#the best friends in the world i could have ever asked for
Note
there’s this scene in the office where pam falls asleep on jim during a conference at work, he doesn’t move her at all and even stays until after the meeting is over just to let her sleep!!! do u think u could write something similar for our annoyingly sweet coworker! james?? love u
love u <3 —James may not like you, but he’s a good pillow. fem, 1k
“Today we’re gonna talk about workplace satisfaction.”
James crosses his arms over his chest. The yawn he suppresses threatens to make his jaw crack, his eyes heavy not a minute into the presentation.
“I know all about that,” Sirius says under his breath.
Remus needles him in the arm with his elbow. It might’ve been the best dumb luck in the world to get to work with his best friends, but not even their joking can make this meeting less mind-numbing. He covers his mouth with his hand and settles in.
“We sent around a survey this last week and we’ve had everyone’s responses. The results are anonymous, but we do want to touch on where we, as a company, are going wrong. Our first category was day to day working.”
You yawn. James turns his head to watch you, and with the lights dimmed, he’s not sure you notice. You cover your mouth with both hands, your eyes failing to reopen for a few long, admittedly humorous seconds. He likes how your lashes look stuck together, and the way you rub your nose afterward. It’s cute.
What’s not cute is your shaking knees. You press them together, but you’re sitting awkwardly, and they tremble at the strange position. James wonders what it is you’re upto that’s making you so tired lately. You seem down; he stapled his fingertip earlier in a crazy mishap of which he was at no fault and you didn’t even laugh. You took his hand and pulled out the staple.
You’ve been acting super weird.
“So about half of you expressed that you feel like you aren’t allowed the breaks that you need. While it’s encouraged you all take a ten minute break from your screens every other hour, you feel penalised when you do, and we want to change that. Do any of you guys have anything to say? This is the time to speak your thoughts.”
Remus raises his hand. James loves him more than anyone in the world. “Whenever I try to take a break around lunchtime, you ask me if I can wait until lunch. I don’t think needing breaks from the screen should wait, or detract from my legal break time.”
“What we’re trying to do is encourage you guys to make the most of your working time without hurting yourselves.”
A great non answer. You make a soft sound and James turns with a smile, expecting to find you smothering a laugh, and instead seeing a great eyeful of your neck. Your head has fallen back, your back slouching under the weight of yourself as your leg begins to drift toward his.
Poor girl, he thinks.
“What about the kitchen tap?” someone asks.
Your boss sighs. “What about it?”
James leans down to be your height. He can imagine the neck ache, the stiffness, and so when he brings his arm up to touch the shoulder closest to his, it’s with sympathy, if not fondness.
You make another soft sound like a snuffle and rest your face on his shoulder.
James looks away. Looks back, tracing the soft roundness of your forehead, your nose, your cheeks and your lips, pouting ever so slightly in your dozing. He’s thought often that you were awarded a face too sweet for who you are. What evil demon are you, to treat him like he’s stupid and to smile at him in your way? Sometimes he gets so mad at you for it that he thinks about grabbing you, and yanking your face to his, and then he feels so guilty for wanting to grab you at all that he leaves your mug where it is in the cupboard. It’s not nice to want to kiss you with any sort of force.
It’s not nice wanting to kiss you at all, because it isn’t a joke, he really doesn’t like you sometimes.
But what’s not to like about you now?
Lately he feels this weird bridge forming between you, like you could be civil, or better. You rub your nose into his shoulder and he holds his breath, worried his moving chest will jolt you. Something must be really getting to you if you’re sleeping at work. He should ask if you’re alright, when you’re awake.
He doesn’t think he can.
“Alright, guys. Let’s talk about customer service.”
You’re demure. James thinks it and bites his own tongue, hard and accidental, flinching at the sudden pain. You mumble against him and he quickly stills, his heart pounding. Fuck, he hates this. Why does he feel like this? He didn’t mean to jostle you.
Your hand curls around his arm like you’re telling him to stay still.
He should take a photo of you for blackmail purposes. If not blackmail, mild humiliation. He can email it to everyone before you wake up, zoom in on your nose pressed rough to his arms, your deep exhales warm on his shirt.
James rubs your elbow for reasons he can’t understand.
The meeting is torturously long, inanely boring. You rouse when your coworkers clap politely at the end of the presentation, James’ hand now returned to his leg. He looks resolutely at the front of the room, your gaze a heat on his cheek, before you look down and rub your eyes.
“Sorry, James,” you murmur.
“It’s okay. Don’t mention it.”
That’s what’s best, right? You have these insane moments of togetherness and never, ever talk about them.
“Did I miss much?” you ask.
Pillow and minute keeper? James doesn’t think so. “Should’ve paid attention.”
“Did he talk about the tap in the kitchen?”
“If you were meant to know, you’d know, hm?” You yawn and blink to yourself all soft with sleep, and James debates giving in for longer than he’d care to admit. “He did talk about the tap,” he says.
“Is he fixing it?” you ask.
“Couldn’t hear him over your snoring, sorry.”
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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reunions
pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig
length: 3.8k
tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension
summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?
author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3
originally posted by iholdwhatican
You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross.
You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore.
So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?
Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin.
He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all.
And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work.
You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it.
The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right?
Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband.
The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him.
God, what the hell was wrong with you?
You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five.
Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted.
You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage?
“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.”
You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.”
Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.
His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same.
The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.”
You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?”
“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door.
You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning.
The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated.
He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed?
God, you needed a cigarette.
You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot.
Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into.
You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.”
He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him.
The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart.
Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air.
The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you?
You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter.
“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment.
You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach.
“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.”
Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you?
“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.”
You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area.
“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why.
“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually.
“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.”
Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend?
You needed another drink. Or ten.
“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to.
“More than anything else in this world.”
Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed.
It made something flip in your stomach.
“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.”
You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.”
You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men.
Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like.
You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone.
“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.
The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation.
“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.”
The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive.
You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?”
His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.”
You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.”
“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.”
You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it.
“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?”
You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it.
“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands.
Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was.
“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-”
“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.”
You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-”
“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that.
The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?”
The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look.
The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait.
You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire.
“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.”
You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind.
“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.”
He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.”
Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?”
You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-”
But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his.
You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it.
You really, really fucking liked this.
When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff.
It was unbelievably hot.
As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you.
You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband.
#challengers#challengers movie#challengers 2024#art donaldson#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson x you#patrick zweig#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig x you#challengers fic#challengers fanfic#art donaldson x patrick zweig#challengers x reader#challengers x you#art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig#tashi duncan#charly writes!!
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Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader
Ao3 Link
Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans
WC: 18k
Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.
Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?
"I don't have one."
"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.
"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.
"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.
"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.
"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.
"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.
"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."
Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.
"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.
"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.
"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.
"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.
"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.
"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.
"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.
"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.
"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.
"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.
"Told you so."
You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"
"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."
"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."
It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.
"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."
"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.
"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"
"Isn't this illegal?"
"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.
"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.
"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.
Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."
"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"
"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."
"What?"
"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."
Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.
"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.
"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.
"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.
"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"
"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.
"Yeah?"
"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.
"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."
A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.
You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.
"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.
"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.
"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"
"I'm not."
"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"
"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.
"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.
"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."
"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"
"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.
The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."
He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."
"Good."
"Simon?"
The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.
"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.
"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.
Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.
"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.
"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."
You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."
"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."
You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."
"And my dad?"
"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.
You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.
You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.
"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.
"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.
The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.
Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.
You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.
Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."
You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."
You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.
"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"
"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."
Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"
"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."
"That's not true."
"I think it is."
Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.
"Of course."
You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.
Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."
"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.
"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."
You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.
You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.
The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.
"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.
"Then lets go."
You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.
"What?"
"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.
When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."
"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."
"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.
You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.
It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.
Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.
It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.
You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."
You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.
Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.
You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.
The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.
It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.
That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.
No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.
The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”
“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.
“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.
“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.
“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.
The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”
The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.
“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”
“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.
“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.
“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.
“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”
The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.
“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”
“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”
“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.
Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.
“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.
You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.
That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.
“I didn’t want to lose.”
“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”
“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?
“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.
“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”
“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.
You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”
“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.
At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.
He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”
“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.
Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.
“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”
“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”
“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”
“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”
“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”
“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.
“They gave him a hard time too.”
“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?
Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.
He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.
“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”
“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.
“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”
Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.
Who are you Ghost?
”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”
You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.
“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.
“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”
”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.
“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.
”What are you? My aunt?”
”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.
”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.
”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.
You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.
Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.
He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.
Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.
You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”
You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.
”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.
”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.
”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”
”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”
”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”
”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”
”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.
Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.
It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.
He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.
You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.
You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.
You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.
You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.
Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.
When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”
”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.
”Need to know.”
”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.
”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”
”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.
”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”
”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”
”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.
”What?”
”Forget about it.”
”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”
”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs
”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.
He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.
Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.
”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.
”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”
”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”
”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”
”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“
”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”
”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.
”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.
That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.
There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.
He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.
And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.
Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.
The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.
Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.
The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.
He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.
The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.
You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.
You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”
”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.
“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms
Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.
It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.
He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.
He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.
Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.
When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.
He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.
”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.
You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.
Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.
He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.
”Did I do something wrong?”
“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.
He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.
His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.
”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.
He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.
Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.
“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.
You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.
”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.
It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.
It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.
He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.
He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.
“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.
You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.
”I love you.”
Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”
It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.
”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.
”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.
”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”
”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.
”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.
”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.
Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.
God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.
”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.
You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon
”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.
”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.
”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.
”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.
You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.
He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”
”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”
You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”
”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.
”I love you so much Simon Riley.”
His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x you#simon riley x reader#mw2 smut#ghost smut#ghost cod#ghost x reader smut#simon x reader#simon riley imagine#simon riley call of duty#simon riley smut#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley cod
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In 1990, when Steve stumbled upon Eddie in a coffee shop in Chicago of all places, he didn't expect to end up on his back that night with the other man pounding him into the mattress.
At some point, he was too cock-drunk to care about his dignity so he kept begging Eddie to come inside him.
"What if I knock you up, babygirl?" Eddie nipped at his chin teasingly.
In response, Steve only clenched around the thick cock tighter, earning a guttural groan from the other man.
He bit his lip and smiled sweetly, "Guess you're gonna be a daddy 'cause m'not on birth control right now."
Eddie just cursed under his breath and pulled out to take off the condom. When he slid into Steve again, they both let out a strangled moan.
In the end, Steve had been railed into oblivion with a stomach full of hot cum.
A week later, Eddie sought him out again, wanting to continue their breeding process.
"It's for science," Eddie murmured as he bottomed out inside Steve.
"Yeah," Steve snorted, breathless and a little bit cross-eyed because of how big the other man was. "How noble of you."
"Thank you, sweetheart," Eddie grinned, eyes crinkled warmly. “Think it’s gonna catch this time?”
“Dunno,” Steve wrapped his legs around the resilient waist as the other man started moving, grazing his sweet spots effortlessly. “But we should keep trying until we succeed.”
“You’re right,” Eddie leaned down and kissed him soundly. “Fuck, you’re always right, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, uh–” Steve mewled and rolled his eyes back when Eddie nailed his prostate. “I– I tried my best.”
“My good girl,” Eddie kissed him again but it was messy and sloppy. “So smart, so pretty. Bet you’re already thinking about our children’s education, hm?”
“Y– Yeah,” Steve nodded blindly, jaw hanging open so Eddie’s tongue could fuck his mouth.
At this point, he didn't know what he was even talking about anymore. He just babbled nonsense and drooled at the mindless pleasure that coursed through him incessantly.
Above him, Eddie kept going on and on about how they were going to make a happy family, how he was going to be a great mom, how Eddie was going to be the kind of dad who would spoil their children rotten.
And yeah, Steve found himself very into the idea. Not only the hypothetical pregnancy part but also the part where he and Eddie built a home together.
“Be mine, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered between the kisses, desperate and pleading. “Gonna treat you right, gonna be a good husband for you, gonna make you breakfast, gonna help you pick the lawn, gonna sing ABBA songs with you, gonna do the dishes for you, gonna give you my everything, gonna–”
“Shut up, I’ll be yours,” Steve clung to the other man and sobbed. “All yours, Eddie. All yours.”
It was a long time coming, an overdue confession that neither of them had been brave enough to tell each other.
But now, now with their family and friends and the fucking world finally being safe, they had nothing to fear anymore.
They were as free and in love as they could ever be.
And when Eddie’s lips met his own in a tender kiss, it felt like coming home.
A quick stroke on his neglected cock was enough to tip Steve over, prompting a high-pitched moan from him and sending sparks flying in his blurry vision.
Eddie followed after him immediately, burying inside him to the hilt and filling him up with a deep groan.
After a few seconds, Eddie pulled out carefully and drew him in a lazy kiss before collapsing beside him.
For a moment, they just lied there to recollect their wits.
“You meant it?” Steve asked quietly once they both calmed down, afraid that it was just sex-addled talk.
“Everything,” Eddie propped up on his elbow to look at him seriously. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I do you, baby.”
“Me too,” Steve smiled softly. “Been waiting for you, Eds.”
“I’m honored, sweetheart,” Eddie gave him a warm smiled.
Then they moved away from the wet spot to cuddle.
Later, they would have to get up to take a thorough shower, and maybe order something to eat if the mood struck.
But for now, Steve was content to doze off in his boyfriend’s loving arms.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#soft boys in love#mutual pining#it’s kinda funny that the final nudge for steve and eddie to admit their feelings to each other is their massive breeding kink lmao#sionewritesatmidnight
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Jude with a mechanical engineering student, and she's working on f1 and is a good friend of the drivers and jude gets jealous and hard launches at a race? She works for redbull and is friends with the real Madrid guys, ty, God bless
jude is aware of how much attention he gets, no matter where he goes or whom he talks to. so many people shy away from talking to him due to all the eyes that were on him, yet he tries to stay positive and look at the bright side of the picture. as a rising star, it can be hard to meet someone that would willingly hide their relationship from the world, though when he got to know you, he felt like his prayers have had finally been answered.
it was the miami grand prix he had been invited to, ferrari have shown their interest about his appearance multiple times and when his other friends finally had the time to come along, he immediately went to the race and enjoyed his time there.
it was also the place where he met the cute engineering student that was walking out of the rivals garage, cute cap with the official team shirt on, baggy pants and a book in hand. he sneaked away from the group and followed you to the water fountain in the middle of the two garages, desperately trying to look cool yet uninterested.
so when you two fall into a conversation [slight argument] about the team and who would win the race, jude knew that he had to keep in touch with you, exactly what he did.
now, two years later, the two of you have been in a private and secret relationship, something both of you enjoyed at the beginning. the relationship blossomed quietly, only his most trusted friends knew about it, same with you. having an intelligent partner who works for one of the best sports team ever is something that jude is incredibly proud [and turned on] of, it’s like a match made in heaven. no one could disturb your little bubble of happiness and peace, and you would like to keep it that way as long as you can.
but these days, jude really wants to post about his relationship, just to mark his territory. just to let all of those sneaky, weird, [and attractive, fuck] drivers know that their ‘friend’ slash engineer was off the market.
especially now, when all you talk about is the garage and the people you work with.
“well, and then i told max to-“
you immediately stop talking when you hear jude let out an annoyed sigh, eyes wide as you look at your boyfriend.
the atmosphere around you is quite comfortable, you’d say, or at least it is to you. it has been quite some since you were able to sit down and have a nice, home cooked meal together. normally your schedules clash during the week, and weekends were spent outside the house, exploring new places and trying new things.
and normally, jude would love to hear you talk about your week, about the new stuff you learned that he definitely did not understand, but the sparkle inside your eyes made it all worth it. he didn’t know why he is so annoyed about you talking about the person you literally work with, more likely work for, but just hearing the name drop from your lips makes him want to go and shoot a ball at all of their heads.
“uh, you okay, my love?” your concern for him makes jude melt, and he wishes that he could just ignore this negative feeling growing inside of him, yet he simply can’t.
he shrugs, corners if his lips turning slightly down, “don’t know, why don’t you ask your little friend max. that’s what you always do, right?”
he knew that this was the moment he royally fucked up, no turning back now.
when you frown and look at him with those confused eyes, jude gets even more worked up than he should.
as if you don’t know what he is talking about.
“i beg your pardon, jude?”
you called him ‘jude’, meaning you were also getting worked up about the situation, well, his behavior.
he scoffs again, getting up from the table to put his empty plate away.
it was delicious, he would say, but right now he just wants to be pissed about this whole situation [that he started].
you copy his movements, actually quite sad that your usual chat time after eating is interrupted by this petty argument.
“hey, ‘m talkin’ to you.” your confusion does not seem to go away, no matter how you try to look at the situation. jude simply takes your plate from your hands and places it inside the dishwasher, before he dries his hands to continue the conversation [discussion].
“all ‘m sayin’ is that you love to be seen with your little racer buddies instead of with me.” he moves out of the kitchen back to the dining table to pick up the other dishes and the drinks.
“what the fuck?” is all you can say about his statement as you take the drinks from his hands to put them into the fridge, “what do you mean i ‘love to be seen’ with them? i work with those people and actually get along with them, just like you do with your teammates.”
the tension [not the hot one] between you rises by the second and jude is once again walking around the apartment, “that’s not the same.”
“the fuck you mean it’s not the same? it literally is?”
a few minutes ago jude would have [maybe, probably not] admitted that he might have gone too far with what he had said to you, but now seeing you getting so offensive about something that bothers him, he no longer feels like he should back off. instead he wants to win this, he wants you to understand that he is right and that you being seen with others could be, no it is, disrespectful to your relationship.
“you are my girlfriend, why would you want to be seen with other guys?!” raising his voice was something he rarely did whenever you guys argued. he preferred to keep calm in order to avoid hurting you in any way. but right now, his voice was getting louder with each argument he made, heating up the whole conversation even more.
you genuinely did not understand why he would come up with this argument all of a sudden, it is not the first time that you are seen at max’ side at races or maybe even next to others. you had a healthy relationship with most drivers and pleasant conversations with them in between races and breaks. everyone knew that you are the intern who will soon work for the redbull racing team, and jude actually was the one to be the proudest of you. it is literally how and where you guys met.
“the reason why i am seen with them is because, one; i work with them. we have to talk a lot because of the development of the car and i still have to learn a lot from the other engineers. two, i get along with them, you know, like normal co workers do, because, fuck, why not? you know all of this.” you feel your throat straining with how much and how loud you are talking, but the rage inside of you somehow numbs the pain.
“so people thinking that you are dating one of them also comes with the job, yeah?”
jude now stands tall in front if you, nostrils flared and eyes wide. he isn’t mad at you entirely, he knows it, but more like at the situation and the people that dare to pair you with someone that is not him.
but you cannot know that he isn’t mad at you, because in your eyes it seems like he is blaming you for the stuff the media puts into the news. your heart beats faster than ever and this whole situation makes your head spin.
“i don’t control what the media says? like, it’s not in my hands? to them i am a single woman who is successfully working for a motorsport team, rumors are bound to happen?”
“well, there is always some truth behind rumors, right?”
something inside you snapped, “what about you, huh?!”
jude almost flinched when you suddenly raised your voice at him, a sight he has never seen before.
“you also get paired up with a new woman every fucking day, jude. do you see me complain about it? no! because i trust you.” right now, you really wished to cry. was it that hard to understand?
the comfortable atmosphere from a few minutes ago vanished entirely, coldness and a bitter feeling on your tongue seem to have replaced it. during the two years you and jude havr spent together, you never had such an argument to this extent.
“but i am never pictured next to those people! i never even talked to them ever in my life!”
suddenly still, your eyes widened, mouth dry as you speak up, “are you accusing me of cheating on you?”
silent.
jude looks at you with his mouth open, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
“no, never…” the stark contrast between your voices now compared to just a second ago is almost cinematic, as if you had practiced this scene multiple times already. silently looking at one another, eyes dancing around the others faces in order to understand what just had happened.
“do you also think that way when i talk to aurelien and eduardo?” your voice breaks as you speak up, a defeated feeling replaces the rage inside, “do you actually think like this of me?”
judes shoulders sack down as he listens to you speak, this is absolutely not something he ever thought of, nor would he ever dare to accuse you of such thing.
he wants to speak up, yet you quickly cut him off, “just for your information, to the media and the rest to the world, we both are single individuals who don’t even know each other. and all the guys on the grid know that i am a taken person, they would never do such thing.”
you scoff as you shake your head, turning around to go to the front door.
jude panics as he watches your fast steps, immediately following you, “what- uh, where are you going?”
you quickly put on your shoes and put your bag on your shoulders, not in the mood to continue any of this, “wanna go home.”
“but this is home-“
your head snaps to his direction, eyes cold, “apparently not. at least not now.”
jude closes his hand around your wirst, not wanting you to go away when the situation between you is so heated.
“let’s find a solution, babe, c’mon.” he begs, voice husky and desperate. he did not know that it would escalate like this, but now he regrets to even bring up this topic.
you sigh, all of this arguing took a toll on you and now you want to do nothing more but lay in your bed and not to think of anything anymore.
inhaling deeply, you look at jude, his big brown eyes never left yours anyway, and he truly does look like he wants to fix this, which you do too.
“listen,” you begin, taking one last deep breath, “you cannot accuse me of such thing and then expect me to do nothing about it-“
“i don’t want you to do anything, just, let’s stop arguing.”
scoffing, you tighten the grip on your bag, “you started all if this because apparently, you do not trust me, jude.”
“it’s babe-“
“it’s jude right now, don’t test me.” you threaten him, not in the mood for his little jokes.
shaking your head, an almost mocking laugh leaves your lips, “we decided to keep our relationship a secret. you, by the way, wanted to do it this way the most. i would have launched our relationship ages ago, because i trust you and i trust our bond. y’know, communicating and stuff.”
judes voice cracks slightly as he speaks up, deep sigh leaving his body as he tries to hold your hand, a sign that he is getting desperate, “i trust you, too, babe. ‘t’s just- i don’t know, like, rumors and shit and i don’t want you to have reporters on your neck at all times, y’know.”
you frown at his words, “but that does not explain why you literally sprung at me for mentioning max, or the others. when we first started dating, i already knew what would come along with being with you, and i would take it all, jude, everything.”
jude smiles at your words, now looking down at your hands, so you continue, “all those annoying rumors about me, people following me and what not, i genuinely will take it all, because i love you. not max, not lando nor charles or whomever you’re jealous of.”
“i ain’t jealous.” he rolls his eyes, slowly stepping closer to you.
“don’t lie to me, belli.” you smirk at him.
jude chuckles, his thumb dancing across your knuckles help you to be at ease.
“soo.”
“sooo?” you look at him confused, waiting for him to continue.
“do we just post a picture together? or like, do a sex tap-“
“shut it.” you pinch his waist, chuckling as he squirms away from your touch, “we will do a, hm, maybe a soft launch? yeah, something like that.”
jude groans, throwing his head back, “that takes way too long.”
“well,” you shrug, “ that’s what you get for literally yelling at me for doing my job.”
“and i’m sorry, love.” judes hand now caresses your cheek softly, head tilted down as his bog brown eyes apologetically look at yours, “next time, i will calmly ask you about something that bothers me, okay?”
“okay.” you smile at him, leaning into his touch.
“you have a race this weekend, no?”
“yeah, in belgium this time, why?”
“just because.”
-
“still trouble in paradise?” you hear landos [annoying] kind voice from behind you, making you draw your eyebrows together.
turning around, you tilt your head in question, “wait, how do you know?”
lando innocently smiles at you, shrugging his shoulders, “max and i are somewhat besties, y’know.”
“max.” you grumble, already planning on how to get your revenge from him.
“so? everything okay now?” lando questions again, this time in a slightly more serious manner than before.
“it’s always okay between us, just rocky at times.” you tell him, not stopping yourself from smiling when you think of your boyfriend.
lando nods his head at something behind you, “seems like goal-machine over there still wants to rip off my head, though.”
“goal-machine-?” you turn around and are immediately met with the sight of jude leaning against some tires in the garage.
he looks good, you must admit. sunglasses on too of his nose, oversized shirt with the first few buttons undone, night dress pants and matching shoes, a real snack.
a snack that should not be here, or well, a snack you did not know that would be here. so, you bid your goodbyes to lando and walk closer to jude, coming to halt a fee steps in front of him.
“eh, hi?” you greet him, confused but happy.
he smiles down at you, taking off his glasses to get a better look at you, “hey there, sexy lady.”
you scoff, rolling your eyes as you cross your arms in front of your chest, “not now, i am working, y’know.”
“chatting it up with little lad over there is quite some work, huh?” jude points at lando with his head, who still, you don’t know why, is standing inside the redbull garage, subtly [nit really] glancing at your direction every now and then.
“lando just likes to annoy me, nothing more.” you explain, smiling as you watch jude stand up straight.
“well, let’s annoy him back.” he smirks down at you.
“how-“
jude cuts you off by placing his soft lips on top of yours as his muscular arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. at first you feel like resisting, but the more he deepened the kiss, the more you could not get enough of it. tilting your head to gain better control, you feel up his chest before you place your hands at the back of his next, enjoying this public display of affection more than ever. maybe because it is the first time you’ve ever done something like this in a place like the garage-
you immediately push jude away, eyes wide open, “jude! there are cameras everywhere!”
he just smiles down at you, that little tease, before taking your hand into his, “you wanted to go public anyway.”
“i wanted a soft launch, though! i always wanted to soft launch a relationship.” you whine, moving closer to out your forehead against his chest in defeat.
“you can still soft launch it, love.”
you shake your head, still against his chest while you feel his hand move up and down your back, “no, let me grieve in peace, please.”
“love you too, babe.”
“shut it, you ruined my dreams.”
“you’re welcome.”
———————————————————————
enjoy 🥰
#jude bellingham#jude bellingham x reader#football x reader#football one shot#x reader#jude bellingham imagine#jude bellingham one shot#jude bellingham x you#football#jude bellingham fluff
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smut with neteyam plzzz???and neteyam tells her “all u gotta do is breathe, ima handle the rest baby” or “are u still with my baby?” omgg i would meltt if he said that to mee
Why not me?
Pairing: Agedup Neteyam x FemNavi reader
Summary: Your best friend is a bit of a playboy but with you he’s a sweet mess.
Warnings: MDNI, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, angst to comfort, virgin reader
A/n: sorry it took a bit, it’s not proof read so sorry for any misspellings but I hope you enjoy 🥺💕
꒦꒷❀꒷꒦ ❀✿❀꒦꒷❀꒷꒦MDNI ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦❀✿❀ ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦
You followed behind Neteyam quietly as he was currently going on about one of the females in the village, Li’ telia. A woman like he was everything that scream perfection for Neteyam, not to mention she was just as beautiful as her name.
He was leading you to the secret spot y’all have together, you were listening but you couldn’t help but wonder what these other girls had that you didn’t. “Y/n” Neteyam called your name. You looked up to see you both deep within your hiding spot, the trees and leaves blocking you both away from the outside world. You could feel his eyes on you as you made yourself comfortable on the mossy ground.
“What’s wrong Paskalin?” The question caught you off guard, what was wrong. Well of course you knew but is that really something you could tell him. He sat quietly beside you, letting you have this moment to think it over and once you felt you had the words to speak you did.
“Is there… something wrong with me?” You whispered as you turned to face him completely. “You do not do me like these other girls, and the men of the clan do not wish to approach or court me. Is there something wrong with me?” You asked a little louder, your eyes shining with unshed tears.
Neteyam stared at you with wide eyes, the shock ever present at the way you were feeling. The frown on his face definitely didn’t fit his handsome features. His hands cupped your face gently, rubbing your cheek affectionately. “You are perfect baby.” The demon word rolling of his tongue so perfectly you had to close your eyes for a moment. “You are so perfect in every way Txe’lan. I have not treated you the way I treat other females because you aren’t them. You deserve so much better.” He said truthfully.
When you didn’t answer Neteyam brought your face closer to his, your eyes stayed closed as you played his words over in your head. “You deserve to be treated with care and so many males of the clan are undeserving of you.” His words made you giggle a little as you opened your eyes to look over his face, a small pout on your lips once your giggles died down.
“Teyammmm.” You whined. “I don’t want to be a virgin forever! I do wish to have a mate and kids.” Your whining made him chuckle, his fingers rubbing your cheeks lightly before his hands moved down to your waist. They stopped a moment before continuing down his touch made you shiver as his fingers brushed over your ass, his touch was gentle and light to be honest you weren’t even sure you it was happening until your felt his fingers grabbing ahold of your thighs and pulling you into his lap.
“I can fix that.”
Those simple words struck a cord with you, your eyes traveling down to his lips before looking back up into his eyes. You were so distracted by your thoughts you were so unfocused, not aware as he later you on your back. His hands roaming around your body as he pressed soft kisses to from your neck to your lips. The kiss took you by surprise but you returned it nonetheless, it was soft and sweet paired with the sensation of his hands touching your body.
Neteyam‘s hands pulled the straps of your top down exposing more skin to the cool air, you shivered, goosebumps rising on your skin. The cold air was a stark contrast to the warm hand that pressed against you.
"T-Tteyam." You mumbled, feeling your cheeks warm as his touch made you squirm. His tongue slid into your mouth, a muffled whimper escaping you as your tongues danced. You felt Neteyam’s buldge pressing against you, grinding against you each time his lips pressed harder into yours. You felt your core begin to ache, a desperate need wishing to be fulfilled.
Neteyam let out a soft coo as he pulled away, sitting back on his knees as he stared down at you. His hands now working on removing your loincloth along with his, and once you both were naked he took his time to admire your body. “You are absolutely beautiful, so perfect for me.” The praise had your body responding in ways like never before.
“Now relax, I need to stretch your pretty little pussy to fit around my cock.” He whispered, his tub finding itself on your swollen nub, he gave rubbing gentle circles. He wanted to you feel the pleasure he could bring you, and only him. He wanted you to know how good only he could make you feel and while you were distracted he with his thumb rubbing your clit his fingers teased at your slick entrance before being pushed in slowly. Inch my inch he eased his finger in, thrusting it in and out of you. He watched the way your mouth opened as small moans slipped free, your legs twitching when he rubbed your sweet spot occasionally.
Neteyam was determined to bring you close to the edge, he wanted you absolutely ready for him. After a moment he eased a second figure inside, taking his time to stretch you open for him. “That’s it, good girl. Taking my fingers so well, you much really want my cock huh?” You couldn’t even respond this was a side of your best friend you’ve never seen and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive. You whimpered at the loss of his fingers I got to quiet down when you felt the tip of his length pressing against your entrance.
Your eyes widened and your body immediately tensed up the action immediately noticed by Neteyam, he gave a little chuckle as he hooked his hands around your thighs and pulled you closer. spreading your legs to give himself more room. “Take a breath, txe’lan.” He murmured as she pushed in slowly, he watched as your sopping wet cunt swallowed him inch by inch until he was fully bottomed out.
You moaned out hands reaching out to touch at his stomach, he let out a small tsk as he pulled out till just the tip onto the thrust back inside swiftly. The action had you crying out as your walls tightened up. “Relax baby, all you gotta do is let me take care of you.”
꒦꒷❀꒷꒦༻❀✿❀༺꒦꒷❀꒷꒦༻❀✿❀༺ ꒦꒷❀꒷꒦
Taglist: @pandoraslxna @neteyamsoare @criticallybella @sunfyresrider @neteyamsyawntu @tiredmamaissy @headsincloud9 @etherialblackrose @blue-slxt @justcaptiannoodles @neteyamyawne @oakbuggy @hotdsworld @plooto @itchaboi-itchyboy @eywaite @luvv4j4ybe11 @quicktosimp @cardi-bre91 @torukmaktoskxawng @rivatar @thepeonysbackup @tallulah477
#⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ xylianas asks ♡ ✧˖*°࿐#avatar#avatar twow#neteyam smut#neteyam x na'vi!reader#atwow neteyam#atwow smut
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Can we see the Alpha turning a couple of gay betas who used to be boyfriends into pussy obsessed straight bros?
Someone clearly saw my post about Alphas and sexuality. When I talk about Alphas I usually talk about them in general terms, since getting close and personal with an Alpha is practically begging to get turned into their beta. I usually don’t name names or get into specifics. But since you asked…
Meet Alvin and Benny. They’re boyfriends, or at least they were when this photo was taken. They used to be a loving couple. Alvin, the bigger one, loved to travel and dreamed of taking a trip to Paris. He was an outgoing, friendly guy who was always very kind. Benny, the shorter one, was slightly less social, being painfully shy. Still he had a good heart, loved to write, and once you got to know him he was the funniest person you’d ever meet. Alvin and Benny were great together, being an ideal couple. They brought out the best of each other and supported eachother in everything.
And then they met Cal.
Neither of them really remember how Cal came into their lives? Was he their new neighbor? No, that wasn’t right. Was he Alvin’s new coworker? That didn’t ring true either. Maybe he was Benny’s childhood friend who had come out of the woodwork? Whoever he was, he quickly integrated into their lives. It started off with small things, like skipping drag brunch with their other gay friends to hang out with Cal, or eating a salad instead of a donut because Cal suggested they try to eat healthier. But things escalated quickly, as they usually do with Alphas. Soon Al and Ben, as they now liked to be called, were working out like crazy because they wanted to keep up with Cal. They started talking differently, using words like bro and dude almost constantly, because Cal talked like that, and they were Cal’s bros. They quickly started to forget they were ever anything but Cal’s bros, his betas. Still, through it all, they stayed a couple. It was… weird. Cal was kind of impressed honestly. Usually by the time someone became a beta they lost all interest in relationships with anyone but their Alpha. But these two… they had hung onto it, despite everything. It was impressive… and it pissed Cal off. He didn’t mind that they were gay, but he fucking hated that they were still resisting him. He was their fucking Alpha, and they were his Betas. He should have complete control over them. But he was confident in his powers, like all Alphas are.
So he made a game of it.
He decided to see how far he could push them, how many changes they could handle while still being a gay couple. It wasn’t hard to increase their libidos, nor was it hard to give them an intense urge to fuck pussy. It took 3 months for the changes to finalize, and Cal found it hilarious to watch the two former fags slowly transform, how they’d insist they were gay while also bragging to eachother and Cal about all the pussy they were getting. How they were still convinced they were boyfriends when the closest they’d get to being intimate now is when they’d spit roast a bimbo together on their cocks. In the end there never was never an exact moment where they went from gay to straight. Overtime they just slowly forgot that that was what they used to be. They didn’t think about it anymore. Their relationship with their Alpha was far more important than their relationship with each other after all. And if their Alpha wanted two pussy obsessed straight douchebags, that was what he’d get.
Maybe Cal would let them be a couple again one day. Or maybe he’d make them both into his personal cock suckers. But for now Cal was happy to watch the former fags act like a couple of straight bros. All for him.
**Another Gay to Straight story, this time taking place is my ‘Alpha with a Capital A’ world. I love it when people ask me to expand on the stuff I’ve made, and I had fun writing this. Hope you liked it! If anyone ever wants to see me expand more on anything I’ve written before, just ask!**
#muscle growth tf#jock tf#jock transformation#jockification#twink to jock#muscle tf#alpha with a capital a
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Hello! Since you also write genshin, I've thought about reader or F!S/O being from Teyvat. But that isnt really the main point. How 'bout their F!S/O is from Sumeru and is strictly bestfriends with Cyno and Alhaitham. How would Trey, Azul, Jade, Floyd, and Jamil feel about their F!S/O having boy bestfriends back at her world? Maybe if they're jealous, reader tries to comfort them by saying that Alhaitham is engaged(to Kaveh)XD Lol
You dont have to do this if its to much♡
Oddly specific but I like the cut of your jib!
Also can be read as genter neutral, I don't reall mention gender on this one?
Trey, Azul, Jade, Floyd, and Jamil X F!SO from Teyvat
who is also besties with Cyno and Alhaitham
Trey Clover
Well youre from a whole different world! Magic seems to exist in some capacity at least.
He doesn't know what a Zatyun peach or a Sunsettia is.
But he tries v hard to make you things that remind you of home sometimes!
He actually does a pretty good job at it too!
And thats where the issue arives.
Whenever he asks about your homeland he knows he is going to hear about your best friends
He's trying SO hard to be normal about this
Trey loves you so much but, he gets a little jealous!
You've done so much with these two!!!
"And Cyno's jokes are the absolute WORST! I swear some of the things he says are worse than Ace's!" "Oh that's... nice!"
but they're your best friends! He really shouldn't be jealous.
"I still don't understand why Alhaitham is so jacked, like all he does is read books all day!"
He really shouldn't be jealous
"And I'm kind of glad its never too hot around here! Like I know he works primarily in the desert but like put a shirt on sometimes! You know?"
But damm its hard.
He tries to be subtle (not really)
"So have you ever like... done anything with one of these guys?" "What do you mean?" "Like have you dated one of them..?"
oh.... OH!
You laugh at that, he's embrassed "Oh gosh NEVER! They both have boyfriends anyhow! Alhaitham is engaged!" "Oh."
You nod and give him a little kith
Wow he's relieved!
Azul Ashengrotto
He loves learning about you and your home world! Truly!!!
Azul thinks your mind is briliant, you're so smart and quick on your feet due to years of travel!
With travel comes a lot of experiences
a lot.
without him.
He's playing it cool though! suuuper cool
"Oh I remember Alhaitham would never answer anything that wasnt formatted or completed properly! maybe you could do the same? it would certainly free up some time, no?" "Of course it woudl free up some time, dear... But" "buut?" "Well it wouldn't be fitting of my benevolent nature now would it, my love?"
Azul keeps trying to prove he's a better boyfriend than your old friends
He needs you to know he's the best option for you <3
"And could this 'Cyno' make you a delightful seafood pasta like this?" "No, not really, he was more into rice." "I see..."
Oh hey he made you curry and rice
You know, by the way. He is NOT sneaky
After another bout of showing off, you finally say something.
"They have boyfriends, you know?" "huh?" "Cyno and Alhaitham? they have partners. You don't have to be jealous." "Why would I be jealous, dearest?"
DENIER
Denies his jealous to this day but he gets happier after you reassure him.
Jade Leech
Yeah he's super cool about this!
for the most part...
He's extremely interested in learning about the flora in your world!
and he thinks those vishap creatures you compare him to sound rather interesting.
Jade being rather curious in nature comes in handy! since he doesnt seem to get jealous.
His questions are... odd, though. they kind of make sense?
"Cyno once took out like-- 10 guys in like a MINUTE! it was so cool! "Is he that fast in the depths of the sea?" "No-" "I see..."
Sometimes he's a little less slick though
"OH my gosh Alhaitham is so weird about soup! He hates the stuff because it could get on his books of all things!" "Does he consume beverages as he reads? tea perhaps?" "Yeah, sometimes." *Pleased eel noises*
He's just being careful :)
Jade often prefers to dicuss your best friends while in the kitchen. he likes spending this time with you!
And he has his knives and mushrooms at his disposal.
*chop chop chop* "And so Haitham and I used to skip out on akademiya meetings together-" *chopchopchop-* "But Cyno would ALWAYS 'catch' us just before the meeting would actually ends-" *ChopChopChopChop-* "So then he'd bring us to Kaveh, Alhaitham's fiance to-" "He has a fiance?" "yeah,why?" "no reason." *chop~ chop~ chop~*
He's still keeping the information from his... questioning in mind.
Can't be too careful, after all.
Floyd Leech
He loves his shrimpy's stories!!!
He hates his shrimpy's stories :((
Floyd is reaaal conflicted. He thinks you're so interesting! your world seems like fun!! he wants to go there with you.
But not with those men you keep talking about
"So sometimes there are these HUGE mushrooms that kind of act like a launchpad! they're super springy." "Eh? Jade might like soemthing like that... OOOH! do ya think if I throw someone (Ace) on one of those they'd still bounce?" "Yeah they would! one time while going after a criminal, Cyno had to-" "Eeeeh I'm bored. You coming to my next game?"
Subtlety? not THIS eel
He audibly groans when you bring them up sometimes.
But he still loves hearing you talk! so it really confusing sometimesz
"So genius invocation uses 8 elements, 7 from the nations, one is omni. Usually the cards are based off of vision users like Diluc of mondstadt, Arataki Itto, from Inazuma... OH! there is one of my best friend, Alhaitham, he's dendro and Cyno's is electro, its actually" Oh he's no longer looking at you.
You get an idea... "There is one of Haitham's fiance, Kaveh" "Oh really?"
GOT HIS ASS
You're his girlfriend, you know him best.
He's a little less weird about listening to your stories now, he's way more enaged.
He still tugs you closer to him when you mention other men, but thats kind of normal for him now.
Jamil Viper
A confident king? He's not really jealous. He knows he can be better than them.
Plus they're just friends to you.
But in all honestly he like... doesn't care too much about Teyvat.
You're here now, with him. not them.
Don't get him wrong, Jamil likes hearing about what your world!
There's only oneee little thing he doesnt love hearing.
"Sometimes I miss the food from Teyvat... Cyno always made the best Tahchin." "The best you say?" "Yeah! he shaped it like a pyramid every time he made it!" "Have you ever tried mine?" "You make tahchin!?"
He's smug, you'll love his cooking more than that Cyno's.
He serves you a plate of tahchin, golden brown, perfectly seasoned, barberries topping the rounded rice dish "So, what do you think?" "This is so good! I kind of miss the padisarah petals though.."
The hell is THAT?
"Is it... not up to your expectations, my flower?" "No its delicious! I think I just miss the way my friend would make it.."
He's a little grumpy about it!!
Jamil gets kind of huffy with you next time you're together.
He's not ignoring you but just don't bring up food for a while.
Snake man will just respond with "Why don't you ask Cyno." when it comes to cooking for the next day or two...
#twisted wonderland#twistedwonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twst#disney twst#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland x yuu#jamil viper x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech#trey clover x reader
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Precious Truths: Part 2
Fandom: Bridgerton
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader
Summary: After your father finds out you’ve been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month’s time.
Warning: physical assault - reader gets slaped on the face
Series Masterlist
Your gaze reveals the precious truths
The beauty that you see within
The bravery that I once never possessed
Your love is strength
Your love is pure
Your love is everything
-Arthur Talbot
You set your quill back into the ink jar and lean back in your chair, letting the ink dry. It's well into the night. Your father and aunt now sound asleep in their respective bedrooms. You find that late nights like these are the best times to write. It's when the world is quiet and you can indulge in your guilty pleasure of writing poetry. You're sure that if your father were to ever find out about this, he'd cast you out.
So your secret remains. Some parts of you felt like you should at least tell Benedict, for he's your closest, and dearest friend. However, you thought best not to. If the ton were to find out, it would be the end of you and you could never be one to drag Benedict down with you.
You can never do that to the man you love.
____________________________
You're in the sitting room watching as stands at Benedict at his easel, Colin and Greggory play chess, and Daphne coos over Auggie. Benedict works on his still life as you sit close by.
He frowns, taking a step back from his painting, "This is wrong. It's-Something's missing."
You lean closer to get a glance at his work, "Benedict, it looks beautiful."
"Are you sure?" he asks with an unsure look on his face.
You stand up and take a better look at the canvas, "Don't you artists always say beauty is in the eye of the beholder?" you look at Benedict with a smirk and then back at the canvas, "What you may find as unattractive, Benedict, someone else might find alluring and lovely."
You pat his arm and then plop yourself back into the chair you previously occupied. You go back to your reading completely unaware that Benedict is looking at you with absolute love in his eyes.
He hears someone clear their throat and he looks away to see Anthony staring at him expectantly, "I'm sorry, brother. Did you say something?"
"We're all going for a promenade. I believe we've all been inside for long enough."
You stand up, "I shall take my leave then, Bridgertons."
"Or you can join us?" Benedict immediately asks with hopeful grin.
You softly shake your head, "I don't want to intrude."
"Nonsense," Kate says as she enters the room, "We're always happy to have you, Y/N," she joins her husband's side.
"Well, I can't reject you, Viscountess Bridgerton," you give Kate a smile and Benedict is confused, "So you have no problem rejecting me?"
You laugh, "I'm only jesting, Benedict. I'd love to accompany you and your family for a promenade."
"Wonderful, let's get to it then," Anthony says, trying to gather his siblings together.
_________________________
You're following Benedict's younger siblings whilst said man was walking beside you. You're walking in silence, but it isn't awkward. Silence in Benedict's presence is never awkward, but rather comforting.
"I've realized something, Y/N."
"Yes?"
Benedict keeps his eyes on you as you two continue to follow his younger siblings, "You've always been very supportive of my artistic prospects, but I don't believe I've given the same curtesy to you and your poetic writings. I recall you enjoyed writing them when we were younger."
It warms your heart knowing that Benedict remembers of the times you'd write whilst he'd paint or draw. You let out long and deep sigh. Looking ahead, you reply, "Yes, well, I've given up those dreams, I'm afraid. You know how my father is about my indulgence with poetry. I have to be very careful. Even reading it and reciting it to the ton is risky. Luckily, my father is inebriated a majority of the time he's out and about."
"Well if you ever decide to return to writing poetry, you have my full support."
You nod, "Thank you, Ben. I really appreciate it."
"Y/N," you turn to your right to see Daphne now walking beside you, pushing Auggie in his pram.
"Yes, Your Grace?" you stop and answer her with a teasing smirk. You're older than Daphne by a few years, but just two years younger than Benedict. You've always seen Daphne as a younger sister, being that you are an only child. Occasionally the teasing will produce itself between you two.
"Would you like to join us for dinner?"
You can't help but laugh, "Of course, but I've been spending my entire day with you already. Won't you all get tired of me?"
"We'd never tire of you, Y/N," Benedict replies with earnest and it brings a warm smile to your place.
"Be that as it may, I believe the Viscount should have the final word?"
Anthony, Kate, and Violet catch up to you as you're all looking at Anthony. He looks at you all in confusion, "Something the matter?"
Daphne speaks up, "I invited Y/N to stay for dinner if that's alright, brother?"
He shoots you a grin, "Of course. Miss L/N is always welcome. You're practically family, yes?" he shoots Benedict a wink and you're not sure why.
"Well thank you for the invitation," you look down at your dress, "But perhaps, I should at least change. This dress isn't particularly dinner attire."
"What do you mean? You look beautiful as always," Benedict states as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
The Bridgertons all give each other knowing looks. That's when the Dowager Viscountess speaks up, "Benedict, darling, Y/N is right. After the promenade, we should allow her to freshen up before dinner."
Kate removes herself from Anthony and loops arms with you, "Let us continue our promenade, Y/N."
"Of course!" you giggle with your friend as you continue on the trail.
Benedict moves to follow, but Anthony pats his brother on the shoulder, "You've spent hours with her, brother. Let her take a break from you clinging to her all the time."
Benedict looks at his older brother in offense, "I don't cling to her...do I?"
"A bit, darling," Violet says and Daphne nods in agreement.
He runs his hand through his hair and sighs, "I'm too obvious, aren't I?"
Daphne shakes her head, "No, I don't think so. If you were, she'd have said something, yes? Or maybe would have run for the hills?" she asks with a smirk to her elder brothers, before continuing to push Augie down the path.
_________________
When you arrive back home to change, you ask the housekeeper, Mrs. Burnett, if your aunt is home.
"No, Miss, she's gone to meet with Lady Danbury," the older woman replies.
You nod, "Thank you, Mrs. Burnett," you gather your dress and make your way to your room upstairs.
You freeze when you see the door ajar and you know for a fact you closed it before leaving earlier.
You slowly push the door open and your heart drops when you see your father surrounded by pages and pages of poems. Poems that are supposed to be written by a man.
You gulp and slowly approach him as he sits at your writing desk, "Papa?"
His eyes meet yours in a cold and intimidating stare, "Not only have you still been indulging in poetry, but you're writing it? Under a man's name?"
"What were you doing in my room?"
"THIS IS MY HOUSE! I CAN BE ANYWHERE I PLEASE!"
You take some cautionary steps towards him, "Papa, you've had too much to drink."
"No!" he abruptly stands at your desk, causing you to jump ack in surprise. His chest is heaving as he tightly grips pages of your work, "If anyone finds out about this-"
"They won't! I've hid this from everyone for months!"
"You need to marry," he says with definitive authority.
You look at him with a confused expression, "What do you mean?"
"I can't take your defiance any longer!"
"Defiance?"
Your father walks around your desk so it's no longer a wall between you and he. He points a warning finger at you, "If you don't find a husband within a month's time, I'm marrying you off to your cousin, Albert."
Your jaw drops, "Cousin Albert?! He's absolutely horrendous! He's a rake and a gambler-"
"And looking for a wife!" he exclaims as he cuts you off, "When you were younger, your Uncle Wallace tried to convince me to have you two promised to each other once you came out to society. I regret not taking the opportunity now seeing how you've grown up."
You clench your fists in anger, "Mama wouldn't stand for this! She-
THWACK!
Your words are stuck in your throat, your cheek stinging after your father slaps you. His eyes are red and wild as he spits out, "Mama is dead! She is not here anymore! This is my house! You are to find a husband in a month or you are to marry Albert. Be grateful I'm not sending you away right this moment."
You're holding your cheek now, trying to soothe the pain. Your heart hurts for yourself and your mama. You know she'd hate the man your papa has become.
Without another word, you're rushing out of your room and bounding down the stairs.
Your aunt had just arrived back and you rush past her without a glance. She follows you in concern, "Y/N? What happened?! What's wrong? Y/N!" she yells after you as you run down the street back towards the Bridgerton household.
#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton imagine#f!reader#fem!reader#female!reader
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pt 3!!
here you can find the other parts of pour toujors
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"Hey love!" Pascale welcomes me with open arms at her doorstep. Despite being in Monaco, their house isn't overly fancy. It's the same simple yet beautiful home since I met Arthur.
"Hey Pas!" My smile always lights up when I see her, and her hug brings me back to my childhood.
She greets the boys with kisses on their cheeks and grabs the groceries, turning her gaze towards me. "Lou, come help me with dinner, let's catch up." She says with a warm look at the end; I already know what our conversation will be about.
The boys head towards the living room, and I follow Pascale to the kitchen. She knows I'm terrible in the kitchen, and it's obvious I won't be much help, so I sit on a stool, leaning on the counter, waiting for someone to say something.
We sit in a loud silence for a while until I decide to break it. "They called me two days ago, said they wanted to talk. I guess I should give them a chance, right?" I say with uncertainty in my voice. This has happened before, and I don't know why I'm letting it happen again. I just can't seem to avoid it.
She comes closer and places her hand on mine for comfort. "Lou, we've seen this before, you know where this will lead, it's only hurting you more."
"But despite all that, they're my parents, Pas."
"I've told you many times, parents are those who care for you, not just those who brought you into this world." Tears well up in my eyes; how can I be so naive to trust them after all this? But worse, how can I be so foolish to want to give them another chance and just can't seem to stop?
"Look, I just want what's best for you, Loulou. You're my heart's daughter, and you know I hate seeing my kids sad, right?" She continues with a soothing voice that calms my heart amidst all this mess.
"I feel so useless. I've tried everything for them to love me, but it seems like nothing ever worked. It was always my sister, always. She was the princess of the house, it was hell. And maybe the fault isn't on either of us, but on those monsters I can call my parents. I just wish they'd love me for a second, is that too much to ask?" I let it all out, the words and my tears. I can't talk much about this with Arthur. Yes, he'd understand, but it's not the same.
Little did I know that someone was behind the door listening. Charles.
He enters the kitchen silently; only Pascale saw and didn't tell me anything. She knows that, despite Charles not being my best friend, he would always support and help me with anything I needed.
Charles was the only one, besides Pascale, who knew all about this. Well, almost everything. She knew she could trust him and that he would give advice to me, even if not directly.
He starts approaching and sits next to me, and when I notice, I quickly wipe my tears. Until he asks his mother for something. "Mom, could you leave us alone for a moment, please?"
She nods and leaves the kitchen, leaving just the two of us side by side. Him watching me and me with a distant look, focused on the table at the same time.
"Lapine, with what little I heard just now, I already understand all your feelings," he lies a bit. "You're such a strong person, and I admire you a lot. I know we're not that close, but I wish we were. But most importantly, I want you to know that you can always count on me, no matter what, I'll always be here for you, okay?" He finishes, and my tears keep falling. No man besides Arthur had ever said that to me before; I couldn't hold back.
"You know, Charlie? I see you and your siblings all happy and being treated the same way, and I wonder why my family isn't like that." His fingers go towards my face to gently wipe the liquid flowing from my eyes.
"Look, Lapine, every family has its weaknesses. Do you think I don't wonder every day why Papa and Jules are gone? I know, it's hard, but we have to accept it over time. You've been our family since the day you met Arthur, don't worry, we're here for you, always."
He finishes saying, and I pull him into a hug without hesitation; those words warmed my heart immensely. "Don't let them back into your life, Lapine, you don't deserve that."
#charles leclerc#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#lando norris#carlos sainz#cl16#cl16 x reader#f1 x reader#formula one#formula 1#f1 imagine#f1 fic#ferrari#charles leclerc masterlist#carlos sainz masterlist#fluff#f1#f1 2024#f1 fanfic#arthur leclerc#lorenzo leclerc
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Not Alone
Bucky x GN!Reader
Description: Bucky is refusing to come to terms with everything that’s happened following the fight with Thanos, and you know that the walls he’s carefully built up around his emotions are going to come crashing down one day. So what happens when they finally do?
Warnings: Angstyyyyy, Bucky is SAD, takes place somewhere between that and FATWS but idk where, crying, hurt/comfort, I don’t know if it’s an inherently “happy” ending per say, but it's a comforting one I think, some mentions of bad mental health, NOT Endgame!Steve Friendly (just like me)
A/N: I am sorry for this
((18+ only below the cut please and thank you!!))
Bucky had been struggling, you knew it.
You’d been by his side for long enough to know when he was trapped in his own mind
But this was different
Usually, you could at least get him to tell you what was wrong
But ever since the fight with Thanos he’d avoided talking about what was wrong
You could hardly blame him, it had been a difficult last few months
In the fallout of his return from spending 5 years as a dust pile and the subsequent fight, you had held Bucky’s hand through Tony’s funeral, being placed in a holding cell by the US Government, his pardon hearing, moving back to Brooklyn, starting his court-mandated therapy, and trying to acclimate to the modern world, and fully come to terms with the pain and torture HYDRA had inflicted him for decades.
And then of course there had been Steve.
You knew Bucky was upset and hurt over his best friend leaving him, and everyone else he had grown close to, behind to be with Peggy.
And you could hardly blame him.
Suffice to say, Bucky had been through few months alone, and you knew it had been hard on him
But whenever you had tried to ask him about it he simply smiled and said “I’m fine, Doll. I’m okay.”
But you couldn’t help but notice that it didn’t reach his eyes.
He was trying so hard to be strong, to push down how he was feeling, but you saw the seams starting to unravel
All the pain he’d been feeling for months finally came to a head late one night
You two were doing dishes after dinner, you were washing and he was drying
Occasionally, Bucky would bump his hip against yours, making you smile and gently splash water at him, making him laugh
You and your boyfriend loved this, just enjoying each other’s presence with the two of you being giant dorks together
Everything was good, you two were having fun
Until Bucky went to dodge one of your splashes and lost his grip on the glass he was drying.
The glass shattered on the floor below, and he immediately went tense.
“Oh God, Bucky!” You grabbed his flesh hand gently, checking for injury, “are you okay?”
He didn’t reply, but looked down at you touching his hand
“I don’t see any injuries. You’re alright, Sweetheart. I’m gonna clean up the glass, okay?” You pressed a kiss to his stubbly cheek, but he didn’t look up.
Cleaning up the shattered glass went quickly, but when you finished you noticed Bucky was staring blankly at the floor where you’d cleaned, his blue eyes misty
“Bucky?” You cupped his face, but he still wouldn’t look at you, “Talk to me Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
“N-nothing,” his voice was soft, like he was trying his hardest to keep it from wavering, “I’m fine, Doll.”
“If you can look me in the eyes and say that, I’ll believe you.”
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” it was almost a chant as he slowly lifted his head, “I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m–”
As soon as Bucky looked you in the face he burst into sobs, falling to his knees in front of you.
It tore a hole in your chest.
“Oh…” you knelt down in front of him, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close, cradling his head against your shoulder, “oh Baby, oh, Bucky…”
He buried his face in your neck as you rocked him from side to side, your fingers carding through his hair, “shhhh, it’s alright, let it out, Baby Boy, let it all out…”
“H-He was my best friend,” Bucky whimpered, “h-he was my best friend, and he…he j-just fucking left me here–!”
“Oh, Baby, I know,” you kissed his temple, “I know. I’m so sorry, Sweet Boy…”
You held him tighter as he dissolved into sobs again.It broke your heart.
You knew that this was good for him, that Bucky had been fighting this for so long
He needed the release, the catharsis, but that didn’t mean it didn’t fill your broken heart with anger.
Anger at Steve for leaving the man in your arms behind in a world he didn’t understand, at the Government agents that treated him like a criminal for things that he had been forced to do when he had no control over his mind and body, at anyone who had ever caused this kind, sweet, gentle, loving man harm and left him unable to feel his emotions properly until he reached his absolute breaking point
When Bucky calmed down again you suggested moving to the couch
“It’ll be a lot more comfortable than the floor, Baby,” you said, gently taking his hand in yours and leading him to the living room
Once you two were seated you wrapped him in your arms again, keeping him close and rocking him.
“Talk to me, Baby, please,” you cupped his face, thumbing away his tears, “tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”
“It’s… I wasn’t worth it.” Bucky said in a quiet, broken voice, “I told Steve I wasn’t, back when he… when we were on our way to Siberia. He tried to tell me that I was, and being with you, in Wakanda, when I was finally free I started to think that maybe he was right, maybe I was worth saving. That I was deserving of some kind of peace. But then Steve–”
His voice cracked, and you gave him a comforting hug.
“I just keep thinking that if I was really worth what you all went through for me then he– he wouldn’t have left me here alone."
Tears flowed freely again, and you hugged him tightly to you, pressing comforting kisses to his temple
“Shhhhh, Baby Boy, it’s alright,” you whispered, “it’s gonna be alright…”
Bucky shook his head and buried his face further into your neck
“I just… it makes it hard, y’know?” You nodded and kissed his forehead, he took a deep breath and added, “I’m scared. I keep thinking that one day I’m gonna wake up and you’re not gonna be there. T-that you’re gonna realize the same thing he did. That I’m not worth all of this.”
“Oh… Oh no, oh, Bucky…” You rubbed his back, pressing kisses to the top of his head, “oh, Honey…”
You cradled his head against your chest, running your fingers through his hair and hushing him, rocking him from side to side.
Once he’d calmed down slightly you took his face in both hands, stroking his stubbly cheeks.
“Baby? Can you look at me, please?” His sad blue eyes met yours, and you gently wiped the tears from them.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry Bucky. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, Baby. And I’m especially sorry that you were made to think like that.”
Bucky looked you in the eyes. No one had ever said that to him before.
“and speaking as someone who was involved in all of that trouble? You were absolutely worth it. Every minute of it. The two years Sam, Steve, and I spent looking for you, every fight, every bit of time spent on the run, every moment spent waiting for Shuri to okay letting you out of the ice in Wakanda. I would go through every second of it again if it meant that you got to be free, Sweet Boy. Even if you weren’t the man I love, even if you weren’t Steve’s best friend, even if you were just some guy I had no attachment to, I would fight just as hard if it meant you got to be safe and free from those monsters. Because you didn’t deserve HYDRA’s abuse, and you didn’t deserve to be punished for things you couldn’t control.”
He rested his hands over yours, and you pressed your forehead against yours
“I know it’s hard to trust anyone after what Steve did, I know. But I would never, ever leave you alone. I’m with you for the long haul, Sweetheart. You’ll always be worth it in my eyes."
His eyes searched your face, looking for any sign that it wasn’t true, and found nothing but genuine love and care. You gave him a soft sad smile.
“I’ll be here, right by your side, as long as you want me, Baby,” you kissed the tip of his nose, “you aren’t alone anymore, Buck. You’ll never be alone again.”
Bucky dissolved into tears in your arms again
“I-I’m sorry,” he cried over and over into your shoulder, embarrassed at his carrying on, “‘m sorry I keep cryin’...”
“Shhhhh….” you continued rocking him and rubbing his back, “you don’t have to apologize for expressing your emotions, Sweetheart. You’re allowed to feel bad. You’re allowed to let it out. I’ll be here for you.”
You held Bucky until he calmed down, and he let you lead him into the bathroom to clean his face with a cool cloth, not wanting the salt from his tears to irritate his skin, and showering him with affection and love.
When you two finally laid down to sleep that night you held the man you loved as close as humanly possible, pressing little kisses to his hairline and rubbing his back
Bucky nestled into your chest, listening to your heartbeat and relishing the feeling of skin-to-skin contact
“Get some sleep, Baby Boy,” you whispered, “I’ll always be here when you wake up. I love you so much, my Darling.”
Bucky looked up at you, a small but genuine smile on his face.
The first you had seen in the months since Thanos
“I love you too.” he kissed your lips, “goodnight, Doll.”
As Bucky drifted off in your arms, he felt better.
Lighter.
Better than he had in months.
He wasn’t cured, he knew that.
The demons of his past still haunted him, still clawed at the edges of his mind and whispered that he wasn’t worth the pain
But knowing that he wasn’t alone, that you would stay by him and support him through even his darkest days?
That you wouldn’t leave no matter what?
Maybe he could finally start to heal
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#buckybarnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes angst#hurt/comfort#bucky barnes headcanon
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Tsuna: So I need a fake boyfriend to piss off my dad
Byakuran, seeing an opportunity and about to run with it: Oh, really?
“Why are we doing this again?” Tsuna asked, feeling his cheeks burn as Byakuran caged him back against the door of his dorm. Had he always been that much taller than him? Tsuna felt surrounded, live everything else in the world had faded away and it was only Byakuran’s teasing smile and the hand pushing up the hem of his shirt to grab his waist.
Holding him. Keeping him there.
Tsuna wasn’t sure he could move if he wanted to.
“We’re supposed to be boyfriends, Tsu-chan,” Byakura practically purred the words, dipping his head until his lips were brushing against Tsuna’s as he spoke. “No one will believe it if you blush from something this innocent. You want it to look real, right.”
Tsuna probably would have agreed to anything at that moment as long as Byakuran asked him with that voice, but he did want it to look believable. His dad was a bastard but he was an observant one and the only thing more embarrassing than this crazy plan to make Iemitsu Sawada angry in the thought of his father finding out about it. Still, though…
“Isn’t this a bit much?” Tsuna didn’t squeak when those fingers slid further up his side, even if the heat of skin against skin making him a bit dizzy, but Byakuran’s smile grew like he heard it anyway.
“Boyfriends show affection, Tsu-chan,” Byakuran finally moved away from Tsuna’s lips but the relief was short lived as he ducked further down to run his grinning mouth along Tsuna’s jaw. “Besides, won’t your father be extra mad if he catches us like this?” At the question the hand on his side trails inwards tracing feather light touches over Tsuna’s stomach before drifting down to toy with his waistband.
He would be. Iemitsu might explode on the spot if he saw them like this.
It was perfect for the plan.
It was going to drive Tsuna insane in the meantime.
“So, what? You want us to practice?” He asks trying for annoyed but sounding all together too breathless for it to have any sting.
He felt Byakuran’s smile rather than saw it. He also felt the slight sting of teeth nipping at his chin, before Byakuran spoke, “When have I ever been happy with anything less than perfection?”
Tsuna finally managed to gather the strength to push Byakuran back a step, his friend’s laughter ringing around the cramped dorm room. Byakuran would be the one to take this seriously, well as seriously as he took anything. But it would all be fine. They would practice, put on the perfect performance when Tsuna took Byakuran home for the holidays, and best case scenario give Tsuna’s father a heart attack in the process. All Tsuna had to do was not forget that this was all fake, and do something stupid like fall in love with Byakuran.
How hard could it be?
#the elf talks#katekyo hitman reborn#Byakuran rounding second base like ‘this is just basic affection Tsuna why are you so red?’
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Aroace Riz real but also Fabian is SO clearly in love with him and Riz has no idea
#honestly fabian might not even fully know yet#a core part of fabians character is that he is so deeply afraid of rejection that he is never going to pursue the people he actually wants#i do think he likes Maezy a lot but i think he only knows how to pursue hot toxic women that will discard him at a moments notice#which in a way protects him from ever actually dealing with heartbreak#is he a gay man dealing with comphet? ehh maybe#i could see that#but I think the vibe i get is more about how he has these platonic friends he completely adores and is fully devoted to#and then in another category he has the people that he does not have any actual attachment to that he will allow himself to pursue#and crossing the boundaries in between those two categories or allowing himself to pursue someone he really cares for#would require a level of vulnerability he is in no way prepared for#in his home life he has an emotionally detached mother who is well liked but kind of floats through interactions on a surface level#and a father who is extremely concerned with fame and glory and attention but doesnt seem to have ever stopped moving in his life#genuinely fabian does not know what a safe loving partnership would look like#and we see him constantly oscillating between emulating his mother and his father in relationships#but just beneath the surface is a little boy who wants so badly to cling to his loved ones so tight and be squeezed right back#with no way of knowing how to even ask for that if he wanted#and riz is his best friend in the world and he knows on some level that riz is simply not interested in having that kind of relationship#not on the level fabian needs#but that also makes riz a safe target for these feelings of devotion#theyre just friends! just besties! fabian never has to reckon with his own loneliness or harmful patterns#if he channels all of his yearning for closeness onto his best friend#anyway! this boy needs therapy#fhjy#fhjy spoilers#fabriz
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beyond grateful for the people that are surrounding me in my life, just as i am grateful for the people i’ve parted ways with, for without them, i would not be the person i am today.
#i have left so many people throughout my life#and#if someone would ask me if i’d regret any choice i’ve made i would say no#i regret hurting people yet i wouldn’t change a thing if i could#without the suffering the sacrifices and the lessons i would not be the person i am today that i can finally say i’m proud of#whenever i read the question “would you want to be your friend if you’d meet yourself?” deep down my answer was no#i was a good friend and i always tried my best to be there for everyone#but i was so blinded and overwhelmed by my pain that i tried so hard not to project on others that it was exactly the thing i’ve done#i was extremely caring sensitive loving and selfless but my ”bad“ traits were just as extreme#my emotions were so overwhelming that they were scattered all over the place that it didn’t allow me to have any control over them#i used to be so terrified of being alone. all i’ve felt was a great loneliness that was residing within me#until i’ve gathered the strength to leave an entire friendgroup with people that meant the world for me#they weren’t good for me anymore just as i wasn’t for them#since that day i’ve grown a lot i became a better and healthier version of myself#i learned how to be alone and to find the peace in it and in myself#all i’ve had was Allah swt. and He is all i will ever need.#without the hardships in terms of friendship i wouldn’t have been able to learn how to be alone and love and enjoy it#without it i could not say that i could easily give up the people in my life#i could if i had to bc i have Allah swt.#but i’ve learned how to choose and to choose the right people#i don’t need you and never will but i choose you bc i want you in my life and i think that makes it so much more special#i can finally say that i love the person i am today and can’t wait to see myself grow even more as the cycle of growing is never ending#I still have so much to learn and I will let it come to me with open arms#an open mind and an open heart#above all the most precious gift i’ve earned is to learn how to have tawakkul.#everything that happens every trial that is afflicted upon us has meaning#and it’s beautiful.#being able to pick out the khair in everything is the biggest blessing#alhamdulillah for the things that bruised my soul alhamdulillah for the things that mended it#alhamdulillah for everything bc truly; Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear.
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idk how to even like. put this pain into words and i would normally vent about this shit on twitter, but the person its about follows me on there so like. anybody have skills for coping with the crushing realization that the person u love most in this world and have built ur life around sees ur current situation together as a temporary hurdle that's preventing them from their truest and happiest self which. is separate from u entirely? anyone know how to deal with this?
#live with my best friend in the whole entire world who. honest to god makes me the happiest person alive.#like im always waxing poetic about her in the tags on posts about platonic love#and i talk about her like she put the stars in the skies because for real it feels like she did for me#she is. the most important person in my life#and every day i feel grateful just to come home and sit with her#like honest to god i cannot imagine a future that is better than this#if i have a bad day i get to come home and my best friend in the world will make me laugh#what more could i ever ask for#but tonight we talked and she made it abundantly clear that. even if i do everything right#even if i'm the perfect roommate and the best friend i can be#in just over a year#when she's making enough money for it#she plans on moving into a place of her own#which like. makes sense for her. of course we were going to get to this point.#but i just. don't know what i'm going to do.#and it kills me that we're on different pages because for some reason i thought this was a long term thing#i thought we were going to move into a house together#i was just telling my coworker this week that we need to move into our forever home soon which was partially a joke#but also. even if i was making a million dollars a year.#i would still want to be here. with her.#or somewhere else. with her.#like it's so hard to imagine a future without her. it breaks my heart and scares the shit out of me.#and i know i can't afford it here. and i can't move in with strangers. and i'm working my dream job but i'm scared that i'm going to have t#give it all up and move back east because. i can't do this alone. and she's all i have. and all i ever wanted.#and she's leaving.#she doesn't want to be with me.#sry this is so fucking. ugh. idk. i just don't know what to do.#for real might just drop everything and move to chicago if it comes down to it ksdkfljdfs#its what sufjan would have wanted#fucked up terrible no good week
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no there really was something about riding back from the volta region to accra in africa and like having hundreds of white-winged flying bugs flocking to the headlights of the van and shedding wings across the ground in the flickering dark and reflective rain. by the time we got back to accra the rain had lifted and there's a part up the hill where you can see the city sitting on rocks in front of you and how it stretches. it was beautiful.
#incoherents#i dont think i could feel a thing then or now i am always so scared. i spent that night. it was easter. at the hospital.#i landed badly paragliding and was hypothermic in high high heat. i was my wound cleaned i was scared I'd die#for no reason. i was having ocd issues. kept imagine getting infected. it was kind of nonsense#but i couldn't get any creams and i had to shower#(had to shower so methodically. in sevens. make sure no part of me could have covid covid covid)#i must have seemed insane. i didnt eat anything but a tiny bit of jollof and my friend helped me get some plantain chips but the night#market was nearly closed#its funny. how me now me then me at 19 how everything is a different lense#I'm through so much glass#i can't imagine being who i was a year ago I'm all hollowed out I'm dead I'm not real#there's a perspective shift. there's things if only i could not drown and be real that i could make so much out of#i want to exist in this world so badly. i want to feel it. i want to be real. but there's too much horror and grief and it consumes me#the beat of their wings was so empty whit#the best psychiatrist i ever had was the boss of the guy i saw that week cause i was scaring myself. but who referred me to him got me so#scared bc he thought i was manic and i freaked out and started crying and asked everyone including half a dozen professionals#if they thought i was because i was scared I'd end up paralysed (again. ocd.)#they took me to the hospital because they were afraid#god i was so much better then yet#and the surgeon guy was not appropriate enough but he liked me. he knew i wasn't a risk. it was all so useless. but you know.#another person to say I'm not manic. god i was so neurotic. well.#okay I'm rambling. it's just. nothing feels real nothing ever feels real#i want to exist have i really not existed this whole time?#i feel like there's so much i missed i grieve everything but not as much as i.#i got better on this med but maybe it wasnt the med. i was . talking to her more again wrapped up#and#hhhhh#nothing is real. i love her
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