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sissylittlefeather · 3 days

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Suspicious Minds: Part 2

A/N: Here it is! The long-awaited part 2 of my Modern Spy!Elvis fic! Bad news, though. It's gonna need a part 3 😬. There's just so much story to tell!!! Anyway, hope you enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts in the comments. Y'all know I live for your comments.

Need to read part 1? Click here.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, gun violence, espionage, kissing, cussing, fingering, oral sex (both receiving), 69, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of scars and knife violence

Word count: ~5.4k

"Ah, Agent Presley. You're awake."

******

Elvis breathes a sigh of relief.

"Agent West, you scared the shit out of me." He turns and pushes the door open for you. "You can come out. It's one of the good guys."

You walk tentatively from the room. The agent that sits on the couch is young and chiseled and looks hard, just the opposite of Elvis. Elvis is strong and masculine, but there's a softness to him that makes you feel at home. This man seems dangerous, but Elvis trusts him, so you suppose you should too.

"I see you've acted on your reputation, Presley." He looks between you and Elvis with a sly expression. You blush and look at the floor. Reputation?

"No, this is... it doesn't matter. What do you want, West?"

"The boss sent me to bring you both in. Apparently, you have a new assignment."

"I do?"

"You both do. She's working for us now." He gestures to you offhandedly and you can't help but scoff.

"I am not a spy."

"No, but you're an asset. They'll explain it all back at Headquarters. We need to go." Elvis turns to you and looks at you sadly. You can tell he was looking forward to spending more time in the safe house with you, but it doesn't look like that'll be happening.

"Go pack your things. Don't forget the extra special item." You blush again thinking about the flash drive tucked away in your vibrator. Nodding, you walk back into the room to collect your things. Elvis turns to the other agent.

"I need a shower. Can you watch her? I'll be quick."

"I'll bet you do. Yeah, I'll keep an eye on her." You listen as Elvis walks to the bathroom and closes the door. Once you're packed, you carry your small bag back into the living room where Agent West is sitting in the middle of the couch. You'd have to practically sit on his lap to sit down, so you walk to one of the dining room chairs and sit there instead. He smiles at you, but it's not comforting at all.

"So you fell for his tricks?" You look up at him suddenly, not really interested in discussing what happened between you and Elvis with this man.

"I wouldn't say that he used any. I just like him."

"Mhmm. That's what they all say." He snickers coldly and you could swear he's jealous. Still, something about what he says digs at you. Is this just something Elvis does? Do you really mean nothing to him? It certainly didn't feel that way when he made love to you last night. If you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to tell you that he loved you, as ridiculous as that would be after knowing him for all of 72 hours. Still, it certainly didn't feel like he was just trying to hook up with you. You're about to ask Agent West about Elvis's reputation when he walks out of the bathroom with his hair wet and a towel around his waist.

"I left my clothes in my bag." He walks to a duffel bag that you didn't even know was there and fetches some clothing. You can't take your eyes off of him as he stands there, naked and wet. The other agent watches you and laughs.

"She's hoping you'll drop your towel." Elvis looks at you with hunger in his eyes and you can tell he wishes the other agent wasn't there. West sighs loudly. "Alright, lovebirds, we really need to get out of here."

Elvis finishes dressing and the three of you make your way to Agent West's car. At first, Elvis protests leaving his Stutz behind, but West is insistent that you both ride with him. You slide into the backseat of the SUV with Elvis, but West cuts in.

"Nope. No sex in my backseat. You sit up here with me, girl."

"She has a name."

"It's not important to me." You roll your eyes and move up to the front seat. West pats your knee. "There, isn't this cozy."

You can feel Elvis bristle in the backseat when he touches you. Your whole body shivers and not in a good way. West backs out of the driveway and the three of you make your way to the undisclosed location that is Headquarters.

You're shocked when it's an old antebellum-style plantation home in the country with a crooked sign on the gate that reads "Graceland". It looks old and broken down, but there's a retina scanner at the door that both West and Elvis use. The door pops open and you walk inside a lavishly decorated living room. The two men head for a closet and you look at them suspiciously before stepping in with them.

It's an elevator. And it goes down deep into the earth before the doors slide open to a bustling office that's all white and silver and fluorescent lights. Your mouth pops open but you follow Elvis and West when they get off the elevator and head for an office in the corner. Inside is a very tall woman with fiery red hair cropped close to her head. She has on thick-framed black glasses and a charcoal grey suit that's obviously been tailored to fit her perfectly. She smiles when she sees you behind the two men.

"Hello. I'm Nine. Have a seat." She gestures for you to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Elvis sits in the other chair and she dismisses West, who grumbles and leaves the room. "That man needs to get laid."

Elvis smiles and you follow suit. You're not sure if she was joking, though.

"Can I get you a drink?" She asks, casually walking to a bar area on the side of her office.

"Oh, no, I'm fine."

"Presley?"

"You have my water?" She nods and picks up a green bottle, pouring some water into a glass and handing it to him. Then, she fixes herself some kind of brown liquor and sits behind her desk.

"I'm sure Agent West has informed you that you have a new assignment?" You both nod. "For an agent, he's shockingly bad at keeping his mouth shut."

"I'm sorry, ma'am. But I don't work for you. I'm confused about how I have an assignment?" Without thinking, Elvis reaches out and takes your hand. You can't tell if it's a chastisement or him offering you support.

"It's okay, Presley. It's a valid question. The second you downloaded that information, you joined this conflict. We're assuming you want to be on our side."

"Oh, well, yeah, I guess so. I think?"

"Decide now. We have a jail cell waiting for you if you choose to work against us." Elvis squeezes your hand.

"I mean, yeah. I'll work with you." You nod fervently, hoping they really are the good guys.

"I'm sorry to be harsh, but this is a matter of national security. The company who contracted you works for an enemy government. I'm assuming you'd like to keep America secure."

"Of course."

"Then you work for us. Welcome to Guardian."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Agent Presley, take her and get her properly outfitted. Her code name will be Angel. The Colonel will have your assignment." She gestures for you both to leave her office. Elvis finishes his water and then puts his hand on the small of your back to usher you out of the room. His touch is electric and you long to be back in the safe house with him. This all feels too overwhelming.

He escorts you down again in the elevator to what feels like an armory. A short, fat man in glasses sits at a computer in the middle of the room. Elvis calls to him, resisting the urge to wrap his arm around your waist as he talks.

"Colonel! This is Angel. You have an assignment for us?"

"I do indeed, my boy. Come." You and Elvis make your way over to him. "You are going to take down the company that hired you."

"Me? Why me?"

"Because you already know their tech. And you're one of the foremost hackers on the planet. He will be your guard, an escort of sorts, but you will do the heavy lifting to get to the main computer that has access to their database and network. Once there, you will implement this." He holds up a small device. "This wireless transmitter will allow me to infect their system with a virus that will destroy it. Then, you'll come back here and be celebrated as heroes."

"That's it?" You whip your head around to Elvis.

"That's it?! Do you have any idea what it's going to take for us to get to that computer?"

"Honey, I've managed so much worse. This'll be nothing. I've got you." He's desperate to take you in his arms and really comfort you, but he knows he can't while he's in this building. He settles for a hand on your cheek. "I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."

You nod and try not to cry. You're dying to snuggle into Elvis's chest and let him hold you, but you get the feeling that you shouldn't while you're here.

"Ahhhh, my boy, do you have the flash drive?" The Colonel interrupts before you give in to your impulses.

"We do." He takes the bag off of your shoulder and digs in it to retrieve your vibrator. Twisting it open, he slides the flash drive out. The Colonel laughs.

"Thats certainly a creative hiding place. Give it to me. I'll put it in the appropriate place." For the slightest second, Elvis hesitates. He trusts the Colonel, but something about his eager expression is off-putting. Still, he drops the flash drive into his hand and puts the pink vibrator back in your bag. "Now, you said she needs outfitting?"

"Yes! She needs clothes and weapons."

"What's wrong with my clothes?"

"Honey, nothin', but where will you hide your gun?" You look down at your simple t-shirt and leggings. He's right. There's nowhere to tuck a firearm. Not that that's a thought you've ever had before.

"What am I going to do with a gun?! I don't even know how to shoot one."

"Well, I know where we're headed next. Colonel, can you help her out?"

"I'm on it, my boy." He disappears into the wall for a while and then returns with an outfit for you, complete with tall boots. He hands you the stack and sends you into the wall to change. When you come out, Elvis's mouth drops. Up until now, he's seen you in pajamas and your slummy jeans or leggings and baggy tee. Now, you have on tall black boots, tight black jeans, a low-cut black thermal that's basically painted on and a grey quilted vest. You've pulled your hair into a high ponytail to get it out of your face.

"I feel ridiculous."

"Why? You don't look ridiculous." You take your vest off to reveal a shoulder holster with two handguns and unzip your boot to show him the knife that's tucked there.

"What am I supposed to do with all this?" He walks over to you and tips your chin up to look into his face.

"You protect yourself, honey. On the off chance that I can't, you'll have to. You can do it. I'll show you." You nod and will him to kiss you. You can tell he wants to, but he doesn't.

The Colonel finishes outfitting you with tech and weaponry and you start to wonder if this is how you'll die. Either way, you have no choice, so you follow Elvis out of the dungeon-like room, armed to the teeth.

The next place he takes you is a firing range. There's space for a good number of people to practice at once, but for some reason, you're the only ones in there. He walks you to a booth in the center and then turns towards you. You think he's going to run his arms around your waist, but instead, he reaches into your vest and pulls out the two handguns nestled there on either side of your breasts. His thumbs graze your soft flesh and you both shiver. But, he's all business.

"Come here, baby." He puts one gun on the counter and holds the other one up to you. "Hold it like this. Three fingers down here and your trigger finger up on the side like this. This is the safety. It's on now, but before you shoot it you'll need to turn it off."

He puts the gun in your hand and moves your fingers into the right position. The feeling of his fingers on yours makes you tingle.

"It's already loaded, so you just need to cock it before you pull the trigger. Like this." He puts his hand around yours again and shows you how to use your non-dominant hand to pull the slide back. "Alright, now..."

He presses up behind you and runs his hands down your arms while you hold the gun. You gasp a little when you feel his rock hard erection pushing against your ass.

"Ignore that."

"Oh, okay." You moan softly and lean your head back against his chest. He kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear. "Honey, I'm tryin' to work here, but you're drivin' me crazy."

"I'm driving you crazy?! What's that in your pocket, Agent Presley?" He laughs softly and then kisses your cheek again.

"I'm sorry; we really need to focus, though. You need to know this." You sigh deeply and try to hone in on the gun in your hands.

"Okay."

"Keep both eyes open and look at your target. Pull the trigger." You do and are shocked by how much the gun kicks back and how loud it is.

"Holy fuck!"

"Good. Okay, let's try it again." You tremble a little when it hits you that at some point you might be expected to fire this gun at someone. He has his hands on your hips keeping you steady. When you hold the gun up again, your knuckles are white and your shoulders are up by your ears. "Baby, no, you're too tense. You gotta relax."

"I can't! What if I have to shoot someone? I can't do that. This was a bad idea. I can't-"

"Just breathe, baby."

"I literally cannot relax. I'm so scared, Elvis, I-"

"Shhhh..." He moves his right hand down to your core and starts to make slow circles on your clit over your pants.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm relaxing you."

"Mmmm..." You moan softly as he lifts your shirt and slides his hand under your pants and panties. As tight as they are, he manages to find your clit and drag his finger over and around it. He runs his left hand up under the front of your shirt and bra and squeezes your breast lightly.

"I thought you said we had to work." You whisper.

"I am working. Are you feeling more relaxed, baby?" You nod and whimper. He pushes his middle finger into you and pumps it in and out before he goes back to making circles on your clit. You set the gun down on the counter and brace yourself as he continues to flick over and around your sensitive button.

"Fuck." You moan through gritted teeth as you feel the coil of your orgasm tighten in your hips.

"Come on, baby. Let go. Cum for me." He whispers in your ear as he works you with his hand. He nibbles your earlobe and swirls his tongue on your neck just below your ear.

"Oh, god, Elvis." His name drips off of your tongue as your climax slams into you, washing over and through you with the strength of a rip current. You tremble and pulse as he massages you through your high.

"You feel better, baby?" He whispers in your ear. You turn to face him and pull him into a deep and passionate kiss, tongues moving wildly, as your hands go immediately to his zipper. You've almost got his throbbing cock out of his pants when you hear the door open. "FUCK."

He zips his pants frantically and jumps back away from you. To your dismay, Agent West walks towards you slowly, a cocky smirk on his face.

"Sorry to interrupt again. Nine wants the two of you to adjourn to sleeping quarters. You leave for the mission at 0400." He winks and it makes your skin crawl. "Separate sleeping quarters."

You roll your eyes and he turns to walk away. Elvis looks at you and you can tell he plans to pick up where you left off as soon as West is gone. But just before he gets to the door he turns back to you.

"She wants you to come now." Elvis grumbles and gathers your guns, making sure the safeties are on and sliding them back into your shoulder holster. You follow West out of the shooting range and back to the elevator.

******

Later that night, you find yourself tucked under a quilt in one of the bedrooms of the mansion that sits on top of Guardian Headquarters. You know Elvis is in a bedroom somewhere in the house too and the knowledge that he's so close by is killing you. Not only are you desperate to pick up where you left off in the shooting range, but you've gotten used to sleeping in a bed with Elvis. Lying in this big bed by yourself feels lonely.

What you don't know is that Elvis is sitting on the side of his bed missing you desperately too. He gets up and walks to the door, but stops with his hand on the knob. Giving in now would be a significant violation of his duty to the agency. It was one thing when you were locked together in the safe house with nothing else to do. Here, he has responsibilities to uphold and he needs to let you rest up for the mission. Still, he opens the door and walks into the hallway. It seems like he's not in control of his body as he walks to the door of the room he knows you're in.

He stands outside the door with his hand posed to knock for a minute. Then, he turns abruptly and heads back towards his room. He opens the door and then turns back to the hallway. Before he knows it, he's back at your door.

"No." He shakes his head and paces up and down the hallway a few more times.

Inside your room, you sit up on the edge of the bed and consider trying to find him. You stand up and walk to the door, but you don't open it. Instead, you stand there and think hard about what you're about to do. You know you shouldn't, you can't really, this isn't the time or the place. Still, everything inside you longs to feel him pressed against you.

He paces the hallway, back and forth in front of your door trying to decide what to do. Walking over to your door, he leans with a hand on each side of the frame, head down staring at the floor. You finally decide that you should find him. It's not like you're going to get any sleep without him anyway. So, you open the door slowly.

"Hey, baby." He smiles softly down at you from where he stands in the doorframe.

"I missed you-" You barely get the sentence out before he wraps himself around you, lifting your feet off of the ground and slamming the door shut behind him.

"God, honey, I missed you too." He presses his lips to yours and kisses you passionately. His arms hold you tightly to him. There's a level desperation in the way he kisses you that surprises you, but you love it. His hands roam over your body and he moans into your mouth when he realizes you aren't wearing a bra. He squeezes your breast gently and then slides his hand up under your sweatshirt, letting his thumb drag over your nipple. You walk backwards to the bed, pulling him with you, both of you shedding clothing as you walk. He slides your panties down just as you make it to the edge of the bed, already naked himself. You pump him with your hand and he whimpers softly. As you go to get on your knees, you bump into him trying to do the same thing. You both laugh a little.

"There's a way to do this at the same time. C'mere, baby." He sits on the floor and leans back against the low bed. "Put your legs on either side of my head and then lean forward."

You nod, visualizing what he's describing and climb onto his face. You lean forward with your hands on the floor and he hooks his arms around your thighs to hold you in place. He buries his face in your pussy and starts to move his tongue on your clit. You shudder a bit and then take his cock into your mouth, moving up and down slowly. Trembling with pleasure, you try to focus on licking up and down his shaft, pulling him into your throat deeply and then moving back and forth.

"Goddamn, baby, that's so good." He moans into your clit as he licks over and around it. You groan as you continue to slide his dick in and out of your mouth, your orgasm fast approaching. He whispers again. "Cum baby. Let go and cum."

He licks you furiously with his whole mouth, sucking lightly on your sensitive button and then tightening his tongue to lick over it, hard. You have to stop what you're doing as your climax hits you, rushing from your fingertips to the ends of your toes and back again like a lightning bolt. He continues to tongue you through your release until your legs shake and you fear you might fall over off of him. Instead, he guides you into his lap, facing away from him as you straddle his cock. You sink down onto him, letting him fill you inch by inch. He holds your hips and lets you bounce on him fervently.

"Honey, this view... don't stop." He watches your ass as you slide up and down on him.

"Do you like it, baby?" You coo from your position on his lap.

"Goddamn, yes I do. But I wanna kiss you." You back off of him and turn around to face him. He pulls you into a deep kiss, exploring your mouth with his tongue as he guides you back down onto his lap. You push his dick up into you and begin to grind on him, forcing him deeper and deeper. He groans loudly and leans his head back against the bed. You lean forward and kiss his neck and he grunts. "You sure know how to drive a man crazy, honey."

"Just you, baby." You mumble into his neck.

He wraps his arms around your waist as you move on him, leaning forward to pull your nipple into his mouth. He grunts again and you feel him tense underneath you.

"Come on, baby. Cum for me." You whisper in his ear and he groans as you nibble his earlobe.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" His hips buck up into you as he explodes and you feel his warm release fill you up. He shudders and pumps into you weakly a couple more times, his head on your shoulder. Finally, he pulls back and cups your face in his hand. "You're incredible. Absolutely amazing. And I- well, I-I..."

You look up at him expectantly.

"You...?"

"Nothing. It's not important." You nod and lean your head on his shoulder.

"I'm so tired. It's been a wild few days."

"I'm sure it has. Come on." He moves from the floor to the center of the bed. "Lemme hold you? Please?"

You crawl into his arms and relax against him, your fingers playing in his chest hair.

"Will you stay here with me tonight?"

"I shouldn't." He looks away from you and loosens his arms around you. You start to pull away.

"I understand-"

"To hell with it." He cuddles closely against you again, letting your skin touch in a way that's both intimate and comforting. You drift off to sleep in this position, finally able to rest in his arms.

******

You've only been asleep for a few hours when the alarm on his watch goes off to tell you to get up and get ready. There's a bathroom in your room, so you make your way towards the shower. To your surprise, Elvis follows you.

"What are you doing?" You smile slyly up at him. You're both still naked from your late night activities.

"Figured we'd save some water and time and just shower together." He leans down and kisses your shoulder.

"It'll save water, but I'm not sure how much time." He laughs.

"Really, we don't have time for anything. I just want to stay with you as much as possible." He doesn't say it, but he knows the end of the mission will mean the end of his time with you and he's not ready for it. The way he feels about you is unlike anything he's ever felt for any woman he's ever encountered before. He's in love with you. There's no other way to describe it.

Your heart swells with his words and you turn and nuzzle into his neck, wrapping your arms around him as he starts the shower. You don't have sex, but pressing your bodies together as the warm water runs over you is as intimate as anything else you've done. And he kisses you all over: on your shoulders, your fingertips, your forehead, your lips, everywhere. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was trying to memorize you with his mouth. You run your hands up and down his body and feel the scars on his skin. Every time you reach a new one, he whispers the injury.

"Knife fight in Beirut. Knife fight in Ukraine. Gunshot in Afghanistan. Stabbing in Mali. Gunshot in Iraq."

"So much hurt." You whisper, kissing the last scar on his shoulder.

"It doesn't hurt anymore." He looks down into your eyes and his blue ones are soft and filled with something that makes your heart pound. It's only been a few days, yes, but you love him more than you've ever loved any man. Could it be that he loves you too?

He leans in and kisses you deeply and there's a pounding on your door.

"Ten minutes, you two." It's West again. You're getting very tired of hearing his voice. Elvis groans and turns the shower off. Once you're out, you get ready quickly, pulling on the outfit the Colonel gave you yesterday and braiding your hair tightly to keep it out of your face. Elvis has on a similar all-black outfit with weapons tucked in various places. The last thing he does is slide on some sunglasses and pull you into a kiss. He's never nervous before missions, but this time he is. He has too much to lose.

******

Before you know it, you have an earpiece with the Colonel's and Agent West's voices in it, telling how to execute the mission and you're being dropped on the roof of a building from a helicopter in the dark. Elvis skillfully guides you through the process and you find a hiding place to sit in while security comes to check out why there was a helicopter. As they file onto the roof, Elvis grabs the door and the two of you head into the building unseen.

"You need to go down two floors to the main computer." West is your navigator through the building and you are infinitely annoyed at his voice in your ear. Elvis nods to you. He has the same earpiece.

"Two floors, Angel, we can do this." You're not sure if he's using your code name or an endearment, but either way you follow him.

He gives you cover as you make your way through the building. Several times, you're stopped by security in the hallway, but Elvis puts them down with his hands or a single silenced gunshot. You hate to admit it, but you're getting used to watching people die.

Eventually, you find the room with the computer you've been looking for. There's not much to it and you're surprised that it just seems to be someone's office. Elvis stands at the door with his gun drawn.

"Do your thing, honey." You nod and walk to the computer. You begin the process of hacking into the system to access the mainframe and be able to plant the Colonel's virus. At one point you get stuck and ask the Colonel a question. He answers smoothly and something inside you sends up a red flag. How does he know the answer? It must be from research about their system. Still, it doesn't sit well with you. That should've confused him too. You look up at Elvis and he raises his eyebrows.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just... nothing." You go back to working on the computer. He hears West's voice in his ear.

"Agent Presley. We've cut off Angel's earpiece. New information has come to us about your partner. She's not working for us. She's a sleeper agent for the enemy. As soon as she gets to the mainframe, she will turn and kill you. You need to put her down first and then plant the virus." His heart stops and his blood runs cold. He turns to the door and whispers.

"What?! That doesn't make any sense! Why would she help us?"

"She's a spy, Elvis. Her mission was to infiltrate Guardian, which she has successfully done. She will pretend to plant the virus, turn and kill you, and then make up some excuse. She's probably already signaled security so that you'll be killed in a crossfire."

"She wouldn't. She's not... we..."

"You think any of that was real? She's been playing on your vulnerability since the beginning. Listen. Do you hear security coming?" He listens and hears boots outside the door. He looks up at you with a mixture of shock, betrayal, and pain. It can't be true. He thinks of that first night in your apartment, how you almost fainted at the sight of blood. But then you didn't. The crying at the safe house to get him to come to you. Was it a ploy to make yourself seem innocent? And in the shower when you touched yourself. That would be an effective seduction tactic. All of a sudden every moment you've had together is tinged with suspicion.

Has it all been part of your mission?

His hand shakes as he raises his gun to point at you. You're engrossed in what you're doing and don't even notice. He could kill you easily.

"Put her down, Agent Presley." He cocks the gun and the sound gets your attention.

"Elvis! What the fuck are you doing?" Your voice is frantic and you raise your hands. Has he been one of the bad guys all along? No, he's killed so many of them, there's no way. But maybe he's been trying to get you to this point the whole time: seducing you, making you trust him, making you love him, all for this moment. The tears slide down your face at the thought that it's all been a lie.

He sees you cry and his heart breaks. Surely, you can't be the enemy. But this could be a tactic too. He steadies his shaking hands and moves the gun to pointing at your forehead.

"Pull the trigger, Presley." It's West again.

"It's the only way, my boy. If you want to live." Now the Colonel is telling him to kill you and he trusts that man far more than Agent West.

"Elvis, please!" Your crying is becoming hysterical as you realize how cold he seems pointing the gun at your head.

"Do it. Now."

Elvis takes a deep breath and moves his finger to the trigger. He's never disobeyed an order before. You scream one last time as he takes a step towards you.

"Elvis!"

**bang**

******

Until Part 3!

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

Taglist:

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only-goose · 8 hours

Note

Heeeey pookie!!

i loved your Arthur fic too much, the man deserves to receive more love here🥹🫶🫶 I have two ideas for you, which in my head make more sense. I will try to explain myself as best as I can but in reality this is not my strong point LMAO

If you want and can write something about loving every little thing the reader does, such as the habit of brushing his hair behind his ears or, for example, when he reads a book that she cries, smiles or curses as if he LOVES that about her. 😮‍💨💗

Or maybe something about him being a little jealous and possessive not in a grotesque sense like I had to defend her from someone in a bar or something, like her being too nice by not wanting to walk away so as not to hurt the other person even if it's bothering her (that happens to me often haha😅)

Maybee some of the care for her when she's sick 🥹🥹

Of course, only if you feel comfortable with these ideas, which were more than two, I apologize for that, I'm a little excited.🧍🏻‍♀️🫶🫶

(I hope I have made myself understood, also English is not my first language, I am sorry if this is complicated when read or understood, also sorry this was so long :(, anyway much love to you 💗💗💗💗)

Little things

A/N: I am going to write all of them, they're so cute. Arthur absolutely deserves more love, he's underrated. Don't worry btw, your English is fantastic. I'm actually Australian so my spelling of certain words are different to everyone else's 😅. Keep an eye on my page for the next few days, I'll release them soon (I just need to finish my uni assignment first, whoops 🤷‍♀️). I hope I did what you were thinking 🫶🫶

Arthur Leclerc x reader

Warnings: Fluffy/Simp Arthur

Synopsis: "If you want and can write something about loving every little thing the reader does, such as the habit of brushing his hair behind his ears or, for example, when he reads a book that she cries, smiles or curses as if he LOVES that about her. 😮‍💨💗" - This part of the request.

You and Arthur were lying on the couch watching a movie after a long day. You propped up my pillows with Arthur on top of you, head resting on your chest. Your fingers started to scratch the back of his scalp, slowly worth their way up. He sighed as he pressed himself deeper into you, nuzzling his face into your skin. He lifted his head up and pecked your lips. You look down at him and giggled, “what was that for, baby?”. He looked up at you with a peaceful smile, his eyes brimming with love as he replied “just appreciating the small things” before resting his head back on your chest as you kept scratching his head.

The next time it happened, you guys were cuddled up in bed and you were reading a book. It might be one of the saddest books you had ever read in your life (for this I’m gonna use “Bridge to Terabithia” cuz I feel like everyone read it for school). You got the the chapter where the girl fell into the creek and drowned. The pure amount of detail broke your heart and sent you into a sobbing mess. Your sniffles caught Arthur’s attention, he looked down the see his shirt beginning to get wet. He pulled you up to face him as we wiped your tears. “Hey hey hey what happened mi amor?” He rushed. You explained what happened, causing Arthur to give you that look again. A peaceful smile, eyes brimming with love, he pecked your lips, “how about we read a happier book?” He suggested. “No” you said as you made eye contact again “I just wanna cuddle”. He grinned and settled down, pulling you into him “that is something I can definitely do”. You smiled as you tucked yourself into his side.

Another instance was when you and Arthur were walking through the paddock. The crowd was pushing and shoving, sweeping you away with them. Arthur quickly realised you had gotten caught up, jogging back to guide you again. You think your right hand to his left, your left hand coming up to hold his strong bicep on the same arm, basically wrapping yourself around his arm. You have his hand a little squeeze, leaning your head on his shoulder when he squeezed back. You made it to the Ferrari garage and you knew you would need to let go but you didn’t want to, do you didn’t. Arthur planted a kiss on your forehead and gave you that dopey, in love look he gives you in moments like these. “What?” You laughed. Arthur pecked your lips “nothing my love” he mumbled against them, “just admiring” he winked. Just like a school girl, you giggled and then cuddled into him, are grip still tight on his arm.

What really stood out is when you were cleaning your shared apartment. You were going through your shared closet when you found a brown leather book. The title on the inside of the book, in Arthur’s unmistakeable handwriting, was “those moments”. You flicked through the book and saw dates and times, which matched to all the moments when Arthur gave you the look. Scratching his head on the couch, crying at a book, being clingy at the paddock, it was all there. What you didn’t know, was that Arthur was leaning on the door frame, watching you read his little things journal. “Find something good, amor?” You jumped at his question. “I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t be snooping but I’ve never seen it before, and I had no idea what it was for. I’m sorry, I should’ve given you your privacy an-” Arthur cut you off with a kiss. “Im glad you found it. Everytime you ask about this “look” I give you, you now know what I was feeling and thinking. Is that ok amor?” He has a glimmer of home in his eyes as he asks you. You put the book back where you got it from, wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him deep “of it is, I love you Arthur” “I love you mi amor”

#arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc x reader fluff #arthur leclerc x y/n #arthur leclerc fluff #arthur leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #f1 fanfic #f2

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m1ckeyb3rry · 3 days

Note

hi mira i’m going to rq for jjk (gojo specifically) :) kinda inspired by a fic idea of mine so if i see you post it maybe it’ll give me inspo to actually write too LOL — this is also a little long sorry, you can shorten as you wish 😓 maybe it’ll get the brain juices going idk

Y/N was really close to geto (i was thinking siblings but do whatever) and when he turned curse user and left, it made Y/N rethink why she was a sorcerer herself. she believed in geto’s ideals, but seeing his mindset 180 made her question if the same thing would happen to her since she was always weaker-minded than him. so she quit dropped out of the school and gojo never saw her since

skipping to the present, Y/N became a sorcerer again after having a conversation with geto some time before he died. with yuji being sukuna’s vessel, she goes to the school herself and sees gojo (their last convo was actually an argument leaving everything [him] behind). gojo’s just really stubborn, but he’s there when Y/N really needs him. from there they only keep encountering each other until they make up, their feelings are all out on the table, etc. etc.

── CHIAROSCURO

Synopsis: You don’t really know who you are without Suguru Geto. Satoru Gojo doesn’t know who he is without either of you.

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Gojo x Reader, Geto & Reader have something less than romantic but more than platonic going on

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: angst, mentions of death, flawed y/n character, major time skips, most plot events happen off screen, characters are probably ooc tbh i haven’t written for jjk in months

A/N: finally finished the first of the requests I’ve received so far!! it ended up being way more geto-centric than i had planned for it to be though i’m so sorry angel 😭 and it was also getting way too long so i decided to end it by just hinting the development of the rest of the story you mentioned LMAO i hope that’s okay 😫

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

Most people grew up with one shadow, but according to your mother, you had lived your entire life with two. The first was the same as the one everyone had, that darkening of the ground in the shape of your figure. The second was the boy who lived next door — or, at least, that was what she told you.

His name was Suguru Geto, and despite his dark features and darker clothing, he had a perpetually sunny demeanor, always quick to offer you a gentle smile whenever you glanced his way. He was polite even when it wasn’t required of him, and though your mother teased you for it, you knew she was secretly grateful for his presence in your life.

The greatest thing Suguru had ever done for you, though, was not teach you manners. It was that he gave you someone to follow. Perhaps it was true that he was your shadow, but it was his in which you cowered when you were frightened, when the brightness of the world was too harsh for your eyes, which, when it came to cruelties and horrors, were as sensitive and new as a child’s.

Suguru was always happy to take on that role. He would stand in front of you, his shoulder blades pinching together as he puffed out his chest and rebuked whichever neighborhood child had dared to tease you. They all ran from him when he was like that, when his brow grew heavy over his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted into a scowl.

Not you, though. You stayed behind his back, blinking owlishly at the way the others scurried, laughing along when Suguru likened them to mice with a click of his tongue.

Suguru didn’t like those who hurt the ones weaker than them, so you didn’t, either. Suguru thought that the role of the strong was to protect the frail, so you did, too. Whatever Suguru believed, you did as well, because what else was there for you? It was easier for you to hold onto his hand and press against his back, to allow him to tell you where to place your feet, so that there was never even a chance of you falling.

That was why it wasn’t a surprise that, upon Suguru being scouted as a sorcerer, you were extended the same invitation. It was a natural consequence — where he went, you followed, and so when he packed his things and went to Tokyo, it was both of your bags that he was carrying, while you peered around the train station and wondered what kind of place you were going to end up in.

Your new classmate was the one that picked the two of you up. He was tall — taller than even Suguru, though the majority of his body consisted of his legs — and had an unearthly appearance, with pale hair carefully mussed into a seemingly thoughtless style and black glasses which slid down the bridge of his nose to reveal eyes like diamonds.

He was the most brilliant thing you had ever seen. Lowering your eyes, you stepped back into Suguru’s shadow, earning you a scoff from your classmate and a worried exhale from your friend.

“Blech,” he said. “You’re supposed to be my classmate, really? How’re you going to keep up, huh? I’m the strongest sorcerer in the world, you know.”

“I think we’ll manage just fine,” Suguru said pleasantly, though there was an edge to his voice, his teeth like knives when he smiled and offered his hand. “I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Satoru Gojo,” your classmate said, shaking Suguru’s hand firmly. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Suguru said. “And this is Y/N L/N.”

“Hi,” you said, swallowing even as you said it, pursing your lips and glancing around, wishing for some kind of escape. Gojo hummed and then poked you on the forehead.

“Aw,” he said when you did not visibly react beyond furrowing your brow. “I thought you might fall over or something.”

“I see,” you said. “Um. Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go before our teacher gives us all detention for playing hooky.”

Unlike Suguru, Gojo didn’t allow you to follow him around. He made fun of you when you were scared and poked you on the forehead if you cringed away from his taunts. The latter occurred so frequently that you were surprised there was not a permanent indent in your skin.

“One day I’ll get you, pretty Y/N,” he’d always promise you. “Seriously! I mean, you barely have a backbone in the first place, so it’s really a wonder you’re standing at all.”

At first, Suguru used to demand he stop, but as the months went by, his protests grew weaker and weaker. You supposed that it must’ve been nice for him, to stand beside someone for once instead of constantly throwing himself in front of them. You could not blame him, but you found that you missed him more with every passing day.

But what was there to be done about it? After all, you were nothing compared to the two special grade sorcerers. You did what you could and found it was, for the most part, sufficient, but sufficient would never let you exist beside either of them in any way that mattered. So you fell behind, and this time, it was not a conscious choice but an unavoidable circumstance. This time, when you hung back, Suguru continued forward without you.

Empty-minded and weak-hearted. That was what your teacher called you. He sent you on the simplest missions he could, and still you struggled. Sometimes, this meant you would sit alone in the classroom until it was long past dusk, listening to your teacher ramble and shout.

“You are not weak!” he would say, his hands clenched into fists by his side. “By all rights, your technique is perfectly serviceable. You are not weak, Y/N L/N!”

“Yes, sir,” you would respond meekly.

“At least, you should not be,” he’d say. “Yet somehow, inexplicably, you are. Even a Grade 2 curse nearly got the better of you. Your classmates are exorcising special grades on their own! Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?”

Suguru, and sometimes Gojo, would wait outside of the door for you, lingering until they heard the shuffle of your feet, the soft sniffles which announced your arrival. Then Suguru would wrap a casual arm around your shoulders and tell you that it was fine if you were weak, just as long as he was around to protect you, and Gojo would do that infuriating thing where he’d poke you in the forehead and pretend like it was a miracle you hadn’t toppled over yet.

Otherwise, you did not see your classmates. Shoko Ieri was far too busy learning to do things you could never hope to accomplish in your lifetime, and Suguru and Gojo were called on to complete assignments with such unhealthy regularity that their education actually suffered for it.

You never knew what they did on their missions. You never cared to ask, either. The details would only make you queasy, and in this new world where you were not permitted to shudder and seek out the safety that Suguru so willingly provided you with, you tried to avoid things like that. Harsh things, brilliant things, cruel things — all of them you ran from at an equal pace. Without Suguru there to defend you, you turned into one of those children he had so-despised in your youth. Always running. Always hiding. Always shying away from anything resembling a challenge.

It was after one such mission that Suguru returned differently. You knew he had changed because he crawled into your bed that night instead of his own, drew the blanket up around his shoulders and pressed his weeping eyes against your collarbones.

“It’s no good,” he said after the third time you had asked him what was the matter, your hands nervously skimming over his shoulders, smoothing over his rough hair. “Everything’s been ruined, Y/N. Or maybe it was always like this. Maybe you’re the only one who’s ever understood the world to begin with.”

The next morning, when his feet touched the ground and he slid out of your bed, you were hit with the strangest feeling that you would never see him again. Not in the way you were used to seeing him, anyways. Sitting up in your bed, leaning against your pillows, you watched as he left, though when he went to close the door behind him, you reached out your hand.

“Wait,” you said. He paused, raising his eyebrows.

“Is everything okay?” he said, his knuckles growing white from gripping the handle.

“I want to look at you,” you said. You knew without knowing that the instant the door shut between the two of you, you would lose him forever. Your best friend. Your shadow. You wished that there was a way you could reach out and save him, but the thought of you saving someone was outlandish. Impossible. Laughable.

“Yeah?” he said. There were heavy bags under his eyes, and it did not reach his irises, but nevertheless, he somehow managed to muster up a smile. It was not gentle as much as it was exhausted, but still, he smiled as best he could at you. “Okay.”

You hugged one of the pillows to your chest. “I miss you a lot.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he said.

“Not yet,” you said. “I think you will someday, though. You’ll go somewhere far away, and I won’t be able to follow you there. You won’t even want me to.”

“What kind of place is that?” he said. “I’ll always want you to follow me around, Y/N. As long as I’m there, not a corner on this planet could be a place I don’t want you to follow me to.”

The door creaked shut. You stared at the blank expanse and thought to yourself that he had always been very good at lying.

From that day forward, there were two opposite phenomena which occurred simultaneously. On the one hand, that blinding radiance of Gojo’s was magnified by the minute, and on the other, Suguru withdrew further and further into a grey sort of monotony that, try as you might, you could not pull him from.

“Gojo,” you said one day, tugging on his sleeve and flinching when he turned to look at you. As per usual, he pressed his finger into your forehead.

“Yikes,” he said. “Seems like you’re still lacking in the spinal department, dear Y/N. But just so you know, I’ve cheated off of your math homework enough times that you really shouldn’t be scared of me.”

“Please help Suguru,” you said.

“Eh?” Gojo said. “What do you mean? Help him with what, his math homework? I’ll just give him yours to copy as well, so why don’t you cut the middle man and show it to him yourself?”

“No, not with — just, he’s going away, and I don’t want him to, but he doesn’t — you’re the only one,” you stammered.

It was even more difficult to speak with Gojo now than it had been when you had first come to school. That was because it was only recently that you were realizing that that way he made you feel, that shyness, that apprehension, was not because of his gleaming, sharp countenance, but rather something else, something soft in your heart that thudded to life whenever he smirked at you.

“You want me to take his mission for him?” Gojo said, his nose wrinkling. “What, so the two of you can go on a date or something? Forget about it.”

“What?” you said. “No, what — a date — that’s not what I meant!”

It was too late. Gojo was gone, and with him, your last chance at helping Suguru vanished, too. In fact, Gojo avoided you until you went home from the summer break, making a face whenever you glanced his way, and by the time you came back to start the next year, it was too late for anyone to do much of anything.

“Y/N L/N,” Masamichi Yaga said, entering the library where you were writing a paper for your literature class. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his cheeks a dark, flushed color, his teeth gritted together so hard that a muscle in his jaw twitched periodically. “Do you have a moment? It’s urgent.”

“I was just working on the essay that we were assigned, but it can wait,” you said agreeably, all too eager to give yourself a break from the work. Pushing aside your paper and pen, you stood up, massaging your wrist. “What is it, sir?”

“It’s, er…” His shoulders slumped. “I’m really sorry, Miss L/N.”

You tried to run through the list of things that he could be sorry for, but only one thing came to mind. You froze, your eyes widening. He had been on a mission, hadn’t he?

“Suguru,” you breathed. “Is it — it’s not about Suguru, is it?”

“In a sense, it is,” Yaga said.

“Is he alright?” you said. “He has to be alright.”

“We believe his condition is fine, considering what he’s done,” Yaga said.

“‘What he’s done?’ Why are you being so vague? What’s going on, sir? Please say it plainly,” you said.

“It’s your parents, Miss L/N,” he said, spitting it out all at once like the phrase itself was poisoned. “They’re dead.”

Your stomach dropped. You had imagined so many things. In your nightmares, you saw your classmates dying, your teachers, even yourself. But never your parents. Your parents, who were so far removed from this awful world. Your parents, who only a month ago had sent you back to school with a pair of new shoes they had saved up to buy. You parents, who had never harmed anyone in their lives. What had they done that was so terrible it warranted such a sudden death? What were they being punished for?

“How — how did it happen?” you said. “Was it a curse?”

“Miss L/N…” Yaga said, his entire self deflating. “I’m really sorry.”

“What? Stop apologizing,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. “Just tell me. Stop saying sorry and tell me!”

“It was most likely Suguru Geto,” he said, handing you a piece of paper. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the words. All residents of the village were killed. Jujutsu High investigated. Based on residuals…all 112…the work of Geto’s curse manipulation. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death. Sentenced to death.

“No,” you said, your voice cracking. “No, why would he do that? My parents loved him, and he loved them, too! We grew up together, so why would he do that?”

“Based on the evidence, he most likely killed his own parents, too,” Yaga said. Your hands wound themselves in your hair as you tugged.

“That’s a lie,” you said. “Suguru isn’t like that. Suguru is good! Suguru looks out for those weaker than himself! He protects people, Yaga. It must be a mistake. It has to be a mistake!”

“Miss L/N—” he began, but you were already running, sprinting as fast as you could. There was no way. There was no way. There was no way.

Your house and the one beside it — Suguru’s house, a voice in the back of your mind nagged you, that’s Suguru’s house — were blocked off with yellow caution tape. Dozens of police officers were milling about the scene, barking into handheld radios, conversing tensely. One of them noticed you and extended an arm to stop your approach.

“Stay back, ma’am. This is an active crime scene. No outsiders allowed until the investigation has been concluded,” the officer said.

“That’s my house,” you whispered. “Officer, that’s my house. Why are there so many people here? It’s not true, is it?”

The officer didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. The pitying frown on his face told you everything you needed to hear. It was true. It was true. Your parents, your parents were dead, and that meant —

What had it been like for them? Had your mother welcomed him? When she opened the door for him, had her eyes crinkled at the corners in greeting? Had she offered him tea, as she usually did, because she was so fond of him and he was so fond of the drink when made by her hand? And what of your father? Had he reached over to clap Suguru on the back, or had he tried to grab him in an affectionate headlock so that he could mess up his hair with all the zeal of a man half his age?

You threw up. Some of the vomit splattered onto the officer’s shoes, causing him to fold his lips into a thin, disapproving line. Taking a step back, he reached over to pat you on the back as you heaved and hacked, trying to expel the knowledge from your mind and finding that you were entirely unable to.

You walked back to the train station in a trance, your eyes reddened and glazed over, your mouth sour from the taste of the stale crackers the officer had handed you, your hands shoved in your pockets as you tried to remember to breathe through your nose. The officer had offered to escort you to the station, but you had refused. You needed the time to think, and anyways, what did it matter? No ordinary person could hurt you, and no sorcerer would.

“I didn’t think you’d come back alone,” a soft voice said from behind you. You turned around, your insides roiling at the very sound, your ears ringing as you took in Suguru’s casual posture. His hands, too, were in his pockets, and the streetlights cast misshapen, dancing shadows over his face, the effect worsened by the odd tilt of his head.

He was refusing to look at you. That was why he was standing like that. He couldn’t bear to look you in the eyes, and that was the only confirmation you needed.

“So what?” you said. “I did. Are you going to kill me next?”

“What?” he said. Briefly, he glanced up at you in alarm, and then, like he had remembered he didn’t deserve to feel betrayed by that kind of question, he slouched back down into the same apathy of earlier. “No.”

“Just do it,” you said. “Just do it, you fucking asshole! Why would — you — you killed my parents! You killed my parents, and now you’re just talking to me as if nothing happened? Why? Why would you…?”

His expression did not budge again. “They were filthy monkeys who deserved it.”

“Huh?” you said. The statement was so bizarre that, for a moment, your anger was forgotten. “What the fuck?”

“This world doesn’t need more non-sorcerers running around,” he said. “Every single curse you’ve ever fought, it’s their fault. Those idiots who don’t know how to control the meager amounts of cursed energy they have, they’re the ones who cause curses to manifest. You should be thanking me, Y/N. This’ll make your life that much easier.”

“Do you really think that's the case?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “With my entire heart, I think that it is.”

You had always, always followed Suguru. When he said to protect the weak, you did so. When he said to take care of others, you did that, too. Whatever he told you to believe, you believed. But how could you do that this time? How could you believe in the person who had murdered your parents?

“You killed my parents because of your stupid theory,” you said numbly. “You killed my parents. Suguru, you killed my parents.”

You didn’t care about the one hundred and twelve villagers. That was the most shameful thing: if it had just been that, then you might still have followed him. He could’ve convinced you — no. You could’ve convinced yourself that it was fine, that he really was looking out for you in that peculiar manner of his. It wouldn’t have been impossible. Even now, your resolve was so weak, and it was only the thought of your parents that allowed you to cling to it at all.

“They asked about you,” he said dully. “I let them. My own parents, I didn’t give them a chance to say anything, but yours…I let them ask. I guess you could consider it my last favor to you.”

The ringing grew louder. You pushed your palms against your ears in an effort to drown it out, but you couldn’t. If anything, it just grew louder and louder, more and more insistent. You couldn’t shake it off. You couldn’t make it go away, just like you couldn’t make Suguru’s words go away.

“It was the only thing they worried about. In their last moments, it wasn’t their own lives they begged for…it was yours,” he said, his gaze far away, his irises unreadable as he recalled that moment. “How strange is that?”

“Shut up,” you said.

“I told them you were okay,” he said.

“Shut up,” you repeated, though it was unsteady and unconvincing. “Shut up, shut up.”

“They were pretty happy about that,” he said, in a tone filled with dreamy recollection. “They didn’t fight much after I promised you’d be okay. What simple creatures they must have been, that even while dying they could only think to rejoice!”

You screamed. It was wordless and brittle, a symptom of your lungs’ collapse as you broke into sobs, fumbling in your purse for your phone. Suguru watched as you unsteadily punched in a number you had never bothered to save, not trying to stop you, maybe not seeing the point.

“Gojo,” you said when he picked up, before he could even say anything. “Gojo, please just — can you come get me? Please come get me.”

“Okay,” he said, to your surprise. He didn’t argue or call it a waste of time or point out that you were still bawling as you spoke. “Where are you? I can be there pretty soon if I steal one of the managers’ cars, I think.”

“By my house,” you said. Suguru did not move, showing you his hands, as if he was giving you permission to do what you wanted. It was your choice. If you just told Gojo that he was with you, then you had no doubt he’d be apprehended within minutes.

“I see,” he said. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

You were the one who hung up, not him. You were the one who made the decision. You were the one who looked at Suguru and then turned your back to him so that, for once, he was the one behind you.

“I can’t reconcile it,” you said, using the ends of your sleeves to blot at your tears as you hiccuped. “I can’t understand it. Even after everything, I still want to follow you. I still want you to be my shadow. I still want to be yours.”

Don’t turn. Don’t turn. Don’t turn. You couldn’t turn around. If you turned around, then that meant your old teacher was right. Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. You could not turn around.

A dry breeze rustled through the leaves on the ground, sounding like footsteps against pavement. Don’t turn.

You turned. You should’ve known better than to expect anything different from yourself. You had never been someone who could stand in the front for very long. You would always turn. You would always run and cower and hide.

Anything you might’ve said died on your tongue as you saw he was already gone. You were alone. You had let him go. You had allowed that mass murderer, that criminal, to walk away from you. What kind of a sorcerer were you? Empty-minded. Weak-hearted. That sort, then. The horrible sort.

When the headlights of the car Gojo had borrowed swung around the corner, you had long since curled up on the grass, your cheek to the mud as you tried to grasp what you had done.

“Hey,” Gojo said. “Y/N?”

He must’ve gotten out of the car at some point, because suddenly, he was crouching before you, pulling you to your feet, his limbs awkward and gangly as he cocked his head, still wearing those ridiculous sunglasses despite the darkness.

“I’m a piece of shit,” you said, and then you were clutching the collar of his uniform jacket. “Why am I like this?”

“What do you mean?” he said.

“He killed my parents,” you said. “He killed my parents, and I let him walk away.”

“Who?” Gojo said, but it was a rhetorical question. He knew who. You looked up at him miserably, and he shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t quite comprehend what you were saying. “You let who walk away?”

“I don’t think he was planning on seeing me,” you said, letting go of his shirt and pleading with him to understand. “We weren’t supposed to meet.”

“You saw Suguru,” Gojo accused, and now it was his turn to take you by the shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscle of your biceps, his eyes wild. “You saw him, and you didn’t tell me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “He killed my parents, Gojo.”

“That’s not true,” he said.

“It is,” you said. “It is, he told me it is, and I couldn’t even do anything when he said so.”

“Why?” Gojo hissed. “You only had to tell me! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t!” you said, and then you were crying again. “I couldn’t. Oh, they’re dead, and he killed them, he killed them, and they only asked about me when he did. Why am I the one who gets to live?”

His hands traveled from your arms to the nape of your neck, the heels of his palms pressing into your jaw as he tried to force you to look at him. But you couldn’t, of course you couldn’t, you hadn’t been able to before and you definitely couldn’t now.

“You know Suguru better than anyone. Don’t you think there’s something else at play?” Gojo said. He wasn’t asking for you. He was asking for himself. He wanted you to reassure him, tell him that it was alright, that his best friend wasn’t the monster you both knew he was. How was it fair? How could you be expected to reassure him?

You shoved him off of you. “No.”

“Then why’d you let him go?” Gojo said. “You must’ve thought that there was a reason, or else you would’ve told me. It’s the only explanation!”

“No, it’s not! The only explanation is that I’m shitty and weak and stupid, and I can’t help but rely on him. No matter what I do, I’ll rely on him! People like you don’t understand what it feels like. You can stand on your own, but I’m not like that!” you said, and then you were grabbing his hand — he always did that, you noticed, always turned his Infinity off for you even now that it was an automatic, constant process — unfurling his fingers and jabbing his index finger at your forehead. “Do you get it? You were right. I don’t have a spine. I don’t have one at all!”

“Pull yourself together, Y/N,” Gojo said. “He’s still out there. We just have to reach him before the others do, and then we can talk to him. If it’s the both of us, then he’ll listen. He’ll explain everything!”

“He already did,” you said. “You just don’t accept it, but that’s different than him not explaining at all.”

“So what, then? You’re just going to go back to the school and live your life as normal?” he said, scowling at you. “How could you even think of doing that? In what world does that make sense? You can’t go back and pretend like nothing happened!”

“It’s true. I can’t,” you said, because it was the fact you had been avoiding since the day you first set foot in the school, which you had always known in the back of your mind despite how you denied it. “I can’t go back at all. I can’t be a sorcerer.”

It was a rare thing to see Satoru Gojo speechless. If it were a lesser occasion, you might have laughed at the way his lips parted and his eyebrows knitted together in such a foreign way.

“Why not?” he said.

“I’m afraid I’ll follow him,” you said. “No, I know I will. If I stay, then I will definitely follow him.”

“You won’t,” Gojo said. “Follow me instead. Follow me if you have to, but you can’t leave. Not you, too.”

Another rarity: Satoru Gojo was afraid. Not of your absence, but of the changes it would bring. With Haibara gone, Suguru vanished, and then you…what would even become of the school? When so many pieces were taken away from it, could it even be considered the same place?

“I can’t end up like that,” you said. “I can’t even risk it. I became a sorcerer because of him; I’ll leave because of him, too. Anyways, you hate when I follow you. You prefer people who can stand on their own two feet. I know that about you now.”

“If you run away, I won’t forgive you for a long time,” he warned me.

“Then don’t,” you said, stepping away, though still facing him. “What good is your forgiveness, anyways? It won’t bring my parents back. It won’t bring Suguru back. I don’t even want you to forgive me, Gojo. I want you to hate me until you die.”

It was the last time you saw him for so long that his memory blurred away at the edges. The way he said your name, the way his hair shone in the sun, the slope of his nose and curve of his neck…once, these were things you might’ve been able to list with a great degree of accuracy. Not anymore, though. Now, if you thought of him at all, it was only that final image of him, framed by the headlights of that still-running car. It was not your name he had called out as you walked away from him, but something bitterer, a promise said with such sincerity it was all but a Binding Vow.

“Ten years,” he had said. “That’s how long I’ll hate you for. Not my entire life. Not until I die. Just for the next ten years.”

Life as an ordinary person was easy. Life without Suguru was harder. But you learned. You learned, through the years, how to stand on your own two feet. You learned how to live with only one shadow instead of two. You learned how to let your eyes adjust to light, gradually instead of all at once, so that it was an easy progression and free of pain.

There were times when you thought you had seen one or the other of the two who you had run from. There, across the street, was it Suguru reading the newspaper? Or in the bakery you walked past on your way to work, was it Gojo who was admiring the displays? They always vanished before you could grow close enough to ascertain their identities, though, remaining ever out of your grasp, existing as nothing more than phantoms in your periphery, refusing to let you forget the past entirely.

The first time you called Gojo was a year after you left the school. You weren’t expecting him to pick up, and when the automated message prompted you to leave a voicemail, you almost hung up in resignation. Something stopped you, though, and despite feeling entirely ridiculous, you cleared your throat.

“Ah, it’s Y/N. But I guess you probably knew that, considering you didn’t pick up. Well, I don’t have anything much to say, but I just wanted to call and make sure you were doing alright. I’m okay. The anniversary of my parents’ deaths is coming up, so I was planning on visiting their graves. I got a new job. Somewhere that I never would’ve expected to work when I was younger. It’s nice. I like my coworkers. They’re nothing compared to you, of course, but they’re fine enough. Anyways. Um. I guess that’s it. I don’t think you’ll call me back, but I just wanted to let you know I’m doing okay.”

It was a routine. Every year, on that day, you’d call him and leave him a voice message. He never once answered — you doubted he listened to the voicemails at all, either — but it soothed you to leave them, to leave one last connection to the world that had taken up so much of your life, and for so long.

More often than not, that time felt like a dream. If it weren’t for the thorned mourner’s bouquets which left pricks in your fingers or the ten calls you had made to Satoru Gojo, you wouldn’t have believed any of it had happened at all. Sorcery, curses, shadows and killers, best friends who betrayed you and boys you ran from, these were all things better suited to storybooks than real life.

Your mother’s favorite flowers had been roses, and you always made sure to bring some with you when you visited your parents’ graves. Roses for her and white chrysanthemums for your father, who had never had a preference for any particular flowers but was so sentimental that he would weep at any blooms being set by his headstone.

The roses were the ones that made the pads of your fingertips bleed, leaving bright red drops the same shade as their petals on the tissues you brought with you. You’d set the bouquet down and wrap your fingers with the tissues, watching as blood seeped through the thin paper, and then, without fail, you’d cry.

“It’s been so long without you,” you said, when enough time had passed that you could not be considered anything but an adult despite feeling like little more than a child. “It’s been so long, and I still don’t know what to do. Mother, father, I am grown now, yet constantly I wish I could ask you for advice. What was that song you’d always hum when I was tired, father? How did you make that tea of yours, mother? When did you know you loved one another? And a million other, sillier things. If I could think of nothing more pressing, I’d ask you about the weather, the time, and your plans for the weekend. I’d bid you a good morning and a good night. I’d complain about the rain and my job. Just as long as it meant I could talk to you again.”

You could not help it. You wept, bloody tissues fluttering to the ground as you ground your fists into your eyes, trying to stem the flow of your tears. Your breath came in quick, short gasps, and you rocked back and forth from your heels to your toes in an attempt to lull yourself into a state of calm. Back and forth. Back and forth. It was the only thing you could do, but it was not enough.

Someone’s hand settled upon your shoulder, and it had been so long since you had felt even a semblance of physical affection that you did not immediately bat them away. Instead, your own hands fell to your sides, your head hanging as you watched the newcomer set a bouquet beside the one you had brought. Orchids and lilies. Lovely, pale things that contrasted sharply with the red of the roses next to them.

“You said in your voicemail that you’d be here at this time. I hope it’s okay that I came.”

It was Satoru Gojo. He no longer wore the sunglasses you remembered him to; instead, a black blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and forehead, causing his pale hair to stick up like he had been shocked. He did not quite smile when he noticed that you were looking at him, but something resembling that expression crossed his face.

“Gojo,” you said. “Why are you—?”

“It’s been long enough,” he said. “You’re a really hard person to hate, Y/N L/N. I did my best, but it was difficult. I hope that you know that.”

“So you’ve come to, what, tell me you forgive me?” you said. “Thanks, but I don’t need it. It’s as I said: your forgiveness means nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, and then he was grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’ve come to bring you back to sorcery with me.”

“What?” you said. “No. I quit.”

“You didn’t quit, you ran,” he reminded you.

“That’s the same thing,” you said. He grinned. It was the kind of grin that would’ve blinded you when you were younger, but you found that it was not so brilliant anymore. You found you liked it even more than you once had.

“Not in my books,” he said.

“Gojo, I’m not strong enough. I can lead a normal life without you and Suguru and the others, but if you throw me back into sorcery, I know I’ll cave,” you said. “I’ll turn back into that cowardly little girl I once was. I’ll seek out that shadow which I’ve spent so long learning to exist without.”

He sighed, and then he poked you in the forehead. “Not the case. See, you didn’t even waver this time! I think you finally did it, Y/N. You grew a spine.”

“Why do you want me to come back?” you said. “I’m not strong like you. I won’t give you anything you don’t already have.”

“It’s selfish,” he said. “I don’t want to tell you because it’s selfish, and you’ll laugh at me.”

“If you don’t tell me, then I won’t even consider it,” you said. Though his eyes were covered by the blindfold, you could sense him rolling them based solely on the way he pouted.

“I’ve spent the last ten years hating you for leaving us — for leaving me behind,” he said. “Everyone else was gone. I needed someone, but you left too, and then I really was alone. I want to drag you back into hell because I can’t face it by myself anymore.”

There were things left unsaid in that. Why you, for one? He could have anyone in the world, so why, after ten years, had he come to find you specifically? Why was it now that he could no longer bear the hell that was sorcery alone? But Gojo was not the sort who ever revealed his true self if he could help it, so you supposed those things would have to go unsaid for a little longer.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?” he said.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come back, but I have a condition.”

“What is it?” he said.

“The next time I leave, or run away, or quit, don’t hate me for quite as long,” you said. “Don’t hate me at all. I know I told you that I want you to hate me until you die, but I don’t anymore.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” you said, in a direct mirror of your previous exchange.

“Okay,” he said. “Come on, then. Follow me.”

“Oh, that, too,” you said. “I won’t follow you. If that’s what you’re expecting, then you can forget about it. I cannot allow myself to follow anyone ever again. I cannot be that weak, or I’ll become someone I despise. Someone I don’t want to be, ever again.”

His expression morphed into one of shock, and then he did something so odd as to be beyond all rationality and logic. He beamed at you before patting you on the head. It wasn’t condescending; it was the kind of gesture that was like a promise, or a warning, depending on who you asked. Maybe in this case, it was both.

“It’s alright. Actually, it’s better if you don’t,” he said. “I like you more when you don’t follow anyone at all.”

#gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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television-overload · 2 months

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When you're already making great progress on a 70,000 word fic and an idea for ANOTHER long fic pops in your head....

#cancer arc time loop fic that's all i'm saying #i can be strong and finish the first fic first #but man...#the potential for angst and pining #i have so many ideas #x files #txf #msr #my fanfiction

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sluckythewizard · 1 month

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BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

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lunar-years · 7 months

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I'm over 20k words in rjk friends with benefits fic now, so I might post a little wip wednesday snippet later <3

#it might take me 12 eons to actually post the fic but i am very generous in my snippets (read: desperately in need of validation) lmao #going to finish out this scene first so I can post the least spoilery part though #plus KEELEY'S RETURN #i feel like she hasn't appeared enough yet by nature of the fwb arrangement #but she's coming in strong now <3 #my writing #rjk friends with benefits #ted lasso

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luxsea · 8 months

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the delivery of karlach going "whatever do you mean? >:) we're just two normal people living normal lives very, very normally" with unbreaking eye contact while reaching to hold tavs hand is going to be stuck rotating in my mind forever now. every time someone goes "feeling normal rn!" the brain worms overtake me

#olive.txt #bg3 spoilers #ive been silently enjoying my long ass first bg3 play through but just know ive got playlists and gifsets and fics in the vault #and i fucking bought this game SOLELY bc of karlach #her and my tav lux are literally married and nothing bad will happen if i simply never finish the game :)))#shes hot and strong and cool but can we also talk about how life changing her love for the good in the world is #i wish there were more characters like her shes such a rare gem

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yardsards · 2 years

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you've heard of being "touch starved", now get ready for "touch hangry"

#eliot posts #touch starved #i was rereading through some of my old fics and #the plot of one is basically a character being touch hangry #i'd say i get touch hangry but not really. i don't actually get angry about it but i DO get a strong urge to playfight #anyway my consensus upon rereading my fics is:#all three of my infinity train fics are actually pretty good #'from things that accidentally touch' is prolly the best one?#but i'm actually liking 'you can run away with me anytime you want' a lot rn bc i really dig the qpr vibes i established there #i was dissatisfied with 'and the moon's never seen me before' when i wrote it but i actually really like it now. made me smile.#i don't really like either of my toh fics very much #i like the concept of 'interlacing' and AM gonna finish it up but i hate how i wrote most of it #'the beach episode' has some good bits but i dislike a lot of it. it was the first thing i'd written in YEARS and it shows #kinda hate that it's my most popular fic cuz it's my least favourite #but people enjoying it so much did encourage me to practice writing some more i think?#i don't regret writing it. i think i needed the practice and writing my first fic since like eighth grade was nice #sidenote i WISH eighth grade eliot didn't delete their fic out of shame. i wanna read it.#anyway i think i wanna post the last chapter of tbe eventually. i think it's half written somewhere #it's my least fav fic and a bunch of my headcanons got disproven but i think it deserves to be finished #i have a couple readers who still wanna see the ending despite it being years and it just being a slice of life fic so no cliffhangers #('from things that accidentally touch' is my touch hangry fic)#that fic originally had my highest kudos to hits ratio but now it has the lowest ratio of any of my single chapter fics #and i know it is because people have been rereading it since then for comfort and that makes me really happy

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threenounname · 1 year

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final chapter is up!!!! FINALLY

#holy cow??? i finished?? my first goddamn multichap????#which means it can be read in one go now!! cool #i deserve treats #hehe anyway i hope this was a good way of ending it because i’m bad at endings apparently #not my strong suit #also sorry the smut ended up being kinda vague #it felt suitable for what i was trying to achieve with the chapter #everything i write is a labor of love with a sprinkle of wrestling violently with my #own freakin words #i know i complain about how hard it is to write practically every chapter #but since rhe fic is done i can officially declare that this one takes the cake #of being the biggest pain in the ass to write #definitively #but i’m finally satisfied with it so yay #!!!!#fic update

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tiredstressedemotionalmess · 5 months

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every day i inch closer and closer to writing the ybc fic,,, every time i listen to miss missing you i am crushed by a wave of Thoughts,,,,, after ttid i will no longer have to hold myself back istg-

#BC ITS LIKE. DESPITE THE SEVERAL LONG CHAPTERED KILLJOYS WIPS IVE BEEN BREWING MENTALLY FOR MONTHS/A YEAR ATP #I JUST. THE URGE. THE URGE IS TOO STRONG AN ITA BEEN TOO STRONG AND ITS *WINNING*#maybe what ill do is start posting the city au fic bc thats the one i have the most written for and then while thats updating the ybc fic #will be the main project on the back burner #kinda like how the city fic is currently with ttid #like its being Worked On when im inspired but im ALWAYS thinking abt it #once ttid wraps up that can be my main project & the ybc can take its place as thing i work on when writers block for the main project hits #who the fuck knows if/when the last wish au will rver be posted tho ://#I LITERALLY HAVE THE ENTIRE THING MAPPED OUT *IN DETAIL* AND I STILL HAVE THE FIRST CHAPTER FINISHED #maybe ill just post the first chapter and then that can just. be worked on whenever updated whenever #kinda like a no pressure just vibes whenever i feel like it type thing #(<acting as thiugh this isnt the way i currently post)

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bonetrousledbones · 2 years

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oh who could hjave predicted that working on two very Emotionally Heavy fics at the same time would have the consequence of both of them being difficult to work on at all

#trousled rambles #i thrive on angst but at what cost........................#i wanna work on Self Hatred bc that ones almost DONE and i amm SO CLOSE !!!!but this chapter is turning out to be long as HELL #BUT i also really really wanna start karma's backstory fic which I have the first half of 1 chapter done for #and i intend on posting it with 2 chapters bc it starts...............................STRONG #but i also keep telling myself that i can work on that after i finish Self Hatred but i wanna work on it NOWWWWW #kicking n screaming on the floor rn why cant i type both stories at once simultaneously i think that would fix me

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musical-chick-13 · 11 months

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Oh sure, people can generate a shit-ton of content for two guys who barely interact just because they’re two visible male characters and eventually get rewarded with in-story material, but when I, a gay woman, simply want to find even one non-canonical fic of two women who don’t get along developing a psychosexual obsession with each other--

#this is a joke but also. not really.#you can't even reasonably argue that the women are poorly-written this time!#no excuse I'm disappointed in everyone #(yes. I could write this myself. but I have to finish 10 other fics first. that is literally not an exaggeration. so it's gonna be like. at #least three or four years before I can do that. absolute bare minimum)#it's better if you don't ask about this one #look at that! I experienced outrage so strong I actually ended up NOT posting about dn!!

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television-overload · 2 months

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When you're already making great progress on a 70,000 word fic and an idea for ANOTHER long fic pops in your head....

#cancer arc time loop fic that's all i'm saying #i can be strong and finish the first fic first #but man...#the potential for angst and pining #i have so many ideas #x files #txf #msr #my fanfiction

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lovelettersfromluna · 7 months

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The Summoning

summary: so now you’re fucking your roommate on the regular, what could possibly go wrong? It’s just for the camera, right?

an: You guys!! I’m so so happy with the feedback if received for the first chapter of this fic, I want to give you guys as much camgirl!Ellie as I possibly can. So, as before, let’s keep this short and sweet so we can get into it, love you so so so much (also shout out to everyone’s comments and asks on what they wanted to see for this chapter! Yoi all helped me sm! You all know who you are hehe)

warnings: smut!! 18+, MDNI, camgirl!ellie, roommate!ellie, biker!Ellie (there’s lots of tropes in this one lol), JELOUS!ELLIE, mentions of an older woman but it’s so brief, mentions of alternate love interest, face sitting, fingering, filming of intercourse, use of strap, mentions of the word cock, ANGST!, slight fluff??, lmk if I missed anything!

You can read part 1 here!, and part 3 here!

A soft puff of air blew past your lips as you finished organizing the last shelf of records, your eyes looking down at the remainder vinyls that most definitely wouldn’t fit into any of the space you had.

God you hated the holidays.

Well you didn’t, you loved the colder months. It was so cozy, and welcoming, however you hated it as a retail worker. With the changing of the seasons came your manager with boxes of new vintage records that he explained were in high demand for the customers coming in and out of the city, all of which you had to change out and organize from the last collection you’d had for the summer time.

So the holidays were fine, just not when you were working.

Not to mention, the only thing plaguing your mind these days was a specific brunette who had quite the tongue on her.

After that night, Ellie had you rewatch the video, making sure you were okay with it, and it was okay to post. It was weird, because you’d never really seen yourself that way. You never moan too loud, or put on too much of a show during sex, it just was what it was, and it wasn’t ever really done with an audience in mind. But seeing yourself in Ellie’s lap, her strong hands running up and down your body, working on your pussy like a fucking pro, you had to admit.

You looked damn fucking good on camera.

And you weren’t the only one that thought so. After you gave Ellie the okay to post and edit the video, the response was amazing. Gone where the comments asking where Ellie’s usually girl was, missing the chemistry they had, her whiny moans and pretty body, all of which were replaced by a sea of comments and donations coming in, all on your behalf. They asked Ellie to please keep you around, putting in suggestions of what they wanted to see next, what they wanted to see her do to you, next.

Ellie wasn’t wrong, the crowd fucking loved you.

So? You filmed another video. And another, and another, and another, until you and Ellie had created nearly an entire box set of home movies for her adoring fans, all of which had become your adoring fans practically over night.

And fuck, did Ellie know what she was doing.

Sure, you’d had your fair share of good sex in the past. Your ex was pretty good with her hands, and there was that one girl you were seeing for a few months, she was okay with her strap.

But Ellie? Jesus Christ, you quickly caught onto why Julia acted the way she did after Ellie was done with her.

It was all you could think about, the way that Ellie treated your body when you were filming. The way she never failed to pay attention to every part of you before herself, the way she kissed you, the way her hands ran down your body, the way she simply knew how to pleasure a woman.

And it wasn’t like there was any real harm in any of it, right? In helping your roommate with her line of work? That’s what it was after all. You helped Ellie make her content, and she fucked you until you could barely think straight.

In simpler terms, Ellie knew how to fuck, and she knew how to fuck good. Filming with her only further proved that.

Your eyes scanned the record store once more, a stack of records in your hands as you tried looking for another place where these god forsaken vinyls could go. You were close to simply shoving them underneath the cash register, calling it a night and going home before the drunk tourists eager to visit the city got in your way of getting to your bus stop.

You spotted a spot on top of one of the shelves, which made you huff softly in annoyance. You usually avoided it since you couldn’t reach it, vowing to never put yourself out of your way for a bunch of records no one will want to buy, but there weren’t many and you figured you already had them out, so might as well finish what you started.

As you struggled to push the records up into the tall shelf, you heard the little ding at the front door of your shop over the soft music that you had playing. You couldn’t even bother to turn around, knowing it was most definitely some drunk idiot trying to buy a last minute gift for someone.

“Sorry…we’re…fuck…we’re closed” you huffed out as you struggled even further, the tips of your fingers finally pushing one of the records up and sliding it into place. You didn’t even realize you didn’t hear the usual apology paired with the bell ringing again, signaling that the person had left.

It wasn’t until you felt a hand push into the sliver of skin that was slightly exposed between your jeans and your top, making you shriek loudly and recoil from the persons touch. Once you turned around, you were prepared to smash the stack of records you had over the idiots head who thought it was okay to come in and touch random girls while they worked.

But you only came face to face with those gorgeous green eyes that you seemed to constantly see, even when she wasn’t around.

You let out a soft gasp, reaching forward and landing a not so friendly punch on her leather clad arms, a soft huff leaving your lips as you watched your roommate snort softly at you, trying to stifle a laugh.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Ellie?? I could’ve dropped these” you whine, looking down at the disheveled records before you turned around, going back to trying to pushing them back into their spot.

Ellie sighed softly as she came down from her laughing fit, setting her helmet down on the row of records next to her as she leaned against it. “Shouldn’t you be locking the door once you’re closed? Sounds like a safety hazard to me” she hummed out, clearly trying to get under your skin.

You could practically hear that stupid fucking smirk on her lips, which makes you roll your eyes, even if she was right.

“I had a customer before I started putting these away…I’ll lock up once I’m finished” you explained, still struggling with the second record you had, which makes Ellie chuckle softly.

She pushed herself off of the row she was leaned up against before she stood behind you, her chest pressing against your back, one of her hands resting on your hip, giving it a gentle squeeze, before she reached up with ease and pushed the record in with ease.

You let out a soft huff softly, looking down at her hand on your waist before you turn around, looking up at her and narrowing your eyes at the girl. “Is that really necessary?” You question as you gesture to her hand, which only makes her shrug before bringing her hand down and giving your ass a firm squeeze, “not at all. Gimme those and go grab your stuff, I’m taking you home” she explained before she promptly took the records and put them away on the shelf for you.

You simply stare at her in disbelief, watching as she put away the records with ease. She looked over at you, nodding her head towards the back where she knew you kept your stuff while you were working. “Go on. I don’t wanna get stuck in traffic” she explained, which makes you roll your eyes at her before you stomp off to go and grab your things.

Damn her for being so fucking hot.

Soon, you had your jacket on and your bag was slung over your shoulder. When you walked out to the store front to shut off the lights and the music, Ellie was scrolling through her phone, leaned up against the cashier, seemingly waiting for you. She gave you a soft smile when she noticed you were there, pushing her phone into her pocket. “Ready?” She asked, moving to grab her helmet.

You nodded, returning the soft smile before you grabbed the keys, nodding your head towards the door. “Ready” you confirm.

She followed behind you, waiting for you as you locked up the store before leading her out.

You shivered slightly when you both step out into the cold air, watching as the lights of the city illuminate the street, welcoming everyone who was in need of a night out. You just wanted to get home.

You watched as Ellie walked in front of you, setting her helmet down before she opened up her seat to grab her spare and handing it to you before she put hers on and swung her leg over her bike to get on.

Usually, Ellie didn’t pick you up from work. She was most likely busy filming with Julia, finishing up far too late to meet you at work. Sometimes, she’d be in the area and she’d pick you up, but that wasn’t something that happened quite often for you two.

But, ever since you took Julia’s place, Ellie had been picking you up a lot more often.

You took the helmet from her, putting it on your head before you got onto Ellie’s bike, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your head along her leather clad back. You heard a soft chuckle muffled by her helmet, her head turning to the side a bit as she felt you cuddle into her from behind.

"Don't need to tell you to hold on tight, do I?" She teased, which earns a soft pinch to her side from you.

Before you know it, Ellie is turning on the engine to her bike, revving it a bit, and you two are speeding down the streets of the city towards your apartment.

The feeling of the cold breeze kissing your exposed skin as Ellie drove you both down the streets made your blood pump. It was fucking stupid, but drives home with her had a way of truly making you feel alive for a bit.

You’d never tell her that, though. It would blow her head up way too much.

Ellie had a tendency to show off in many aspects of her life. One of those manifested whenever she was on her bike. She’d rev her engine when she saw a group of pretty girls, tattooed hands gripping the handles of her bike as she watched them swoon over her. She’d get a kick out of it whenever they’d squeal over her, trying their best to call her back, an attempt at trying to get her to turn around and give them more attention.

You thought it was stupid. It was just Ellie on a bike after all.

Ellie stopped once she reached a red light, her back straightening out a bit as she rested one of her hands on her thighs, patting a mindlessly rhythm into her jean clad leg as she waited for it to turn green so you could both get moving again. Your hands loosened a bit on her waist as you waited as well.

You noticed from the corner of your eye a car pulling up next to you. It’s a sleek black 1969 dodge charger, the lights of the city bouncing off of the shiny paint. It isn’t too flashy, but enough so that anyone can appreciate. You can’t help but gawk a bit at the beautiful car, not at all noticing the window slowly rolling down.

You hear a whistle, which catches both yours and Ellie’s attention. In the car, is an older woman. You took not of her features, noticing how pretty she was, long hair tucked up into a bun, body adorned in what you could only assume was an expensive suit. You notice her lips tugged beneath her teeth as her dark eyes bore holes into your direction, and you can only assume she’s gawking at Ellie, as one usually does when she’s out on her bike. As you look closer, you realize she isn’t looking at Ellie.

She’s looking at you.

And you can’t even deny that your chest doesn’t warm up, because she’s clearly extremely beautiful. Her strong, ring clad hands gripping the steering wheel as her eyes travel down your body. You didn’t think that when you tugged on your favorite pair of jeans and your old brown jacket that same morning that you’d be getting attention from anyone, let alone from a fucking rich milf in the middle of the road.

But you aren’t the only one to notice, because you feel Ellie shift forward, her own hands going back to grip the handle bars of her bike, her head never leaving the direction of the woman who’s shamelessly undressing you with her eyes. You gasp softly underneath your own helmet when the feeling of Ellie revving her bike catches you off guard, ripping you away from the trance the woman has you in. You turn your head to look at Ellie, hands tightening a bit around her waist to prepare your take off.

But Ellie’s head never leaves the woman.

This catches the woman’s attention, and she merely chuckles softly before she sticks her hand out her window and gives Ellie a slight wave, as if to silently tell her she’d back off. The light turns green, and while you think that’s the end of it, you catch a glimpse of the woman sending a wink your way before she zooms off, which prompts Ellie to do soon after, just as fast, knuckles turning white as she gripped her handle bars.

If you weren’t holding on tight enough to Ellie, you’d probably have gone flying.

When you both get home, you decide not to question the very bizarre interaction you both had with that woman, figuring it was just Ellie being Ellie, and there wasn’t really anything to it anyways.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

It makes it even stranger that when you both walk through the door, Ellie doesn’t show a single sign of annoyance, which makes you feel like you’re hallucinating even more than you were before. She’s walking into the apartment, tugging off her jacket and tossing it on a nearby chair, and grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before plopping down onto the couch.

So yeah, you’re probably just tired.

You let out a soft hum as you tug off your own jacket before hanging it up, grabbing Ellie’s and hanging it up as well. She had a bad habit of shedding her layers off as soon as she got through the door.

You stand before Ellie in the living room, her legs spread as she babysits a bottle of water, eyes never leaving yours. You watch as she pats her lap quietly, which forces you to give her a look of disbelief.

Usually, you’d have a witty remark for that sort of gesture from Ellie, which would often times be paired with a pillow to her face. But there’s simply something about the way her legs are spread out on the couch, looking so fucking inviting, that makes you quietly follow her orders, and straddle her lap.

Now, most intimacy was supposed to be saved for the camera, it was an unspoken rule of filming with Ellie, or it was a rule you set for yourself. Apart from warming up before filming, letting Ellie get you nice and wet for her before you got on camera with her, there wasn’t really a reason to have any sort of intimacy with her. Things were supposed to go back to normal when you weren’t on camera, back to how things were as roommates.

But, you’d be lying if you said that’s how it was. You and Ellie had always had an affectionate relationship, one that never went without cuddling, caressing, even crashing in your bed from time to time when she couldn’t sleep. You were no stranger to Ellie’s strong hands on your body, because that was just Ellie. She had a thing for gripping and groping, always wanting her hands to be occupied with something whenever you were near, you assumed that’s how she was with everyone.

There just seemed to be something about getting regularly fucked by Ellie that made the intimacy take a different level, a different course that made things feel…different.

And of course, there’s no harm in that. You watched Ellie kiss Julia goodnight every time she left the house, always taking an extra few minutes to hold her when they were done. If they could do it, why couldn’t you two do it?

Ellie let out a soft hum of approval when you straddled her lap, disregarding the water bottle so that both her hands were free to grip your hips, pulling you closer to her. Your hands went around her neck, toying with the hair at the nape of her neck as she pressed her face against your neck, giving your skin a deep inhale.

“Missed you today…” she mumbled softly against your skin, which makes you roll your eyes playfully, yet still keeping her close. “You saw me this morning before I left” you argue softly, which only earns a soft whine from Ellie, you can feel her lips form a pout against your throat before she presses soft kisses to it.

“So? Still missed you” she explained, her voice low as she spoke. You can’t help but giggle softly, staring down at the girl as she litters your throat with soft kisses.

But this feels way too fucking intimate, even for you and Ellie.

You clear your throat, tugging her hair back a bit to force her to look at you, which makes Ellie groan softly, half in annoyance, and half in pleasure. She loved it whenever you did what you wanted with her.

“We filming tonight?” You ask quickly, a sorry attempt at trying to interrupt this soppy little scene you and her are having.

You see a flash of something ripple through Ellie’s green eyes, something you can’t quite put your finger on, because she’s changing her expression much too quickly, giving you and eager nod as her hands go from gently caressing you, to gripping your ass tightly. This makes you whine softly in her lap.

“Eager to have me…aren’t you baby” she chuckles softly, the shift in her personality clear as her eyes quickly darken with lust. You swallow nervously, always feeling small in front of Ellie whenever she looked at you that way. You feel the way she slowly begins grinding your hips down into her lap, strong hands gripping you and moving you as she pleased. You can only nod, your lips forming a gentle pout before a gentle sigh leaves them.

“Always…” you moan out softly, which makes her smirk up at you proudly. You’d gotten so good at voicing what you wanted these past few weeks, it made warmth pool at Ellie’s core.

She gives your ass a firm spank before she nodded her head towards her room. “Go get the camera, baby” she ordered gently, that delicious tone of dominance lacing her words, you quickly followed her instructions, getting up from her lap and going to her room to get the equipment.

That was another thing, with your new presence in Ellie’s work, came a change of scenery in her videos.

Ellie usually kept her videos and streams exclusive to her bedroom, having the common courtesy to not fuck all over your shared apartment. But now that it was just you two, there was a new sense of freedom when it came to filming with you. It happened one day when Ellie was finger fucking your pussy on the couch, and had the bright idea to grab her camera, because it was just too fucking good to not hit record on.

Once again, another example of intimacy outside of filming.

You returned with all of the filming equipment, never knowing what Ellie had planned for a shoot, so instead opting to bring everything so she could choose from.

Ellie smirks softly as she sits up from her spot on the couch, eyes low and filled with lush as you walk back into the living room. You lift up her camera and her tripod, a confused frown on your lips as you look between the two. “M’not sure what you wanted to film, so I brought both. I can always go back and-“ she’s quickly cutting you off, standing up from the couch and slowly making her way to you before she takes both out of your hands gently, and sets them down on your coffee table.

“We can focus on that, later…I need to make sure you’re ready..” she purred out, making you swallow back a whimper.

Her hands go down to yours, gently gripping your arms before she pushes them to rest around her neck, her own hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush to her body.

‘Making sure you were ready’ was just Ellie’s way of saying she wanted a moment with you off camera.

You simply give her a nod, your head already tilting forward as you lean in to press a kiss to her soft lips. Ellie groans in approval, her head tilting to the side a bit as soon as you were pressed against her, deepening the kiss. Her nimble fingers slide down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze while also using the leverage to pull you closer, pressing your chest firmly against hers. This make you gasp, and as always, she uses that opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth.

Ellie smirks into the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth as her hands massage your ass through your jeans.

“Been needy for me, baby? I’ve been needy for you…” she confessed between the feverish kiss. It was slow, and dirty, and so fucking erotic, it had your panties soaked already.

All you could do was nod, desperately pushing your lips back against hers as you tugged at her shirt. “Thought about you all day…” you said mindlessly, which makes Ellie chuckle softly against you.

“Yeah? God…me fuckin too…kept thinking about your pretty cunt all day…fucked my self so many times to the thought of you…” she groaned out. Her words make you moan a bit louder.

You’re so fucked out already, that you can barely register what it is that she just confessed to you.

Ellie hums softly as she breaks the kiss, looking down at you as you stare up at her with lust filled eyes and a needy pout. She tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, her own swollen lip tugged between her teeth.

“Bet you loved when that woman was staring at you…didn’t you.”

This catches you off guard.

Your eyes widen a bit, shocked over the fact that Ellie was even bringing it up to you, especially when all you wanted was her hands on your cunt, not the image of another woman in your head.

You don’t know why, but your first response is to quickly shake your head.

“What? She wasn’t…I didn’t notice her staring” you try, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. Ellie chuckles softly as she watches you, catching your chin between her thumb and pointer finger as she angles your face up a bit more to stare up at her.

“It’s okay baby…she was very pretty…” she agreed, giving a slow nod before she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, head cocking to the side in a teasing manner before she hummed out softly.

“You think she could make you feel as good as I do?” She questioned, blown out pupils surrounded by a sliver of green staring down into your own.

And again, you’re quickly shaking your head, because you know for a fact that there is probably only a handful of people on this planet that can fuck you as good as Ellie can, and that’s being generous to the general population. Ellie fucks good, and anyone who gets to experience that is fucking lucky.

They’re also ruined for anyone else who comes after her.

“Fuck…you know no one can…come on El…need you so bad…” you whine softly, giving Ellie a whiny little pout as you tug at her shirt further, feeling like you’ll explode if you don’t have her hands on you in the next few seconds. Ellie simply chuckles, watching as you whine and pout for her, a sorry attempt at trying to find your way out of the conversation.

“You’re damn right they can’t…such a good girl…” she praises, which makes you whine softly.

Ellie hums softly as she stares down at your body, giving your waist a gentle tap. “Stay here.” She ordered softly before she moved over to set up the camera.

You watch as she sets up the tripod, making it level with the couch, low enough so that it stops right where the back of the couch ends, so that it doesn’t catch your kitchen in the background. She turns it on before she goes behind it, bending down a bit to make sure the angle is good before she nods to herself before she moved to sit down on the couch much like she was earlier, legs spread wide, her dark jeans stretching over her toned thighs. Her arms stretched along the back of the couch, dark eyes boring holes as she watched you.

“Strip” she ordered.

Fuck.

You immediately began slowly stripping for her. Staring with your t shirt, then with your jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties for a moment before you removed those as well, until you were fully naked in front of Ellie, her eyes eating you up like a hungry animal.

“So fuckin pretty…Jesus…” she groaned softly underneath her breath, letting you simply stand there, naked for her, under the dim lighting of your cozy living room.

After a moment passed, she nodded her head towards the camera. “Start recording, and then come over here.” She instructed once again, and she didn’t need to tell you twice.

You slowly walked over to the camera. On the screen, you could see Ellie on the camera, only her body visible, looking so fucking strong and confident. You knew from the angle of the camera alone, that Ellie’s viewers were in for a treat with this one.

And so were you.

When you hit record, you made your way over to Ellie slowly. She hummed softly, eyes staring up at you as you stood over her before she looked down at her lap, as if silently telling you to take a seat. You straddled her lap, the rough material of her jeans on your naked body making you hiss softly.

Ellie hummed, her large hands roaming your body the second you were on her lap. “Fuck…look at you baby..came home to all this?” Her words make you frown in confusion for only a moment, yet you quickly catch onto the fantasy that she’s trying to sell to her viewers.

You give a soft giggle, nodding as you lean in to press a soft kiss to her temple. “Missed you so much…wanted to surprise you..” you purr out softly, a soft whine leaving your lips once Ellie began to slowly grind you down on her lap as she was earlier, yet this time it makes you huff softly, the rough material of her jeans dragging along your sensitive core.

“Aren’t I lucky…coming home to my pretty girl like this…fuck…you’ve been on my mind all fucking day…” she groaned out, her eyebrows furrowing as she looked down at your naked body, a soft hiss leaving her lips as she let her hand come in between you both, catching your slippery clit against her thumb. She watches your facial expression change, a soft moan leaving your lips as you rest your hands on either one of her shoulders, looking down at her hand toying with you.

“So wet already…stand up for me baby” she hummed out softly as she gave your hip a gentle pat. You listened, standing up from her lap, which allowed her to lay down onto the couch, one of her knees bent up as the other leg laid down. She gestured you over to her.

“Come sit on my face princess” she ordered.

Her words alone made you whine, and you wasted no time straddled her face, either side of your legs shielding her face from the camera.

As soon as you were settled, her tongue was out, inviting you down to take a seat as you rested a bit of your wait onto it, your pussy pressing against the warm muscle. You moan out loudly, back arching as you slowly began rocking your hips back and forth on Ellie’s flattened tongue.

The apartment was soon filled with the sounds of your moans, and Ellie’s tongue lapping away at your soaked cunt. It was times like this that Ellie had to depend on you to carry out the vocals, seeing as her mouth was a bit…occupied.

“F-feels so good…missed you so much today…” you moan out shyly, testing the waters with your voice a bit. Ellie groaned below you, her own hips bucking upwards, grinding into nothing as she gave you a quiet gesture to keep going.

You whined, giving her a slow nod as you kept going.

“You look so pretty…fuck…I love your tongue so much…” you moan out again, which earns another moan from Ellie, sending vibrations onto your sopping cunt. You moan loudly again, one of her hands coming up from around your thigh, to snake up your body and toy with your boobs, massaging the skin, pinching your nipples, her hips still bucking up into nothing with need.

You notice, turning around a bit and catching the way her hips bucked up with need. You whimper softly, reaching a hand behind you to undo her jeans before you push them down her pants, her own clit throbbing against your fingers as you begin rubbing her, watching as her eyes roll back when you begin doing this.

“Feels good? Fuck…you’re so fucking wet…fuuuckk…wanna…wanna cum with you…please” you practically beg, your arm already becoming sore from the uncomfortable position, yet you still paid the upmost attention to her poor needy pussy.

Ellie always prioritized your pleasure, it was time you do the same.

Ellie moaned and groaned against your pussy, her tongue speeding up the closer she got, her pussy grinding into your fingers desperately. You arched your back, eyebrows furrowed as you let your head fall back, the pleasure becoming too much.

You knew she was close, the grip on your thighs was almost deadly, and you were too. It wasn’t long before her hips were sputtering, her arousal soaking your fingers as she came. This alone was enough to make you shriek with pleasure, nearly falling back as your arm nearly gave out from behind you, but Ellie’s strong arms were already on your hips to keep you up, pulling you further up as she lapped at your core, helping you ride out your orgasm.

The thing you hated about filming with Ellie the most? You couldn’t even scream her name when she made you cum.

You breathed hard, your exhausted pussy shying away from Ellie’s tongue as you stared down at her, body back in its upright position, her gorgeous green eyes staring up at yours, cheeks red as she gave your pussy kitty licks.

“You should stay out late more often..” you tease, which earns a soft giggle from both of you.

Ellie gives your pussy one last kiss before she pushes you down her body so you’re straddling her waist, her eyes low and hazy as she stares up at you, gently massaging the skin of your thighs.

You always enjoyed the aftermath with her, the silence that came with it, the come down was almost as good as the sex itself. You were both so fucked out, so utterly satisfied, the warmth that overtook you was almost unbearable. You could stay there forever if you truly wanted to.

But alas, it never lasted long enough.

You felt the familiar tap on your thighs, a silent reminder that Ellie had to indeed get up and stop the camera recording. You roll off of her with wobbly thighs, cuddling into the couch and grabbing a nearby blanket to shield your body from the cold air of your apartment.

You watch with sleepy eyes as Ellie gets up, buttoning up her jeans and turning off the camera before pulling it front the tripod to look back at the footage, making sure it was all recorded correctly.

You hear your moans echoing from the device, which makes you whine softly. You always hated hearing yourself, no matter how hot you and Ellie looked. Ellie chuckles softly, shaking her head as she watched the video for a moment longer before she shut off the camera.

“That improv of yours was pretty damn good…they’re gonna like that” she added, making you giggle softly before giving her a shrug. “I always like playing with your pussy” your words make Ellie groan, and she’s suddenly giving you a look of warning, a smirk playing on her lips to match.

“Don’t play with something you can’t handle sweetheart” she warned you, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, despite the fire you feel from that look alone.

“Please, you wouldn’t know how to fuck me even if you had the chance” you challenge her.

Oh yeah, that was another thing. Ellie still hadn’t properly fucked you yet.

You huffed softly as you tugged yet another top off of your body. You’d tried on nearly every article of clothing you had in your closet, yet it just wasn’t fucking working. It was times like this, that you simply wanted to burn all of your clothes and never leave your house again.

You were currently getting ready for a date, a girl you’d met at the record store had ended up asking you out on a date while you were showing her to the new age rock section that the store carried.

The first thing that went through your mind when the girl asked, wasn’t how pretty she was, or how nice her fingers looked wrapped around the edge of the thin vinyls in her hand.

No, none of that went through your head. The only thing that went through your head when the girl asked you out was Ellie.

And that scared you.

Because it’s Ellie for gods sake. The girl you’ve been living with for almost three years now, the girl who you watched eat dry cereal from the box instead of making herself a proper meal, the girl who you’ve watched genuinely find family guy funny…

The girl who’d been playing your body like a fucking guitar for almost a month now.

You realized, you needed this date.

So you agreed, giving the girl your number and telling her to text you so you guys could set up a date.

The guilt was eating you alive, because while Ellie would be fucking you with a dildo, her lips firmly on yours, you knew in the back of your head you had a girl waiting to see you at the end of the week.

And it was conflicting because did you even have to tell Ellie? Would it be stupid if you did? Would it be wrong if you didn’t? It was still just Ellie, after all. Sure, she’d seen you naked now, and she’d made you cum more times than you could count, and you her, but she was still your friend. She was still your normal roommate, your Ellie. And there was nothing really holding you back from going on dates.

Right?

You chalked up all your guilt by convincing yourself that Ellie was probably talking to other girls too, actively searching for a girlfriend, or even a permanent filming partner while you temporarily filled that spot.

Because while you guys never formally spoke about it, that’s all you were, temporary.

It worked out perfectly, because Ellie had gone out for the night, texting you and telling you she had some stuff to do, errands to run. It gave you the place all to yourself to get ready. You would’ve felt extremely stupid sneaking out of your own apartment to avoid any awkward interactions with Ellie. Even though you weren’t even sure if it would even be awkward.

You ended up settling on a little black dress, a pair of black boots and a leather bomber jacket, an outfit you had long since ran dry with how many times you wore, but you looked good, and you weren’t going to to stray away from that.

You fluffed out your hair after you finished up your makeup, spraying on your favorite perfume before you grabbed your phone, sending record store girl a quick text, letting her know that you’d be leaving your house now to meet her at the bar that you two had agreed on going to for your first date.

You couldn’t ignore the sour taste in your mouth, and the aching feeling in your belly as you looked around your room, making your final rounds before you left. There was something about the entire ordeal that just felt…dirty. The fact that you were sneaking around, hiding something that you felt needed to be hidden…

Leaving Ellie for the night.

All of it made you feel ill, and the fact that you felt that way made you feel even worse.

But regardless of it all, Ellie was out and it was all in your head. Ellie probably wouldn’t even care if you went out with a girl! She’d be happy for you, she’d send you out of the apartment with an encouraging slap on your ass before telling you to wrap it up before you-

Suddenly, you could hear Ellie opening up the door from the other side of your apartment door. You feel like you’ll freeze up and die in that very moment.

She walks into the house humming a tune you can’t quite find, probably some song that had been stuck in her head. She has her helmet tucked under her arm, and a brown paper bag with the logo of your favorite take out spot slung along her long fingers. She doesn’t notice you at first, because she’s too busy cursing under her breath as she tries to get herself inside, a low groan leaving her lips a she tosses her keys into the entrance bowl, kicking the door shut behind her.

“Babe? You home? I brought dinner” she calls out.

You feel sick to your fucking stomach.

Because it feels too domestic, too romantic, too fucking far for you and Ellie for her to be calling out for you that way, to be ordering your favorite dinner and bringing it home for you. You aren’t even entirely sure what prompted her to do this, and you don’t know who you’re more annoyed with, her for doing it, or you for not being honest with her.

You’re too caught up in your thoughts, because you barely realize that Ellie’s eyes are finally on yours, a confused frown as she stares at you up and down, clearly readying yourself to leave the apartment.

“You…look so pretty. Are we going somewhere?” She questions slowly, her sentence slipping into a tone of worry, as if she’d forgotten about something that you planned for the both of you, her big green eyes frantically searching yours.

You can’t fucking do this anymore.

You inhale deeply, shaking your head as you clear your throat, your fingers tugging at the bottom of your dress as you try to find your voice, find your words to break it to Ellie.

“I um….I have a date tonight” you mumble out softly, barely loud enough for Ellie to hear, hoping that she doesn’t and some miracle snatches this ridiculous conversation away so you don’t have to experience it.

But she does hear you.

Her face goes from worried to annoyed almost instantly, her brows knitted together as her lips form a confused frown. “A date? With who?” She spits out, and the tone is too accusing for you. It makes you wince slightly, your lips forming a frown of your own as you let out a soft sigh.

“Girl I met at the record store” you sigh out, and you hate this, because it feels so far from what you and Ellie are. It feels to reminiscent of a jealous girlfriend cornering you, confused as to why you’d ever leave her when she was there waiting for you, why on earth would you pass her up for anyone else when she gives you everything anyways?

The energy you can feel radiating off of Ellie is the same thing you felt when that woman was looking at you on the road. It feels hostile, and possessive, it feels like she has some claim on you that you aren’t even fully aware of, and it’s the reason you decided to go on the date in the first place, because regardless of not fully knowing what it is that’s happened between you and Ellie.

You know it isn’t good.

Ellie moves to drop the food onto the coffee table, a bit too harshly in your opinion. Her strong hand goes up to run through her brown hair, one hand on her hip as she stares at the floor for a moment. You should’ve just taken that as an opportunity to leave, to avoid all of this. But you don’t.

“It’s…it’s Friday night. We’re supposed to film. We film every Friday” she argues.

Fuck.

You chew your maroon tinted bottom lip, feeling like a kid who’s done something bad and is now facing the repercussions of a disappointed parent. You feel small, and stupid, and you can’t believe you forgot about it. There had been such a blur between the schedule you had with Ellie, with far too many moments of making out with her on the couch, or her fingers finding their way into your pants whenever you were watching a movie together, that the intimacy in your brain was becoming confused with the intimacy that was needed for the camera and the camera only.

And in that moment, you realize that this needs to end.

Because maybe you and Ellie can go back to normal, maybe you can forget about this and she can find someone who is better at this stuff than you are. It’s too confusing, and it’s putting you in a bad position of thinking too deep into things while also missing the bigger picture, and you’re fucking exhausted.

You inhale deeply, opening your mouth to speak, to tell her that this isn’t what you want anymore, that this isn’t for you anymore. You have it all mapped out, how you’re going to finally tell her that this simply can’t go on anymore.

But suddenly, your phone goes off.

You frown, looking down at the glowing device in your hands. It’s a text from record store girl, she’s telling you how she just left her house, and how excited she is to see you tonight. This catches Ellie’s attention too.

She looks down at your phone, her angry and annoyed expression still present on her face.

“Is that her?” She asks. You let out a soft sigh, shaking your head as you try pushing your phone in your jacket pocket. “Ellie I…when I get back I really think we should talk about-“ she quickly cuts you off, her voice a bit louder than it was when she first asked.

“I said…is that her?” Her words are slower, clearer, as if she wants you to hear every goddamn syllable that leaves her mouth. You know she isn’t fucking around, and you simply inhale deeply, taking your phone out of your pocket and looking at the message that was still lingering at the bottom of your Lock Screen.

“Yeah…it is….” You admit, ignoring how fucking stupid you feel for telling Ellie this. You should have left, you should have ignored her and gone on your date and had a good time so you could come home and tell her that she needed to find a new filming partner, because you weren’t cut out for this shit anymore.

She begins taking slow strides towards you, the closer she gets, the more you can smell her cologne. It makes you swallow back a whine, because her scent is the single most euphoric thing to you right now. It haunts you in your sleep, and it makes your mouth water whenever she’s on top of you.

Soon, she’s right in front of you, her green eyes staring down at your outfit, taking in everything that you have on, how pretty your hair and makeup is. Her slender fingers come up to tug at your jacket slightly, a soft puff of air exiting her nose before she speaks. “What’d she tell you? That she’s on her way? So excited to see you?” She questions, her voice low and taunting as her nimble fingers dance along your jacket, ghosting along the fabric of your dress.

“Fuckin idiot…she’s on her way to some shitty bar and I’ve got her girl practically shaking for me..” she hummed out softly.

And it was true. Ellie had hardly touched you, yet your fists were balled at your side, body practically begging for her as her skilled fingers barely gave you what you wanted. The second she was in front of you, your brain was clouded with her, with all the things you wanted from her, all the things you knew she could do to you.

“Had so much planned for us tonight, baby…wanted to finally show you off live..wanted to take care of that pretty body of yours…and you were getting all dolled up for some asshole who probably wouldn’t know how to make you cum even if she got the chance” she explains, her voice low, minty breath fanning across your face, making you whine softly.

“You’ve never dress like this for me before…” she groans out, and it makes your eyes widen a bit. Before you can open your mouth and say anything back, her skinny fingers are grabbing your chin and angling your face up to fully look at her, her green eyes staring down into yours as she licked her bottom lip slowly.

“God I can’t stand you sometimes..” she sighed out softly before she pressed her mouth against yours in a needy kiss. Your hands instantly wrap around her neck, keeping her close as her own arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against her body.

It’s as if any and all moral high ground that you had was gone, replaced by only thoughts of Ellie. You let her fill you up, breath life into you as her warm tongue explored your mouth, dominated the kiss and took you on a wild fucking ride that only consisted of a single kiss from her.

Soon, she’s breaking the kiss, and it makes you whine and chase her lips. She chuckles softly, the sound dark and taunting as she stares down at your needy eyes and swollen lips. “Now you’re chasing me…poor thing…” she tuts out, clearly mocking you with a pouty tone.

She slips her hand into your jacket pocket, taking out your phone and looking at the message. She rolls her eyes, pushing the phone in between you two.

“You’re gonna call her, and you’re gonna tell her you aren’t coming” she demands. Your eyes go wide, looking up at Ellie before you quickly shake your head. “What? No! Ellie I can’t! I…can’t I just text her?” Even your own words shock you a bit, because are you seriously staying with Ellie when there was a perfectly willing girl waiting for you at a bar down the street?

If Ellie said so, then yeah. Yeah you were.

Ellie shrugged before she unlocked your phone, having learned your password way back when you two first moved in together. “Fine. I’ll call her” she nodded, her fingers scrolling through your phone to find the girls contact. This makes your eyes go wider, and you quickly snatch your phone from Ellie’s hand, because you know that Ellie will be shameless with it, and it’ll make you look way worse than you already do by flaking so last minute.

“No! No…fine…I’ll do it. Just…please be quiet, Ellie” you plead, giving her a look of warning before you sigh softly, looking down at your phone for a moment before you click the girl contact, set it to call, and put your phone to your ear.

Ellie smiles proudly, pearly teeth gleaming as her hands give your hips a firm squeeze. “That’s my fuckin girl…” she praises. Her words makes your insides flutter, core tightening around nothing as you wait for the girl to answer, a gentle pout on your lips despite the fact that your arms were still wrapped around Ellie, and she still had your body pressed against hers.

After a few rings, she finally answers. Her voice is bright and bubbly and you want to kick yourself for doing this to someone so fucking sweet.

“Hey….look…I’m really sorry but I think I’m going to have to-“ your words are cut off by Ellie’s lips pressing against your neck, wet mouth working against your skin, bitting and sucking, sure to leave marks in the morning. It makes you gasp softly..

Because Ellie never left marks.

It wasn’t something that ever really bothered you. It helped in all honesty, you didn’t really want to be walking around littered in Ellie’s hickies, it would’ve resulted in too many questions from your coworkers and friends, and you really didn’t want to deal with that. It was just an unspoken rule, Ellie didn’t mark you, and you didn’t mark her. That was too far along the lines of being a couple for you.

But clearly, that had all changed tonight.

There was a sense of possessiveness that you could feel when she did it. Teeth and tongue sucking and biting at your soft skin, eager to claim you in any way that she possibly could. Between the feeling of it, and the fact that she was doing it, it made it hard to talk, your eyes rolling back into your head as you bit back a whimper, covering it up with a couch as you tried finding the words in your fuzzy head to speak to the girl.

Ellie smirked against your throat as she listened to you struggle, listened to the muffled words of the confused girl on the other line try to understand what it was you were saying.

You tugged at Ellie’s hair slightly, yet still kept her close as she mouthed your neck. “I…I can’t…look I’m really not feeling well..I…mph…I can’t come out tonight. I’m sorry” you quickly ramble out, knowing you were too close to moaning out Ellie’s name to keep this going on any longer. Before you were able to hear what the girl had to say on the other line, you hang up, turn your phone off and toss it onto the couch.

You moan softly, tilting your head to the side to give Ellie better access to your neck. “I can’t believe you fucking did that…” you moan out as you began shrugging your jacket off, tossing it somewhere in the living room. You felt too hot, too fucking needy, everything was just too much and you struggled to wrap your head around what exactly was even happening.

“Me? I didn’t do anything…you’re the one that cancelled on the poor girl” Ellie teased gently, which earns a swat to her arm from your end.

You sigh softly, tugging her hair back so that she’s pulled away from your neck. You waste no time in crashing your lips against hers, your tongue pushing into her mouth with need as you kiss her feverishly. Ellie groans into the kiss, her hands going down to give your ass a firm squeeze. “Eager are we?” She grunts against your lips.

You huff softly, ignoring her words as you begin pushing her backwards towards her room, your lips never leaving the sloppy kiss. It’s so fucking erotic, and messy, and needy, and there’s so much filling it that you can both clearly feel. You decide to ignore it.

“I decided to stay with you…you better make this worth it” you groan out softly, which only earns a smirk from Ellie as she stares down at you, her heart fluttering at the way you pushed her around, did with her as you pleased.

“I always do, baby” she chuckled softly, and all you want to do is wipe that smug fucking smirk off her beautiful face.

Once you’re in her bedroom, you press your palms against her chest, shoving her back to lay on her bed. She lets out a soft moan, clearly happy with the way that you’re handling her.

You tug your dress up a bit as you move to straddle her, her hands instantly moving to grip your thighs. She lets out a soft hiss, her lust filled eyes eating up the way your dress hugs your curves, pushes up your boobs. For a moment, you see a hint of something flash through her eyes as she watches you, taking in the dress that you wore for a date, wore for someone else.

You don’t ignore it this time, because it’s clearly jealously.

You don’t know whether or not you should say something, or kiss her, or do anything else to get your mind off of it, but you don’t have to. Because as soon as you’re settled down on her lap, you can feel a foreign bulge pressing into your clothed core, and it makes your eyes widen and Ellie smirks and rolls her hips up to grind it into you, and then you realize what the surprise that Ellie had was.

Ellie was finally going to fuck you tonight.

And not with her fingers, or with a sex toy, it would be with her strap. She was going to fuck you, something you’d already assumed wasn’t going to happen between the two of you.

She must have noticed the shocked look on your face, because she chuckles as she continues grinding her cock into you, making you whine softly as you press you hands on her hips to give yourself leverage as you roll your hips to meet her movements.

“Feel that baby? It’s all yours…went out and brought a brand new one just for you…” she explained, revealing what it was that she’d been out doing while you were getting ready for your date.

She was buying new toys to fuck you with, and picking up dinner for after.

You felt like you were dreaming.

All you can do is moan in response, eagerly undoing Ellie’s jeans, wanting nothing more than to feel her fill you up, fucking into you deliciously, giving you what you’d always wanted.

Ellie is quick to grab your wrists, pulling them away from her jeans. “Ahh, not so fast, princess….we’re gonna do this the right way” she hums out softly. You can’t help but pout, a soft huff leaving your lips as you open your mouth to complain, but Ellie is already sitting up, gently pushing you back to lay on her bed properly as she crawls over you.

She hums softly, staring down at your body for a moment, silently taking you in before she pushes your dress up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as her hands find its spot cupping your clothed pussy.

“Hmm….so wet already…I’m gonna have so much fun taking you, baby…” she groaned against your lips, swallowing up your moans as her slender fingers pressed against your clit, rubbing you slowly, forcing the cotton material of your pantries to go translucent as your arousal soaked them almost entirely.

And your head is spinning as she kisses you, because she’s being so slow, so gentle, treating your body with so much care. And it’s not unlike Ellie to do this, but you just assumed this would have gone differently. You expected her to be rough, fucking into you while telling you how no one could ever fuck her like she does…

But she’s not. She’s so gentle, and soft, and it’s making your heart do dances it’s never done before..

Ellie lets out a soft sigh as she tugs your panties to the side, feeling your velvety folds better now without the fabric constricting her. She rubs you slowly, building you up, getting your sopping little pussy all warmed up for her cock. Soon, her hands leave your core, and she pulls you up to tug your dress off before laying you back down, and tugging off your panties as well, leaving you entirely naked before her.

Ellie hisses softly under her breath as she eyes you, sitting back on her legs as she begins tugging off her own shirt, before she crawls off the bed to tug her jeans off, leaving her completely naked as well, eyes never leaving your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful…” she mumbles out softly before she crawls back onto you, pressing her naked chest against yours. The feeling makes you moan loudly into her mouth as she kisses you, because you’ve never felt Ellie like this. You’ve never had her body pressed up against yours this way, and it feels like the single most intimate thing you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

Ellie’s hand goes down to her cock, gripping the base before she brings it to your core, running it along your sopping wet folds, against your clit before she slowly feeds you her length, earning a whiny moan from you.

Ellie quickly nods as she kisses you softly, one of her hands giving your waist a squeeze. “I know baby…I know it’s big…you can take me…I know you can” she praises you, and it makes you moan softly into her mouth as she rubs your clit, pushing further into your weeping cunt.

“Ellie…fuck…more…need more” you moan against her, the empty feeling still present as she waits for you to tell her it’s okay to keep going. She groans softly, pushing more of her length into you until she bottoms out completely, her thighs flushed against yours as she waits for you to adjust to her size.

You roll your hips slowly, already feeling yourself leaking around the length, and you give her a nod, staring into her green eyes as your hips buck up into her. “Need you, El…need more of you..” you moan out softly.

And Ellie feels like her head is spinning when you say that.

Her strong hand goes down, gripping your thigh as she slowly fucks into you, moaning as her clit bumps against the back of the strap with her movements.

Her eyes never leaves you, watches as your face contorts in pleasure, moaning loudly for her, arching your back when the tip of her cock rubs against your velvety walls, watching as you fall apart on her length.

Her thrusts are slow, and calculated and she’s staring down at all of you as she fucks into you. You suddenly feel her long fingers wrap around your cheeks, pulling you to look up at her because frankly, you’re having a hard time looking anywhere.

“Eyes on me, baby…need to see you right now…f-fuck…that’s my good fucking girl…taking me so well” she praises, and it makes you moan loudly with her. You grab her wrist, watching as she fucks into you faster, both of you getting closer and closer to what you’ve been needing for who knows how fucking long.

Suddenly, Ellie’s hand leaves your face and instead, grabs your hand, bringing it above your head as she interlocks your fingers. Her gaze is so intense, and the grip on your hand is so tight, you feel tears prickling at the ends of your eyes because whatever the hell is happening is too goddamn intense, it’s taking over you completely, and it’s making it all too much.

“Ellie…Ellie I…I…” you choke out between little moans and whines, your eyes growing glossy as you stare up at her, and Ellie is already nodding despite your lack of words, because she understands, she feels it too, and you don’t even have to say it.

“Come on baby…give it to me…fuck…cum with my angel…please” she’s practically begging, her own moans cutting off her words as she fucks you faster, the grip on your hand almost lethal as she stares down at you, tugging her bottom lip into her mouth.

And you feel it, how could you not? Your orgasm washes over you almost painfully, making you close your eyes shut as your back arches, squeezing Ellie’s hand as you cum hard on her cock. It’s too much, too intimate, too fucking intense, and you feel like you’ll explode just from the feeling of it.

Ellie has no other choice but to smash her lips against yours when she sees it, she can practically feel the way you grip her cock with your pussy and it’s the catalyst that sends her into her own sea of pleasure, euphoria swallowing her up and almost drowning her as she kisses you with everything she’s feeling, pouring it all out into you as her hips slowly fuck into you, riding out both yours and her orgasm.

The come down is hard, because she’s on top of you, and it’s quiet apart from the heavy breathing between you and hear, and her head is resting on her chest…

And all Ellie can think about, is how utterly fucked she is..

Because she’s in love with you

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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soaps-mohawk · 4 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

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“How are you settling in?”

“Fine.” You shrug.

“Any instinct to nest at all?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?”

You shake your head again. “No.”

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?”

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.”

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?”

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over.

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve.

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?”

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you.

To go back in time and never present as an omega.

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze.

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.”

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?”

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?”

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you.

You just have to ask.

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you.

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow?

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?”

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it.

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...”

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you.

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.”

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see?

How many scars do they have inside, too?

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.”

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier.

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.”

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you?

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents.

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller.

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.”

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping.

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast.

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind.

A nightlight.

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for.

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day.

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he?

You don’t know that.

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega.

You’re a good omega.

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually.

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway.

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips.

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you.

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest.

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack.

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself.

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him.

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base.

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing.

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know.

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you.

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England?

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous.

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you.

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness.

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then.

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush.

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?”

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.”

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.”

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.”

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes.

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?”

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.”

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark.

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now.

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions.

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.”

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.”

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?”

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.”

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.”

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.”

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment.

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long.

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water.

“Quite a ways.” He answers.

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack.

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice.

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat.

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours.

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in.

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you.

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top.

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.”

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat.

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to.

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor.

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him.

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s.

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water.

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below.

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here.

“A training exercise.” He says finally.

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it?

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.”

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?”

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.”

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench.

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.”

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity.

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch.

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.”

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.”

Your frown deepens. “But-”

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.”

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that.

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds.

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin.

They’re not from the cold either.

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while.

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence.

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?”

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.”

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area.

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.”

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him.

He probably knows you already have.

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head.

Don’t back down.

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him.

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets.

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment.

He could have had worse ones, you always thought.

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness.

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck...

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you.

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about.

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?”

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas.

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.”

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out.

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?”

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.”

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action.

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-”

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.”

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha.

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly.

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.”

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.”

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.”

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion.

You want to kneel for him.

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase.

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin.

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days.

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.”

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?”

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin.

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.”

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks.

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout.

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.”

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base.

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.”

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style.

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you.

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs.

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep.

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.”

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.”

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair.

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing.

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?”

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder.

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental.

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet.

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.”

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek.

“Stubborn little omega.”

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally.

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again.

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions.

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door.

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp.

You know what they’re going to think.

The stares you’ll get.

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you.

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy.

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.”

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room.

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.”

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend.

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need.

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you.

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare.

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.”

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way.

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger.

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him.

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.”

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.”

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess.

“What do you want?”

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer.

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation.

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out,

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you.

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega.

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once.

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again.

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit.

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything.

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you.

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it?

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you.

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent.

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks.

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well.

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.”

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins.

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-”

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket.

“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists.

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch.

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside.

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch.

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.”

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your body looking in.

“Probably not.” Ghost says.

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.”

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there.

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax.

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it.

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?”

“Very high.” He answers.

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.”

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains.

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit.

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand.

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.”

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again.

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind?

“Teach me to fight.”

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years.

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring.

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha?

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence.

Monday. Early.

You’ll be ready.

Taglist Part 1:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10

#call of duty fic #call of duty #cod fic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #a/b/o #alpha beta omega dynamics #omegaverse #x reader

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