, demanding the slower teasing buildup, rather than you being coy.

He pushes your face harder against him, hissing a ‘yeah, good girl. Like you fucking mean it,’ as he urges you to lick him deeper. When his slit opens, puffy and dripping, you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips as the sweet taste of his slick coats your tastebuds. It controls your body, whatever is in the slick. You feel it, making your body heat up, making you want things you definitely don’t - and you’re in the thick of it now, no mask or breathing breaks to cut whatever effects it usually has on you. It sets your body on fire now, making your thighs clench together as wetness pools in your core, and your brain fuzzes as the first touch of Lo’ak’s cock teases your lips as it starts to slip past the slit.

You don’t know how long he keeps you there, sucking his cock. He’s dragging it out, taking advantage of the rare opportunity he has now of you without your mask. He drags your mouth along his cock, staring down at you with hooded eyes and letting you suckle gently on the lavender tip. Sometimes he’ll growl, pushing you down harder on his length just to hear you gag when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. Other times he’ll pull you off completely, twisting your head so that your lips wrap around his girth from the side, before sliding you slowly back and forth along his length, tongue running over each and every bump and barb along the hot cerulean skin, the bright bioluminescent freckles decorating his cock practically shining under the layer of slick and saliva.

When he’s finally used you to tease himself enough, he pushes you back flat on the bed, large hands wrapping around your calves and pulling you closer so your ass is just barely hanging off the side. You whimper when he pulls your legs apart, ripping the soaked loincloth from your body, hungry amber eyes staring at your swollen, wet cunt.

“Such a pretty girl,” He moans. The tip of his cock slides along your folds, nudging against your clit before sliding back down and positioning at your entrance. “You ready?”

Your brain is fuzzy and your clit is throbbing, hole clenching with the need to be filled. You close your eyes, looking away from his intense gaze - you don’t want it, you try to remind yourself, you don’t, he’s making you. But a swift smack on your thigh makes your eyes fly open again, Lo’ak’s hard gaze seeming to cut into your very soul.

“Say it, demon. Wanna hear you say it,”

A small cry escapes your lips, body unconsciously trying to bear down on his cock even as you shake your head. He shifts forward just the tiniest bit, lavender tip just barely pressing against your drooling hole enough for it to start to stretch before stopping again.

“‘Need you, Lo'ak,” he recites, brow cocked, expecting you to repeat it. “Say it.”

“Fuck!” Is what comes out instead - a whiny, frustrated curse, that has your eyes tearing up again and Lo’ak’s ears pinning back against his skull.

His hand is quick to wrap around your throat, fingers digging into the blood vessels at the side of your neck as he hisses down at you. Your hands wrap around his wrist again, fingernails digging in and no doubt leaving red crescent shaped marks in the blue skin. He’s not squeezing your neck, not crushing your windpipe out of anger. You can breathe, the gulping breaths your gasping for are making it into your lungs, but the fingers pressing into the blood vessels make it feel like you can’t. Your head is clouding again, fuzzing like TV static, vision going blurry as his hand doesn’t relent.

“Fine,” He grunts. “You don’t wanna talk? Don’t.”

You want to scream when he pushes forward, cock bullying its way past your entrance and inside you, stretching you and filling you up. It’s slow and torturous as he fills you impossibly full, the barbs along his length scraping ruthlessly against your slick walls. He sighs, ears flicking in pleasure as your heat envelopes him, stretching around his girth so perfectly he swears you were made for him.

You can feel the bulge in your belly, the pressure disappearing and reappearing again as he begins to move inside of you. Long, purposeful strokes meant as a punishment, meant to make you feel every agonizingly blissful inch of him as he fucks into your soaked cunt, harder and harder with each thrust. Your mouth moves trying to form words, sound fleeting save for the barely there whispers of ‘fuck’, ‘oh my god’, and ‘please’. Lo’ak hears them anyway, leaning down to silence you with a filthy kiss. His hips pound against yours, unrelenting in their mission to completely fuck the soul of your body, and the sound of slapping skin against skin mix with Lo’ak’s groans and your barely audible breathy whines.

Lo’ak’s fingers find their way to your swollen clit, rubbing persistently at the sensitive nub until you're crying into his mouth, thighs trying desperately to close together but can’t because of his body between them. The thick press of his knot against your entrance is what pushes your oversensitive body over the edge.

At the first suffocating clench of your pussy around his cock, Lo’ak releases your throat letting all the air it felt like you weren’t getting back into your lungs in a rush of oxygen. You gasp, crying against his lips as you arch up against him, creaming pussy fluttering around him as you cum on his cock. He growls when your teeth latch onto his bottom lip, blunt teeth digging in enough to draw blood, but the way he immediately grabs your hips, shoving his knot against you as hard as he would dare without actually penetrating you, tells you that it was a lust filled growl this time, not an angry one.

He moans when he spills himself inside you, face pressed against your neck as he fills you up. You swear it feels almost scorching hot, heating you up from the inside and then out as it spills from around Lo’ak’s still buried cock and runs down the curve of your ass and onto the bed sheets.

Someone clears their throat from behind Lo’ak, and you gasp at the sudden sound, frantically trying to look around Lo’ak’s hulking body to see who it is.

Lo’ak sighs, undisturbed by sudden intrusion, even going as far as rolling his eyes before slowly pulling out of your used cunt - more of his cum spilling out onto the bed now that he’s not still inside you to keep it in. “Wasn’t expecting you today, bro,”

Your eyes widen when he moves out of the way, revealing a smug looking Neteyam in the doorway, still very much dressed up in his warrior’s gear.

“I had to make time to see our pretty little demon,” Neteyam says, bright amber eyes sweeping over your exhausted form. He crosses the room with three long strides, one knee pressing into the bed as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “That was a nice show. I know you’re tired, paskalin,”

His eyes meet yours, amber irises practically swallowed up by the blacks of his pupils. A hand presses against your belly, sneaking down towards your oversensitive pussy, his pointer finger reaching out to tap against your clit as you whine.

“But it’s really not fair that you smell more like Lo’ak than me now, is it?”

**Special thanks to @neteyamsyawntu for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @anastasia1777-blog @localjasmine @tsewtx @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @pandoraslxna @avatarwifey

#𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒆 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔 ✎#Avatar12DaysofKinkmas #lo'ak smut #lo'ak x female reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x human reader #tw: noncon #tw: non con #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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declareqenius · 2 months

Text

stitched up

warnings: blood, stitches

summary: you were sent on a mission with your father, tony stark, but something went wrong with the new prototype, resulting in you being injured. wanda needs the closeness and the confirmation that you’re right in front of her, but natasha’s emotions nearly get the better of her.

a/n: this is not how i wanted to end this originally, but i’m having some writer’s block and just wanted to post something again. i may do a part two but it depends on if y’all would like to see a part two or not!

“If your arm wasn’t bleeding this much, and if my mind and heart didn’t ache every time I glanced away from you, your father would be hanging from the ceiling by his ankles.”

Of course, leave it to your girlfriend to say something so poetic, yet so vulgar, in a semi-serious situation.

Wanda’s arms are crossed as she worriedly checks over the rest of your body, trying to keep herself from peeking at the gushing blood coming from your shoulder. The only thing that holds her back from storming down the hallway in search of your father is her need to see that you’re going to be okay. Meaning she has to sit there and watch on as Bruce slowly stitches the gash shut.

“We both know you would do so much worse than that, Wands.” You try to mask your slight wince with a cheeky grin, but of course your girlfriend notices.

“You’re right. I think I’ll let Natasha have her fun first.” She makes it sound like a joke, however you both know it’s far from such a thing.

Wanda’s eyebrows are still tightly furrowed together, her eyes constantly checking over you as if the second she looks away some new injury will magically appear. Even though you’re the one covered in blood with the stitching needle in their arm, you can’t help but want to comfort her.

“Hey, love,” you gently place your first finger under her chin and guide her head until her eyes meet yours, “I’m alright. It’s okay.”

She searches deeply within your eyes, and it’s a miracle you maintain eye contact with her. The sheer build up of love, worry, and warmth you find within her soft green irises takes you aback.

“It shouldn’t have happened.”

She says it so firmly. The sentence is so contradictory to the emotions she showed you seconds ago. The feelings she only allows you and Natasha- your other, probably furious, redheaded girlfriend- to read and memorize, to know like the back of your hands.

Her Sokovian accent is thick, which only happens when she’s scared, angry, or safe. And, right now with Bruce in the room, you know it’s a combination of the first two.

“You’re right, as always,” you give her a smile, which she mirrors, and you stow the memory away as a small victory. “But it did happen. And there’s nothing we can do about it now except let Bruce stitch me up, okay? I’ll be good as new afterwards. Right, Bruce?”

Your eyes don’t leave Wanda’s because you know looking at Bruce will somehow make the stitching process hurt more.

The man only gives a nod and soft grunt of approval.

“See? Nothing to worry about, my dear.”

“Nothing to worry about, huh?”

A calloused voice cuts through the room. You’re the first to snap your head up and break the heartfelt moment with Wanda. The quick movement causes Bruce to tug the stitches more than intended, and you close your eyes and take in a slow, deep breath. The soft hand soothingly running along your uninjured arm is the only thing keeping you completely grounded at the moment.

“Cause from where I’m standing, detka, it looks like something we should be worried about.”

Once you open your eyes again, they immediately fall upon Natasha, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and undoubtedly pissed off.

You’re aware her anger isn’t directed at you. You know _why _she’s pissed. Your emotions would most definitely get the better of you if either one of your girlfriends was injured and you couldn’t do anything to prevent it. It would be worse if you could have prevented it.

The certainty of your words and relaying the facts to her wouldn’t calm her down, but you know there’s no calming her down on your part. Not when you’re sitting on a stool injured and had to be carried to the med bay so you wouldn’t bleed to death.

“HYDRA got the jump on us, Nat. We weren’t expecting it and there was nothing that could have been done to ensure our safety. You know that. We had the Iron Man suit and the counteract prototype with us, and that’s it. Dad decided to use the prototype because it was all we had. It malfunctioned and I didn’t have enough time to move out of the way after the HYDRA agent pushed me towards it.”

You’re clear with all of your words and your voice never wavers, nor does your eye contact. Natasha may be the Black Widow, and only a very select group of people could ever talk to her the matter-of-fact way you just did, but sometimes she needs a reminder that things happen no matter how much one tries to prevent them.

“He could have kept you safe. That should have been his priority. You’re his daughter, Y/N. That’s way more important than barging into an intel mission unprepared! With only a prototype, no less. Especially when it puts your life in danger!”

The two of you hold eye contact with each other for a few seconds until you glance away and focus on watching Bruce finalize his stitch-work. Watching the needle thread through your skin makes the pain undeniably worse, but you can’t seem to force yourself to look at your girlfriends.

You don’t see the guilt-ridden regret that crosses Natasha’s features before she looks at the floor beneath her.

Tony wasn’t unprepared for the mission. Neither were you. Both of you surveyed the perimeter twice. Both of you were careful at every corner you turned. HYDRA just happened to outsmart two of the smartest people in the world.

Minutes later and Bruce finishes stitching your left shoulder up. Natasha stands at the door impatiently and Wanda watches her but still makes sure to have some physical contact with you.

“Alright,” Bruce stands from his chair, “twenty-five stitches. No major physical activity for the next two weeks. That includes missions, working out, and... I don’t have to say it. Let’s give the wound time to heal itself, okay?”

You nod and thank him before he takes his leave, passing by a very guilty, annoyed Natasha.

“Natalia, podoydi syuda, pozhaluysta.”

Wanda is the first to speak once Bruce leaves, and you’re grateful she took the initiative. Neither of them like seeing you hurt since both have lost so much in their short lives, but Natasha eats herself up over your injuries. She always thinks she’d be able to do something to prevent them, especially in the field. Wanda’s reactions are slightly more reasonable, but her worry gets the best of her and she often needs physical contact to remind herself you’re still there.

Natasha begrudgingly takes a seat next to Wanda, who immediately holds out her hand to give the former assassin the option of physical contact. Your shorter girlfriend hesitates before she gently take Wanda’s left hand in her right but makes no move to touch you or glance in your direction.

The chairs they sit in are lower than your stool, and part of you finds it funny that you’re the one that’s been placed in that position.

“Moglo byt’ gorazdo khuzhe,” Natasha mutters, staring at her boots and focusing on the way Wanda’s thumb rubs back and forth along the back of her hand.

It could have been much worse.

“Odnako eto bylo ne tak. Ona vse yeshche zdes', i my nuzhny yey pryamo seychas.”

It wasn’t, though. She’s still here and she needs both of us right now.

Wanda’s voice is soothing as she softly speaks to Natasha.

You let them have their moment and offer the Sokovian a small smile when she sends a gentle wink your way.

Both know you don’t understand the conversation. You’ve picked up some basic Russian, words or phrases they say a lot, but when they get into full conversations and larger sentences, all you can do is either pretend you’re busy or sit and watch their facial expressions to gauge the nature of the conversation.

They speak a minute longer and Natasha starts relaxing. Her furrowed brows even out, her drawn lips ease into a relaxed expression, and her eyes- although still holding an ounce of anger- start to glisten. She finds the need within herself to look at you, check you over for any other injuries- although Wanda has done that several times over- and finally, search your beautiful eyes with her own.

“Nat-”

You move to speak, wanting to voice your concerns and reassure both of them you’re okay even though they can see you sitting here in front of them. However, Natasha stands from her seat and takes a step over to you. She keeps her eye contact with you and gently, with a slight nod of confirmation from you, she slots herself between your legs. Her hand comes up to your cheek and she notices a small bruise forming above your eyebrow. It makes her eyes water a little more.

“I’m sorry, muy lyubov. You’re injured and I’ve been acting like a dick. I won’t apologize for wanting to keep you safe, or wanting to make Tony pay for his lack of common sense, but I will apologize for directing my anger toward you. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry, detka.”

“It’s okay, Nat. I forgive you. I understand why you were so angry, I mean, I would be too if you or Wands were in my position. So, I get it, but next time I need you to try and talk to me, okay?”��

Natasha nods her confirmation, and you know from the look in her eyes that she’s determined to work on her communication with both you and Wanda.

“Thank you, my love.”

Sometimes you all understand each other in different ways and need each other for different things, but in the end, the three of you fit together like nothing anyone has ever seen. The journey has been long and will continue to be, but none of you would have it any other way.

Natasha’s eyes are still teary, and you can’t help but tilt your head up just enough to catch her lips in a slow, soft kiss. Enough to remind her that she’s forgiven and that you’re not going anywhere. You break apart after a few moments and see Nat’s small smile. It could be better, but you’ll take it for now. However, you notice Wanda getting impatient after having watched you kiss Natasha.

You look over at Wanda with a grin on your face, “Anything you’d like to say, Wands?”

“My turn.”

Wanda gets up from her chair and stands to the left of Natasha. She gently cups your left cheek with her right hand and kisses you much like you did Natasha, except with more fervor- as if she could express gratitude for your life through a kiss. When she pulls away there’s a smile on both of your faces, and her eyes have replaced worry and anger with unconditional love.

It never ceases to amaze you how willingly and openly your girlfriends give themselves to you.

#wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #they're here #i'm trying to get back into writing please go easy on me

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slasherwife · 1 year

Note

Slashers reaction when their s/o catches them without mask for the first time? Pls and thank you!

s/o catches their slashers without a mask

awww yes!! i must give happy endings to all of these 😭🫶

warnings: extra short bc daddy bo doesn’t wear a mask 🥲💗

thomas hewitt:

He feels guilty

He wasn’t careful and now he’s scarred you from letting you see his scarred face. He’s ashamed he couldn’t keep you from himself 😭❤️‍🩹

And in a way it feels invasive. He feels like he’s been seen naked, and he quickly looks away with the feeling of embarrassment and shame fills him💔

He goes to leave, quickly entering the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

after about a minute of refusing to look at himself in the mirror, he hears gentle breath coming from the other side of the oak wood door.

his better half, asking if he’s okay. that it looked like he saw a ghost, and then laughing. then telling him that you miss him. and that, “by the way, you’re beautiful.”

he starts to cry, smiling, and looks into the mirror at the face that they said was beautiful. 💗💗

jason vorhees:

jason isn’t really self aware like thomas is. he isn’t one to worry about what he looks like anymore 🤗

i mean, he does worry that you won’t find him attractive, but it’s not to the point where he will refuse to ever let you see him with his mask off!

the first time was when he was down by the lake, sitting down washing a trap that had flesh still inside, minding his own💞 he had taken off his mask to breathe freely the lake air.

he had thought you’d been asleep for a long time, inside the cabin. and he had been so threaded in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the door open.

“hi jason” your voice rang out sweetly, slightly caught off guard because his mask was off but nontheless wanting to greet him🫶

he says nothing (obv), but instead of giving you his long soft glance like he usually does, he looks away, and down, almost trying to hide his face as he grows stiff

you grow slightly deflated, but your love for him seems to intensify, and you can’t stop the words before they come out, “you have beautiful eyes.”

jason’s eyes flicker to you, then back to the ground, then pats the ground beside him for you to keep him company 💕💕🥺

michael myers:

this guy is the literally opposite of thomas he does not care at all😭 he is literally so not self aware at all

he likes his mask but sometimes the thing gets real smelly so he has to throw it in dishsoap water yk 🥲

then you come around the corner he’s like “oh hey y/n” literally nothing off about what’s being seen atm 😃😂💞

you TRY to play it cool but at the same time you’re like fangirling over seeing your hot smexy murderer husband without a mask for the first time 💕😇

but at the same time like he probably sleeps without the mask on so i’m assuming y’all sleep separate until now 🥲

if not then you see it so early into the relationship like it’ll be no big deal 😇💕

bo sinclair:

boy doesn’t wear a mask, his face is too hot and sexy to be contained 😍

vincent sinclair:

absolutely horrified. he doesn’t even like being alone without his mask on that much.

has literally considered waxing the actual mask to his face permanently😕❤️‍🩹

he just was repairing it— he got too close to a radiator on accident and needed to repair it. then his baby walked in🥺

hears the door open and IMMEDIATELY flinches away. he knows you caught a glimpse, and he’s terrified, and mortified.

he’s breathing deeply, frozen, stiff, like one of his sculptures. you on the other hand are concerned. 🥹

“darl? is everything okay my love?” you call out softly, so not to startle him💞 he doesn’t answer, and doesn’t move.

“i went looking for some petrol, i knew you wanted some for your art. it’s in the shed.” he noticed that you never called his statues “sculptures” or “wax dolls” like bo always did. you called them “art” 💝💞

“honey you don’t have to hide from me. i will always respect your privacy, i will never ask you to show me your face. but you will never have to hide from me because i love all of you.” 🥹💗

you say this to him and he softens like the wax on his mask. it was within the next few days that he’d rather throw it into the fire than melt it into his skin forever 💞💞

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aerynwrites · 6 months

Text

Masquerade of Liars

Dad!Gale x Fem!Reader

A/N: Had to do a little something for Halloween! So i found out Faerun has their own kind of Halloween called Liars Night or Masquerade of Liars. Here’s a link if you want to read more about it, it’s actually super cool! But I also just wanted to write some soft Dad!Gale after so many of you seemed to enjoy that one shot of him finding out reader was pregnant. So hope y’all enjoy!

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is referred to as mother/mum.

*not beta read, sorry for any grammatical errors*

The smell of sulfur fills your nose as you strike a match to light the small wax candles before you. You light the wicks before shaking the match to douse the flame, and grabbing one of the lit candles.

“Cassias!” You call, moving to place the light source inside of your son’s pumpkin. “Are you almost ready? We need to go. Gale-!”

Your husband materializes just as you call his name, his lips against your own cutting off your words. You sigh when you pull away, smiling despite yourself as you place the last two candles in the remaining pumpkins.

“Did you help Cas with his costume?” You ask, looking over the carved orange spheres before you, making sure they look alright before you put them outside.

Gale lets out a quiet laugh as he shrugs his shoulders, “I tried, but he could not be swayed to accept my assistance. He wanted to do it himself.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes playfully, “He is definitely your son - stubborn.”

Gale lets out a small scoff, as he steps forward to wrap his arms around your waist. “Me? Stubborn? I think he gets that from you, my love.”

You let out a low hum, as you reach up to straighten the collar of his robe, “I suppose he gets it from the both of us.”

Gale smiles. “That’s better,” he says, before leaning in to kiss you again.

You relish in the somewhat quiet moment in your lover’s arms, knowing that the rest of the night will be full of excitement and noise.

The approaching thunder of footsteps coming down the stone steps of the tower make you separate from one another, but not before you press one last kiss to his cheek.

“I’m coming!” You son calls as he barrels down the stairs, nearly tripping over the tail of his costume as he hits the floor.

You instinctively reach out for him, but he’s righted himself before you can help, and you’re unable to stifle the grin that splits your lips as you take in the costume Cassian wears.

He insisted on being a dragon. A red dragon specifically. And it had to have horns, and giant wings.

And well…who were you to deny him?

His mask looked like that of a red dragon, tall pointed black horns rising from the top of it, even pointy teeth peeking out of the creature's mouth. The rest of his costume was just as elaborate, you and Cassian having worked on it for weeks leading up to the Masquerade of Liars. His shirt and pants are lined with hundreds of small metal scales that glint in the candle light. He even has a tale pinned to his pants, which may prove to be more of a hindrance now that you see it dragging the ground.

Even Gale helped with the costume, adding his own magical flare in the form of gentle smoke coming from the mask's mouth as if Cassian could breathe fire.

“Look, father look!” Cassian jumps around in his costume, the scales tinkling softly as he does so and reflecting a beautiful dappled light pattern all through the kitchen.

Gale ‘ooo’s’ and ‘ah’s’ at his son’s costume before picking the child up and smiling at the giggles that pour out from behind the mask.

“You’re just as fearsome as the legendary Ansur of Baldur’s Gate,” Gale tells him seriously before reaching up to tilt the mask up to the top of Cassian's head, revealing his face to you both.

Cassian is basically a spitting image of Gale. Warm brown eyes and dark hair. Gale insists he got your nose though, and your smile, which you’re happy about if not a little begrudging. You carried him for nine months! The least the gods could have done is given him your eyes…

But you wouldn’t change a thing, not really. Cassian has turned into a wonderful child, all chubby cheeks and laughter and kindness. Even now you watch in silent admiration as Cassian talks animatedly with his father. Despite being only six his vocabulary is as big as Gales.

“Are you ready for a night of trickery and lies?” Gale asks, voice dropping to a playfully low octave.

Cassian nods, eyes lighting up. “And candy!”

Glae laughs, moving to set Cassian back on his feet. “And candy of course. Do you have room in your pockets?”

Cassian nods fervently, face serious as he pats both pockets on his costume. “I even have candy in my other pocket so no one steals our coin.”

You stifle a laugh at the seriousness with which Cassian takes the holiday.

Liars night, though now more commonly known as the Masquerade of Liars is a night to pay tribute to the dirties Leira and Mask. While it started centuries ago as a more serious holiday it’s evolved into more of a fun tradition to celebrate the gods.

The particular tradition Cassian is referring to is pickpocketing. It used to be so common back when the holiday was first created that people started keeping candy in their pockets instead of coins - this soon evolved into people taking the candy and leaving behind trinkets or a small note in return.

Now most people just give the candy out, especially to children. But the occasional trinket still makes it into a pocket here or there - and you aren’t about to ruin his fun.

“Very good, Cas!” You praise, turning to face the carved pumpkins once more. “We should be ready to go once we put the pumpkins on the doorstep. Do you want to carry yours?”

“Yes, yes! Can I?” He reaches his hands up expectantly, and you smile, looking over at Gale.

“What do you think, my love?”

Gale nods, a smile matching your own on his face as he takes Cassian’s pumpkins from the counter. “I think a dragon as fearsome as Cassian can carry his own pumpkin to the stoop this year.”

Cassian cheers and takes the pumpkin carefully in his arms, Gale keeping a watchful eye until he’s sure he has a secure hold on it.

You take your pumpkins and Gale takes his as you all move to the front door of the tower, moving slowly to keep the candles lit.

“Be careful Cas,” you say, following close behind. “You don’t want the candle to blow out, remember?”

“I remember, mum,” he says, “It’s bad luck.”

You nod as Gale reaches out with one hand to open the door for all of you, the cool night air kissing your skin. “That’s right.”

You watch as Cassian moves to set his pumpkin at the top of the stairs right next to the door, turning it this way and that until he’s happy with the placement. You and Gale place yours nearby before locking the door and taking Cassian’s hands in your own.

Once at the bottom of the stairs, you all turn to look at the small display, the candles flickering gently in the night. Cassian hops impatiently between you and your husband, his little hands squeezing yours tightly.

“Can we go?” He asks, excitement bleeding into his words.

You chuckle and nod. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to miss the festivities.”

The three of you walk from your home towards Waterdeeps town square. While the night is celebrated throughout the city, most people gather in the square. Vendors set up to sell food or other festive items and children run around trying to collect as much candy as they can in one night. Even the adults partake in the costumes and activities. You and Gale have dressed up in the past, but this year you decided to forgo a disguise.

Cassian chats animatedly as you make your way down the quiet streets, the sounds of celebration getting louder the closer you get to the center of Waterdeep. His steps get more impatient until eventually, both you and Gale are stumbling to keep up with the energetic child as you finally reach your destination.

The square is decorated for the holiday, lanterns hanging all around, and some even floating in the air thanks to some other magic wielders. Autumnal colored banners and draping shirt line the various vendor stalls and the fountain at the center, and lively music fills the square as well.

Cassian breaks away from you and Gale when he spots one of his friends, a little tiefling boy named Allon who looks to be dressed as an owlbear.

Gale laughs as you both follow him, watching as he embraces his friend before gesturing excitedly at their costumes. “I don’t understand where all that energy comes from - it surely doesn’t come from me.”

You let out a chuckle of your own as you stand a few paces back to let Cassian talk to his friend. “That’s just how children are, I’m afraid. But it dies down. Eventually.”

Gale just hums quietly in response, watching your son with adoring eyes as he and Allon take turns roaring at each other.

You remember a time many years ago when Gale told you he didn’t feel like he was father material. Granted it was in the middle of some tumultuous times for everyone, but you had thought he truly meant it. And despite him being overjoyed when you told him you were pregnant with Cassian several years ago you couldn’t help but worry those doubts would creep back in.

But they never did.

Gale took to fatherhood like a fish to water. Despite it being a learning curve for the both of you, he took everything in stride and a new glow settled into his being. Even in his most dour moods from hours of fruitless research or a failed spell experiment, his face would always light up at the sight of his son.

This adoration just seemed to grow as Cassian got older, the boy taking after his father in almost everything. You remember thinking that Gale was going to die of happiness when Cassian started to show an affinity for magic and a certain connection to the weave.

You know he would have been happy even if Cassian showed no interest in the weave or magic in general, but the fact that he does has only pulled the two of them closer.

“Mr. Dekarios!”

Allon’s voice pulls you from your reverie, watching as him and Cassian come running up to you and Gale. You look past him to see his parents watching you all and give them a small wave which they return.

Gale takes his hand from your own as the boy approaches and crouches down to his level.

“Yes, Allon?”

The boy, whose mask is tipped up to sit on top of his head, looks slightly sheepish as he looks at Gale.

“Can you show me that magic trick again?” He asks politely.

Gale feigns to think for a moment, hand on his chin as he scratches his beard. “Do you mean this one?”

With a flick of his wrist and a faint purple aura, Gale produces a small foil wrapped chocolate in the palm of his hand just to the side of Allon’s face. The tiefling giggles in delight before snatching the candy and stuffing it in his mouth.

You hear a small gasp come from behind him as his mother approaches, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Allon, what do you say?”

His eyes widen as he speaks around the chocolate in his mouth. “-‘fank you.”

Gale laughs before pulling two more chocolates from his robe and handing them to him. “You’re most welcome.”

Allon’s mother gives you both a small apology before leading her son back to where her husband stands.

Gale’s trick for Allon starts to attract a small crowd of children, all of them begging to see him do more tricks and other magical displays. Your wizard stands next to you as the gaggle grows, a huge grin splitting his lips as he complies with the tiny demands.

He pulls candy out of thin air, handing them to the small grabby hands that reach out before moving to pull hard candy’s from behind some children’s ears or even making them appear right in their pockets. You watch from a few feet away, as Cassian fights his way to the front of the crowd. Gal hoists him into his arms and pauses his display as yours son leans in to whisper in his ear.

Gale’s eyes light up, and he nods. “That sounds like a grand idea, Cassian. Would you like to help me?”

At the prospect of helping his father with magic, Cassian nods fervently, his mask shaking funnily on his face. Gale instructs the other children to back up just a few feet before setting Cassian down beside him. He turns to face him and takes his little hands in his own, palms facing up.

“Now, remember,” he instructs gently, “You have to think about it very hard, try to picture it in your head.”

Cassian nods firmly, and you can practically picture the look of serious determination on his face.

Gale continues. “And remember, do not be discouraged if it does not work because…”

“I’m still learning and mistakes are okay,” Cassian recites the words Gale tells him so often.

Gale smiles, squeezing Cassian’s hands. “That’s right. Now, are you ready?”

Cassian nods again and Gale turns to face the small crowd, which has now grown to include adults as well. You’ve now moved to join the crowd a few paces back from the front row of children in order to watch your family. You bite the inside of your cheek, hoping that Cassian isn’t nervous in any way.

Gale places both hands out in front of him, palms together and waits as Cassian mimics him. After a moment of concentration he separates his hands to reveal a small area of purple and blue light. You wait for Cassian to do the same but find yourself slightly perplexed when he stays still, his hands held firmly together in front of him.

You watch as Gale whispers something to him before he thrusts his hands skywards ending out a cascade of purple and blue light that settles over the crowd. Moments later you watch as Cassian does the same but instead, pure starlight springs out from his palms, creating a magical night sky above the square as the pinpricks of bright white light settle among the colorful aurora.

Cheers and gasps of pleasure erupt from the crowd, but you don’t stay to watch their faces as they marvel at the magic. You’re already rushing forward, taking Cassian in your arms as you gasp.

“Cassian, that was amazing!” You praise, hugging him close before looking at Gale who gazes proudly at his son. “When did you learn to do that?”

Cassian pulls away so he can look at you, tugging his mask up so his brown eyes can look into your own, excitement and utter joy sparkling in his eyes.

“I’ve been practicing for over a tenday!” He says proudly.

Finally gale approaches, finally free from attention as they all marvel at his handiwork. “It’s true. He would not rest until he was sure he could do it,” he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “In fact it was you he wanted to surprise most.”

You smile and turn to look at your son again. “Well consider me surprised,” you tell him before peppering his face with kisses, causing him to squeal. “I’m so, so proud of you, Cas.”

“Muuum!” He whines, causing you to relent in your barage of kisses.

“Okay, okay,” you say, moving to set him back on his feet. “Why don’t we go explore the rest of the square? I think I saw someone selling cinnamon buns…”

At the mention of his favorite treat, Cassian’s face lights up again and he tugs his mask back down as he grabs your and Gale’s hand in each of his one.

“Yes! Let’s go, let’s go!”

———

The moon is high in the sky by the time you three make your way home. Cassian is sound asleep in Gale’s arms, pockets building with candy, and chocolate staining the corners of his mouth.

You approach the tower soon enough, the facing flicker of three candles greeting you through the carved mouths of the pumpkins. You smile as you make your way up the steps, getting the door for Gale before following them both inside.

You follow them up to Cassian’s room and help Gale gently remove his costume, careful not to wake him. But despite your best efforts, just as you're tucking him into bed, Cassian stirs awake.

His eyes flutter slowly as his hands come up to tug the blanket further around him.

“Did the candles go out?” He asks sleepily.

You shake your head, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Nope. They’re still lit, my love. No bad luck this year.”

Cassian nods before turning onto his side, eyes slipping closed as he falls right back asleep.

You smile and press another kiss to his forehead, Gale doing the same before blowing out the candles and leaving the room, leaving the door cracked so a small amount of light can filter in from the hallway.

You both move about readying for bed once Cassian is settled, neither of you speaking as sleep starts to tug at your minds as well. Only when you’re settled beneath the covers with Gale’s arms snaking around you do you finally break the silence.

“You’re an amazing father,” you tell him softly, lips brushing against his own.

Gale is silent for a moment, eyes trailing over your face before his eyes slip closed and he pulls you closer, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“That is praise most high - praise I sometimes still feel unworthy of.”

You shake your head, wrapping around him further. “You deserve that and more, my love.”

He presses a kiss to your neck, the underside of your jaw, before eventually pulling away to capture your lips with his own. It’s a slow, languid kiss, both of you just taking each other in until finally breaking apart and settling against the pillows.

“I love you,” gale says simply, pressing one last kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, for giving me this. Giving me a family.”

Your heart swells at his words and you move to bury your face in his chest, wanting him as close as possible.

“I love you too.”

#gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale x reader #bg3 gale x reader #bg3 x reader #gale #bg3 #bg3 gale

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multifariousqueer · 11 months

Note

Hello for starters I love your writing and keep up the great work!👍😊

I was wondering if you could write some headcanons for Earth 42 Miles doing a skin care or mental health day with his s/o? Like doing face masks while relaxing and eating their favorite snacks/food. After noticing that miles needs some extra care from working since he's busy and kinda looks tired.

OFC!!! THIS IS SO CUTE SO IM EXCITED

Miles self care day head cannons

You see that Miles’ usually very bright features look tired, stressed and more gaunt so you decide to have a self care day. I mean, you could use one too

At first, Miles is very reluctant(I hc that he doesn’t believe he deserves this or you.) but you’re very persuasive so he caves

“Cleanse and replenish?” “yeah. It’s good for your skin” “Why is it slimy?” “Its rejuvenating” “I’m plenty juvenated” “Miles.” “fine"

Has a texture thing fs. But he does it for you

His eyes light up when you have his favorite movies and snacks waiting for him

“awww you shouldn’t have” “you deserve it, mi amor” “te amo, mi Corazon"

SIMP SIMP SIMP

He’s a simp for you and he is so proud of it

If you run him a warm bath, he will literally marry you on the spot

“Ohhhh Mammmiii” “I know baby, relax” “You shouldn’t-“ “shhhhhh"

The epsom salt and eucalyptus bath soak get to him fr

“Feel better, baby?” “mhmmm"

Mans is a sponge. You get him a warm robe and slippers and he looks normal again

This man is so confused by your face masks.

“What’s ‘mask of magnanimity’?” “OOOHHHH I LOVE THAT ONE, ITS COOLING AND EXFOLIATES” “what’s in it?” “kaolin and aduki beans” “THEY PUT SHIT IN THE FACEMASKS??” “MILES ITS NOT SHIT OML"

He makes you repeat the ingredients 100 more times because he keeps dying laughing.

“Are you gonna take this serious or what?” “Mami, I promise” “You’re chuckling!” “I can’t help it"

his laughing made you laugh and you fell into him

“I GOT DUKI ON MY SHIRT” “MILES PLEASE”

You were out of breath from laughing and decided to sit on the couch and watch movies

“Ughhh why is it tight? Y/n. I can’t feel my face” “good. We have another 5 minutes anyways so stay still” “It’s the duki, I knew it.”

You laughed so hard, the mask cracked and you had to wash it off early

Miles went with you and he kept splashing you with water

“Miles stop it!” “what? I’m not doing anything” “sir! I literally see you flicking water on me” “...eso no es my fault"

You stared at him for a second before dying laughing

You decide to put on lip masks and order cake from UberEats

“How are we supposed to talk?” “Well I guess we’ll just have to suffer; beauty is pain, Miles” “beauty my ass, you were already gorgeous” “‘were?’” “you still are! I mean” “I know, Papi, I know"

Y’all fall asleep on the couch feeling fresh, moisturized and rejuvenated

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales headcannons #miles x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales #across the spiderverse fanart #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse spoilers #into the spider verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #marvel #i love him #i need him #spiderman #miles!spiderman #foryou #spider verse

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biographydivider · 1 year

Text

Urgent Brother Business

A little gift for @somerandomdudelmao in return for their delightful Future AU, and for blessing us with Tiny Tello. I couldn’t get the image of him bossing gigantic, adult Leo around out of my head!

“So the Krang dogs were last spotted here,” April was saying, tapping at a map she’d laid out across the War Room table. “If we come around the perimeter this way, we should be able to use these ruins as cover to...”

She looked up from the carefully plotted attack plans at the ten recruits she’d assembled to go over strategy; none of which were even looking at the map. “Seriously, guys?” April huffed. “I don’t even have to turn around to see what y’all are gawking at...”

Behind her in the hallway, the Leader of the Resistance, The Greatest Ninja of All Time and the turtle who was meant to be leading this damn meeting was crawling across the floor, barely holding in a laugh as a tiny, furious green pancake led him about by the tails of his mask.

“Well,” April deadpanned, arms folded, “I’ve turned around, and I see. Master Leonardo, you wanna get involved, here?”

“Can’t, April,” Leo said, pointing down at the turtle tot, who was scowling through his custom, handmade glasses at the world around him. “I’m double-booked. Take it up with Donnie.”

Donnie - the recent victim of a severe bout of anti-aging that seemed to be going around the base of late - growled reedily and tugged on Leo’s mask tails.

“Oop, we’re off again. See you next time, Commander. Recruits.”

“The sooner Mikey works out how to change him back,” April sighed, turning back to her map, “the better. Okay, can we at least try to focus, please?”

Leo had been basically useless to the resistance since Donnie got babified; following him around and basically doing whatever his little brother (emphasis on little) wanted him to do. That or picking Donnie up and gently squeezing him around the middle, just to hear him squeak. It was so darn cute!

“Where are we going, bud?” Leo asked, as Donnie led him through the base, his face a mask of adorable determination. “You wanna go bath? S’at it? You wanna swim? Oh, we’re going to the kitchen? I can getcha a cookie, just don’t tell Raph...oh.”

They’d stopped just in front of the counter that held the battered, dinged but somehow miraculously still functional coffee machine. It was Donnie’s pride and joy - he’d rescued it from a decimated Starbucks a month or two back, painted a Genius Brand logo on it and had made it work on salvaged coffee beans, evaporated milk and a dream.

Tiny Donnie looked up at it expectantly.

“Uh, bud?” Leo said, getting to his feet and rubbing the back of his neck guiltily. “I don’t think I can get you a coffee right now. You’re just a little guy, and I don’t know what all that caffeine will do to your sensitive lil’ tum-tum.”

Donnie looked from the machine to Leo and, assuming he simply hadn’t made himself understood, jabbed a tiny finger in the direction of the machine.

“D. Coffee’s not a good idea right now.”

Donnie grumbled and pointed all the harder.

“Nuh-uh. No way.”

The turtle tot’s eyes widened in scandalised betrayal - then narrowed as he hissed out something that was obviously a very bad word in Baby-ese.

“Woah, woah, you watch your mouth, mister.” Leo bent down to scoop up his brother. “You need a time out, buddy. Away from all this --”

An entire arsenal of purple nimpo weaponry materialised around Donnie.

“...temptation,” Leo finished weakly. “Eeuough boy.”

“Okay,” April was saying back in the War Room, having finally - finally! - wrangled back the recruits’ attention. “So this next part’s important. Escape plan; this back alley is vital, everyone memorise the co-ordinates --”

BOOM BOOM BANG POW SCREECH POP BOOM BANG BANG BANG BANG

As one, the recruits snapped their attention to the doorway, just as Leo sprinted past, shrieking in terrified laughter as Donnie - somewhere in the haze of purple light and firepower that surrounded him - followed in hot pursuit.

“Donnie no, Donnie stop it I’m sorry, Donatello stand down I’m still your commanding officer--AAAAAGH!!!”

A soft, resonant boom, followed by a cloud of purple smoke. April deflated, finally admitting defeat and rolling up her map.

“Doesn’t matter. Just...don’t worry about it, guys.”

#cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt #rise leo #rise april #rise donnie #tiny tello

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kelppsstuff · 2 months

Note

HI MOOTIEE anyways I got smth for ya

Of course it's Adam cause YEA.

what if Adam and his goth girlfriend who is an angel of course can be fluff can be smut anything you want

Thanks mootie have a wonderful dayyy

HIIII MY BELOVED!!!! Ahhhh I hope you like thissss I enjoyed working on it! Have a fantastic day for everyone reading! Also I low-key think I’m turning into a slut with all the smut I’ve been writing recently 😭

“Looking Pretty!”

Adam x Goth gf reader

Masterlist

Warnings: blow job

Taglist: @adamsfavoritesinner @sashaphantomhive @leathesimp @ladyninggs @michelleszn @sirenetgeblogger

—

Adam had first met you when he was on stage performing at a concert. You saw you next to Lute singing all the lyrics on the top of your lungs. He threw two guitar picks y’all’s way, one for each of you and moved on to the other side of the stage.

After the concert had ending Lute introduced you two. You were her sister, and he was her boss.

—

“Sir?” Lute called out to her boss. She was behind stage and wanted to introduce her best friend to her sister. “Yeah danger tits?” Adam asked looking over his shoulder for a spilt second. He was signing autographs for girl and guys, and even little kids.

“I’d like you too meet someone if you’d have the time.” Adam brain flashed to you and Lute together in the audience. Shirley his lieutenant. wanted to introduce him to you. “Sure thing. I’ll be back ladies.”

He and lute walked over to where you were, talking to the drummer. Adam felt his eye twitch. Said drummer always pissed him off — copied Adam 24/7.

“Y/N. This is Adam.” Lute said, taking your attention away from the drummer. You looked to the first man and felt a whole bundle of nerves and excitement gather in your stomach.

“Hi! I’m Y/N!” You stuck your hand out and Adam took it. “Never expected to see a big toy goth girl in heaven.” Leave Adam to be… Adam.

Lute was screaming in her head at Adam. That was her SISTER. And what if you said something slick back?! That’s her BOSS!

“Guess I’m special.”

“Sure babe, but you ain’t better than me.”

—

The thing that made Adam really start to notice you was your outfits. He loved all the necklaces you would wear, loved the make up you did most days. He also loves your fishnets.

He couldn’t count how many times he gotten hard when you would walk around in them. It gotten that porn wouldn’t even help him anymore, but the thoughts of you did.

Adam had invited you to every one of his concerts, and even if Lute didn’t show, you still did. You were his biggest fan, his biggest supporter.

—

Adam had to be on stage in thirty minutes and every thing had started to go wrong. First his guitar wasn’t in tune. Next his singer called out last minute, something about forgetting an date. So he would have to sing, and his throat had been hurting all day. Then he couldn’t find his mask. And finally while he was trying to calm himself down, there was knock at his dressing room door. He couldn’t get a fucking minute alone.

“Fuck off!” He shouted, trying to tune his guitar. But the person didn’t fuck off. You opened the door and poked your head through the door. “Need help?” Your eyes widened. You hadn’t ever seen him with out his mask.

He was handsome safe to say. Rich brown hair, golden shimmering eyes, and a stubble that suited him. He wore black ripped jeans and a white tank top, typical rockstar outfit.

Adam glared at you but the ultimately decided you could be useful. “Come here.” His voice had a certain chill, it sent shocks of excitement down your spine. You walked over to him, and stood waiting for what he needed.

Adam looked you up and down and silently cursed. You wore a short ass skirt, with a crop maroon tank top — that did a poor job in hood your tits from spilling in Adams opinion. The platforms you wore, made you a bit taller but Adam still towered over you. And you wore those fucking fish nets.

Adam sat you down on the couch and put his guitar in your hands. He got behind you and put his hands over your own. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his gloves, you had also noticed how vain-y his hands really were along with his fore arms. “Do you know how to tune a guitar?” His breath fanned over your ear and blowing you hair the faintest bit.

“No,” you went to turn your head around to him but he grabbed your chin with his hand and pushed your head to look back at the guitar. “You see these nobs? The make the strings tighter and loser.” Adam reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone.

Once he had his tuning app pulled he placed said phone your thigh. He didn’t move his hand away from it, at least not before gripping your fishnets, wishing to tear them.

“Adjust the nobs accordingly and the app will tell you if it’s in tune or not, and if it needs to be looser or tighter. Understand?” You nodded your head, and he reluctantly pulled away from you.

He started to look around for his mask. He couldn’t preform without it. He was surprised that he was comfortable with you seeing his face. Despite that, he knew he wouldn’t be comfortable performing without it.

You started to tune his guitar, slightly confused at first, but slowly got the hang of it.

Adam had trouble finding his mask. He would look at you and think thoughts that would, we’ll send him to hell probably. When he would look away — after telling himself to stop being creepy — it wouldn’t be long till his eyes were back on you. So yeah, he couldn’t find his mask.

You looked up over to him and saw him staring directly at you. Placing the guitar on the couch you got up and walked over to him. Normally you would be wearing necklaces that would move with your steps but he took notice in your bare neck.

“It’s tuned.” He hummed and acted on his intrusive thoughts. He pulled you closer to him by your neck. “You know what would compliment this outfit? A collar.” His hand wrapped around your neck, and squeezed the tiniest bit, his veins bulging.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you tired to find your next words. “What kind?” Adam took another step, you chest now pushing against each other. “One with my name on it.”

Cocky bastard.

"20 MINUTES TILL SHOW TIME!” Someone called out from the hallways. Adam clenched his jaw in annoyance. “Ya wanna suck me off before I go on?” He said in a joking tone, but holy fuck that would take away about 85% of his problems. He was pent up. He wasn’t expecting you to do anything. You’d always brush away his sexual comments, which unsurprisingly was more often than not.

You raised a brow and started to unbutton his pants. “You have twenty minutes.” His hand on your throat tightened and you started to get on your knees.

You brought the zipper and started to pulled down with your teeth. Most girls he fucked tried to act innocent. Always looking at the package he had to offer as if it was the first dick they seen. But you — you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes begging. Like a fucking slut. You pulled his pants down a little — along with his boxers and started to pump him. Getting him hard but you did need to do it for long — seeing as he was already leaning precum.

Fuck if he had twenty minutes he was gonna make it worth it.

“I’ve gotten a hand job before babe, I prefer a blowjob.” He really couldn’t shut his mouth.

You brought your lips to his shaft and started to kiss him gentle, and so soft he shuttered. You continued to move you hand as you slowly took him in your mouth.

Your mouth was warm and you started to suck him off. You couldn’t fit him all the way in your mouth — fulling his ego more — so you made up with the inches you couldn’t fit with your hand.

Your hand twisted around him and you sucked harder, making him throw his head back in a groan. His Adams apple bobbed as he swallowed the moan wanting to escape.

“10 MINUTES!”

It was like a switch in Adam. He started to thrust into your mouth, desperately trying to release his frustration. Spit started to fall past your bottom lips — fuck, I need to be neat, you thought, insanely hot, Adam thought. You rest reached up and started to play with your nipples with your now free hands.

You could feel your gag reflex kicking, tightening your throat up. That had done it for Adam. “Fuck!” He poured himself into your mouth. Some dripped onto you lips and chin.

You looked up at licking you lips and wiping your chin with your pointer finger, before sucking that as well.

You throat had started to become sore. “THREE MINUTES! ANYONE SEEN ADAM?!” You looked to the door, but something caught your eye. Adams mask was under a desk. You crawled to it, seeing as it wasn’t far.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m fucking you.”

You rolled your eyes and got up, handing Adam his mask.

Adam was wrong, it didn’t fix 85% of his problems. It fixed 100% of his issues. “TWO MINUTES!” That send Adam into over drive, but before he could put his mask on you grabbed his chin and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Your lipstick was ruined, but a kiss mark still showed on him face. “See you out there.” You grabbed tissues and walked out. Adam not far behind you.

—

Once the concert was over, Like normal you went to find Adam backstage. You stood behind him as he signed autographs. Your feet started to hurt from wearing play forms all day. Adam seemed to take notice.

“Take your shoes off.”

“And walk bare foot on this ground?” You raised you brow to him as if he was insane. Adam rolled his eyes and bent down on one knee in front of you.

He started to take your shoes off, you did little protest, happy to get them off. He then took off his own shoes and put your feet in them. Tying them tightly so they wouldn’t fall off.

Fans started to look in shock, people started to take photos while other glared in envy.

You kind of half expected Adam to wear your shoes — you didn’t know why — but he didn’t. He carried them for you and when you two left the building he slung an arm around you. “So this means we’re dating.” Even though it didn’t sound like a question, it was.

“If you can get Lutes blessing, sure.”

—

Fuck. Adam hadn’t tried to ever convince someone of something so much before. He spent a total of 5 months proving himself to Lute. Proving himself to you. He could see why Lute wouldn’t trust him. He was a huge playboy but in those five months he gave that up. Only wanting one.

So when Lute gave him his blessing to date you, another five months later he was asking for your hand in marriage. To which you both called him deranged.

—

Ahhhh I hope that was good? I feel like the ending was rushed so I may edit this sometime in the future

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #masterlist #x reader #adam hazbin hotel #adam is actually hilarious #adam x reader #goth #goth reader #goth gf #Adam x goth reader

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 7 months

Text

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 3

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

PLEASASSWEEPLEASE TOU DONT HUNRERFSTABDS

GLENN GLENN GLENN ITS GLENN VOTE GLENN VOTE FOR THE BOY

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

GLENN GLENNNNNN

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I haven't dedicated the last 2 months of my life drawing Glenn close for him to lose

Vote for Glenn Close or I will make you read the parody I did of the vaporeon copypasta

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

VOTE GLENN

Glenn fuckers fought tooth and nail to get us here from like 38% dawg we DESERVE THIS. GLENN IS THE SEXIEST MAN!!! HE WAS THE FIRST FICTIONAL CHARACTER I FOUND HOT AND HE’S GONNA CONTINUE TO SWEEP!!! Your hot goat woman sounds sexy don’t get me wrong but I’m forever fighting for the man that changed my brain chemistry. Proud of our fandom tbh. I don’t think y’all understand the sheer amount of effort I have put in to get my boy where he is today but this placement feels well earned. TO GLENN SWEEP!!

THE FUCK YOU MEAN GLENN CLOSE ISNT WINNING IM BOUT TO THROW HANDS FR

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

Yalll better vote glenn i swear to god

Vote Glenn or else the bird gets it🐦🛸

HOW IS MY DUDE NOT WINNING????

GLEN GELN NELG GLENNANN HE DESERVS ITTTT

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Taako (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

A celebrity chef from another plane

#Round 3 #Glenn Close #Taako #Dungeons & Daddies #Dungeons and Daddies #The Adventure Zone #TAZ Balance

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whump-or-whatever · 1 year

Text

Defiant whumpee who copes with (dark) humour dialogue

• • •

Whumpee: *standing in line for the teller at the bank*

Whumper: *walks in wearing a ski mask and waving a gun* “This is a robbery!”

Whumpee: *very matter-o-factly* “Actually, sir, this is a bank.”

• • •

Whumpee: *being held at gun point as hostage*

Whumper: “I’ll do it! I’ll shoot them!”

Whumpee: “do it, no balls”

• • •

Whumpee: *in captivity, being interrogated*

Whumper: “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you’ll get the whip again”

Whumpee: *eyes wide* “You can’t! My cellmate and I were using the grid to play connect 4 and I was winning!”

• • •

Whumper: *throws a wet rag at whumpee after torturing them* “Clean yourself up.”

Whumpee: *gasps, whispers* “Master has given Dobby a cloth.”

• • •

Whumper: “I’m going to enjoy torturing you until you scream. I can’t wait to see you broken and hear you begging me for mercy.”

Whumpee: “Seems to me like you’ve got some deep-seated emotional issues. Have you considered seeking professional help?”

• • •

Whumper: *walks in later than usual*

Whumpee: “You know, if the teacher is 15 minutes late to class you’re free to go. I think the same rule should apply here.”

• • •

Whumper: *laughs evilly at whumpee’s pain*

Whumpee: *mocks their laughter*

• • •

Whumper: “Nobody is ever going to come for you.”

Whumpee: “I bet that’s what your ex said when they dumped you.”

• • •

Whumpee: *is given plain bread to eat*

Whumpee: “Would it kill y’all to invest in some peanut butter? Mayonnaise? Anything?”

• • •

Whumper: “You’re worthless. Nobody loves you and nobody ever will.”

Whumpee: “In other news, water is wet.”

• • •

Whumper: “You look so nice covered in your own blood.”

Whumpee: “I bet I’d look even better covered in yours. Let’s try and see.”

• • •

Whumpee: *being moved with other prisoners, singing quietly* “They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard.”

Other prisoners: *chanting softly* “To Isengard, to Isengard.”

Whumper: *shakes their head incredulously*

• • •

Whumper: “I will find you.”

Whumpee: “Oh, wait! I know this one! And when you do, you’ll kill me, right?”

• • •

Whumper: “Tell me what I want to know!”

Whumpee: *sing-songy* “Gimme gimme never gets, don’t you know your manners yet?”

• • •

Whumper: *goes to stab whumpee*

Whumpee: *dodges and grabs the knife from whumper*

Whumpee: “That’s what I like to call a pro gamer move.”

• • •

Feel free to add your own!

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump idea #whump prompts #whump community #whumpblr #whumpee #dark humor #whumper #defiant whumpee #whump humor

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xaviers-star-tassel · 2 months

Text

⭐️ silent cry

✦ pairing: xavier / gn!reader

✦ genre: hurt to comfort

✦ warnings: probably badly written breakdown, feeling of emptiness and loneliness

✦ word count: 1.6k words

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ: there was never no need to hide your tears and feelings behind a fake smile. not when he was always there for you

⋆˙ ✦ note: as a huge stay and a silent cry lover, i couldn’t help myself but write this. this was probably the most fun i had while writing, though adding the lyrics into the story was harder than anticipated. stan stray kids y’all!! not proofread!

you had never been one to burden others with your feelings. perhaps it was that loud voice in your mind that kept on shouting to not annoy others around you, or just the fact that concerning people close to you filled you with guilt. you’ve always been told you were strong, and strong people don’t cry, right?

oh, how wrong everyone was. nobody knew that behind the smile you wore, behind every “i’m okay” you uttered, your poor heart was sobbing loudly. you dared not to show your vulnerability to anyone, not even the ones you considered friends, or even family. to be seen as disappointment was burdening your chest like an anvil.

that happy mask you always wore, simply to make others happy, seemed to shatter the moment you stepped foot in your dark room. the mental heaviness of your body and thoughts left you only sighing into the darkness, your frame harshly hitting the mattress. there was no joy in your eyes. you, who used to smile brightly, felt like you were slowly dying.

no one knew, yet a part of you felt glad. they didn’t deserve to be burdened by your troubles. even if no other person was there to listen to your nightly sobs and cries, you had made peace with that. for all you know, it was meant to be this way.

so there you were. in your room, dimly lit with the light radiating from your desk lamp, silently bawling your eyes out. your head laid on the pillow, the material of the sheet stained by the salty droplets of your tears. you weren’t aware of how long you had been crying, or why you even felt like it. it just happened, and there was no way to stop it. no matter how hard you tried, how much you tried to hold the tears in, it only made you cry more and harder.

your eyes burned, head was throbbing like it was repeatedly hit by a hard piece of metal. you could barely see the outlines of the furniture with how blurry your eyesight was. you wish you could just turn it off, to never feel again. or… to have someone you could cry to. but there wasn’t a person like that.

no one knew how you felt. at least, that was what you thought. one person knew all too well.

xavier was painfully aware of the pain in your eyes. the exhaustion behind your every smile. you were like a body without a soul, your gaze dull and almost empty. he wasn’t someone to notice other people’s feelings, moreover, he didn’t particularly care about the others.

but you weren’t just other person for him. you were special. he wanted to be your support, the shoulder to cry on. he was willing to be of help to you, no matter what would make you happy. truly happy.

yet you never approached him, and xavier couldn’t understand why. wouldn’t it be easier for you to let go of everything you held in? he would listen to your silent cry, that much was something he made clear to himself. your happiness was the most important thing to him, so why wasn’t it yours?

he was standing by your door, trying to listen to any sound coming from behind them. but your apartment was eerily quiet, as if you weren’t even there. but he knew better. he knew you were inside, suffering on your own.

as you laid on your bed, aggressively wiping the uncontrollable tears flowing down your cheeks, a knock erupted through the space of your abode. in panic, you jumped up, running to the bathroom to look at yourself.

the sight wasn’t pretty, it was anything but. your eyes were red, your hair a mess and face fully wet from tears. just the sight of yourself made you tear up even more. you bowed your head down, splashing handfuls of ice cold water on your face.

once you dried your face, you stumbled toward the door, possibly knocking something in the process. your hand made contact with the handle, and with a last deep breath, you swung the door open to reveal xavier.

“xavier! what are you doing here?” you mustered up the energy to smile brightly, hoping he would look over the red rim around your eyes.

you glanced down to notice a small box in his hand, and you immediately knew it were the macarons you liked the most. it was the packaging of it that gave away the content, and it made your heart flutter with genuine joy. even though it was a sparkle, it was enough.

“can i come in?” xavier asked with his usual calm tone.

the question surprised you, but you let him in anyway. with how dark your apartment was, his step to your room was careful, mindful of his surroundings. you quietly followed behind him, silently wishing he would explain his visit.

once you stood by your bed, xavier placed the box on the nightstand, right under the lit lamp before facing you. that was when you noticed the knot in between his eyebrows, not very far from a frown.

before you could say anything, his hand grabbed onto yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. your gaze fell down to your intertwined hands, then back at him. your eyes were round in surprise, and you barely bit back a gasp that threatened to fall from your mouth.

“why are you smiling when you don’t feel like it?” he whispered quietly, his free hand going up to cup your cheek.

he could feel the dried pathways of your tears beneath his palm. the cold water that you splashed your face with earlier didn’t get rid of the evidence of your tears fully, as it appeared. the pad of his thumb grazed ever so gently against your skin, drawing soothing circles over your cheekbone.

“what are you talking about? i’m okay,” you lied with a smile, though you could feel the tears prickling behind your eyelids.

“you always say that, but i can see how your heart sobs,” xavier’s voice was but a mere whisper as he drew you closer.

the forced smile began slowly faltering from your lips, and it was soon replaced by a quiver. without even realizing, a sob rippled through you, making it hard for you to hide your tears. one by one, like pearls falling from a torn necklace, tear droplets ran down your face. you couldn’t continue pretending to be alright, not when xavier was around.

a wave of relief washed over the man standing in front of you. he smiled softly as he engulfed you in a warm embrace, letting your tears stain his sweater. he didn’t mind. at least you weren’t alone in this, you had him now.

“don’t be the only one hurting,” he murmured into the crown of your head, earning a choked cry as a reply.

you tried to muster up a response, but nothing more than a sob came out. xavier shushed you gently, wordlessly saying that words weren’t needed.

careful with his movements, he settled on your bed. back leaning against the headboard, his arms reached out to pull you down on his lap. you had no energy to fight against it, in fact, you didn’t even want to. his warmth was soothing, and somehow nostalgic.

xavier’s arms held you tightly, like you’d slip away from his grasp if he let go. you cried and cried, body trembling and tears falling. loud sobs and pained whimpers filled the room, the dark place of all your deep sorrows.

even in his arms, it still hurt. why did it all have to hurt so much? and what was it that hurt? you weren’t even sure anymore. you couldn’t even tell if you had a reason to cry at all. it all felt useless, and utterly pointless. it felt unfair that xavier had to deal with your feelings, wrong even. you should push him away, right? you were a deepspace hunter, his partner. you were meant to be strong…right?

just as you were about to pull away, still crying heavily, you felt xavier’s slender fingers on the back of your head, gently pushing your head onto his chest.

“lean on me. i won’t let you go,” he whispered close to your ear, his lips brushing against your temple as he planted a gentle kiss on it.

xavier sat there with you, not uttering a sound as you let every tear out. his left hand gently caressed your hair, untangling the knots with a gentle touch, while the other drew soothing patterns on your back. his sweater was pretty much soaked by the time you were done, but he couldn’t care less. his favorite piece of clothing meant nothing compared to your happiness.

“thank you,” you managed to whisper, your voice hoarse and almost gone.

“you don’t have to thank me,” he shook his head, looking into your still teary eyes. “i’ll listen to your silent cry. always.”

his lips touched your forehead, calloused hands cupping your cheeks. he softly brushed the tear trails away, keeping his gaze on you. his touch was gentle, comforting. this man, the one who killed wanderers without mercy, treated you with upmost love and care. as if every crevice of your body was made of the most fragile glass.

“when you lose strength, i’ll hold you. i’ll say ‘it’s okay’ to you. just don’t cry alone, not when i’m here. not when i’m near,” xavier said in a quiet tone, leaning your head down to let you rest on his shoulder.

the heat of his body completely relaxed your muscles, putting your mind at ease. his chest slowly rose and fell as he breathed calmly, lulling you to sleep. your eyes began to close, and within a moment, you were asleep.

xavier didn’t leave your side, he wouldn’t dare. he stayed with you the whole night, occasionally waking up from his slumber to make sure you were sound asleep. as much as he valued his sleep, he valued you more.

he loved you more than anything.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #l&ds #l&ds x reader #l&ds xavier #lads x reader #lads xavier #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace xavier #otome game #xavier fluff #xavier love and deepspace #xavier

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b1rds3ye · 10 months

Text

Before the Mask

You eagerly return to the Federal Security Service’s base from a month long mission hoping to see Nikto again, but you’re told he’s not around. In the meantime, you find your interest piqued by a mysterious masked figure now wandering the barracks…

Pairing: Nikto x GN!Reader

Reader Aliases: Seeker

Word Count: 7.4k (I did NOT expect it to get this long so pls enjoy~)

Genre: Pre-Modern Warfare/Prequel, Fluff, Mystery (?), Reverse Comfort, Light Dose of Angst

Warning: Descriptions of injuries, swearing, mentions/portrayals of mental disorders, insults against physical experience, probably ooc Nikto, Reader is a lil oblivious

A/N: everyone being down bad for masked men Ghost and König but y’all forgot my man Nikto 😩 😩

“Congratulations to our dear comrade Seeker for their success and safe return!”

There were cheers all round as you entered the room. By the time you reached the main table, your back was sore with the slaps of congratulations and a job well done. The Russian Federal Security Service had sent you under the radar for a month long operation, and your comrades gifted you a surprise night of drinks and games upon your return. Even your fatigued body was energised by seeing familiar faces, and you had to give it to yourself, that last operation was probably the best you’ve ever performed. There was no better way to celebrate - surrounded by your allies… however it seemed one was missing.

“Where’s Nikto?” You questioned the troops surrounding you. It was an innocent inquiry, no one should be surprised, before your mission you were two peas in a pod. And yet the instant his name left your lips, the faces of your friends cracked for a split second before they forced their smiles to return. The area around you had gotten quieter. Your shoulders rose as you inwardly cringed. God, that’s embarrassing, you’re dampening the atmosphere to your own damn party.

“Brother Nikto is busy,” one replied. “He’s on field duty for the next few days-”

“Weeks,” another quickly corrected.

“Oh…” You frowned at their words, slumping back as you put your whole weight on the backing of your chair.

“He sends his regards, said he really wanted to come,” the troop added hurriedly.

“You worked hard the last month, Seeker. Do not push your mind now,” a sergeant tried to refill your drink upon seeing your dejected state, but it did little to quell the disappointment. Of course neither you nor Nikto could decline a mission, but you didn’t realise how much you were banking on being able to see Nikto again. Going undercover you interacted with no one but your direct superior. You missed him; he may be a little rough around the edges but he was steadfast and reliable. He may not have a face sculpted by Michelangelo but he had a rugged handsomeness that had made him a sight for your sore eyes. He wasn’t the most talkative but he had a drive and charisma that motivated you to keep fighting when he was in your sights. Oh well. For now, you’ll make the most of tonight and chase up Nikto later.

You took a massive gulp of your refilled drink, slamming it back on the tabletop half empty. You let your eyes scan across the room, only for it to land on a figure leaning against the opposite wall. The moment you two make eye contact he flinched, snapping his face away. And what a face - or lack thereof. His features were obscured by a smooth mask made of hard black plastic (or metal, you weren’t sure) that hugged his face like bandage wrappings. He wasn’t the largest figure in the room but he was still imposing enough for you to be unable to look away once you noticed him. It didn’t help that his entire body was clad in black, more akin to an assassin or ninja than a soldier. And like a ninja, he left at unimaginable speeds when he noticed your eyes were still on him.

You leaned over to the soldier beside you.

“Who was that?”

“Who?” They followed your gaze, only to be greeted with an empty wall.

“There was a guy with a big, bulky mask, haven’t seen him before. Did he join while I was away?”

They were silent for a few moments but you swear you heard them quietly curse at your question. They cleared their throat and nodded slowly.

“Yes, new guy. Don’t have a name for him yet. Probably shouldn’t ask.”

Over the next couple of days, you managed to pry Nikto’s number from one of your mutual friends. You didn’t want to look desperate to talk to him but you figured you were restrained enough after an entire damn month. His mission shouldn’t be undercover so he’d have access to all contacts. You shot him a casual text, a greeting and a wish that his mission is going well. Then it was the waiting game, you can’t imagine Nikto being an avid texter that eagerly hops onto every notification.

You had a few weeks until your next deployment but that didn’t mean you could slack off. In days like these you waste the hours away in the shooting range, in the last aisle where you’re tucked and hidden away.

Arms steady, breath slow, you shot at the target. This pistol was new, the weight distribution was off and it was showing in your inaccuracy. If you stared at the target any harder you would end up seeing double. With a grumble, you tore your gaze away and reloaded the weapon.

In truth, you originally didn’t have a preferred aisle of the shooting range. It was on one faithful visit where the range was packed, you had no choice but to take the furthest and dingiest one.

“You are good shot.”

Funnily enough, that interruption was all you needed for your next bullet to completely miss the target. You slowly turned around to make eye contact with a man adorning a matching uniform to yours. You tried to hide your scowl as he let out a raspy chuckle. He didn’t seem all that expressive, just a small quirk of the lips at your misfortune.

“Care to have a try?” You taunted, stepping back from the range and towards him, challenging him with your unwavering eye contact. You waited a solid twenty minutes for this aisle to free up you’d be damned if someone takes it after five.

“No, no, I will watch you. I am learning a lot.”

… that was arguably worse.

You sighed inwardly as you turned back to resume shooting. You could feel those cerulean eyes burning into the back of your head. It took an extra few seconds for you to quell your trembling for each shot. You recognised him, he was someone in your squadron who you had yet to greet. He wasn’t the easiest to approach, but you’d be lying if you hadn’t been admiring his combat prowess from afar.

“Commander chose well to hire you,” the man eventually praised, his voice rough. But he sounded closer, as you turned around he was right behind you, sending you almost jumping towards the range. “But your form is lacking… can I?”

You nodded, trying to step away to give him space to demonstrate but it seems you misunderstood when he took a large step towards you. First cupping your shoulders, he reoriented you to face the target. Picking up on what he was trying to do, you got over your initial surprise and returned to your default shooting position. He grabbed your elbows, calloused fingers rough even through your shirt fabric, readjusting your form as he saw fit. He didn’t even provide commentary, only giving a satisfactory grunt when he was done.

Eventually, you risked turning your head to look at the man again, only for him to immediately fix your slackening arms. As he did, you focused on his face, taking it in. Despite his constantly stern expression he did seem quite the looker.

Noticing your gaze, he regarded you again.

“My name is Nikto. I usually shoot here but you shoot well, I will let you practice here too.”

You shook your head as you willed the thoughts away. Back then, you didn’t expect yourself to get so close to Nikto, but now here you are, your mind lamenting that he isn’t here and conjuring up memories to compensate after only a few days. How lame you chastised yourself as you finished reloading.

A creak of the floorboards has you whirling around. Oh. It’s that guy again. The masked man who you saw at that celebratory night. Typically, someone of his stature with a mask hiding his features would be intimidating, but with the way he was hunched over with eyes wide like a deer in traffic lights, you weren’t all that concerned. And so, you extended an olive branch.

“Hello-”

The man dashed away.

To be fair in your line of work, half the time you’re grateful if they run away.

With an inward shrug, you turned back to the shooting range. But not before you took one sneaky look at your phone, checking the message you sent to Nikto.

Read 12:35pm.

That bastard.

A fellow troop gave you an encouraging nudge of the shoulder at your irritable expression. There were a lot of reasons you were pissed this morning, the fact it was extra cold, the fact it was extra early, the fact you were extra tired. But whatever it was, it was not because it has been a week and Nikto has not replied to you. Why would you care? This man has only been through hell and back with you on missions, you’ve saved each others lives a good dozen of times and had each other’s back both on the field and off. No sir, this man is completely insignificant to your life.

You felt like a damn child with how petulant you were with your phone now, it felt far too heavy in your thigh pocket as it shook with each step. You were getting phantom vibrations as you could swear you received a text but it was never from him. You really should give Nikto the benefit of the doubt - these missions can be high stakes and confidential - but giving the benefit of the doubt won’t make him reply any sooner either so you’ll keep being petty.

You were encouraged to get a drink at the kitchen before you train. You grumbled to yourself as you headed there (about what, you weren’t sure, you figured just cursing the heavens and everything on this earth would alleviate your anger). But as you went to the kitchen, you had a new reason to hate life.

They changed the coffee machine.

The army had prepared you for a lot of things, you’ve memorised essay long Russian military protocols, you’ve learnt complex weaponry but what the fuck is the machine standing in front of you? Why does it have fifty more buttons than the last one? Why can’t a poor, very lonely feeling soul, just get themselves a humble drink?

You experimentally pressed what you hoped to be the main button, only for the coffee machine to make a disapproving noise. You let out a groan before trying another. There was no response.

You smacked the machine, which ended up hurting you more than it hurt it. Taking a step away, you were ready to punch the mechanical brat, winding your arm back…

Inhale.

Exhale.

A steady breathing brought you out of your rage, only it wasn’t coming from you. Turning around slowly, you found yourself coming face to face with the fully clad man again. You don’t know how this broad figure keeps sneaking up on you, especially when you notice he breathes like Darth Vader. He stood at the centre of the kitchen, a few metres away from you yet still enough for you to feel on edge.

“Uh…” you looked at him curiously. He was too far away to get a good judge of his eyes - it didn’t help that the surrounding skin was coated in an obsidian that blurred his eyebrows and fine lines. But even from this distance, while he was looking at you his gaze seemed to be looking past you. Or perhaps deeper into your soul. Simultaneously focused and not, body still except for the slow heaving of his chest. And that breathing. You figured he was breathing through his mouth with how raspy it was. You had never heard a breath so laboured, it was worse than someone going for a marathon. It was more than his breathing sounding like a chore, it sounded painful, injured.

What sort of new recruit is this?

You figured there’s not much of a point deciphering that, you had more dehydrating problems. Clearing your throat, you gestured to the coffee machine.

“Could you help me with this…?”

There was a few tangible seconds of no response. It was only until you were about to push off the counter to leave did he do a quick jerk of the head and start moving. In a couple of strides he reached the coffee machine. He grabbed two mugs and pressed a convoluted line of buttons which you couldn’t figure out nor memorise. Then the machine made the whirring of good, hard effort and the two of you waited.

A Russian curse had you popping your head into the kitchen. There was Nikto, staring down at the coffee machine harder than he looked down the sights of a sniper rifle. You’re pretty sure victims of his wrath have gone through less than this poor coffee machine right now.

“A watched pot never boils,” you stated.

“A watched coffee machine?”

“Doesn’t look like it works either.”

Nikto groaned, only quietening at your giggle as you stood beside him, getting the coffee beans.

“We do not use these fancy robots for coffee,” Nikto stated idly as he watched you work the coffee machine.

“You make the coffee yourself? Some people would call that fancier.”

He shrugged in acknowledgement.

“What type of coffee?”

“Make me your strongest.”

“Roger that.”

After making his drink, you then made yours. You figured he was just learning through watching, getting mentally familiar with the machine. It was only the next morning you realised he was memorising what you drank, with him sliding it to you across the kitchen counter the instant you entered the room. Steaming hot, the best you’ve ever had it.

This was probably the closest you’ve ever gotten to the masked man, able to scrutinise and take a good look at him. His uniform was identical to yours - implying a similar rank - but when you eyed the patch at the front of his clothes, there was no surname provided. In particular, you were more curious in the expanse of skin around the eyes, the only part of him left uncovered. Whatever powder used to darken the surrounding skin in ash black only emphasised it’s rough texture. It wasn’t like the typical soft, sometimes baggy, skin around the mask of the eyes. No, his was taut, as though it was pulled back by an unknown force, where even a microexpression could cause cracks across such parched skin. Perhaps it already did, judging by the maroon bleeding between the cracks.

Against bloodshot eyes were his stormy irises. Dark and deep like the ocean, filled with turmoil. Maybe you misheard and this wasn’t a new recruit, instead someone who transferred. A newbie would never look so jaded already, not as though there were raging seas in their consciousness. A hurricane brewing, ready to devastate while the mind desperately tries to pick up the remaining pieces of self before the next terrifying wave washes over.

“Who are you?” You whispered aloud, almost shocking yourself and causing the man to look at you. He squinted, searching your face. It felt quite intrusive but to be fair you were doing the same a moment ago. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to read your expression or committing your face to memory, either way you remained silent. Eventually he pulled away and just shrugged.

At least he didn’t scurry away like last time, which is a good sign, maybe he actually wanted to know you. Third time’s the charm.

“Well, uh, feel free to call me Seeker,” you replied, offering your hand out to the man.

He stared at it for a moment, contemplating, before his gloved hand took yours. He shook your hand but with his other, he pointed to his throat. That, combined with the obvious scarring and breathing suggested that his voice has been fried. You have no idea how that’s going to work on missions - maybe he really is some silent, deadly ninja. But you suppose an ally’s been made.

You two turn upon hearing the footsteps of a lieutenant as he enters the kitchen. The masked man passes you the drink he made for you before taking off, pushing past the lieutenant, shoulders crashing together when they meet at the doorway. The lieutenant looks back at him before looking back at you.

“Damn, you really are special to him.”

“Sir? I just ran into him at the kitchen,” you raised your eyebrows as he joins you to make a drink of his own.

“Negative, he avoids everyone when possible. All day be mopes around in his room. I can not blame him, he clearly swam through shit’s creek and back.”

“Huh…”

Nodding slowly, you took your cup and returned to your friend with a new tidbit of information. You take a sip.

Your drink is exactly as you liked it.

A scream had you sitting up. It was blaring, right in your ear, bouncing around in your mind, hitting all the nerves that made the hair on your skin stand to attention. You rushed to stand up, only for your legs to get entangled on a blanket as it curled around you like a serpent. Clawing at the fabric you tried to pull it off as you hurriedly looked around for where the scream came from. Maybe you could hear for it again but you couldn’t hear over your racing heart. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but it was hard as spots in your vision had you looking everywhere and anywhere. Eventually you realised where you were.

You were in your room.

Another one of those nights, huh?

One where your body was at base but your mind was back on a mission, rehearsing each fight and kill over and over again. Your blanket finally relented, releasing your body as you pulled it off with a full sweep of your arm, letting your sweating body finally breathe through your nightwear.

With a heave, you hauled your body out of the bed. You weren’t going back to sleep anytime soon and judging by how dark it was, you have a few more hours until daylight. Getting changed into simple gear, you head out to your special spot at the back of the base. It’s covered in greenery for privacy with a single bulb by the door exit keeping it just light enough to see where you are. No one wanders round the back and it became your go to place when you needed to take your mind off of things.

Opening the door, you were greeted with familiar surroundings. It had been over a month since you last came here, so there were a few changes. One of the bushes had grown exponentially, a tree had lost an overhanging branch, a man was standing slumped against the wall-

What.

Over the last week, you kept seeing the masked man around, despite the words of your lieutenant. To be fair, you only ran into him when you were alone. He somehow knew all the base secrets that took you months to know. You ran into him off the beaten path of a nearby hiking trail, it was part of a new route you made to avoid the hordes of new recruits that jogged around. The old training room neglected for the new one was your personal haven but he found that too - which wasn’t surprising since he seemed pretty introverted. And now he’s found another one of your spots.

You didn’t mind though, he was good enough company… you suppose. He’s started speaking now, only single word sentences. His voice is incredibly raspy, more air than actual vocalisations. Through his broken voice you can still hear the thick coating of a Russian accent. His voice appears to be getting better though, you’ve had to ask him to repeat himself less these days, his tone is a little richer. But oddly enough he seems more reluctant to talk to you, the words he’s spoken to you on the daily you can count on a single hand.

Still, you would be lying if you said you weren’t a little peeved. This spot was meant to be truly isolated for you, allowing you to walk off your stressors, back and forth and back again until you no longer get the horrors of covert warfare flashing in your mind. Or the ability to freely talk to yourself as you sorted your thoughts, free of judgement. But now you have to behave like an actual functioning human.

“Morning,” you mutter, you really need to give him a code name soon if he’s so reluctant to give you his actual name. It’s less of a surprise seeing him around these days, he’s like a phantom cursed to the base, seemingly everywhere all the time. The masked man eyes you curiously, prompting your answer.

“I just needed some fresh air, I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep. You’ve heard some of the others during the night, yeah? War catches up to all of us. There’s kind of an unofficial buddy system when it gets too much.”

You’ve gotten quite adept at reading his body cues. A quirk of the head by him. On anyone else it would look cute, like a golden retriever but not on him. While curious, it was commanding, more like an interrogation by the good cop instead of the bad.

“My buddy? Uh, he’s out on a mission right now, I guess. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

You leaned back on a tree, ignoring the pang of your heart. He followed you, standing in front. Caught between a large tree and an equally wide man would have most people shaking, but not for you. It was as though he was trying to make your world smaller, more comprehensible, less terrifying.

“My last mission went well but it doesn’t mean I’m proud of what I did. I just woke up and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.”

He leans forward, listening intently. It was sweet how open his body language is around you.

“It sometimes makes me question enlisting. I never feel like I’m doing the right thing, or if I’m doing it that well. If I did it right it wouldn’t be coming back to haunt me, right?”

You looked at him, trying to look into his eyes but in this darkness with his back facing the light his features morphed together into a faceless silhouette.

“Did you wake up from something similar?”

After a moment of contemplation he responded with a singular nod. And then the two of you were left in an understanding silence.

Upon realising that your hand had an iron grip on your other arm to the extent it will probably leave bruises, you let go. Your free hand was now trembling despite how you willed yourself to calm down. Whispering a curse you tried to shake the nerves out of your limb.

When that didn’t work, the masked man took your shaking hand. Instead of just holding it, he offered a firm but gentle squeeze. It was just the right pressure until he eased his grip, repeating again in a rhythmic motion that was all too familiar.

You weren’t used to the battlefield. The FSB specialised in undercover missions, quiet, slow and methodical. It was more an acting lesson with high stakes than anything, eliminations were more creative than a bullet to the brain, a slow acting poison meant you rarely had to see the consequences of your actions.

But now here you are, deployed as last minute reinforcements. Leaning against the only standing wall in a destroyed house, you tried pushing yourself against the bricks, hoping to assimilate with the wall. You wanted out. This was too much. You weren’t prepared for this. To the east was a distant explosion, it lit up the horizon briefly, but it was more daunting how quickly it went silent. The west and the north held most of the fighting, the darkness briefly lit up by gunfire which would disappear as quickly as it ignited, it burns your irises creating specks in your vision. Your ears were ringing, gunfire from all sides, there was another explosion in the east, there were shouts all around or perhaps it was just your mind screaming at you to leave. There was another yell, that was one of the new privates, even though you’ve never heard them scream like that before you could tell it’s them, this should be their first ever mission, you met them this morning and they seemed really nice, they talked a lot about their younger siblings, they really wanted to see them again you hope they’re okay, oh god what if they’re not-

“Seeker!”

You instinctively push even deeper into the wall, one final ditch effort to get out. You don’t even know who shouted your name until your sight of the battlefield is entirely blocked by the man of the hour.

“You are breathing too quickly,” Nikto stated as he hunched down to your level. Now you were distracted from the battlefield by pure embarrassment. Nikto, in your eyes, was the epitome of a soldier. He’s objective and efficient, and ultimately ruthless when an ally’s performance is subpar without good reason.

“I can’t do this,” you admitted with rushed words, syllables slurring and tumbling over each other. “I’m not- I’ve never been here before. I just work undercover. I can’t be in a war.”

“Only a madman wishes for war,” he says.

You shake your head furiously, looking at anywhere but him. You don’t know how he stays so calm in these situations, you envy it, you admire it. Why couldn’t you just be like him? Your shame is mixed in and swirling with the panic, any more emotions and they’ll rush up and spill from your throat.

“I’m a coward,” you muttered as you pulled your knees up. Nikto frowned as he leans even closer.

“Scared, yes. But you are no coward.”

Nikto looks around before pulling out one of your arms that you had wrapped around yourself. His hand - unoccupied by a weapon - holds onto yours. You return the grip like he’s a lifeline, impossibly tight but he did not wince. Noticing how your gaze was only trained on your connected hands, seemingly fascinated with his presence, he brings your hands up, letting your eyes drift until they settle on his face.

“Take a good look. I am here, I am with you,” Nikto didn’t speak loudly yet you can hear him over the chaos.

He squeezes your hand as your grip on his loosens. It’s gentle, especially through your thick gloves but you can most certainly feel it. It’s a slow, repetitive movement, almost as if he was massaging your hand or resuscitating your limb. A welcoming gesture, grounding you, coaxing you back onto the battlefield. You don’t know how long he keeps at it but he doesn’t relent even with as war rages on, he never misses a beat.

Eventually you narrow in on a shout. It’s oddly close, and in a language you can’t understand.

“Hostiles,” you say simply, with the voice of a soldier.

As you pull your hand away, Nikto lets out a sly grin. You wouldn’t fault anyone else for describing his smile as evil, but to you, it’s a delightful expression.

He hands you back your own pistol.

“Steady your hand, my friend, I need your aim.”

As the masked man’s grip on your hand loosens you immediately pull your arm away. You cradle your arm as if it had been burned. You almost feel like you’ve been violated, your privacy intruded on. That little intimate gesture was done by Nikto, for Nikto and him alone. That single gesture sent memories flooding into your mind. From moments just before a battle to waking up in the dead of night with the horrors of battle invading your sight. That gesture alone saved you an ungodly amount of times. It must be a cruel, cruel coincidence, but you couldn’t stop the scowl climbing on your face. Your eyes were locked on him and he was staring back. Screw you for extending an olive branch and screw him for actually accepting it. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Waltzing up and treating you with utmost care like he could replace a dear ally of yours?

No, you weren’t tolerating it.

Your body may be behind a base in the dead of night, but your mind was on the battlefield. And in that moment, it only knew how to push back and fight.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you seethed. Despite your most intimidating expression, he does not flinch. He doesn’t even move. For once it is purely silent between you two as he holds his breath.

What was he waiting for? Did he need further instruction? You were more than willing to issue them out.

You pushed yourself off the tree trunk, almost launching yourself straight into the man’s chest had he not lunged back.

“Who do you think you are?” You hissed. “I don’t know why you keep hanging around or following me. I don’t know much about you and I’m an idiot who keeps talking my head off. But you know too much. I don’t know how but you do. Maybe I’m just too easy to read. We’re not best friends, you don’t have the right to do that to me. You just- you just don’t.”

You sounded a lot more eloquent in your mind. You don’t even know the point you’re trying to make anymore, but the only possible course of action in your addled brain is confrontation. And it seems like a victory as you make the man retreat, halfway to where the door is.

“Leave me alone.”

He hesitates. Almost as though he’s concerned for your wellbeing, or maybe he’s just pitying you which feels worse. He then dips his head in acknowledgement, before simply walking away. Not without one final look at you, you can’t tell if it’s because he wants you to change your mind or if he’s so selfless he just wants to check you’re okay, but it’s not looking good on either front.

Once you heard the click of the door closing again, you flexed your now empty hand as you grimaced. You hated how you were missing his presence already. At least you were now free to pace back and forth and talk to yourself to your heart’s content.

After another two days Nikto finally replied to your text. He took his damn time. He said he was sorry for his absence, welcoming back to the base and that he hoped to see you around again. But those felt like empty words when he didn’t even give an estimate to when he’ll be back.

You frowned as you read the text, almost throwing it across the room as you sat in the common area. You’ll reply later. If his texting game can be ass, so can yours (at least that’s you tell yourself but you’ll probably respond to him in a few hours). With nothing else to do, you found yourself eavesdropping on two other sergeants.

“You know, I was thinking of a name for the masked menace.”

You rolled your eyes, it turns out you can’t avoid the masked guy even when he’s not physically around.

“Oh yeah, what?”

“Freakshow. Got that idea the instant we fished him out of Zhakaev’s compound. His face is fucked, not even a mother could love that.”

“Quiet, he could beat us up.”

“Maybe before, not now. Punching someone would probably break his own arm. Or the skin at least. Definitely the skin.”

“Easy, now. That’s your comrade.”

Despite your conflicting feelings towards the masked man, this was just downright cruel. All it took was a sideways glance from you (and perhaps giving them a bit of an earful) and the two shut up.

Pulling back, you reread Nikto’s text. You were overanalysing, you knew that, he’s always been a direct and honest man but there was something about his message that was bothering you. Even though you have barely texted him, you were sure his physical behaviour could translate to mobile. He was punctual, he replied efficiently with just enough words to give the maximum amount of necessary information. But the sentences you were reading were far too long, like he’s trying to compensate. Like he’s lying.

You decided the next best course of action was to clear your mind at the shooting range. It was a quiet time, most people would be eating lunch about now, so you were sure your go to aisle would be free. As you entered you could already hear the distant shooting of a gun. The ceiling light casting a shadow over the figure that stretched across the booth and into your view. They were in the last aisle.

In a form of psychological warfare, you take the aisle next to the shooter in hopes they’ll get the idea to scram. There’s a break in their shooting as they notice where you’re situated and you can’t help but smirk, only for it to drop when you realise who’s in the next aisle.

That rugged breathing was in mistakeable. So rugged it dried out your own throat. God why did it have to be him? Leaning on the bench in the booth, head down, you took a few deep breaths as you considered your next course of action.

You had to admit, perhaps the last time you interacted you weren’t in the best of mind. But upon reflection all your interactions with the man are starting to putting you on edge. It could be pure coincidence - whatever god out there taunting you that you got a little crush on some Russian guy that left you on read - and you put your bitterness on him. He didn’t deserve your anger.

Hands in your pockets, you tried to nonchalantly wander towards the aisle next to you. The man kept shooting but you were sure it was just a farce. He knew you were behind him.

“Uh… I just thought you should know that one of the boys is trying to make a callsign for you.”

Real smooth, Seeker.

He stops shooting but his position is fixed, aiming down the aisle.

“It’s not that great. It’s terrible, actually.”

The safety of the gun is switched and it’s put in his holster. He turns to you.

“They wanted to call you ‘Freakshow’ but after a word with them I don’t think they will.”

At the name, he tensed. You were too far away to give him anything more than a sympathetic shake of the head.

“I could probably come up with a new one for you? I’m not the best with names but with a bar as low as the one they set I can come up with something.”

A foreign sound escaped the man. A rush if air through his throat, a wheeze, before it sent his shoulders hitching repeatedly. A chuckle. You looked on in surprise, he was laughing.

Offering a small smile back you said you’ll get back to him in a few minutes as you returned to your aisle beside him. Wanting something to occupy your fingers as you pondered, you instinctively pulled out your phone and went to your texts. A casual reply back to Nikto wouldn’t hurt. You could probably just ask him some funny Russian nicknames to give your ally. Maybe you could name him after a masked hero or villain?

Satisfied with the text you wanted to send to Nikto, you hit send.

Ding!

Your head jolted to the thin barrier between the booths. That sound didn’t come from your phone. Never had such a small sound set your heart ablaze but your blood go cold. Limbs like jelly, you haphazardly stumbled over to the booth next to you. The masked man, phone in hand. Upon turning on the screen to preview the message, his eyes went up to you and you almost doubled over at the contact. Those dark, clear eyes, so alarmed, so scared. Yours probably looked the same.

You wanted to open your mouth but no words came out. Save for one word that was on your tongue, one name. Why was it, when you’ve been waiting for him, you’re scared of saying the name?

“… Nikto…?”

The figure visibly deflated before squaring his shoulders, ready for confrontation.

“Seeker,” he greeted, and you can hear it now. You can hear that familiar earthy warmth in his voice, how it complimented and mixed so nicely with his accent. It was, however, dominated by the excessive air in his throat, making it scratchy and gravelly, near unrecognisable.

Your arms started to wrap around your torso, your mind racing.

“Brother Nikto is busy, he’s on field duty for the next few days.”

“Yes, new guy. Don’t have a name for him yet. Probably shouldn’t ask.”

“All he does is mope around in his room now.”

“Damn, you really are special to him.”

The man in front of you, seemed to know everything about you because he did. He’s been with you while you were waiting for him all these weeks.

And yet, instead of joy, your mind was only swarming with other emotions. Disappointment becoming dizzying as you failed to recognise him. Confusion as to why he didn’t try to let you know it was him. Betrayal tasted bitter on your mouth as he dared lie to you.

“I can not blame him, he clearly swam through shit’s creek and back.”

“Got that idea the instant we fished him out of Zhakaev’s compound. His face is fucked, not even a mother could love that.”

Ultimately it all boiled down to dread, as you try to merge the Nikto you bid farewell to all those weeks ago to the fully clad man standing before you.

“Oh my god,” you covered your mouth with your hand as you took in his figure. Had all this happened in the month you were gone? His body and face so battered and bruised beyond recognition that not even you recognised him? Every artificial ridge on his skin told a horrifying story that you have not read yet, and frankly you’re not sure you can even stomach it.

Nikto must’ve taken your response as disgust, and he bowed his head down.

“I…” he couldn’t find the right words to say. Every syllable he spoke stabbed your heart, you remembered how effortless and smooth his voice once was.

“Mission with Zhakaev…” Nikto’s throat gave way with every phrase, ending with hacks and wheezes. You lifted a tentative hand up, telling him he didn’t need to force himself to speak but he persevered. “Went undercover, was found out, tortured for-”

The words were stuck in his throat. He shook his head negatively, as he ended up turning away from you.

“I have failed.”

You rushed to Nikto and pulled him into your arms. He let out a gutteral sound of surprise. You realised a little too late he was never one for affection, but eventually you felt his arms against your back and waist. His hold was still too light, as if he was afraid of your comfort. You placed a hand to the back of his head, gently guiding it to settle in the nook of your neck.

“No. You’re back here. That’s success to me.”

He didn’t reply. You knew it would be hard for him to agree with your views. Anything less than efficient on the battlefield should be chastised - and that included himself. The hand you threaded through his dry and charred locks started combing his hair gently, careful not to pull any strands.

“Still… I… I don’t understand. The others told me you were on a mission. Were they in on it too?”

“Yes,” Nikto mumbled, his voice making his mask vibrate and tickle against your neck. “They would not lie to you. I had to beg.”

“But why?”

His hold on you tightens, the curve of his mask digging deeper into your neck.

“Shame, for how I have changed. Fear, for what you’d think once you saw me.”

“Then… why did I keep seeing you around?”

“Selfishness,” he confessed. “I wanted to avoid you, but I yearned. Needed to see you again. It was a long month, without you.”

The hurt in your heart spread to the rest of your chest and stomach, birthing butterflies that made you feel nauseous. You could not comprehend how difficult his last month had been. To be stuck suffering in enemy territory, found on the brink of death and to recover all alone. How hurt had he been that he thought you would not want him around?

“Do you really think I’d care about your appearance?”

“No, but look,” he choked, but he doesn’t even pull back to let you do so. Instead his arms become constricting like a weighted blanket, there’s more resistance as you try to breathe in. As you breathe out he inches a little closer, refusing to let there be any space between you. “This face, this body, this mind… is destroyed. What was rescued… was not the same, as the man that was captured.”

“Nikto-”

“All that remains,” he muttered, “is shame.”

“But you’ve done so much-“

“I have failed,” he repeated.

“You risked your life for valuable information-”

“We- no, I?” You can hear his frown as he tilts his head away to look down at his chest. Perhaps he expected there to be a hole where his heart was, a fragmented soul. “I am broken.”

“Andre Nikto,” you commanded, dragging him out of his train of thought. You mustered the strength to push away from him. Taking his hand that was wrapped around your waist, you gingerly picked it up, and brought it between you. Bringing his attention to your intertwined hands, you gave his hand a gentle squeeze. And then again. Slowly, just enough pressure to ground him and keep his focus on you and not on whatever demons were running amok in his mind. Your next words were steady, well-paced, ensuring he understood every syllable.

“Look at me. I don’t care how much you have changed while I was away. I am just happy I can see you again and I will always want to see you again.”

“You-“ he continues to shake his head in disagreement. “You deserve… so much more. My worth… there is none here. Only as cannon fodder on the field.”

“No, you are so unbelievably strong.”

You brought your other hand to cup his face. Initially you could only feel the coolness of the mask, but after a few seconds his body heat reached your palm.

“I admired you then and I admire you now. Nikto… if only you could see yourself how I see you. I want to stand by your side.”

Nikto is silent as he stares you down. You’ve seen him do it before, in arguments, in interrogations. It’s his go-to tactic to intimidate, to break. But now, it is his final resort. With eyes as piercing as his, seemingly able to peer into someone’s soul, his silent staring has always been able to ruin anyone’s resolve. But you weren’t just anyone. You are someone who fell in love under that intense gaze, and you communicate that as you refuse to look away.

Eventually he lets out a breath as he breaks eye contact, deciding to settle his gaze on the rest of your figure. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him almost bashful, it was endearing.

“You are always… so stubborn.”

“I accept all of you,” you cooed before you hardened your voice. “But if you pull a stunt on me like that again - pretending you’re not around and prancing around as someone else - I will claim this shooting aisle as mine.”

Nikto’s eyes turn into crescents, crinkling as he grins. Watching his textured skin warp and wrinkle has you worried that even smiling hurts, but you can’t deny that he looks at ease.

“A fair deal,” he affirms.

Now knowing you weren’t going to run away from him, Nikto is comfortable enough to let you go, and you loosened your grip on his hand. But before his hands properly drop to his sides, you reach over and place a kiss on his mask. You hoped it was somewhat romantic, but it didn’t help how the smoothness of his mask made your lips slip a little. Your aim was a little off too, you aimed for where his mouth would be but it seems you kissed him more on the philtrum.

Still, the wide eyed look was one you have never seen on Nikto before and you were going to savour that for all of eternity.

“You came here to shoot, yes?” Nikto asked when he got himself out of his stupor and you nodded. “There is less on the mind now. Take the booth.”

“What, and you’ll just watch?”

“As always,” he replied, eyes shining with mirth.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #nikto x reader #mwii nikto #cod nikto #call of duty fanfic #/*avery actually writes*/

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