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softestqueeen · 6 months

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ghost🙏😍

it's yours, princess

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader x König (Call of Duty)

summary: On a mission with König and Ghost you have to stay at a safe house. The only problem – there is only one bed.

warnings: : 18+ MDNI!! smut, knife play, threesome (kinda), slight voyeurism, p in v sex, face fucking, porn without plot, cunnilingus, breeding, praise kink, degradation kink (yes, I am aware of the irony), pet names (princess), finger fucking, slight hand kink, masturbating, dirty talk

wordcount: 4256 words

a/n: This is a request from a friend. I've really enjoyed writing something longer and something with kinks I've never really explored! Enjoy <3

Finally, after being on your longest mission so far, you were relieved to be finally at your safe house. The mission is not yet over, but as long as you got some sleep, it didn’t matter to you. Everything that mattered to you right now, was the image of finally getting into a very soft bed, that was currently going through your mind.

“There it is! But it does look kinda small, don’t you think?”, the British man next to you remarked.

And here’s the reason why this mission was so incredibly exhausting. Instead of your regular partners you are on a mission with Simon “Ghost” Riley and König. The men you despised most on this planet.

Because of his paranoia König was still looming around somewhere in the woods, checking for possible threats. But you didn’t mind, every second spent less with one of them, was one second that you could relax a bit more.

The two of them were thick as thieves, but you never liked them. They always thought they were better than everybody else and picked on you because of your size and mostly because of the fact that you were female – the only female on the team to be precise.

They thought that this minor detail defined you and everything you did. That you were weaker than them and just on the team out of pity. Also, they never called you by your name but always called you ‘princess’, because they thought you were getting a special treatment, even though you didn’t. And sometimes – especially in your first days – hearing stuff like that could get under your skin. So, you decided that you would give them the same treatment they gave you.

You didn’t answer Ghosts question, but instead just kept on walking to what would be your private heaven for the next twelve hours.

In hindsight, Ghost did in fact have a point. That house looked very small for three bedrooms. In fact, it looked like it could barely fit one very small room, a kitchenette, and a shower if you’re lucky. But the idea of a bed sounded too good at the moment, so you didn’t pay this minor detail any more thought.

You wish you did.

The moment you entered the house, your worst fears were confirmed.

You stepped into the living space which had a couch, a counter with a microwave on top, a refrigerator next to it, a table with only two (!) chairs and two doors. You froze in the entry, but after someone made a very unhappy noise behind you, you snapped out of it and stepped further into the room, which combined kitchen, dining room, living room and hell.

But you told yourself, there was still hope that behind one of these still closed doors was an oasis waiting for you.

You turned the doorknob on the first one and entered a bathroom that had as much charm as the kitchen. A rusty sink, a shower, and a toilet. The shower didn’t even have a curtain and you could sit on the toilet, shower, and wash your hands at the same time. You felt like you were about to cry. You could already feel the tears prickling behind your eyes at the realisation that not only you had to live in this shithole, but you had to share it with you your two colleagues who are essentially two mountains of meat.

You got out of the “bathroom” again before closing the door behind you with a sigh. Ghost wandered the small room. Even though you couldn’t see his face through his mask, you could feel the frustration radiating from him.

You choose to ignore him and entered the other room.

Oh-oh.

The room was small, really small. Two people would count as a crowd in there. The worst – there was only one bed. It was king sized at least, but it still meant one of you had to sleep on the shabby couch that probably wouldn’t even fit your smaller frame.

The worst was that you already knew who would have to take the piss and sleep on the couch. There was no way one of the men would give up their place for you. You could feel a tear escaping your eye and running down your cheek before you angrily wiped it away and quickly collected yourself.

You could hear a dissatisfied grunt from the kitchen/living room/dining room which made you leave the most depressing bedroom you’ve ever seen.

You could see that Ghost had rummaged through the one cabinet and only found one of those cheap TV-dinners that you could just pop into the microwave. You just realised that the “kitchen” didn’t even have a sink and that you would have to use the one in the bathroom.

Could this day even get any worse?

Ghost was still standing there with the TV-dinner in his gloved hand, looking at you. He could see your face fall and if you could see his face, you could see that he did the exact same thing.

You were shocked when Ghost put the frozen meal on the desk in front of you and nudged it into your direction. “It’s yours, princess”, he stated while looking into your eyes. Was it even possible for Ghost to be nice?

You were literally stunned into silence before you realised that a thank you would be appropriate now. “Th- Thank you! We could also share it though. Not even I would get full of this, so it’s better if everyone eats at least a little bit.”

For a moment the two of you were silent, just looking into each others’ eyes. Maybe you didn’t hate each other, maybe you just got off on the wrong foot.

Suddenly Ghost went around the desk between you and stood in front of you. You looked into each others’ eyes and before you could think about it, you said “There’s only one bed.”

Very vell done, that will definitely loosen up the tension between you. Not.

“Well, what now?” Ghost was so close you could feel his breath on your face, even through the balaclava he wore under his mask.

“Someone has to sleep on the couch, if you can even call it that.” You didn’t even know anymore what you were talking about. His scent enveloped you and made your knees get weak.

He lifted his gloved hands and you almost flinched at the action. He rolled up his balaclava, so his lips were free before he roughly pulled you in by the hips and kissed you.

You froze before you realised what’s happening. Ghost was kissing you. On the lips. You came back to your senses and started kissing him back. You put your hands on his chest and could feel his muscles even through his tactical gear.

You moaned into his mouth, which gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You wrapped your hands around his neck and pressed yourself against him. Your broke away for a second to breathe and think about what the actual fuck you were doing right now.

Your literal enemy kissed you and you just let it happen. And even though your mind was still sceptical, your body had clear intentions.

So, deciding that this felt actually way better than you would’ve expected, you dived right back in and pressed your lips against his again.

You had to stand on your tiptoes and strain your neck to be on eye level with Ghost, so he lifted you by the hips like you were a bag of feathers and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist while he supported your weight by grabbing your ass.

At feeling his hands on your ass, you let another moan slip into his mouth. This new position also made you feel his growing errection against your still clothed pussy.

You could feel yourself getting wetter at the feeling of his body against yours and the incredible feeling of his kisses didn’t help either.

Ghost decided that he wanted to take things further and carried you into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. You had a slight idea where this was going, but you decided that there was something more important at the moment.

He laid you down on the bed, covering your smaller frame with his bigger one, without breaking the kiss once. He was driving you insane. You let your hands wander over his body again, feeling only his strong muscles. You went further down his body and palmed his errection through his trousers. At his size you let out a sigh and started humping against his groin.

But before you got the chance to touch him further, he took both your wrists in one of his hands and pressed them over your head. You let out a gasp before Ghost tsked you. “I’m calling the shits here, princess.”

You didn’t think getting any more turned on was possible but here you where, drenching your panties because of a man you despised just ten minutes ago.

He kissed you again before caressing your body again. He palmed your breasts before squeezing them, making you moan again.

He started to open your tactical suit but couldn’t get too far with just one hand. He straddled your hips, being careful not to put too much of his weight onto you and let go of your wrists.

He gave you a stern look, signalling that even though he let go of your hands, you’re still not allowed to touch him.

You obeyed his silent demand and watched him take out his knife. You stared at the knife and then at his face. Was this all just a trick to put you in a position where he could easily hurt you?

“Do you trust me princess?”, he wanted to know while twisting the knife, making it reflect the light.

One word could literally shatter this moment and both of you were aware of it. He didn’t just ask you because of the knife, but because of all the things he’s going to do to you. The thought of that warmed your hearth but also made you a bit giddy from excitement.

But even through your uncertainty you didn’t have to think long about your answer.

“Yes.” It didn’t take more for him. He took the knife and cut your suit open, slightly grazing the skin with the tip of the knife, making a chill run down your spine.

You leaned forward so your top fell from your body. He didn’t let your sports bra stop him either, and quickly cut through it.

He leaned back and just looked at your now exposed breasts for a moment. Your nipples were hard, and a thin layer of sweat covered your skin. You couldn’t make out his face since it was still covered by his mask. The only thing that made him seem human at the moment was the rising and falling of his chest, which was slightly out of rhythm.

“Fuck are you beautiful princess. Even better than I imagined.”, he murmured under his breath more to himself, but still loud enough or you to hear it.

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did he really just admit that he imagined you naked before? A blush crept onto your face at his words but also at that thought. Seeing the blush on your face, Ghost noticed his mistake. He didn’t want to say that aloud, but his mouth apparently had a different plan. Realising that, a blush also crept on the British mans face, though he would never admit it and you couldn’t see it because of his mask.

He quickly overcame his shock and remembered that he was on top of you. He let the blade of his knife glide over your skin again, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He slowly circled your breasts with the blade, slowly going closer and closer to your nipples. He leaned down and pecked your lips before circling the tight nub with his knife. The sensation of the cool blade against your hard nipple, made your eyes roll to the back of your head and a moan leave your lips.

He repeated the same motions with your other breast, slowly teasing your breast before circling your nipple again. You were slowly getting frustrated with the amount of foreplay but didn’t dare the comfortable silence that had laid over you in the last few minutes.

After he was done toying with your breasts, he got off you, now standing next to the bed. He lifted you up with ease and put you onto your feet next to him. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he opened your trousers and pulled them down. He also removed your panties in the same manner, muttering a silent ‘fuck’ as he saw how drenched they were.

He simply manhandled you back into the bed, so you were laying down again. You had to admit that it turned you on to see how strong he is and how easy it is for him to manhandle you. In the end the two of you had a size difference from over a foot, so it wasn’t a surprise to you how simple it was for him to carry you around.

Ghost got on top of you again, laying his still completely clothed body onto your bare one. He kissed you again but pulled away way too soon for your liking. You didn’t complain though because he started to kiss down your body. He didn’t leave an inch untouched. He started to kiss your neck, pulling a string of moans from you. He then kissed your collarbone and then put his attention towards your breasts.

He gave them the same treatment he gave them with the knife, first kissing the soft flesh of your breasts before taking on of your hard nipples into his mouth. He sucked on the, licked them and bit down on them. The latter making you arch your back, leaning into his touch. He did the same to your other breast before kissing down your stomach.

He kissed your hips, but instead of putting his mouth to your pussy where you needed him most, he started trailing down kisses your legs instead. You let out an impatient groan at which Ghost only chuckled.

“Patience, princess, patience.”, he said against the soft skin of your thigh. He kissed down one of your legs and then up the other. He kissed and bit down on the inside of your thigh, getting closer and closer to your glistening pussy.

Finally, he licked a stripe along the lips of your cunt, before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. You let out a string of curses at feeling his tongue finally against your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet for me princess. I’ve never tasted anyone so divine in all my life.” His words made you blush, and you let out a breathless moan as he dived in again.

He didn’t stress himself, enjoying the feeling of being between your thighs. He pulled your legs onto his shoulders so he could have better access to your pussy. He pulled of a second to pull off his gloves. He revealed strong, veiny hands with long fingers. A flood of wetness rushed through your cunt at the thought of him fucking you with his fingers.

He entered your tight hole with one of his thick fingers, making you moan and buck against him, slowly starting to fuck his hand and face. He didn’t seem to mind as he just kept on eating you out. Slowly he entered another finger, hitting your g-spot perfectly. When he entered a third finger, you started to feel him stretching you out. But you were glad for the preparation before he fucked you with his cock.

When you felt a fourth finger entering you, you couldn’t control yourself anymore. You came with a shout around his fingers while he kept fucking and licking you through your orgasm. He slowly came to a halt and pulled out of you, earning a whine.

“No need to worry, princess. You won’t be empty for long.” Another wave of excitement hit you, as you thought about finally feeling his thick cock inside of you. From what you felt before, he must be at least 9 inches long, which would make him the biggest you ever had.

König was finally done with checking for traps and such when he decided to join the two of you in the safe house. He knew that the three of you didn’t get along too well so he hoped the two of you hadn’t lost it when you found out that the safe house had only one bedroom.

He approached the house from the wrong side, so he had to go around it to be able to enter through the door.

As he came closer though, he heard noises coming from inside of the house. Was that a moan? Was someone hurt? He quickened his step, seeing a figure through the bedroom window. Had he not seen an enemy?

But what he saw did not only shock him, but it also aroused him. There was his best friend between your thighs, while you fisted the sheets and fucked his face. He was speechless.

He could feel his dick coming to life, twitching in his boxers. He fisted his cock through his trousers while watching you cum. He never would have thought that seeing his best friend with a woman would turn him on, but here he was. He decided that he would enter the house, even though he didn’t want to disturb you.

“C’mon princess, take out my cock.” Ghost didn’t have to tell you twice. He was straddling your hips again, so you had to lean up a bit. First, you opened his belt but didn’t bother pulling it out completely, letting the buckle hang to the side. You opened the button of his trousers and pulled his zipper down. You put your hand into his boxers to pull out his hard cock.

You knew he would be big, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. Veins were running along his cock, leading to a fat leaking tip. His cock stood upright and almost touched his belly button.

At the sight of it, you could have started drooling. You reached out and pumped him a few times. Your hand almost couldn’t go around his thick shaft, and you imagined how he would feel inside of you.

When you moved to take him into your mouth, he stopped you.

“Another time princess. If I’m not going to be inside of you in the next two minutes, I’m going insane.”, he told you before demanding, “And now on get on all fours for me, princess.”

He got off you and helped you get on all fours. He gave his cock a few jerks before he got behind you. With one hand on your hip and the other one guiding his cock to your entrance, he entered you with his fat tip.

If you already felt full of just his tip, how were you going to feel with his entire length? He entered you slowly, inch by inch. He also put his other hand on your hip and thrust into you, filling you up with his thick length.

When he was finally settled completely into you, you let out an almost pornographic moan. You swore you could feel him inside of your stomach. You’ve never felt this full in your life. He didn’t fuck you though, but he leaned down and whispered directly into your ear.

“Can you hear that princess? Can you hear König? Do you want him to see what a good little slut you were for your lieutenant? How well you are taking my cock?” You whimpered at his filthy words. You could only nod as you heard the door to the house opening.

“Simon? Princess? Where are you?”, Königh shouted, even though he knew exactly where the two of you were. He entered through the door and at the sight of Ghost’s cock inside of you, he almost came into his pants.

But Ghost only grinned, he could feel you clenching around his cock, the thought of being watched while fucking did not just arouse him, but you too.

“Hey, König. Found any traps?” Ghost said as if he wasn’t inside of you and split you open. König could only shake his head, being stunned into silence.

“If you want to, you can watch, König.” Ghost proposed and you had to suppress a moan. He only nodded and left the room. Why did he- oh. He got one of the chairs and put it next to the bed. He sat down, spread his legs, and started to open his trousers. “Please, don’t let me stop you. Go on.”

That’s all it took.

Ghost pulled out completely before he slammed into you again. You fell forward, your chest being pressed against the bed. Ghost did not like that at all, so he took one hand off your hip and wrapped it around your throat to pull you up. He was holding you up with one hand while you just let loose, getting lost in the feeling of him inside you.

Meanwhile, König pulled out his cock and started jerking off to you two fucking. His cock was of similar size, if not a bit smaller.

At the image of taking both of their cocks at once, your pussy clenched around Ghost again, making him groan.

“You’re doing so good for us, princess. You look so pretty, all cock drunk.” Ghosts’ words brought you impossibly close to the edge. But you tried to control yourself, wanting to cum together with him. But König’s groans were not making it any better.

The picture of him jerking off to you two fucking was sinful but also incredibly turning on.

Ghost started to pick up in speed, mercilessly hammering into you. It was almost too much now, his balls grazed your clit with every thrust, making you see stars.

He took his hand away from your neck and you slumped against the bed again. You thrust against him, arching your back so he could fuck you deeper. At the new angle you felt like you were about to pass out. He kept on fucking you like he hated you and you love it. You had never felt this good in all of your life if you’re being honest.

Ghost leaned forward, covering your body with his, his thrusts not faltering. He leaned down to your ear. “Cum for me princess and I’ll fill you up with my cum. Be a good girl for me and König.”

And that was all it took. You let out a cry and came. You saw black for a second and the feeling of Ghosts cum inside of you, made a second wave of pleasure roll over you. Ghost grunted and cursed while he filled you up with ropes of his thick white cum.

Only when he had emptied his balls he started to slow down and pull out of you. After catching his breath, he leaned down to you and flipped you, so you were now laid out on your back. Ghosts cock was already softening as he put it back into his trousers.

“You want to cum in her too buddy or do you want to blow onto her?” Ghost asked König who was still jerking his cock.

You were still catching your breath when you noticed a shift in the room. Ghost was now sitting in the chair and König was standing on edge of the bed. He pulled you by the ankles to him and threw your legs over his shoulders.

As he entered you, you could feel him stretching you out. Not as much as Ghost but he was still bigger than most of the men you’ve slept with. He started thrusting into you at a relentless paste.

He leaned down and almost bent you in half as he kissed you, his mask long gone. You moaned into his mouth as he kept on fucking you. You could feel his thrusts getting sloppy and you knew he was close. If you were being honest, it didn’t need much more for you either.

The feeling of König fucking Ghosts cum into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot, his lips against yours – you were so close.

With one final grunt, König came to a halt and filled you with his cum. The sensation of his cum filling you, mixing with Ghost’s and trickling out of you, sent you over the edge. You screamed into his mouth as you clenched around him.

When both of you caught your breath, König let go of your legs and pulled out of you. He tucked himself away, while Ghost entered the room with a wet cloth. He cleaned you up and pecked your lips.

They helped you into your underwear and into a pair of their spare shirts, before laying down next to you. You were now sandwiched between the two soldiers. “Well, if this is how all of our missions go, we should work together more often.”, you said. The laugh of the men was the last thing you heard before falling into a restful slumber.

I hope you enjoyed these 4k words of smut, that I will 100% go to hell for. (It was worth it tho) Please leave some notes if you liked my fic (likes, reblogs comments)

Please also consider supporting me on my ao3 @ softestqueeen

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon

#fluff #ghost #könig #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #cod x reader #konig x you #könig call of duty #Call of Duty #ao3

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 10 months

Text

Don't knock it till you try it

Masterlist

Pairing: Syverson x reader x Walter Marshall (technically college AU. I needed to make the road trip scenario plausible.)

Summary: Your friends Walter and Sy have offered to drive you home for the summer, and you have decided to turn it into a nice relaxed camping trip on the way...

Word count: 9146 (yes, really...)

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering (vaginal, anal - f receiving), oral sex (f and m receiving), penetrative sex (vaginal, anal, DP - f receiving), masturbation (f), smug and dirty talking Sy, sex in a tent, hint of a size kink (blink and you miss it), silly bets, and an astonishingly solid bromance. I think that's all, but call me if I missed any.

A/N: I've finally really stopped hurting the boys and now we're just going for some nice relaxed sex in a goddamn tent, dammit! Also yeah I'm going to keep imagining the boys in college until the day I die, I don't know why (maybe because I'm young), but just... idk, read it as a memory or something? idk :')

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @peaches1958 @sillyrabbit81 @peyton-warren @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

You were not – by a long shot – the first girl to see the backseat of the beat-up chevy pickup you were sitting in. Fact. A fact so factual, in fact, that Sy hadn’t complained when you demanded he put a blanket down for you to sit on, which told you more than you really wanted to know.

Now, your eyes kept drifting shut to the sound of tires on asphalt and the bickering of soothing baritone voices in the front seat. The outside world consisted of mountain views and clear blue skies, and the fresh breeze of early summer that worked just hard enough to raise goosebumps on skin, but inside this rusty old vehicle the atmosphere was dominated by two pairs of broad shoulders, deep voices, and what you always mockingly referred to as ‘disgusting man sweat’ – always hoping neither of them would ever find out how often you dreamt of licking those salty droplets off their abs after a workout.

Both of them had shown up, first semester, in a class they didn’t have a prayer of passing, and you’d been teamed up with them because of what you then thought to be a hideous trick of fate. Somehow, you whipping them into shape for that tutorial hadn’t put them off you, and what started as whatever the educational equivalent of ‘frenemies’ is, turned into study buddies and eventually friends. The only downside to your friendship was that you chronically had to explain to your entire dorm that, no, you weren’t sleeping with either of them – let alone both of them.

As you still toed the line between asleep and awake, a heavy hand on your knee – belonging to Walter – made a decision for you in favor of consciousness.

“We’re hungry,” he said.

“You’re always hungry,” you grumbled as you reached for the bag of food and snacks on the other side of the backseat. It was a good thing they didn’t bother to deny it, because you would have strangled them both. God forbid you ever left a bag of Doritos out in your dorm. Seconds! Gone!

Sy had the stones to ask for a tuna sandwich. Absolutely the fuck not!

“I’m not opening that bag in this car, Sy.” It already smelled like stale beer and weed in there. Not in a bad way, but in a ‘you’re not allowed to smoke on campus, so this is our only option’ way. That said, adding tuna to the mix would be a complete disaster.

“Suit yourself,” he snapped. You rolled your eyes. For the love of God, it was all of ten minutes past feeding time! Walter snickered as he held out a hand. Turkey on wheat for Walter, BLT for Sy, mozzarella pesto for you. You’d splurged on groceries, because the boys had offered to take the lion’s share of the drive.

“We were thinkin’ of callin’ it a day soon, sugar.” They’d had morning classes, and you were falling asleep while on snack-duty… Plus, you’d agreed to just take it easy the whole drive. It was summer; there was no need to rush home.

Sy pulled off the highway, quickly ending the smooth, rhythmic hum of the tires on the road, until the asphalt finally made way for the crackling of gravel. Without Sy, you never would have found the campsite at which you pulled over. Camping ran through that guy’s veins, as you could tell from the impressive amount of camping gear in the bed of the pickup – all his.

Even though he helped you get out of the truck, you still lost your footing and stumbled into him, leaving Walter grinning to the side of the spectacle, commenting on your horrible clumsiness.

“Dunno,” Sy replied with a sly smile. “Guess she’s just fallin’ for me.” The cheesy joke made Walter stop dead in his tracks.

“I think that’s twenty-five,” he deadpanned, looking at you. In a less-than-sober state, somewhere in the past year, you had made a deal: if either of them managed to make that joke twenty-five times before the end of the year, you’d… Alright, let the records show that when you made that bet, you had been entirely convinced they’d never take you up on the offer to let them kiss you. But they had.

“You’re not gonna hold me to what I said back then, are you?” you asked in a small voice, your cheeks so hot you could probably fry an egg on them. The door of the truck slammed shut behind you, and Sy slowly stepped forward, forcing you to step back, until you were backed up against the truck, with him leaning over you – completely caged in between his solid body and the car.

“Deal’s a deal, sugar.” There was no trace of his usual grin, no hint of the mischievous glint in his eyes that normally told you he was kidding. He just came closer and closer as your eyes went wide – Walter did nothing. Jackass.

Not that kissing Sy was something you didn’t want. Oh no! In fact, it was something a fairly large part of you wanted so badly you thought you might burst. On some days, being close to either of them – let alone both – was torture, where your heart raced every time they came near you, and you unconsciously held your breath when they touched you… And while the guys just freely admitted to having sex dreams about you, you kept the little nugget of truth that you had similar dreams about them, tightly under wraps. Not because you thought they’d tease you about it, or anything, just… No, wait, actually that’s exactly why you didn’t tell them.

A few more seconds passed in which your heart tried its best to jump out of your chest.

“This isn’t funny, Sy,” you snapped on a sharp exhale when his mouth curled at the corners into that signature smirk you loved to hate. Finally able to gather your thoughts as well as your strength, you put your hands on his chest and pushed. It was a good thing he let you go, because if he had decided to stay put, you wouldn’t have stood a chance in hell.

“I want my kiss, sugar,” he called after you as you paced away to… alright, you didn’t actually know where you were going, but away, at least. “One way or another.”

As pissed – or confused – as you were, this was ‘the outdoors’ and therefore absolutely not the type of environment you were well equipped for in any kind of way, thus you decided it was best to stay close – within earshot, at least – to the boys. But they could take care of unpacking and pitching tents and whatever the fuck else needed doing.

“Hey.” Sy sat down next to you on the rock you had claimed, and put an arm around you. This was oddly comfortable, especially compared to the tense situation by the car, earlier. “I was messin’ with ya back there, you know that, right?” Whether it was to make a point, or simply because Walter wasn’t watching – or maybe because the threatening wall of man from before was now your familiar gentle giant again, you had no idea, but you impulsively reached for Sy and kissed him on the cheek. A low chuckle escaped him, and he pulled you closer.

“There’s a trail up to a waterfall we maybe wanted to check out, you in? Easy hike.” The good thing about hanging out with the guys was that they really considered your level of… adventurous ineptitude. If they suggested this hike, it meant they were at least medium convinced you could actually make it there and back in one piece – or that they could make it at least halfway with you on their backs.

The hike led up to a beautiful, clear river, and a spectacular waterfall. Between the smell of the woods, the sun comfortably warm on your skin, and the phenomenal view, this hike had been more than worth it – never mind that you were all sticky and sweaty from trying to keep up with the guys and their superhuman pace.

“On the way back, can we please remember that I have little legs?” you complained as you sank down onto the rock at the river bank the boys had selected to eat yet another sandwich on. Sy hummed, finally contently munching on the tuna sandwich you’d denied him in the car, and Walter laughed. You sat in silence while your friends ate their food, which meant the rock inevitably became too boring for your limited attention span.

What started off as a relatively sure-footed expedition over the rocks that stuck out of the water, inevitably ended with your very accurate portrayal of a soaking wet person regretting most – if not all – of their life choices. Sy sighed and rolled his eyes as he swallowed the last bite of his sandwich, taking his sweet time to get up and make his way over to you to fish you out of the water – which he then called ‘refreshing’ instead of ‘freezing fucking cold’. That didn’t improve your mood. Next, Walter had to dive for your phone – which, luckily, could swim, but was still going to be next to useless to you at the bottom of this far-deeper-than-anticipated vein of icy death.

Shivering, covered in goosebumps and with chattering teeth, you stood on the bank of the river.

“Take your shirt off,” Walter commanded, plucking his own off the dry rock.

“What?” you stammered, staring at him in disbelief. Now, that alone would have been just fine, if your eyes hadn’t dropped from his face to his chest. Small droplets of water dripped from his hair and beard onto his shoulders and chest and… somehow trickled down his body in slow motion. If they knew how much willpower it took to lift your eyes to his again, they would never let you live it down. Sy repeated his words from a distance – there went your excuse that Walter had just been talking too softly. Sy was still up to his knees in the river, unbothered by the cold, just hanging out there as if that water didn’t rival the fucking arctic ocean for temperature.

As you looked at him, he started to walk back to the riverside. The sun was starting to set, changing the light in a way that made it look like Sy, much like those fucking drops of water, was moving in slow motion, flecks of sunlight dancing over his skin… These guys were distracting enough when they were dry and dressed, but now that they were wet and half naked, with damp, coarse curls sticking to their chest and abs, catching the water that dripped down from their heads… These boys were fucking with your head. Big time.

“Sugar, take off your shirt, please,” Sy repeated when he stood next to you. “You’re freezin’, let’s get you a dry t-shirt, at least.” Oh. So, they weren’t putting the moves on you. Good to know. Hopefully, your exasperated sigh didn’t give away any of the disappointment you felt. With a little help from Walter, you lifted your soaking top over your head, not caring that they saw you in your bra until it was already too late. Sy used his t-shirt to dry you off a bit, before handing you Walter’s to put on. The whole time, they kept their eyes in decent places, and their hands didn’t wander anywhere they shouldn’t. Now, why did that make you feel sad?

“We should head back,” Walter said – mostly to Sy. The sun disappeared rather quickly, and without the heat from it, that dry t-shirt – save for the two tit-shaped wet spots where your soaked bra touched it – didn’t do much to keep you warm.

By the time you made it back to the campsite, you were shivering again. The walk had done next to nothing to warm you, and your still wet jean shorts chafed painfully against your thighs. Not to mention your thighs were starting to chafe painfully against your thighs. So, the first thing you did was disappear into the tiny single tent that was meant for you – as you had made it abundantly clear that sharing a tent with the boys was out of the question – and change into something dry, warm, and comfortable. The guys did the same, although – as it turns out – their version of ‘warm’ included no shirts. Did they ever get cold?

It was tough enough to keep your eyes off Sy in cargo shorts – although Walter in jeans was just as much of a sight for sore eyes – but now that it was getting dark, the sweats came out to play. You silently thanked Walter for his choice of black sweatpants, because keeping your thoughts out of the gutter was hard enough already. Sy was shamelessly sporting a pair of grey sweats, filling them out just about as nicely as humanly possible as he sat there, getting a fire started. The sly glances and that godforsaken smirk he flung your way from time to time told you that he was more than aware that you were checking him out.

The heat from the fire alone wasn’t enough to warm you up. Sy’s solution was tequila – which helped, but not quite enough, so Walter wrapped you in a blanket, pulling you close to his side as he ran his hands over your arms in an attempt to stop your shivering. At the same time, Sy inched closer, and before you knew it, four arms were wrapped around you.

Apart from being hot, proverbially, these guys were hot in the literal sense, too, warming you up slightly more effectively than the blanket around your shoulders and moderate amount of alcohol in your system. Still, the icy temperatures from the ground you were sitting on seeped into you without mercy. Of course, the boys took notice, both getting the same idea, and each grabbing one of your legs to try and pull you into their respective laps. Needless to say; it didn’t work, and you just ended up with spread legs, sitting between them on the floor. Sy had that twinkle in his eye, that smirk on his face that was dripping with confidence and indecency… You had to get out of there before he could speak!

As you scrambled to your feet, mumbling something about getting another blanket for yourself to sit on, you tripped and fell into Walter’s lap. Of course! You had been keeping score on that bet as well, and you knew you had come here – fucking camping – with both of the guys stuck on twenty-four counts of the same lame fucking joke… This was your fault, really.

To your surprise, however, Walter said nothing – instead, he smiled politely, pulling you into a more comfortable position in his lap.

“You’ve earned it,” you whispered, although you had absolutely no idea why. Maybe because it was the truth, maybe because you just wanted this bet to be over. Either way, it hurt you that he didn’t make the dumb joke, and asked to collect his reward the way Sy had. Hoping to get up before Walter looked into your eyes – where your thoughts were no doubt displayed for everyone to see – you made a move that was entirely too advanced for your mediocre balance and agility, and you crashed down again, this time falling harder than before. As Walter grunted, panic shot through you…

“Darling, I’d ask you if it hurt when you fell from heaven, but so far the only person who got hurt in that process, is me,” he blurted out in a strangled voice, while Sy was losing it next to you, howling from laughter.

Was it the booze? The fire? The tension from this afternoon? The fact that you were sitting in his lap, with his hands maybe a tad too low on your hips, but high enough to not rouse suspicion? Or maybe just your complete lack of self-control? Whatever it was, it caused you to move to straddle his thighs, and without thinking about it for so much as a second, you kissed him. If you’d had a sliver of hope before that Walter would break the kiss after an at least semi-decent amount of time, it was gone now, because the hand on your hip pulled you tighter against him, and his other hand tangled in your hair.

Walter kissed you. It took far more effort than you had ever expected to really let that sink in, but at the same time there was no way around it. He was kissing you, and it was eager, and rough, accompanied by ragged breaths and the occasional moan. It managed to make you forget everything around you. Everything except for Sy – mainly because he let out a pained grunt just as you were about to stick your tongue down Walter’s throat.

“I got a kiss on the cheek, man,” he groaned as he leaned in slightly on one elbow.

Now, if you had been thinking clearly, you would have laughed it off, gotten up and gone to bed. Safe to say, you were not thinking clearly.

Sy’s mouth felt just as good on yours as Walter’s had, with similarly soft lips, a similarly coarse beard scraping your skin, and a similar roughness to him that only wound you tighter. You moaned, your hips unconsciously grinding into Walter’s, his growing hard-on providing extra friction to soothe the ache between your legs. When you briefly opened your eyes to see if Sy was as involved in this as you were, you saw him palm his own erection through his sweats – casually adjusting its position before focusing on you again. In that moment – timed perfectly with a moan from Walter – something inside of you snapped.

“I’m going to bed,” you stuttered as you broke the kiss with Sy, at the same time scrambling to get to your feet – this time succeeding without falling into anyone, and making it to your own tent without a hitch. ‘

Now, if it had been a sober conversation, and it hadn’t been in the middle of nowhere without a sound to be heard for miles other than crickets, the occasional owl, and the crackling of the fire, at least half of it would have been inaudible from where you had pitched your tents. But the boys were too drunk, and their voices too deep and dark – the sound just traveled too far. You could have ignored them. You could have turned around, pulled your sleeping bag over your ears, and pretended to be asleep until it became the truth. Instead, you listened, sometimes straining to understand what they were saying.

“So, who do we say got her first?”

“I’m asking for a do-over.”

“Because it was me?”

“We could just… Y’know…”

“Think she’d go for it?”

“What, both of us? My ex did…”

“But she was nuts.”

“Hey! Okay, fair enough.”

Both of them? Both of them? As in… Separately? Or… Oh, what the fuck did it matter! The answer was yes.

What surprised you most about your thoughts was how completely unsurprised you were by them. Somehow, the idea of sleeping with both Sy and Walter felt as natural as could be, and left you not only stumped, but with another problem that needed tending to…

Without thinking, you slid your hand down your body, and into your sweatpants. Kissing the boys had definitely had its effect on you, you had known that as soon as it had happened, but the extent of the mess between your thighs was still quite surprising. Somehow, tasting both of them, followed by your eavesdropping, had made you dripping wet and craving something more than just your fingers. Unfortunately, they’d have to do.

You thought of that first kiss with Walter, then the one with Sy, then wondered what it would feel like to have those beards scratch the skin of your neck, slowly making their way down to your chest. Would they lick? Bite? Moan? You pictured Sy, eagerly making his way further down, while Walter kept his attention on your chest. Would he be as quiet as he always was? Was Sy as loud as you imagined him to be?

There were so many things to wonder about, besides the obvious size question, that the thoughts consumed you completely as you worked yourself up to your peak. So completely, in fact, that you didn’t hear the guys return to the tents – just as you squealed from pleasure while you came. Hard.

“Fuck, sugar,” Sy said from outside. Walter warned him to stop talking, but he didn’t listen. “Tell me if you want any help.”

It was tempting to say ‘yes’. It was tempting to crawl into that tent and tell them you had heard everything they said by the fire. It was tempting to offer yourself up on a silver platter, hoping they’d make good on their promises from before by fucking the life out of you. But things that are tempting can also still be difficult, so you did nothing. Well, nothing… If ‘dying of embarrassment’ counts as ‘something’, you were definitely not doing nothing.

The sound of your own teeth chattering prevented you from falling asleep, even though you could hardly keep your eyes open. And who knew goosebumps could hurt like this? The boys had warned you beforehand that it would get cold at night, and you’d even told Sy what you had planned on wearing as pajamas, and he’d said you’d be good. Well, you weren’t good. You were covered from head to toe, and you were not – by any definition of the word – ‘good’.

As hard and painful as it was to just lay there and freeze, it was harder to get up, worm your double-socked feet into your sneakers and get out of your tent. Outside, it was pitch black, and the dim light of your phone was barely enough to prevent you from falling flat on your face. You had to credit the boys with their incredible foresight to keep the path from your tent to theirs free of tripping hazards – something you were so delighted in at that moment that you forgot to question whether or not there was some sort of ploy, or whatever in place. Lewd scheme or not, you were glad to make it without a hitch.

“Eh, guys?” you whispered after zipping open the tent and poking your head in.

“Hm? What?” It was Walter – and from Sy’s continued snoring, you deduced that you shouldn’t wait for him to answer; he wasn’t waking up.

“I’m really fucking cold,” you admitted reluctantly. That seemed to wake Walter up a little more…

“Cold? You could go on an expedition to the north pole dressed the way you are!” The sleep-drunk slur of his voice was… adorable, in a way. To his left – no, his right… To his left from where you were standing? The left side of the air-mattress they were on when you looked at it, standing at the foot of the bed, the right side if you were actually lying in… oh for fuck’s sake! Next to him, Sy groaned and turned – although you couldn’t see any of that, because it was very dark.

“The fuck is going on?” he grunted, his voice gravelly and dark – which did a good job of making your knees weak.

“She’s cold,” Walter replied dryly.

“There’s no way,” Sy said in disbelief, “she’s dressed for winter in Alaska.”

“If you two are done mocking me, I’m actually freezing my ass off out here. Do you have an extra blanket or something?” you snapped.

“Sugar, we’re not even wearin’ shirts,” Sy said, his voice steadier now that he was waking up.

“Great, so you put on a shirt, and I’ll take your sleeping bag.” It was a shame they couldn’t see you roll your eyes, but the snippy tone would surely get your point across.

“Or you could just come here, love,” Walter said all of a sudden. There was rustling in the tent and then a dim red light over your heads turned on.

“Interesting choice…” you started, but Walter and Sy chuckled.

“It’s easier on your eyes, sugar.” Shit, Sy was easy on your eyes, god damn. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and the way he casually lounged on that fucking mattress right now, with that arm behind his head, eyes half shut…

Walter was sitting up, holding a hand out to you, waiting patiently until you had zipped open the door further – which took so long that he ended up helping you with it. As you got in, he got out, and for a moment you were scared he would offer to leave you with Sy while he took your tent, but after a while he returned holding your backpack and sleeping bag.

The bed was a bit small for the three of you, especially since the guys were so bulky, but you managed to make it work. The only thing was… shivering in between them was hardly more comfortable than shivering by yourself, and now there wasn’t enough space to curl up into a ball and hope for the best.

“Sugar, stop squirmin’, c’mere.” Sy’s strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, when up until now you’d been trying desperately not to touch either of them. “Alright, I take it back, she is freezin’.” A gesture to Walter you could feel but not see, made him scooch over, too, until his body was flush against yours.

Your heart raced in your throat when warm hands slipped underneath your hoodie, stroking your side and – eventually – your stomach. Somewhere down the line, you forgot how to breathe properly, taking in shallow breaths, hoping the guys wouldn’t notice. Of course, they did, because they were inches away from you.

“You should take this off, sugar,” Sy mumbled into your ear. Every muscle in your body tensed up at the suggestion, and it felt like the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“C-can’t,” you stammered, “I’m not… eh… I’m not wearing a bra.”

“Fairly sure we’ve seen a pair of tits before, love,” Walter replied, right at the time Sy muttered ‘neither are we’, making you laugh. Somehow, all of this seemed innocent – or rather; you were convincing yourself it felt innocent, and any subtext and undertones were a figment of your imagination, instead, when in fact, it was far more likely that it was exactly the other way around…

“Not mine,” you protested, biting your lip as a third hand, belonging to Walter, began to roam your back.

“We’re aware of that,” Sy said, his voice dangerously close to your ear. His breath was hot against your cold skin – a sensation that made you shiver.

“In fact, we try not to think about it. It makes us sad,” Walter said, leaning his forehead against yours, sliding his hand down your back and then up your side until his thumb was less than an inch away from the underside of your boobs.

For a moment, the thought that this was just a tactic to actually warm you up flashed through your head, because – in all fairness – it was working. Every part of you was suddenly glowing, breath quick and ragged in anticipation of whatever it was that would come next. What surprised you, though, was how calm they both seemed. Then again, they had already – unknowingly – admitted to having done this before. If that was where this was headed, which you still didn’t quite know for sure… It was as if the guys were both waiting for something. Waiting for… you.

Your lips trembled as you tilted your head up, Walter taking your hint and pressing his lips to yours. Sy pushed your hair out of the way and latched on to your neck. Neither of them went straight to groping you – not more than they had been up until now – but it was only a matter of time before you felt Walter’s hand creep up to your chest. He broke your kiss, his eyes silently asking for permission, which you gave him with the flash of a smile and a slight nod, gasping when his fingers brushed past your nipple. Despite the rising temperatures in the tent – even though most of that was likely just your imagination – the difference between your skin and Walter’s was striking, and you moaned when his warm hand cupped your breast.

Sy was less subtle by about a million degrees, boldly grabbing as much of your other boob as humanly possible – and he had big hands, so you quickly ran out of tit for him to dig his fingers into.

“Can you take it easy,” you blurted out as you laughed in surprise at his – as far as you were concerned – unwarranted enthusiasm.

“Darlin’, I’ve been dreamin’ of these tits for weeks, throw a man a bone.” He groaned when you backed a hip into him the same way you would have if he had been standing next to you.

“Looks like you’re the one throwing me a bone, Syverson,” you teased when you felt his cock push against your ass. It was a horrible joke; Walter laughed, Sy did not – possibly because he was the one on the receiving end of your mockery. Instead, you heard a low, arrogant chuckle in your ear, that told you exactly how he wasn’t going to give you the upper hand.

“I ain’t throwin’ you nothin’, sugar,” he growled, putting a hand on your hip, gripping you tight. “I’m gonna make you fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Promises, promises.” Teasing the boys was fun when you were studying, because you very clearly had a head start in that department, and they would get frustrated, and it was very cute. But now, sandwiched between their bodies, gone was your head start. Any advantage you had over them, in any other way, was useless here. The worst part? They fucking knew it. It was as if they grew bigger and you got smaller, and you were loving every second of it.

Suddenly, the hands underneath your sweater grew impatient, tugging the fabric up until there was no point in keeping it on. Rough hands turned you on your back, which left you staring up at both guys while they raked their eyes over your naked upper body. The knowledge that they were far from unaffected by you graced you with a sense of pride that helped keep doubts and shyness away as you reveled in their attention and the appreciative grunts and moans they let out as they looked at you.

“Fuck,” Walter muttered, licking his lips, completely focused on your bare skin. He scooched closer to you, grinding his hips into your side as he did, and turned your face to his to kiss you.

It was as eager as before, this time with Sy descending, pressing his lips to your neck, exceeding every expectation you had created in your fantasy from before; their lips were softer, their tongues wetter, and the way the coarse hair felt on your skin better than anything you could ever imagine. You whined and squirmed as their hands glided over your body, paying plenty of attention to your boobs, their fingers treating the soft flesh in remarkably similar ways. After a while, they switched places; Sy kissed you, Walter explored your body, making you gasp into Sy’s mouth as he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking gently on the hardened little bud while his fingers worked the other.

Eventually, he came back up to kiss you, a situation Sy took advantage of by diving straight back between your boobs, this time sliding his hand down your stomach and into your sweatpants – which is when you grabbed his wrist.

“Stop.” Stern and very effective – not that you were about to give the boys any credit for not assaulting you; that sounded like common fucking decency to you, actually. “Before this goes any further; did either of you, with your infinite wisdom and incredible foresight, pack condoms? Because if not…” Before you finished that sentence, both of them sat up and reached for their bag, leaving you there, taken aback by… You didn’t actually know what had you so shocked about this.

Sy made it back to your side first, tucking a handful of condoms beneath his pillow before laying down again. “Oral?” he asked. It was only half the question, but you understood perfectly. You quickly established that everyone was clean, making the short answer to his half-question ‘without’. Sy responded to that agreement by promptly sliding his hand into your pants, not wasting any more time. His fingers slipped between your folds, and he let out a low chuckle.

“For a moment I was worried you didn’t want this as much as we do,” he growled in your ear. “Guess I was wrong.” One quick, skilled swirl of his finger around your swollen clit made you whine – a sound he clearly found very motivational, because his fingers picked up a steady rhythm. You tried to hide your face in Walter’s neck to cover up the sound of your moans, but he caught you and kissed you instead.

Sy somehow found the time to kiss your neck, your jaw, your ear – sinking his teeth into you ever so slightly, stopping just before he hurt you – while he continued what he was doing. His fingers were absolute magic, making you swear under your breath as he effortlessly slipped two of them inside you. Next, he kissed his way down again, not stopping at your breasts, but continuing over your abs, until he reached your sweatpants, pulling them down eagerly without waiting for your permission. Of course, he had it – and you’d had plenty of time to stop him while he was headed there. It’s just that… That was about the very last thing you wanted.

Next to you, Walter kept busy pressing lazy kisses to your neck and jaw, occasionally pulling away to look at you, while he held you and played with your boobs. A few times you tried to move your hand to the bulge in his sweatpants, but he stopped you every time.

“Would you just...”

“Darling, been there, done that. You’ll be useless to me within seconds.” He nodded towards Sy, who was taking a moment to find a decent position between your legs. You raised your eyebrow at Walter, questioning his words, but he didn’t budge. “I’m gonna wait my turn, love.”

“I know this one,” Sy said, running his fingers over the fabric of your thong. You chuckled – he was right; he’d barged into your room one night while you were changing into whatever you were going to wear out to the club, and he’d seen you in your underwear. This underwear. He took his sweet time taking it off, teasing you with kisses on the inside of your thighs, his beard rough against your sensitive skin, until you were almost begging him to keep going. Finally, he pulled your panties down.

“You were right,” he said to Walter, leaving you to wonder what the fuck… “It is her natural hair color.” Oh. You fought the urge to kick Sy – instead, you lightly squeezed your thighs shut around his head. It didn’t seem to bother him. Quite the opposite, in fact.

The urge disappeared altogether when you – finally – felt his tongue on your pussy. He wasn’t subtle, but damn, he was good. Walter had absolutely had a point; barely ten seconds in and you couldn’t keep your eyes open, let alone focus on anything other than the feeling of Sy’s tongue on your clit. He impatiently spread your legs further while mumbling some very dirty things about how much he wanted to taste you. Involuntarily, you chuckled – causing both guys to stop what they were doing and looking at you in suspicion. Lying was pointless; they knew you well enough by now to effortlessly see through that, and you sighed.

“I… eh…” you stammered, unable to find the words.

“Come on,” Walter said, “if you’ve still got things to hide from us now…” He was right, of course, this wasn’t a position you’d have found yourself in at all if you hadn’t been so comfortable with – and hot for – these guys. Then again, you were already exposed and vulnerable… Why make that worse?

You hid your face in Walter’s neck as you just said what was on your mind without thinking about it: “I always imagined you to be the quiet one and Sy the loud one.”

“Always?” Sy teased you. His usual cocky attitude transferred seemly to the bedroom – or… tent – as it would seem. Except now, for once, you had a decent shot at shutting him the fuck up – although you did have a feeling you were going to like his smug confidence for a change. Sy had been growing out his buzzcut for a few weeks now, which made his hair just about long enough to grab – a fact you used to your advantage when you tangled your fingers in his hair and pulled his face back to where you wanted it.

“That’s just going to make it harder to answer the question, darling,” Walter muttered next to you while drawing circles around your nipples with impatient fingers.

“Fuck!” you shrieked as Sy’s tongue hit your clit just right – a note he took to heart, because he didn’t leave that spot again, leaving you wishing that all men were that smart. Because why – for the love of God – did they always change their approach as soon as they found a spot you let them know you really liked? Right… The question at hand… “You really thought it was just the two of you dreaming about me?” They had to be smart enough to figure out what you meant on their own, right? The flustered look on Walter’s face told you enough, as did the deep chuckle and gentle bite on the inside of your thigh.

Apparently fed up with your conversation, Sy doubled down on his efforts, eating you out like a man starved, more chuckles escaping him as he watched you pull his pillow over your face in an attempt to keep quiet. ‘Attempt’ because you still failed quite horribly when he pushed two fingers into your pussy and curled them, finding your g-spot without any effort. The orgasm that followed was the kind of toe-curling, earth-shattering, life-changing thing that made you really mad at yourself for one particular reason…

“Jesus fucking Christ, I should have taken you up on your offer when my useless ex broke up with me,” you moaned as Sy made his way up again, pulling in the pillow that you had haphazardly thrown aside – after you were done screaming, that is – so you could catch your breath. Sy immediately pulled you on top of him, kissing you hard and deep, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. It was something that had always made you feel weird and – if you were being perfectly honest – mildly disgusted when it had been your ex doing it, but there was something about the way Sy had gone down on you, and the way he was kissing you now, something unapologetic, passionate, and enthusiastic, that made you want to kiss him.

In fact, you were just about to commit to the bit when someone – and that someone had to be Walter – grabbed you by your hips and dragged you back until you were on your knees. You tried to lie down again as you heard him rummage around, looking for something – the obvious, really. The smack on your ass made you shriek in surprise, only making you slightly worried that either sound would have been audible well outside the tent.

“Stay there,” Walter’s husky voice commanded. “My turn.” Maybe he was the quiet one, but when he did speak… Oh my! You didn’t dare to move a muscle, leaving you sitting there, exposed as you heard the pretty familiar crinkling of foil. Shortly after, you felt the tip of Walter’s cock glide along the length of your slit. He teased you for a moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing into you. Sy laughed as your eyes went wide, and he grabbed your hand, guiding it to the bulge in his pants. Jackass. As soon as you got a good sense of what he was equipped with, you squealed. Not with any particular emotion in mind, just… Right now, you didn’t know what to think. In fact, Walter was well on his way to at least semi-permanently turning the whole thinking-function of your brain off.

“You alright, love?” Walter asked as he slowly pushed further into you.

“So far so good,” you moaned, “but I hope you’re running out of dick, because I’m running out of places to put it.” Cue roaring laughter from both guys…

“If you ever wonder why we love you,” Sy said, his sentence interrupted by more laughter, “that, right there. That’s why.”

You wanted to respond to that, you really did, but Walter pulling out of you already left you breathless, meaning all you could do was gasp when he slammed back into you. You’d never pictured either of them to be gentle. Concerned for your comfort, sure, but not tender. You’d been right. Luckily, gentle lovemaking was very low on your list of priorities in this particular situation – or ever – which meant you reveled in the brutish attention you got and soon found yourself wanting to beg Walter to fuck you harder.

Sy, as vocal as he’d been before, turned out to also be a champion in impatiently nudging your hand, vaguely suggesting he wanted you to do something, and for a moment it felt like you were about to regain some control of the situation, but no… He was also not above manhandling you into a position where your face hovered over his crotch, and taking his dick out himself once he got really fed up with your stalling. With your eyes wide, you looked at him – something he enjoyed for a moment before tapping the tip of his cock to your lips.

“Don’t make me ask, Sugar,” he growled. As much as you wanted to protest and act out, with Walter fucking the attitude out of you, there was nothing you could do but open your mouth and carefully wrapping your lips around him. The chuckle you let out as Sy grunted appreciatively when you swirled your tongue around his cock was interrupted by your own moan when Walter did… whatever it was that he did to cause it.

Slowly but surely, you made your way further down Sy’s dick, until a particularly violent thrust from Walter threw you off, accidentally forcing Sy deeper than you could handle. Choking and sputtering, you moved away from Sy, only scared for a moment that he’d be disappointed, but he had a different reaction – similar to Walter’s: checking to see if you were okay. Again, you were not in the habit of handing out bonus points for normal behavior, but it was nice, regardless.

“I’m fine,” you said between ragged breaths. “Note to self: deepthroating while getting railed from behind; bad idea.” The guys laughed, and as soon as you’d caught your breath, you joined them.

“There’s one way we all get attention without any risk of choking,” Sy mentioned casually, wiggling an eyebrow suggestively. Yes, you knew what he meant instantly, but… both of them? At the same time? All it took to convince you to at least give it a try was Walter slipping out of you, leaving you empty and nowhere near sated. One of Sy’s sly glances was a question to Walter, who ‘hmmph’-ed. You didn’t like the sound of that, per se, and looked over your shoulder to see what he was on about.

“Definitely depends,” he said, taking your lack of an immediate ‘absolutely the fuck not’-reaction as a sign you were considering it. And he was correct in that interpretation of the situation. “There’s a time and place for first time anal, and this is not it.” That was a sentiment you could absolutely get behind. Luckily, it didn’t matter, because it was hardly applicable. You assured the guys you had plenty of experience in that area.

Another potential spanner in the works that Sy mentioned, was the lack of lube. Somehow, Walter surprised you by mentioning you should have some with you – you did, but how did he know that?

“You use it to keep your hair from going frizzy,” he deadpanned. You looked at him as if you’d seen a ghost, while Sy looked at you as if you’d gone completely nuts.

“What?” you said, turning to Sy again. “It works!” With one hand, you reached for the strap of your backpack, pulling it towards you so you could look for the bottle. It was just under half full, but that should be enough…

Walter wasn’t stingy with the stuff, which was a good thing. There were few things more annoying to you than continuously having to tell a guy to use more lube. One, then two, then three fingers disappeared into you without a hitch, and although the fourth was a nice reminder that you had to relax, that went over without too much trouble as well. Somehow, somewhere in your mind, the fact that Walter seemed to know exactly what he was doing irked you – it was completely hypocritical of you, for obvious reasons, but right now the thought of him with anyone else made you mad.

The boys laughed when you voiced the absurd thought, and Sy didn’t neglect to point out that they hadn’t been too happy about several of the ‘scum’ (yes, really) you’d gotten together with in the time they’d known you. It was a weird thing to be joking about with two of your closest friends while one of them had several fingers stuck up your ass, but at the same time it felt very natural and on-brand for your relationship with the guys.

You whined when Walter pulled his fingers out, making Sy chuckle in a way you didn’t like at all.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” he suggested with a smug grin on his face that only widened when you told him you were definitely not going to do that. “Why not, sugar?”

Fuck, he was making good on that promise from before. Now, of course, you could convince yourself that begging for cock was beneath you, and you weren’t going to do it, but that would leave you – relatively – unfucked, which was… not desirable, to say the least. Or you could admit to yourself and them how much you wanted both of them inside of you, and have a great time.

Somehow, the red light that no one had bothered to turn off – luckily, as everything you had been doing so far would have been more or less impossible in the dark – already made the tent feel like… a brothel, quite frankly, you put your doubts aside and looked at Sy.

“We’re not going to sleep, because you’re not done fucking me,” you said, giving him your best bedroom eyes. Sy seemed impressed at first, but his eyes flitted to Walter and…

A strong hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you up until your back hit Walter’s chest. His arm reached around, grabbing you by your throat – lightly, almost as if to ask for permission, but demanding.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice dark and gravelly. Down on the air mattress, Sy smirked up at you, making it painfully obvious that you wouldn’t get out of this, no matter how hard you tried. You quickly scanned your brain for all your options, sadly coming up completely empty. No matter which way you sliced it, they were going to come out on top.

“I want you to fuck me,” you snapped, “both of you.” A sarcastic chuckle behind you and Sy shaking his head as he looked up at you told you that that wasn’t good enough. After a deep breath, your voice softened as you spoke again, finally saying the word they wanted to hear: “Please.”

For a long, dull moment all you really heard was the sound of two more condoms being unwrapped, and the top of the bottle of lube clicking. Then, Sy pulled you towards him. As soon as you felt his tip at your entrance, you sat down, fighting the urge to slap him when he threw a smirk and that godforsaken horrible wink your way. Under normal circumstances you considered yourself very well versed in resisting that desire, but today… He laughed when your palm landed lightly on his cheek and thrust up into you for good measure, making you squeal and fall over. Luckily, he caught you just in time.

Just as you wanted to sit up again, Walter put a hand on your back. Right. In that little moment of silliness, you’d almost forgotten what the endgame was, but now that you felt Walter’s cock pushing against your ass…

“Keep talking to us, okay?” Sy whispered softly as he saw your expression change. He cupped your cheek, gently stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. “Breathe.” You took his advice immediately – no doubt a nice change of pace for him, as he was used to your stubbornness at this point – taking a few deep breaths. It wasn’t until the third or fourth one that Walter moved, slowly pushing into you. Keeping your eyes open was absolutely impossible, the sensation of both of them filling you up at the same time too much to even really wrap your head around. “Sugar, you okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nodded, showcasing your current full extent of your ability to answer. When Walter moved, you swore under your breath – when they both moved you hid your face in Sy’s neck and let out a loud moan, followed by an out-of-breath ‘fuck yes’, and that was all the confirmation they needed.

They established a rhythm suspiciously quickly, pumping in and out of you in sync. Yeah. They’d definitely done this before. As you pushed the thought away and focused on the incredible sensations of their cocks moving inside of you, their eager – and mostly greedy – hands on your hips, shoulders, ass, thighs, and tits, you felt a familiar pressure inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you blurted out – and the boys seemed more than happy to oblige. With one little disclaimer…

“Make it quick, love… Not gonna last,” Walter grunted, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips. It hurt, causing you to swat at his hand, which made him relax his grip a bit. Judging from Sy’s rapid breaths and a concentrated look on his face that gave away just how much difficulty he was having with keeping his rhythm steady, he was getting pretty damn close, too. In fact, pretty much the second their thrusts dragged you over the edge, both of them grit their teeth and gave in to their own pleasure, growling profanities as they came.

The boys were nice enough to handle most of the cleanup for you – which was, given that you were camping, largely a matter of wet wipes, which was definitely not even close to the shower you would have loved to take right about now. And you couldn’t really appreciate Sy’s joke about a lovely, refreshing river near where you were, either.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you yawned, turning around in the middle of the bed, wrapping your sleeping bag tightly around your shoulders. It didn’t take the guys long to join you, and soon you were sandwiched between them again, strong arms wrapped around you – clearly not planning on letting go anytime soon.

Walter pressed his lips to your shoulder and let out a low chuckle. “Still cold, darling?”

The next morning, you woke up in an empty bed, in a tent that was already slightly warmer than comfortable, with just your sleeping bag on it. The guys had somehow already managed to worm theirs into the tiny little bags they came in, and all without waking you. Then again, it was safe to say that by now they’d proven themselves to be experts in the field of putting pretty big things in relatively tiny places…

For a moment, you wondered if you should feel weird about getting up and going outside, seeing the guys, but something about the whole thing felt so oddly natural that you didn’t give it a second thought.

“Mornin’, sugar,” Sy said as he held out some coffee to you when you joined him on the ground by the fire, where you’d spent the start of last night, as well. The two of you called Walter over, who was just about done putting your tent – the one that had been meant to be yours, anyway – away. He tossed the bag into the bed of the truck as if it weighed nothing – and maybe it indeed didn’t, you wouldn’t know, because you hadn’t touched the entire thing – and made his way over to you, gratefully taking the other cup of coffee Sy had poured.

You knew better than to try striking up a conversation with either of them before they’d finished their morning coffee – it was so bad that whenever you had classes together in the mornings, you showed up there with two double espressos for them and a latte for you, because if you didn’t do that, they’d just grouch and snap at you all the way through the first half of class.

It was all the more surprising, then, when Sy suddenly asked Walter a very unexpected question: “Have you ever kissed a dude?” The answer was no, he hadn’t - to which followed an even more surprising question: “Ever wanted to try it?”

The casual energy of the shrug with which Walter answered that question was absolutely unmatched by anything you had ever seen, and you stared at the guys, wide-eyed as they leaned in until their lips touched. It wasn’t just a quick peck, either! No, there was tongue involved in this… And by the end of it?

“Eh,” Walter said, “not for me.” Sy agreed.

“I’m sorry,” you said, completely taken aback by the unexpectedness of what had just happened. “What? You can’t just… Stick your tongue down your friend’s throat and then casually decide… What?”

“Hey,” Sy said, his tone still infuriatingly indifferent, “don’t knock it till you try it.”

#syverson x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #captain syverson #syverson #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #walter marshall #syverson smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

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homeofthelonelywriter · 5 months

Text

Mister Riley | Pt. 3

(A/N) There we go. It is done. Finite. I hope you liked this, I do have to admit that I'm really rusty writing smut, and writing it in the middle of the night also didn't help, but still, I hope it wasn't too bad.

Pairing: dbf!Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: smut, cursing

Synopsis: It's the summer holidays and you decide to visit your parents. While on your way, your mom lets you know that Simon, your dad's best friend and your crush since you know what crushes are, is going to pick you up at the train station. This is going to end well...right?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

“Oh hell no, you’re coming with me.”

Simon’s fingers were itching to spank your beautiful ass, but he knew that that would be a noise, he’d have trouble explaining away to your parents. So, instead he beelined for the guest bedroom, glad that it was on the ground level, while your parent’s bedroom was on the first floor.

As soon as the two of you were inside the bedroom, he closed and locked the door before he threw you onto the bed. You didn’t even have a second to orient yourself, before he was on top of you, pressing you into the mattress with his body, his lips connecting with yours.

You moaned into his mouth.

“Mister Ri-”

His hand suddenly closed around your throat and you could feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“You call me Simon when I fuck you, understood?”

He relished in the fact that your eyes were already glazed over with pleasure as you nodded.

“Say it.”

Another moan came from your lips.

“Simon.”

He smirked leaning back down until his lips ghosted over yours.

“Good girl.”

His lips crashed against yours, his tongue immediately seeking entrance to your mouth, something you granted without even thinking about it. While your lips moved against each other, Simon’s hand started to ghost over your body, moving from your cheeks, to your shoulders, to your chest.

Without hesitation, his hands moved beneath your bikini top, his calloused hands rubbing against your nipples. Your back arches in pleasure and Simon chuckled at your reaction, moving his lips from yours, to your neck.

“Now that I think about it…”

He bit down and tugged on your skin, making you squeal.

“…where did my pretty little markings go?”

He moved his right hand away from your breast and used it to push himself up, looking down at you with an raised eyebrow. You hesitated to answer, something Simon clearly didn’t appreciate as he used his fingers to squeeze your nipple, causing a yelp to escape your lips.

“Answer. Me.”

“M-Make u…up.”

Simon sighed and got up from bed, leaving you behind, confused. You sat up, your eyes following him as he walked to the bathroom and returned a few moments later with a wet wipe. He sat back down on the edge of the bed and gestured for you to crawl onto his lap.

Once you sat down, Simon began to wipe at your neck, his touch surprisingly gentle. You placed your hands on his shoulders, feeling the need to touch him. His eyes, which were trained on your neck, moved to yours and with his free hand, he grabbed one of yours and placed a gentle kiss on your palm. Then he went back to concentrate on your neck and continued to wipe at it until he was satisfied, that the hickeys were visible again.

“There. No more hiding them, you hear me?”

You nodded, a light blush covering your face. He smiled.

“Good girl.”

He pressed a quick kiss to the tip of your nose, before he lifted you up and got to his feet. Out of reflex, you wrapped your legs around his waist. But you didn’t stay up there for long. With one swift movement, Simon threw you back onto the bed and watched you bounce. Your bikini top had shifted enough by then, to expose your tits and Simon noticed how he almost started to drool.

You looked beautiful, all sprawled out, waiting for him to ruin you. And ruin you he would.

Within seconds he was back on you, his lips crashing against yours and his left hand back on your tit, teasing your nipple. He swallowed your moans, while his right hand sneaked downwards until it reached your bikini bottom. Without hesitation, his hand shoved it’s way underneath the red material and found your clit, immediately stimulating it.

Your back arched once again and you felt yourself clench around nothing, desperate to be filled.

“Simon…”

Your voice was weak and shaky and it came out in a high pitched whine.

“Yes my love?”

Compared to you, his voice was smooth and almost cocky. He knew what he was doing to you.

“P-Please…more…”

Simon chuckled darkly and shook his head.

“So greedy. So fucking greedy.”

But he had to admit that all this foreplay was slowly getting too much for him. His cock had been aching all day to finally feel you, be inside you. It was straining against his swimming trunks, begging to be released.

He pulled back and sat back on his heels. With quick fingers, he unlaced his trunks and pulled his cock out, giving it a few leisure strokes.

“Do you have a condom?”

You shook your head. When you had packed, you were planning on fucking your dad’s best friend. Or anyone for that matter. So you had come unprepared.

“But…I’m on the pill. And I’m clean.”

Simon hesitated for a second before he nodded. For a few seconds, he softly stroked your thighs, before suddenly grabbing them and bending them close to your chest. That way you were completely exposed to him and he watched your hole clench and unclench, desperate for his cock.

“Would you look at that…all wet and desperate for me, aren’t you?”

He slowly rubs his tip up and down your slit, urging a whine from you.

“S-Si…please…n-no te-teasing.”

Simon chuckled and leaned down, pressing your legs further against your chest.

“You want my cock?”

You nod pathetically.

“Use your words, like the big girl you are.”

“I want your cock, Simon. Ple-ah”

With one thrust, Simon’s cock was lodged within you and both of you moaned, in relief, in excitement, in pleasure. Simon gave you a few moments to get used to his size and you were glad about it. He wasn’t your first, of course not, but he was bigger than anyone you’d ever been with before. While waiting, Simon started peppering kisses all over your face, focusing especially on your eyes, which were squeezed shut in discomfort.

“You good, love?”

You hesitated for a moment, before you nodded, giving him the go to move. He pressed one last kiss to your nose, before pressing his forehead against yours.

He slowly started to pull our before thrusting back in, starting to go quicker and harder the more you got used to his cock. But through it all, he kept his forehead pressed against yours, making this feel almost…intimate, in a romantic way.

By the time Simon was pounding you into the mattress, tears were streaming down your face and you started to claw at his shoulders.

“Si…so c-close.”

Simon sat up, his eyes immediately fixating on the spot where the two of you connected.

“Yeah? You gonna cum? You gonna cum on your dad’s best friend’s cock?”

You nodded, a sob escaping your lips as you clamped one of your hands over your mouth to keep all the noises in.

“Then cum.”

Simon pressed his thumb against your clit and started rubbing it, sending you over the edge. Your pussy immediately clamped down on his cock, as you came all around him. Simon continued his assault, not slowing down until you felt his cock starting to twitch inside you.

“Cum inside me.”

Simon’s thrusts stuttered and he looked at you surprised, but at the same time, fresh lust blazed in his eyes and after collecting himself, he continued thrusting into you until he himself came with a deep groan. You felt his cum inside you and swore that you could cum from that feeling alone.

After a few moments, Simon slowly pulled out of you and with a deep sigh, got off the bed. You continued to lay there, completely spend, but at the same time your heart broke as you watched him walk away. Of course, this was just a quick fuck. Just because it felt intimate didn’t mean that it actually was.

You felt stupid, as you slowly got off the bed, wincing at the soreness between your legs. Gathering your bikini, you were about to leave the room, when Simon returned from the bathroom, into which he had disappeared earlier. He looked confused before he gesture to the bed.

“What are you doing? Lay back down.”

Now it was your turn to look confused. Simon sighed and once again picked you up before throwing you onto the bed. He followed you and with strong hands, spread your legs apart, before running a warm, wet towel through your folds. You moaned at the relief it brought you and closed your eyes, relaxing while Simon cleaned you up.

Once he was done, he threw the towel into a corner and laid down, pulling you against him and covering the two of you with a blanket. Out of reflex, you cuddled up close to him and enjoyed the feeling of him wrapping you up in his arms.

You were close to falling asleep when you suddenly realised where you actually were.

“Mister Riley?”

He sighed.

“I know I told you to call me Simon when I fuck you, but you can call me Simon in general. It’s fine.”

You couldn’t help but grin at that.

“Simon?”

He chuckled and pulled you closer.

“Yes, love?”

“I should go to my room. My parents are gonna be freaked out if they find me in here…naked…”

Simon sat up, surprised and definitely confused. He had forgotten about your parents.

“Yeah…just…stay a bit longer.”

He laid back down and pulled you close again. And with a giggle you let him.

You spent a few hours, just cuddling and enjoying each other’s company. Neither of you said anything, but as the sun began to rise, you got up and put on your bikini. Simon watched your from the bed, but as you were about to leave, he pushed the blanket off of him and got up himself and put his trunks back on.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but let him lead you out of the guest bedroom and upstairs to yours. He opened the door for you, but you hesitated for a second before walking inside.

“You alright, love?”

You nodded, your eyes glued to your feet. Gentle fingers grabbed your chin and angled it, so you looked at Simon. He smiled slightly, before leaning down.

“Good night, beautiful.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, before he swiftly disappeared down the hallway. Your lips spread into a grin as you closed the door and jumped onto the bed. And that grin stayed until you fell asleep.

By the time you woke up, your mom was already cooking lunch. After changing into a different, slightly less revealing bikini, you made your way downstairs and greeted your parents, saying that you would take a quick swim before lunch.

You grabbed a fresh towel and made your way into the backyard, where the best surprise was waiting for you.

“Good morning, love. Slept quiet long, had a busy night?”

Simon was launching on a floaty in the pool. You grinned, threw your towel to the side and jumped into the water. As soon as you were underwater, you moved underneath the floaty and with a push of your legs, pushed against a side of the giant pizza slice, capsizing it and causing Simon to fall into the water.

As soon as you broke the surface, you started giggling, seeing a pissed of Simon, completely drenched.

“Just you wait.”

With a roar, he launched at you, making you giggle even more. He chased you around the pool, until he finally caught you and wrapped his arm around you.

“Now, how are you going to apologise, huh?”

You turned around in his arms and with a grin on your lips, pressed a quick peck to his. He grinned himself as he tightened his hold on you.

“Not enough.”

He suddenly pulled you underwater and as soon as you two were be out of potential sight from your parents, he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.

All too soon, the two of you had to return to the surface for some air, doing so with a respectable distance between you.

“Guys! Lunch is ready!”

Your family, along with Simon ate lunch in the backyard, with Simon and you sitting opposite each other. You took the opportunity to tease him with your feet, earning a promising glare from him, but when your mom started to speak, you quickly stopped.

“So? Where are you going next?”

You looked at her confused until you remembered that your plans were to leave the very next morning and going on a small trip around the country. But the would also mean, leaving Simon, and you knew you weren’t ready for that.

“Oh…I think I’ll actually stay here for a bit. If that’s okay with you guys, of course.”

While your mom went on a joyous rant, about everything the two of you could do, your eyes stayed clued to Simon, who just smirked and discreetly winked at you, a promise that the next few days and weeks would be interesting.

@pippylaune

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

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writingbyshiloh · 11 months

Text

I Love as Madly as I Hate

CW: JW universe (blood, reader kills and gets stabbed), ANGST!, Reader wears a dress, verbal fighting, dead marrage, Vincent being a dick and no beta (and Grammarly gave up halfway through), One sentence in French which means “leave us alone”, implied smut

AN: I hope this is angst, I don't really read angst myself. I overthought the tense this is in so much that words don't make sense anymore. FUN FACT! The title is from Les Fleurs du Mal which I want to have made an appearance in the other Marquis fic but I thought the title was fitting.

The bounty amount is in the sweet spot. High enough that it’s worth the effort, but not too high that half the world would also be trying to bag them with you. The only problem was with who set the bounty. That would be your ex, of six months. Well technically he's still considered your husband, and you were still legally married.

That was your fault, bringing up the idea of a divorce, and waiting for him to sign. Wanting to get one last dig in while still married, you act surprised, reminding him he can’t get a second marriage, second changes are for men who failed the first time, remember? He took the papers from your hand, never for you to see again. Sometimes you think he burned them.

The hit was for a mob member - Lukas Matthews, young and new to the underworld, not sure how things worked. He stole from one of his bosses, an acquaintance of Vincent. The younger mob man was distracted by all things flashy, expensive, and pretty.

You didn’t have any trouble donning a sparkly dress, paying admittance to some dive club to stalk the man. As long as you push down the feeling that you were really just doing this to get a glimpse of Vincent, it was okay. Great even. Maybe if you were a normal person you could just call him.

You watch the target for a while, sipping on soda from the bar so you could blend in. The man was still with his friends, and you figured it would be easier to take him when he was alone, probably outside, away from the other members of his group or innocent partygoers.

—.

Lukas ultimately lost, but he fought nasty. Maybe you were still rusty. The rest of your night now consisted of trying to patch up yourself or trying to find a black market doctor to fix you, depending on how bad your shoulder gets.

You were littered with scrapes, small cuts and sore muscles, but your shoulder got the worst of the battle. Lukas managed to cut quite deep with a broken beer bottle. Once it heals it will be a reminder of all the things you do to try and convince yourself that you’re over your husband.

Pain flared every time you moved your shoulder, the wound being an inch or two below your collarbone left you trying to keep half your body still. You settle on taking Lukas’s hand, with the mob tattoo. You and Vincent know members of that mob would rather die than cut off their symbol.

With the body shoved against a trash can, you place a few garbage bags to cover the mess. The hardest part of the evening was still to come. With your good hand, you fish out your phone from your bag.

—

You assume he is attending some ballet dance or performance. You felt a bitter twist of jealousy. Was he there with someone? Has he moved on that fast? You think mind racing. When you texted the Accountants that you completed the bounty, you received a call from Chidi.

“I hear you collected the bounty. Do you have proof of death?” he questioned.

“I do. I have the hand with the tattoos, but the body’s here I can get something else” you rambled down the line, suddenly much more nervous than before.

“Please hold.”

The line was quiet, you watched people come and go from the club, secluded from the side street you were in. Backtracking into the club, hand in your bag you returned your coat check ticket. At least the jacket will cover up the bleeding, you can get the bounty and go home.

“Hello?” Chidis's voice returned.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

“Tell me your address, the Marquis de Gramont will be sending a car.”

—

The Marquis de Gramont looked amazing. He tried to always look his best in his suits, complete with an incredibly complicated knot, chains, and his signature pin. You still have your pin, hidden in a shoe box in your closet. Tonight was no exception to his looks.

His suit was reflecting the lights in his mansion. You knew from the glitter, this was a suit he would were at a cultural outing. Bitter jealousy bites at your insides. Was he there with someone? Did he move on that fast? Is it a mistress? You think. The jealousy dies when you still see his wedding ring on his left hand. Your wedding ring feels heavier on your right.

You both look at each other, his gaze lingering on your exposed legs, no doubt covered in blood. You felt exposed standing in the center of the large room.

Vincent was the one to break the silence first “Did I buy you that dress?”

“No. I’ve had it for a while”

He nods, stepping closer.

“Proof?”

You frown thinking he was asking about the dress, before remembering the severed hand.

“It's here. Tattoos and all.” you struggle to get the appendage out of your bag without moving your bad shoulder. At least you had the sense to wrap the hand in a plastic bag.

“Come to my office. We can talk in there”

You do not want to “talk in his office”. The last time, you went to “talk in his office” about a bounty it ended up with you naked on his desk, the cold chain from his suit vest and his ring pressed against you.

“I should go. You can just wire me the money or something” You reject.

You can tell you surprised him before his face shifts back to a more neutral expression.

“I have a nasty scratch so…” you trail off, hoping he leaves the issue.

His gaze almost softens. The separation was less than a year ago, you guess that he still cares for you. He still keeps tabs on you, your neighbour works for him you’re almost certain of it.

“Where?”

You gesture with your chin to your shoulder.

The pressure from his stare makes you break down and shrug off your jacket, the inside sticky with blood.

Already he is in front of you, pressing a cloth against your wound.

“You need to see the doctor, mon amour.”

You hate yourself for leaning into his touch, but at least he has good contacts for an underground doctor. It won’t be that hard to get in and out right?

—

The doctor arrived fast, not wanting to piss off the Marquis. You knew him from your early days of dating, long before your marriage, when Vincent insisted you quit. You wonder if the doctor remembers you. If he does, he doesn’t show it.

You just didn’t think Vincent was going to join you. He watches the doctor tend to your shoulder first, sewing neat rows of stitches to hold your flesh in place. You stare at your jacket on a spare chair, no doubt forever stained in blood. The good doctor already gave a warning about closing your eyes, so you keep your gaze on the jacket, your nails on your good hand leaving imprints on the chair arm from the tension between you and Vincent.

The doctor moves on to more minor wounds, mostly cleaning them, and patching them up if needed. Ignoring your soft hiss when the cleaner he is using hurts more than you expected.

Vincent is watching the doctor, scowling when you flinch in pain.

The instant the doctor pushed the tray with his tools and bloody tissues away, Vincent speaks for the first time since the three of you sat down.

“Laissez-nous seuls”

The doctor protests, wanting to give you instructions on caring for his work, making sure you don’t rip anything open.

Vincent glares at the doctor, who places down some gause for you to take home and leaves without another word, closing the door behind him.

The Marquis drops to his knees for a better look at your injury. One hand cups the back of your shoulder blade to keep you still, as he inspects you. You’re sure you smell disgusting, the smell of the bar soaked into your dress and your hair. The doctor cleaned up most of the blood, but Vincent never really cared about literally getting his hands bloody if the time was right. He would just wipe them on a cloth and toss it aside for one of his housekeepers to pick up.

You turn your whole face away, as much as your shoulder will let you, sure he can feel how hot your face is across the distance. The feel of his eyes is heavy, and almost magnetic, pulling you to look at him. His other hand is on the armrest of your chair.

“Don’t,” you said softly, trying to preserve any of the dignity that you had left.

“Don’t what, mon amour” he whispered, still looking at your shoulder.

“This.” You were mostly saying this to yourself, knowing that you only had seconds to get out of his personal space before you give in. You’re tired and hurt and he's right there, acting how he did when you first fell in love with him.

You tilt your head back almost automatically to give him more access to your throat. He moved slowly, pressing kisses against your jaw like it would be the last time, before working his way to your mouth and kissing you properly.

—

It’s like a bomb waiting to go off, not only having sex with him but also having to navigate yourself out of his bed without one of you making a gripe at the other.

Well, not technically his bed. This was yours, in a guest room you made your own while being married, now empty. You moved your stuff out during the separation. Sometimes you regret not taking the bedclothes with you, but now you’re thankful you can feel them, cool and soft against your skin.

You had no choice but to stay lying on your back, trying to keep your injury still. He was next to you in the same fashion.

“You are still wearing your ring.” He speaks quietly. As if to prove his point, he toys with your wedding band.

“I helped design it, of course, I’m going to show it off,” you reply not being able to look him in the eye.

He kissed the back of your hand.

“I believe I designed it, you just suggested the stones.”

Hand flexed to fully show off the stones, you had to agree.

The stones were suggested by you, on a date to le Musée de Minéralogie. It was just the two of you, and you had been taken with the rubies. Vincent walked alongside you, filling you in on information you might not have known. It was an off-handed comment from you, how red is a colour for both blood and love, very fitting in your line of work.

“You have good taste,” he says while you think had instead.

His hand skimmed your bare side, nimble fingers finding a small bump that was not there before your flight with Lukas.

You flinched at the dull pain, not surprised if he “accidentally” poked it.

“You should let me take care of you, mon amour.”

That was it. The same words that started and ended your marriage. Being taken care of by Vincent made you feel like a doll, sitting on a shelf, never allowed to do anything.

“Vincent,” You spoke with caution, the pain slowly seeping back into your body.

He held your chin gently, commanding your gaze to look at him. You softened looking at him.

“It is true. Do you think I like seeing you like this?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you like” you retort, steeling yourself for the argument to come.

“I like you.”

“Oh, you do? Is that why you made me quit bounty work?” you snap.

“I asked you to stop because you're not very good at it and I did not want a dead fiancé.”

Ouch.

“If you were a better fighter, you would take higher bounties.”

You don’t look at him as you leave the bed. You know he's sneering at you.

But you’re not going to shrink away even though you’re naked. You know you have to get dressed in front of him but you can put on a brave face.

“Thanks for this lovely reminder of why our marriage failed.” You spit out. You know the failed comment will piss him off.

You leave without a second look, cheap shoes squeaking against the floor.

—

You felt the lock slide open under the key, your apartment slightly cold and quiet. You still smelled like his cologne, only now the smell reminds you of the recent bitter memories. You discard your bag as you make your way to your bed in your apartment. Away from Vincent.

As you take off your dress for the second time you feel your phone buzz.

[Unknown number: Wire Transfer Sent. Deposit for Lukas is confirmed.]

Seeing him mixed with the rush of adrenaline after the fighting was too much, especially with the separation so fresh. Maybe he was right. Maybe you should go after higher bounties, especially not those set by him.

Taglist: @heartrot666, @soraya-daydreams

#I will add nice dividers later but for now #I can finally grocery shop #marquis de gramont x reader #marquis vincent de gramont x reader #john wick movie x reader

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haddonfieldwhore · 1 year

Text

scary dog privilege pt4- ethan landry

ethan landry x alt! reader ❥ FINAL PART

❤️🔪 spoilers for scream 6 🔪❤️

3.3k words // part 3

warnings: mentions of death, language, blood/gore, violence, angst, slight changes from the movie, this is long lol, there may be an epilogue in the works ;)

❥ taglist: @breadbowser @lillunna @fanboyluvr @wroetoslut @gojosbucket @not3rracha @wenvierismycomfort @homebyeleven

you held onto ethan’s arm as you were shoved around as you all pushed through the crowded subway, trying to catch the train. you, ethan, and mindy fell behind, and despite chad trying to hold the door open, the three of you missed the train. mindy didn’t realize you and ethan were behind her, and still convinced that ethan was one of the killers, she told you both to stay away from her. standing a few feet down the platform from her, you waited for the next train as you saw her typing on her phone, probably texting the rest of the group to let them know she missed the train.

“it’s okay, there’s another one in 5 minutes. trains run all the time at this hour,” ethan reassured you. you gave him a small smile.

“okay,” you sighed. you waited for the next train to stop as it pulled in, and you and ethan got on together, and you were glad to see that mindy had gotten on at the next door. the train, much to your horror, was full of people in masks for halloween, many in ghostface masks. the fear you had felt when you had been attacked at sam and tara’s apartment came flashing back to you, and you buried your face in ethan’s chest. his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close. you had 10 stops until you got to the theatre, and they could not go fast enough.

“it’s okay, shhh, you’re okay,” he murmured. you tried to calm your breathing as the train sped down the track. you glanced over to see if you could see mindy, but with all the people on the subway you had lost sight of her. the lights flickered on and off, and you closed your eyes as you held on to ethan.

finally arriving at your stop, you waited for there to be room to walk to the door when you saw mindy slumped against the back of the train car, bleeding from her stomach.

“mindy! oh my god,” you yelled, as you and ethan let go of eachother and ran over to help her up.

“shit!” ethan exclaimed. “oh fuck. somebody help- call 911!” ethan yelled as the two of you carried her off the train and leaned her against a pillar. emergency officials rushed over and called for medical assistance, and mindy groaned as ethan asked if she was okay.

“yeah i’m sooo good- fuck!” she replied, groaning in pain. “i got it wrong again,” she groaned as you held your hands over the stab wound to stop the bleeding.

“fuck this franchise,” mindy seethed.

•

after making sure mindy made it to the hospital and was going to be okay, you and ethan stepped out into the hallway.

“we should go meet up with the others?” ethan suggested.

“is it selfish to say we could just stay here?” you asked.

“no- to be honest i was kinda hoping you would say you wanted to stay here instead. i feel like the odds of getting attacked in the hospital are a lot lower,”

“i think they might need our help though,” you sighed, resigning to the fact that you knew it was the right thing to do, no matter how stupid.

“yeah i know. let’s go,” ethan sighed, leading you outside to call a cab to the theatre.

once you arrived, the two of you found the door to be locked.

“maybe there’s a back entrance?” you suggested, and ethan followed you around to the back of the building as you looked for another way in, and you found a rusty fire escape.

“of course,” you muttered. testing if it would hold your weight, ethan held his hands on your hips in case you fell as you started climbing up the stairs. once you got to the top, you pulled ethan up until you both stood in front of the door.

“ready?”

“no,” you shook your head, but grabbed the door handle anyway, pulling it open with a creak. ethan followed behind you, as you stepped inside onto the balcony seating area of the theatre.

“let’s find a way down,” ethan said. you walked around, looking for a way to get to the main floor, until you reached the stairs.

“here- ethan,” you whispered, gesturing for him to follow you down the stairs. as you reached the bottom of the stairs, sam ran towards you holding a knife.

“where the hell did you two come from- where’s mindy?!” she asked.

“there’s a fire escape out back- mindy was attacked on the subway; we came from the hospital,” ethan explained.

“oh my god. we have to find tara and chad, kirby’s the killer- or one of them.”

“what?” you asked, and she grabbed your arm, and you heard a scream from the other room and sam dragged you towards it. tara and chad burst through the door as you reached it, almost running into eachother.

“come on!” sam yelled, dropping your arm to grab tara. you all ran towards the stage, stopping when the killer jumped out, sending you all scrambling, separating the group amongst the display cases. the killer slashed at you, the knife cutting into your side, and you screamed. you held your hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, as chad picked up a large video camera and swung it at the killer knocking them to the ground. before you could all get away, the killer grabbed at ethan’s ankle as you ran past them, pulling him to the ground.

“nooo!” you yelled, trying to go back for him, but chad grabbed onto you and pulled you with him and the two sisters as the killer dragged ethan off. you could hear him screaming, and you cried as you ran down a hallway behind the stage, ending up back in the room where you had found chad and tara before. chad knocked over the popcorn machine to block the doorway, but the killer jumped over it.

tara screamed as the killer slashed at her, and you noticed she was bleeding from a stab wound on her back already, which she must’ve have gotten earlier when you heard the screaming. sam and tara grabbed hold of the killer, the three of them slamming against the concession bar, the killer falling to the floor. tara kicked them in the head, and sam pulled you and tara towards the door as chad lifted a gumball machine over his head, ready to slam it down onto the killers head.

he was stopped when a knife went into his side, and tara screamed, a second killer having appeared, and the two of them stabbed chad repeatedly. dropping his body to the floor, the wipes the blood from their knives in sync, and you and sam finally managed to pull tara back to the main room. running towards the centre of the room, one of the killers jumped out in front of you. tara screamed as the other one appeared behind you, blocking both directions. sam handed each of you a brick off the floor, and asked if you were ready.

“look at me; i need you to be ready. ready?” she asked. tara screamed “come on motherfucker,” before bullets flew past you and the killers dove out of sight. kirby, bleeding from her forehead walked out from by the stage, her gun still aimed towards where the killers had been.

“it’s alright!” she said.

“we know it’s you kirby,” tara spat.

“no, one of them knocked me out-“ she started, but was interrupted by detective bailey.

“kirby, get away from the girls!” he yelled, aiming his own gun at her.

“don’t listen to him. whatever he told you he’s lying. he’s probably the killer,” kirby said, before yelling to look out as one of the ghostfaces appeared behind him. the killer stopped next to the detective as bailey shot kirby twice, sending her flying backwards to the floor. the three of you turned to look at the cop, who smiled as the two ghostfaces appeared beside him. “great job; both of you,” he said to the two of them.

“…you?” sam asked.

“yeah- of course me,” bailey smirked.

“then… who?” tara stuttered, and the taller ghostface began to remove their mask.

“ethan?” you whispered, feeling like you had been kicked in the stomach as he smiled wide.

“mindy was right. it was easy to juke the roomate lottery. all i had to do to meet you, was room with a conceited, condescending alpha- literally named chad. fuck it felt good to kill him!” he yelled, his eyes wild. “this was your grandmothers sam… nancy loomis? really runs in your fucking family doesn’t it,” ethan spat at her. “speaking of family- my names not ethan landry; is it dad?” he turned to detective bailey.

“dad?” tara repeated, and ethan and bailey laughed.

“if it’s you then who…. “ sam said, looking at the other ghostface. her sentence trailed off, and the second killer took off their mask to reveal bright orange hair.

“quinn?”

“heyyy roomies,” she sang. “bet you didn’t see that one coming did ya?”

“yeah cause you died!” tara exclaimed.

“kinda didn’t…” she trailed off. “easy way to get off the suspect list though.”

“it was you… at the apartment..” you said to ethan, recognizing the mask. his smile dropped slightly, and you though you detected a hint of sympathy in his eyes as he looked at you.

“yeah it was him. you were supposed to die you know, but my son you see he really has grown quite fond of you,” the detective said, patting ethan on the back. you felt like your insides had been twisted around, your stomach felt upside down as you realized that the person you had felt so safe with, was the same person you had been so afraid of. ethan and quinn circled around the room, ethan placing the mask he held onto a mannequin wearing nancy loomis’ blazer.

“i got stu machers mask; he was my favourite,” quinn explained.

“that’s three,” bailey said, pointing at nancys mask. he pointed at the one quinn had next. “that’s two…and this… was your fathers, sam. i’m gonna need you to put it on,” detective bailey pulled a dirtied ghostface mask out of his jacket and held it out towards her.

“fuck you!” she yelled, slapping the mask away. “so what you did this as a family?” sam asked.

“we’re gonna show the world, the killer that you really are.” bailey explained.

“and then what? what you just disappear?”

“nah, after this we gotta hurry over to the hospital to make sure mindy and gale don’t pull through!” he laughed.

“whatever you think i didn’t commit those murders; it wasn’t me!“ sam pleaded.

“we know that! what do you think this is, just based of some bullshit conspiracy theory? who do you think started all those rumours about you in the first place?” bailey asked, and quinn raised her hand, holding a knife loosely in her grip.

“do you know how easy it was to turn sam from the hero of woodsboro, into the villain? how easy it is to make people believe the worst in someone, rather than the best?” quinn taunted.

“because it’s not enough to just kill someone these days. you have to assassinate their character first. so when the cops find your mutilated body posed over you sisters corpse wearing your fathers mask, they’ll say that you’re the real ghostface killer, and someone took things into their own, deluded hands” ethan went on.

“because you- are a killer sam,”

“no i’m not!!“ sam yelled desperately.

”yes you are you motherfucker you killed our brother!” quinn yelled, stepping closer with the knife pointed at the three of you.

“you said your brother died in a car crash,” tara said.

“no no no, he died in woodsboro; at the hands of your bitch sister,” he said, the three of them circled around you, sam, and tara.

“you’re richies family,” sam realized, bailey nodding yes tearfully.

“ding ding ding! i think she finally starting to get it!” ethan yelled, laughing as him and quinn ran around the three of you, ethan stabbing sam in the chest just below her collarbone. quinn slashed at you, creating a gash on your arm, and you swore you saw ethan send her a nasty glare.

detective bailey, now standing on the stage explained that everything here in the shrine had belonged to richie; that he helped him build this collection.

“there’s a special bond, between a father, and his first born son,” you glanced at ethan, who stared up at his father, his eyes wet with tears. bailey turned back to sam, holding the mask out towards her again.

“he was… so pathetic,” sam spoke.

“that’s not true!”

“he was a man baby, who made his girlfriend do all the killing,”

“he was a strong, virile young man-“

“he was a limp dick little fuck, who cried before i slit his throat,” sam spat.

“shut the fuck up!” quinn yelled, and charged at tara, who swung the brick she was holding into her face, knocking the redhead to the ground, where she spat out blood and a few of her teeth. kirby had come to, and shot at detective bailey before ethan tackled her to the ground.

“recognize this?” he asked, before stabbing her in the abdomen where she told you all she had been stabbed before. sam tackled him off of her, taking the knife out of kirby’s stomach and stabbing ethan with it. you stood, frozen in place as ethan collapsed to the floor, blood dripping down his black costume. despite all common sense, and everything you knew he had done, you felt an ache in your heart for the shy, curly haired boy.

“sam this way!” tara called, and her and sam ran towards a ladder to the balcony, which led to the fire escape you and ethan had come in through earlier.

“ethan…” you whimpered, and he looked you up and down, walking towards you.

“you know chad was right; you really did choose a terrible time to join the friend group,” he said, his voice sympathetic.

“don’t do this, please,”

“i… i really do like you, you know. if we’d met on another night maybe things could’ve been different,” he said, groaning as he held his hand to a stab wound on his shoulder.

“they could be- just stop-“

“oh you sweet dumb thing; you know i can’t,” he stepped closer to you, standing just inches away from you, and your back hit one of the display cases, trapping you between it and his body. “i really never wanted to hurt you.”

“so don’t.” you wrapped your hand around his wrist that held the knife, and he looked at you softly, before his pressed his lips to yours, letting you take the knife from his hand. perhaps in a moment of weakness, you kissed him back, tears forming in your eyes as his lips moved against yours roughly.

you gasped into his mouth as you felt a knife go into your back, and you collapsed into ethan’s arms as he yelled out. the knife in your hand fell to the floor as quinn stabbed you again, twisting the knife around.

“no-,” ethan stuttered, before quinn pushed him hard in the shoulder, and he groaned in pain.

“don’t lose focus,” she said pointing towards sam and tara who were moving towards the exit. leaning against the glass case, quinn stabbed you in the stomach while ethan was distracted.

“i told you not to hurt them!” he yelled at his sister, who in return spat blood in his face and pushed him towards the ladder leading to the balcony. quinn ran towards the stairs to cut them off from the other side.

“i’m so sorry,” he said, crouching down to press a kiss to your forehead before he went after the sisters. you heard a gun go off and tara scream, and your vision started to go cloudy. you could see sam holding onto tara by the arms as she dangled over the edge of the balcony.

“i can’t … i can’t grab on!” she cried, her voice fading out as you started to lose consciousness. ethan stood below tara, swinging the knife at her feet as she tried to hold on to sam. you could see quinn appear on the other side of sam, smiling as blood dripped from her mouth, and as you slumped to the floor, you watched at tara let go, landing on top of ethan and stabbing him in the shoulder. his body fell to the floor a few feet from yours, his mouth filling with blood and his eyes wide, staring at you as your eyes fluttered closed.

•

you winced as your eyes were met with a bright light, and you felt like you were moving. more specifically, you realized you were on a gurney, a light blue blanket wrapped around you as you were rolled towards an ambulance, the daylight hurting your eyes as you regained consciousness.

“hey, i thought we lost you!” you looked to see sam next to you, tara close behind her. kirby was being loaded into another ambulance.

“is it…over?” you asked hesitantly. despite everything he did, you still couldn’t process the fact that ethan was dead.

“it’s over. i’m.. i’m sorry,” sam offered, and you gave her a sad smile.

“i guess he wasn’t who i thought he was,” you tried to brush it off, but as much as you wanted to pretend it wasn’t true, you had fallen for the curly haired boy in the very short time you knew him. “i’m sorry about chad,” you said to the sisters, and tara began to cry.

“hey we got another one over here!” you heard someone yell, and you saw chad being wheeled out on another stretcher, the same blue blanket over him and an oxygen mask over his face.

“chad!” tara yelled, and sam gave you a smile before going after her sister who had run over to him. as the paramedics lifted the gurney you were on into the back of the ambulance, you thought about what anika had said; aren’t things like this supposed to bring people together? you sighed, suddenly overwhelmed by the thoughts of everything that had happened in the last three days. exhausted, you closed your eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep.

•

it was the next day when you woke up in the hospital, and you looked around to see sam sat in the chair next to your bed. she noticed you were awake, and smiled.

“hey,” she said softly. “how are you feeling?”

“i’ve been better,” you answered honestly. “don’t take this the wrong way but..”

“why am i here?” she laughed. “i .. thought you might … need a friend. and tara and chad won’t stop making googly eyes at eachother and kirby’s asleep so-“ she answered honestly, and you smiled.

“thank you, sam. i’ll be okay.” you assured her. “you should be with your friends.”

“maybe … they could be your friends too. if you want,” she offered.

“i think i’d be okay with that,” you smiled. “but i think i need time to just be by myself for now. just until i can wrap my head around what happened.”

“i get it. but if you ever need anything; you have us. survivors gotta stick together,” she smiled, heading out the door before she stopped, sticking her head back into your room. “i’m.. really sorry about ethan. i know what that’s like; if you ever want to talk.” you thanked her, and she left to find her sister and her friends. staring at the ceiling, you closed you eyes, letting out a long exhale.

your eyes snapped open as you heard your phone buzz on the table next to you, you winced as you moved to grab it, pain shooting through your back, and you hoped that you hadn’t ripped any stitches. your eyes went wide as you looked at the notification on your screen.

unknown number: miss me yet?

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry one shot #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fic #scream #scream 6 #scream 6 spoilers #jack champion #jack champion fic

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glorious-spoon · 1 year

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Second-Guessing [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie | 1/1]

Rating: Teen Wordcount: ~1000 Warnings: None Other Tags: Pre-relationship, Emotional hurt/comfort, Friendship, Episode tag - 6x13 Mixed Feelings

“Do you think I’m bad at sex?”

Eddie barks out a startled laugh at his ceiling, then straightens up. This is not, unfortunately, the weirdest way Buck has ever opened a phone call with him, but it’s definitely up there. “What?”

“That call the other day, you know, the lady with the vibrator—”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Eddie,” Buck whines. “This is important!”

“Is it, really?”

“Eighty percent. He said that the article said eighty percent of people report being unsatisfied. Do you know how many women I’ve slept with? Eighty percent of that is, like, a lot. Okay? And I was doing some research—on a first time hookup, did you know that only forty percent of women even have an orgasm at all? So if I do the math on that—”

“Buck.”

Buck lets out a deep sigh that crackles down the phone line. “I’m being an idiot about this, aren’t I?”

“Nah. Well, I mean, kinda. But it’s okay.”

“Is it, though? Like—” there’s a rustle on the other end of the line. It’s easy to imagine Buck right now, flopped out across his bed because the couch his parents bought him is a bona fide torture device. In his sweatpants, probably, his hair still damp from the shower. He lets out another sigh, then says, “You know, Bobby was saying—when I was with Taylor, Bobby said that the problem was that I never talk to my partners, that I don’t know how to communicate, and that’s why my relationships always turn into catastrophes.”

“I don’t think that’s quite what he was saying. And Taylor—”

“I know. You hate her guts.”

Eddie snorts. “I was gonna say that it’s different, in a long term relationship.”

“Right, but. I haven’t historically had a lot of success with those.”

“Relationships don’t work out sometimes. A lot of the time.”

There’s silence for a moment. It’s not just Taylor hanging over the conversation now; Ana is there too. And Shannon.

Sex with Ana was always stilted, awkward in a way that he told himself at the time was just the newness of it all. Just a new person, a new body to learn, just Eddie being rusty when it came to literally any form of physical intimacy. He and Shannon were each other's firsts, so of course neither of them knew what they were doing to start with, and what they learned they learned together. By the end of it, sex was the only part of their relationship that actually worked. Beyond that—

He doesn’t really have a lot of perspective to offer Buck, is the thing. Even setting aside the fact that he’s not sure he can give an objective analysis of the sexual history of the guy he’s in love with.

So there’s that.

“It’s just…” Buck sounds quieter now, almost miserable, and it tugs at Eddie's heartstrings despite the absurdity of this whole conversation. “That was like. The one thing I knew I was good at. You know? Everything else, sure, my life was a mess, I made a lot of dumb choices and messed up a lot of relationships and got myself fired, and—but at least I knew how to, you know, make somebody feel good. Except maybe I didn’t after all. And if I wasn’t even any good at that, then—”

“Buck,” Eddie interrupts again. Gently, this time. He firmly squashes the unhelpful little voice in the back of his head that wants to ask for a hands-on demonstration. Buck sounds freaked out enough that he might actually take Eddie up on it, and Eddie is… really not ready to cope with that possibility. “You’re spiraling.”

Another silence. Then: “I called them. Some of them.”

Good grief. “Your hookups?”

“Yeah—is that a disrespectful way to talk about them? I mean—anyway, yeah. The ones I still have phone numbers for, I called them. Most of them didn’t want to talk to me.”

“Shocking,” Eddie deadpans.

Buck laughs, which is what he was going for. “Shut up.”

“So? What was the verdict?”

He regrets asking the moment the words are out of his mouth, but he doesn't take it back.

“Uh,” Buck says, still laughing a little. “Of the ones I actually got a hold of? Yes, yes, probably, no, who the hell are you, I thought I blocked your number, yes, no, I don't remember, yes.”

“More yeses than nos,” Eddie offers.

“Unless they were lying to make me feel better,” Buck counters triumphantly.

“Buck. If someone called you up out of the blue after years of radio silence to ask if you had an orgasm when you slept together, would you lie about it to spare their feelings?”

Buck is quiet for a minute. “Yeah, okay, that was kind of an insane thing to do, huh.”

“A little. Yeah.”

He can hear the fondness in his own voice and is helpless to mute it. Though he's honestly not really trying that hard. Buck deserves to know that he's loved, even when he's being ridiculous. Maybe especially then.

“I just worry. You know, that all the shit I thought I knew about myself—that maybe it’s not really true after all. And if that’s the case then who the hell am I, anyway?”

“Feels like this maybe isn’t actually about whether or not you’re good in bed,” Eddie offers, and bites his teeth on anything else he could say about that. About finding out that maybe the person you thought you were was just a carefully painted mask over the messy, tender reality underneath. He could offer Buck some truth of his own, but he doesn’t. It doesn’t feel like the right time for it.

That, or he’s a coward. He’s working on it, though.

“Maybe not. I guess. Eddie, I…” Buck trails off.

“What?” Eddie asks, when a few moments of silence have passed.

“Nothing,” Buck says. He laughs quietly; Eddie can conjure up the shape of his smile and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as easily as breathing. “Just. Thanks for taking my call.”

“Of course. Always.”

For a little while, they just breathe together across the miles between them as night falls gently over Los Angeles. Then Buck says softly, “Come over tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says back, just as soft. There’s nothing new about the invitation, but it feels new, somehow, anyway. Either way, the answer is the same as it’s always been. “Yeah, okay.”

#911 fic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my fic

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

Text

It'll Be Okay

Fandom: DC, The Suicide Squad, Rick Flag

Summary: Rick and you are captured on a mission by a man looking for information. And he is willing to use any means necessary to get the answers he is looking for.

Word Count: 4328

TW: Whump, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Blood, Near Death, Non-Main Character Death, Sliced in Half, Electrocution, Knives, Stabbing, Capture, Forced to Watch

“Darlin’. Come on, you need to wake up…… Listen, we’re in real trouble here and I need you with me. So, please, WAKE UP!”

You slowly open your eyes as the voice continues to call out to you. As you start to get your bearings, you try to wipe your hand over your face just to discover they are both chained above your head to the wall behind you. Looking around, you realize you are in a strange room you had never seen before.

The walls and floor are made of concrete and there are no windows, just a single door to your left. Three other sets of chains identical to yours are scattered throughout the room. Rusty-colored blood stains coat the walls and floors around them with trails running down and leading to a drain in the middle of the floor. And there just above the drain, strapped to a metal table tilted at a 45˚ angle is your commanding officer.

“Rick!” You pull furiously at your chains as you vainly try to get to him.

As soon as he sees you’re awake, he releases a large sigh of relief. “Hey, darlin’. You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good. My head is killing me, and I’m chained to a wall but besides that, no complaints.” Rick chuckles and you give him a small smile before continuing. “What happened?”

“We were ambushed in the town square. The last thing I remember was fightin’ back-to-back with you but then you collapsed to the ground. Before I could even turn around to see what was wrong, something slammed into the back of my head, and I blacked out. When I woke up, we were both like this.” He jerks at his restraints to emphasize his point.

“And the rest of the squad?”

Rick shakes his head. “I don’t know. We lost a lot of them, but I saw Harley, Harkness, and Lawton still standin’ right before we were grabbed. So, who knows anymore.”

You nod, glad to know at least some of your friends might still be alive. A slim chance was better than nothing. It was better than you or Rick had at the moment. As you keep looking around the room, no obvious means of escape jump out at you. In fact, the more you look around, the more it solidifies the fact that you are both trapped in an unknown location with no means to contact the team or the control center. And to make matters worse, neither one of you is in any position to even put up a fight if the opportunity arose. Things do not look good.

“Rick, I’m sca-” You bite your lip to keep from admitting your weakness, but Rick knows you too well. He immediately understands what you were about to say.

“I know, darlin’. I know. But it’ll be okay. Do you hear me? We’ve been in worse situations than this before and we’re both still standin’. We just need to stay strong and whatever happens, to either of us, we do not give in, and we do not give up.” When he sees you still hesitating, he barks, “That is an order! Do you hear me, Sergeant?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you reply, a small smile ghosting across your lips. He always knew how to keep you strong, keep you focused. But then your smile disappears as quickly as it appeared. “Rick… what’s about to happen here?”

Rick looks at you with an expression that can only be described as dread. “I don’t know.” Suddenly, you both hear footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. “But I think we’re about to find out.” He gives you a quick nod and a wink of reassurance just as the door swings open.

A man enters pushing a tray of tools. You can’t see everything that is on it, but you can definitely make out a variety of knives, pliers, and a strange box with wires. You and Rick exchange nervous glances but you try to remain as calm as possible. You have both been trained for these types of situations and as much as the next few hours might hurt, you know you can hold strong.

The man turns first to Rick and then to you as he introduces himself, “Hello, Colonel, Sergeant. My name is Jonas. I work for some people who do not like the people you work for.”

“The U.S. government?” you ask confusedly.

Jonas nods with a cruel smile. “Exactly. You see, your government captured a large quantity of their product over the past few months, and they want it back. So, you tell me the location of Warehouse 552 and I’ll be on my way. If not, then we will have some fun.” He gleefully ran his hand over the instruments on the tray.

“Listen, I don’t know who you think we are, but you have the wrong people. We don’t even know anything about any warehouse! Do we Rick!” you glance over at Rick who is still glaring silently at Jonas, but the set of his jaw and the blaze in his eyes tell you all you need to know. Oh, shit.

Jonas must have picked up on Rick’s lack of a response as well because he smiles and approaches the table Rick is strapped to. “But you do, don’t you Colonel? You know where it is. So, the question comes down to what are you willing to endure to keep your secret? How much pain can you take before you finally break? Hmm? Well, let’s find out shall we?”

He turns back to his tray of tools and picks up a very sharp-looking knife. You tug against your restraints furiously. “Rick…”

But he just growls at you, “Stand down, Sergeant! That is an order! Remember what I said.” His voice is firm and harsh, but you know him well enough to detect the slight tremor underneath. He is just as afraid as you are.

Jonas turns to Rick and places the tip of the knife on Rick’s shoulder. Then, slowly, he trails it down his arm all the way to the metal cuff around his wrist, leaving a thin red line of blood in its wake. Rick didn’t as much as flinch, but your heart is racing a mile a minute. Jonas repeats this process two more times on Rick’s left arm then does three lines on his right. This is followed by three lines to either leg. By the last mark, you can see a slight twitch in Rick’s jaw, and you know he is in pain. But there is nothing you can do but just stand and watch.

When he is done, Jonas puts down the knife and picks up a set of jumper cables. Your eyes grow wide at the sight, and you pull wildly at your restraints. “No! No, please, stop! Don’t do this!”

Jonas smiles and turns to Rick. “Shall I do what she asks? Shall I stop? Just tell me what I want to know, and this will be all over.” But Rick just continues to look straight ahead, his face a mask of strength and steel. So, Jonas shrugs, “Very well then.”

He clips one cable right under Rick’s arm and the other just above his opposite hip. He waits for one second to give Rick a chance to change his mind, but when he doesn’t, Jonas flips the switch.

Rick’s entire body convulses violently as volts of electricity surge through his body. You can’t help but scream as you watch all his muscles tense and go rigid. It seems to go on forever before Jonas finally shuts the machine off. Rick collapses back onto the table, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. But before he can, Jonas turns the machine back on and Rick is sent back to the agonizing state once again.

Tears are streaming down your face as you beg Jonas to stop, but the man ignores you. You begin to breathe faster as if you could somehow breathe for the both of you. And after an agonizingly long time, Jonas finally turns off the machine once more.

Even with the electricity no longer flowing through him, Rick’s body twitches and jerks as it tries to readjust to its normal state. His eyes land on you and for just a moment, there is no recognition in his stare. But then he blinks and whispers your name. You nod emphatically through your tears. “Yes, Rick. It’s me, I’m here. It’s going to be okay. Do you hear me? We’re going to be okay.” He nods slightly, but for the first time, both of you are starting to doubt it.

Jonas removes the clamps and puts the machine back on the tray. And just as you think you can’t imagine anything worse, he pulls out a blow torch.

Your eyes instantly fly to Rick’s. “No! I can’t…. I can’t watch this… I’m sorry, I just can’t… Please, Rick, forgive me.”

He nods and whispers, “It’s okay, darlin’. I don’t want you to see. Close your eyes, it’s okay. I promise. And I’m sorry.”

“Not… so…. fast.” Jonas pauses for a second before saying, “I’m the one making the rules around here. And I say…. she watches.”

“What! No, please! Isn’t it bad enough that you are doing this already? Please!” you beg.

But Jonas just laughs. “Sorry my dear, but they don’t call it torture for nothing. So, for every second I see your eyes off of him, I move the flame closer. Do you understand?”

You nod as a soft sob escapes from your lips. Rick looks almost more upset for you than he does for what is about to happen to him. And that is the only thing that gives you the strength to do this. Looking him dead in the eye, you whisper, “I’ll do it.”

Jonas turns to Rick, “Are you really going to put her through this? Forget about yourself and the pain you’ll experience…. What do you think it will do to her?”

Rick looks you deep in the eye and weakly mutters, “She’s the toughest person I’ve ever met. She can handle it.” You smile slightly, wishing you didn’t have tears streaming down your face, and you nod.

Jonas looks back and forth between the two of you and you see the moment an idea hits him. He puts down the blow torch and picks up another knife, this one slimmer yet sharper looking than the first one. He examines it for a moment, then walks over to where you are restrained on the wall.

Grabbing hold of your hair, Jonas roughly jerks your head back, forcing you to look up towards the ceiling. He then places the knife blade up to your throat. You didn’t dare even swallow, fearful it will draw blood. Straining your eyes downward, you can just make out Rick’s face. Through the pain still present there, his eyes grow wide. They flicker to your face, then the knife, then your face again. You want to tell him it’s okay. That everything will be fine and to not give in just as he told you earlier. But you can’t even open your lips without the knife scraping across your throat, so you just hope he can read what your eyes are screaming at him.

Jonas turns his focus back to Rick. “Maybe neither one of you cared about your life, but what about her’s? Is she worth keeping your secrets for?”

He draws the knife lightly across your throat and you feel a small trickle of blood begin dripping down your neck. Rick pulls frantically at his restraints, but of course, it is no use. Jonas returns the knife to your throat, a few centimeters below his last cut. Already, you can feel more pressure on the blade than before. It didn’t hurt at the moment, but you could tell if he made a cut right now, it would be worse than the last time.

“Now, every time you don’t answer my question, I make a cut. And every cut I make will be deeper and deeper until I either cut through something important or she bleeds out. The choice is yours. Now, tell me the location of the warehouse.”

Rick grits his teeth for a minute, then spits a wad of bloody saliva right at Jonas’s feet.

The man’s eyes narrow. “Fine. Don’t talk. But I warned you what happens next.”

Before either of you can protest, Jonas drags the knife across your throat once more. This time, you can’t keep a strangled gasp of pain from escaping your lips as more blood begins to seep down your neck. He wasn’t joking. This time the cut was somewhat deeper, and it stretched wider across your throat.

Rick roars as he watches the blood pouring from your newest wound. Just as you had screamed for his pain, he now screams for yours. You try to pull your head down to lessen the pressure, but Jonas holds tight on your hair, refusing to let you budge an inch. In fact, he yanks your hair back farther causing you to cry out in pain once again.

Jonas turns to Rick. “How about now? Have you had enough? Has she had enough? Are you ready to tell me where the warehouse is?”

“Go to Hell, you bastard,” Rick growls deeply as every word drips with malice and rage.

Jonas chuckles. “Some people never learn.”

He takes the knife and slices it across your throat, lower and harder than ever before, and you can feel something within you tear. A sound somewhere between a sharp intake of breath and a raspy scream rips from your mouth as this newest wound gushes blood, instantly soaking your shirt.

Rick tries to pull at his restraints once again, but you can see his own injuries are finally catching up to him. His struggles are sluggish and halfhearted, and his eyes are starting to look a little glassy. But they never stray from your face.

Jonas lets go of your hair as he takes a step closer to Rick, which allows your head to fall forward and takes some of the strain off your throat for the first time since Jonas first grabbed you. It is easier to breathe this way and you feel some of the lightheadedness beginning to clear.

The man approaches Rick as he says, “Your sergeant over there doesn’t have much time. One more cut will be deep enough to bleed her dry or at least cause irreparable damage if that hasn’t yet occurred. You tell me what I want to know, and maybe she lives.”

You can see the conflict dancing across Rick’s face. Because even if Jonas hasn’t figured it out, you both know you are more than just his sergeant. This is the moment you had both been afraid of when you started seeing each other in secret. Normally, Rick would never give in, but for you…… Even if Amanda Waller wasn’t the one pulling the strings, you had become the thing that could be used to manipulate him, and that was something you swore you would never be.

“Rick,” you croak out weakly. His eyes shift slightly, meeting yours from across the room. “We do not give in, and we do not give up. It’ll be okay.”

He nods and gives you a small smile. “It’ll be okay, darlin’. It’ll be o-“

His words are cut off as Jonas drives a knife into the right side of his chest. Rick jerks up, his eyes growing wide as he struggles wildly to catch his breath.

“No!” you shriek, but it comes out more like an airy moan.

Rick’s chest heaves as he collapses limply back onto the table. The knife clearly nicked, if not fully punctured, his lung. Slowly, he turns his head, and you can see him trying to mouth something to you, but he is too weak to make the words form clearly. And the next thing you know, his eyes roll back into his head, and he grows still. He is still struggling to breathe, but it is not as frantic as before and you are not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.

Jonas turns back to you. “Don’t worry, he should live. But too bad you’ll bleed out before he comes around because it seems you’re no longer of any use to me.” He steps closer and raises the knife, and as much as you wish you could see Rick’s eyes one more time, you are glad he won’t see what is about to happen.

But right as Jonas is about to make the killing blow, the door to the room flies open, and something whistles through the air. Moving faster than your eyes can process, it zips through the room and passes straight through Jonas. The man’s eyes instantly bulge, and he makes a strangled gurgling sound. Then slowly, he crumples to the ground, his body falling to the left and his head and shoulders falling to the right. You stare in horror before turning to the door.

“Bullseye! Not bad for a quick release, if I do say so myself.” A familiar man in a blue coat and beanie steps into the room, wiping the blood off of his recently returned boomerang.

“Boomer?” you whisper.

As he and Lawton come further into the room, a bouncing blonde barrels past them as she hurries to your side. “Hiya, Sarge! How ya doin’?”

“Harley! God, I have never been happier to see you!” you manage to rasp out.

“Aww! Thanks! I’m glad ta see you too!” She wraps her arms around you in a big hug.

“Harls?.... Harls?.... Harley! This is nice and all, but can you please unlock my hands? We can hug it out later.”

“Oh right! Duh! My bad! Ouchy! That looks like that hurts. Give me one sec.” She ran over to where the body of your captor is now laying in two pieces. Grimacing as she pokes through the dead man’s pockets, she finally triumphantly pulls out a key. “Got it!”

She starts to skip back over to you but pauses long enough to snatch Boomer’s scarf off his neck as he and Lawton examine Rick. Ignoring his grumbles, she returns to your side and unlocks both of your hands. As soon as they are free, you clutch at your throat, trying to slow the bleeding. Harley softly moves your hands out of the way and ties Boomer’s scarf tightly around your gashes. The pressure makes it slightly difficult to breathe, but at least it seems to have slowed the bleeding.

Harley grabs your arm and helps you stagger over to where Rick is still laying, though his restraints have been removed. His eyes are closed and there is a definite wheeze in his breathing. Lawton had given him a shot of something that eased it some, but you knew his injury was still extremely severe. Carefully, you brush his damp hair off his face. “Hey.”

Rick’s eyes slowly flicker open and settle on your face. Weakly, he murmurs, “’ey, darlin’. You good?”

You smile as you continue to stroke his face and rasp, “Yeah, I’m good. I think Harley got the bleeding under control for now. But I don’t know what kind of permanent vocal damage it might have caused. You might be stuck listening to this voice for a while.”

“’at’s okay. You sound sexy like this.” He tries smiling, but it quickly morphs into a grimace of pain.

The sight of him still suffering creates a deep ache in your chest. You know your deal. No displays of affection while on the job or in front of the Squad. Nothing that could get back to Waller to be used against you. But at that moment, seeing him like this, knowing how close each of you had just come to losing the other, you didn’t care.

You cup Rick’s face and bend down until your lips are flush with his. You half expect him to pull away or fight back, but instead, he leans into it, fueled by the same fears and relief that fuels you. You can feel each of you wincing and grunting in pain as the kiss aggravates your injuries, but neither one of you seem to care at that moment. You need the proof that you are both still here, that you are both still breathing. And nothing else matters.

When you finally pull apart, Rick chuckles as he struggles to catch his breath, “Guess the cat’s out of the bag now.”

“I have a feeling they already knew.” You both glance over to see Harley bouncing up and down as she claps her hands, Boomer begrudgingly digging through his pocket and pulling out some money, and Lawton smiling smugly as Boomer places the money in his hand.

“Oi! You two idiots just cost me fifty bucks!” The Aussie grumbled.

You smile at him. “How ‘bout I buy you a new scarf?”

“You better, mate. ‘Cause I ain’t taking that one back.” Boomer points one of his boomerangs at his scarf soaked with your blood still tied around your neck.

Lawton shoulders the other man playfully. “All right, man. Don’t be a sore loser.” He turns to you and Rick. “We’ll go up top and call in for an extraction and help. Why don’t you two just wait here until it comes?”

You nod your thanks, understanding immediately what he is doing. “That sounds like a great idea, Floyd. Thanks.”

Harley pouts as she links her arm with yours. “But I wanna stay with you guys! You’re more fun!”

“I appreciate that, Harls. But I need to talk to Rick…. alone,” you say softly.

She huffs. “Fine. But I get to sit next to you on the plane.” And with that, she storms out of the room with Boomer and Lawton following behind.

You turn back to Rick, “How are you really?”

“Hurt. All over. But I’ll be okay, darlin’. I promise.” He reaches up to cup your face, but you grab his hand.

Holding it so his hand is on the bottom, you wait for a moment before flipping it over so his is now on the top. Rick nods sadly when he sees what you were trying to show him. Both of your wrists had been rubbed raw and bloody from the restraints and based on the damage, it would probably leave scars. You chuckle humorlessly, “You know, when I suggested we get matching tattoos or something, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

A single tear rolls off your face and splashes onto Rick’s arm. Without a word, Rick wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you onto the metal table with him. The table he almost died on. The realization of how close both of you came to losing your lives hits you like a freight train and soon, you are sobbing into his shoulder. You try to be as careful of his injuries as you can, but it is nearly impossible due to the wide range of damage he sustained. This idea makes you sob even harder. The wounds on your throat feel like they are on fire, and you can still feel blood draining out of them, but you didn’t care. The pain meant you are still alive. The blood means you are not done yet.

After a few minutes, you calm down. Rick still holds you tightly to his chest, but you can feel the stuttering, abnormal rise and fall of his chest as his punctured lung tries to continue functioning. You just hope that the EVAC team gets here soon.

You raise your head some so you are looking at Rick’s face. “Thank you for that, baby. It’s just been one hell of a day.”

“I know, believe me, I know.” He squeezes you tighter then chuckles. “I just love hearin’ you call me that.”

“Not as much as I love calling you that.” You bend down and kiss his cheek. But then you remembered something, “Rick…. right before you passed out, you tried mouthing something to me but I didn’t understand it. Do you remember what it was?”

His face grows three shades redder as he stammers, “Uh, no… I don’t recall.”

“I think you do.”

He sighs. “Yeah, okay, fine. I didn’t want the first time to be like this. I wanted it to be someplace special. But I was tryin’ to say…. I love you.”

Tears spring back to your eyes as you whisper in your raspy new voice, “Do you mean that? It wasn’t just a deathbed confession?”

“Nah. I’ve loved you for a long time. It just never felt like the right time to tell you.”

“I love you too, Rick. So much. That’s why I was so scared to lose you today. I thought I was never going to get to tell you how I felt.” You smile brightly at him.

He smiles back. “Well, you didn’t lose me. We’re both still here. Together.” And with that, he gathers you up into another kiss.

Time seems to stop as the two of you meld into one. All of the pain and horrors of the day melt away until all you can feel is each other. And as you reach fo-

“Aw, come on! Is this what we’re gonna be seeing every time we turn around now!” Boomer whines from the doorway.

Reluctantly, you and Rick break apart and turn to face the three intruders. Lawton points his thumb at the door, “EVAC’s here. They said they could bring down some stretchers if you need it.”

But Rick waves him off as he struggles into a sitting position. “We’re fine. Now that we’re gettin’ out of here…. Together.”

126 notes · View notes

mariamariquinha · 6 months

Text

Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - Nine

Eight

Summary: The LASD couldn't sustain its reputation as an honest police officer if it tried hard. In that case, no one tried.

Word count: 9.1k

Warnings: Bad words, talks about corruption, talks about sexism and racism, mentions of oral sex, mention of drug crimes, violence and other things related, strip clubs, sex workers, use of weed and... did I say sexism?

Author’s Note: I think this got a lot more personal than I thought, so I'm sorry if anyone has family members within the LASD who aren't corrupt - this isn't about them. This chapter doesn't have much romance, I'll warn you right away, but it's an important progression in the main characters' relationship. Give it a try!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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You were in the business a little while ago; a few years, nothing that still didn't stop you from getting suspicious looks or incessant questions to make sure your work was well done. Emma, at least, who was the one who mattered at the moment, trusted your instincts and your ability; at best, she said you had good directions.

At worst, that you were very witty. The moment she called you into her office, you were sure this was the version of you she was hoping to meet.

“What did you do over the weekend?”

On Saturday, after finishing the initial report on the Ballard case, you realized you'd only slept for 4 hours when your brother made a ridiculous phone call to a tennis match with probably very wealthy friends. You went. After a scraped knee and sore thighs, you found that it was enough for his office to get a big case of something you didn't pay attention to. Then you enjoyed what felt like an uncomfortable sea spray from your air conditioner, which ended up going out for good and you had to walk in shame to Target to buy a fan. You had seen what looked like a seepage in your bathroom while you were brushing your teeth and that was the last clear vision in your memory of how your weekend went.

But maybe that wasn't what she wanted to know - no, it certainly wasn't that. And you treated the situation as such: deliberate disinterest to speculate.

“... Nothing special.” You shrugged, averting her gaze since she wasn’t even giving you the satisfaction of looking at your face. From the time being, Emma was always busy. You being there didn’t make sense.

“Not making good use of the day offs?”

“My phone keeps on like I'm with the President himself,” Your tone wasn’t soft, nor polite. That grabbed her attention, enough to turn her eyes to you over her glasses, eyebrows raised. “Occupational hazard.”

“Mm.”

And she went back to her computer, typing and clicking and watching the screen as if you weren’t there. That made you scoff. Irrationally, you felt a twinge of disappointment and frustration with her.

“I won't tell you about what happened.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Thinking of ordering?”

“When you haven't used your authority for a long time, it becomes rusty. It's never a good idea in this line of work. Learned that from my mentor when I started.”

“And of course you thought you'd start this with me.”

“You are my main concern right now,” Emma made a scene to turn to you again, impatient and bothered by your behavior. “At first I thought you were fraternizing with the enemy too much, but then I'm pretty sure I lost you along the way. I don’t like this.”

In fact, you had gotten relatively invasive as the case progressed. Nick was never easy, that was a fact, nothing surprising or expected. The recent developments with Isla had left you in a position of naivete, as if you were as new to the business as an intern, deluded by TV advertisements and oblivious to what was really going on in the Department. If you got there and said everything, Emma would take you off the case. Maybe O'Brien even hinted at it, which could have led to that conversation, but the truth was that far from it or not, they both seemed to have a hard-on putting you in situations where they treated you like an avatar of personal control.

You noticed that your reports were right there on her desk - that she read them. Still, you shifted in your chair uncomfortably and looked away again, a grim expression crossing your face as you heard her sigh.

“You should have taken the days off I told you to.” The comment grabbed your attention after a beat of silence.

No, don’t you dare-

“... I'll pretend you're not implying what I think you are.”

“It happens, you know? Maybe we did you wrong for not bringing the subject up for so long.”

“Don’t bring Theodore into this.”

“I’m trying to understand what’s happening!”

“What's going on is you've got a fucking cop on the verge of corruption taking the pomp and shitting rules around here,” You snapped, your voice quick and full of venom as you leaned in to make yourself heard. “What's happening is there's a girl who almost died because she was helping Nick and now she has a huge target on her back. The biggest problem is that these things happen around here as if they were routine and when a fucking person gets shot in the face, you have the indecency to call it a side effect when everything was nothing but irresponsibility.”

There were things in your life that were untouchable, things that Theodore had done or that circumstances had only presented - things cruel or subtle, but things either way. That was from your father's side, people said, of being reactive to the unfair. He's always been on that part of the spectrum, even if the cops with questionable ethics and ambiguous behavior were in his basement collections.

You had chosen that career for the sake of the right thing and your cynicism carried you far enough to pass certain contexts in silence. Emma never got it out of your mouth that you knew what Nick and the guys did at the weekend parties or how the cocaine bust counts never rallied because someone ended up taking some for themselves. That even happened in the DEA as far as you knew. And you let all that go, because in the end that would be your job and there would always be a smaller percentage of subversion than of solution. O'Brien still caught the bad guys. Circumstantially, Mathias too. But one of the two always had a bit of powder in their nostrils or their cock inside an addicted whore.

“Don't tell me it's the job. I’m aware.” Emma shut her mouth as soon as you said that, one hand raised to stop her. “But you and him make it all seem like a game of who's going to budge some kind of boundary you set. I’m not obligated to go through this.”

“What do you want me to do?”

The sigh that left your mouth was tired, suffocating.

“Stick to my reports if you can. And if you're taking suggestions, don't try to be my friend. You're not very good at this.”

When you got up to leave the room, Emma didn't stop you, but you didn't have any sense that you were winning anything. There was no relief. Your face was hot and your steps erratic.

Certain reputations had to come from somewhere, after all.

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

“My husband was a member of the group.”

Isla had a calm voice despite the context in which she was inserted. There were no handcuffs on her wrists or a guard inside the room; everything was done very smoothly. There was, however, a palpable tension in the air, as if a black cloud of violence or distortion hung within that interrogation room.

Really, you shouldn't even be there, watching. Henderson was sitting to one side as he watched through the glass the conversation Zapata and Gina were having with the woman, and that should be enough for them. Even so, it was Gina who suggested that you participate indirectly, presumably to find out details about the photography issue as she had a curious background in the business. She was good, you could tell. Depressed too.

According to the file, Isla was of Albanian origin. The parents were immigrants and ran a small textile business in Coney Island, but they weren’t anything but a fast topic of conversation. The features of her face, such as the more rounded nose and the full face, were half erased by the bruises. One eye was swollen with purple and yellow hues, her jaw was bruised and her lips were dry. One of her arms had been broken, as well as the shoulder on the same side had also been dislocated. You didn't see her coming, but you guessed that she walked with difficulty because of the wound in her left calf. It was the only shot she took, grazed but painful.

Looking at it that way, she didn't look so much like Debbie. Maybe their comparison was in the look: the two seemed equally taken by a feeling that hovered only in Nick. One that you didn't know what it was and that maybe nobody could put their finger on.

She spoke of everything. Kosovo, her relationship with a man named Oliver Clark, her marriage and children - Selim, with 5, and Dafina, with 9.

You just noticed that Nick entered the room when you smelled his cologne. Bad smell, as always, enough to break any serious moment with that fragrance. You couldn’t help but make a face, pinching your nostrils once and clearing your throat. He ignored you, of course. Benny appeared right behind him with two cups of coffee - you two shared a brief look.

“We have the search warrant,” He said to everyone in the room, eyeing the scene in front of you with a stern face. “I also got WPP.”

A little late for that, you thought but decided not to say anything.

“Anything important?” Took you time to understand that the question was directed to you. When the silence became too much, you turned to him and saw everyone staring.

“... Nothing I didn't already imagine. I'll have better luck when I have the equipment,” You leaned over the table, just a touch, and read the notes you’d taken. “Leica M6 35mm, Pentax K1000 and… Nikon 35 Ti. Analog. This Leica is a rarity, I think it was the one she used for her first Homicide case.”

“Couldn't it have been someone else?” Henderson asked.

“Is that just a stupid question or do you want to make sure we've tested all options?”

“Both. So?” Nick pressed, arms crossed and nothing but harshness on his tone.

You observed him for a beat, considered your chances there.

“... The Leica is from the beginning of the last century, like, the 30's to the 50's. At least this model she said she has. In addition to being rare, not everyone nowadays can handle it because the resources are basically mechanical. It would be an absurd coincidence, which is not quite the case.”

“We've dealt with coincidences before.”

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

O’Brien didn’t answer. You rolled your eyes, going back to the notes before giving Isla another look.

“How long has she been doing this?” The question was kind of thrown up in the air, as no one dared to answer. You glared at them, specifically at Nick, who huffed in annoyance before saying something.

“One year.”

“And the case landed in your lap…” You said. “It seems that you really work with coincidences.”

Again, no answer. Feeling like you couldn't get from point A to B with anyone there, you jotted down some more information on paper and stretched your back, rolling your shoulders.

“It will be manual stuff then. They’ll have to look at each negative.”

“If it can be done then I don't see a problem.”

“Of course not,” You conceded, voice contained to prevent any progression there. It was like swallowing a fucking lamp.

Everyone was quiet when they heard Isla speak again, attentive as they watched every detail of the story that should no longer be news to Nick's ears. You were so concentrated that the noises of chairs dragging on the floor didn't even call your attention. Someone said something, the door opened and closed, and suddenly there was a cup of coffee right next to you.

Benny tapped the lid twice.

“Decaf,” He mouthed discreetly, just for you to understand, before retrieving his proximity and leaving the room.

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

Benny didn't have a very organized routine, but he could count how many times he thought about you after that shitty lunch: two.

1. That coffee wasn't for you, but he thought of you when he noticed that the Starbucks server had made the wrong order. It was kind of spontaneous. Suddenly you were there, at the front of his mind, like you were hovering around and ready to just emerge. He put it there, left the cup as if saying ‘you can have it if you want, but if you don’t it’s fine’. No one brought the subject up.

2. Nick had gone to the store to meet an informant and someone, probably Connors, saw a familiar figure at the register when they entered. Benny knew it was Murph who commented, but he saw Zapata turn his head to look at the guy.

“Do you know who he is?”

“Who?” Benny frowned, unaware of the commotion. He turned his head, saw the dude standing there staring at his phone - like a normal person.

“This is Theodore Park, our trouble girl's ex.”

There was only one person Connors called 'problem girl' and it wasn't usually the kind of comment that came from beyond the grave. However he recognized the guy, whether it was a run-in at office parties that Benny barely attended or some private investigation that bordered on a stalker personality from Murph’s part, it seemed to be true. When Magalon looked back again, Theodore Park was gone.

The second time, then, he discovered who your ex-husband was while listening to what seemed like irrelevant information to the investigation. In the midst of Nick's reticence and failures, Theodore Park was the object of his interest.

He was tall; compared to the 5'7 that Benny was. Maybe 6'2, compared to O'Brien. There were some university articles about him (three paragraphs at Berkeley, two large PDFs at CSULB that he didn't read, and good references at Caltech) and he seemed successful with an information systems company or something. Benny could never speak properly about these things because he was never interested; as long as he had a phone that worked, he knew how to use the most intuitive social media and that was it. But not Theodore, no. The guy was a successful man indeed in that aspect, indeed. A rich guy on the way. Without much effort, Benny would see this dude doing TED Talks and making Forbes in a few years.

Which had nothing to do with him, or what seemed like your type of guy. If Theodore was on one side of the spectrum, Benny was on the other in every way.

Well, that was distracting. Still, Magalon didn't do much with this information. There wasn't much he could do with it anyway.

It was only later - days later - when they had agreed to go to a 'club' to 'decompress', that he found himself thinking about you for the third time.

Earlier that day, he saw you talking to Lennon over what seemed like conventional pleasantries between friends. You were wearing jeans, both hands in your back pockets as you paid attention to something that was being said. Your usual lab coat was gone, probably because Benny could clearly see that your shirt was tighter, had a wider bust and the position of your arms gave a subtle view of your breasts. Nothing indiscreet, because you weren't indiscreet. That outfit, however, made Benny have a sudden indiscreet thought, and it stayed in his head all day.

He hadn't looked for you anymore - he hadn't had the chance to do that. Things escalated and suddenly there he was talking about how similar he was to Nick, pushing you away with the worst of comparisons. You didn't even react, which he understood as full acceptance of the fact that he was an asshole, as if that was the one thing that Benny and a technology nerd like Theodore had in common: being a scoundrel. You treated him as always, even though what had already happened between you should have been enough for that 'always' to change.

The girl standing next to him was called Lindsay. She sat down, started a conversation; they talked very little. Lindsay was wasted, not even bothering to clean the traces of cocaine from her lips or the way her eyes were dark; Benny asked if she wanted to go home and another friend, named Tracy (or Tara), who was visibly lucid, said she would take her. He paid for the taxi, made sure they got into the car safely, and discreetly showed the driver his badge. Like any other night.

He watched the taxi disappear down the street, then, on the other side, the movement of cars on that side of the city. It was late summer and the breeze of the change of season was a sure sign of the arrival of autumn, so he felt the wind hit his face.

Benny didn't go back up to the hotel room with the guys. He handed the parking pass to the usual guy, got in the car and headed home.

No, not like any other night. That time, Benny felt another wave of what someone once said was a ‘midlife crisis’.

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

You weren't a fan of bathtubs. Well, you had one, but it was that kind of thing... borrowed into your life, shoved down your throat because it wasn't so bad after all. Just like the coffee table. And the kitchen window. And the kind of lamp that lasted so little but, look, it was chic. So like all things, which seemed to be the biggest provocation that accompanied a 'gift' from a big son of a bitch, or a reminder of how there was a sense of ease in making your life miserable, you enjoyed it.

Something like that.

You had plans to get rid of each of these things soon, because all in all, the financial part of your life was also… complicated. A visit to the bank, a mortgage proposal, expenses for the large yard and the last remnants of your student fund. You looked through apartment websites for sale and just that idea left you incredibly depressed because, on top of everything else, you were a crybaby who lost the comfort of a husband who paid most of the household bills. And not to mention the job, because… damn, the fucking job. It had been days since you closed your eyes and saw Nick, Isla, Emma, Ballard, Mathias; what kind of fucking burnout was that?

So that night, when your heels were swollen and your back was sore, you allowed yourself a few minutes of privilege. Bath salts, then the heat of refreshing water and, among other things you haven't done in a long time, you felt a little sorry for yourself.

Connors had posted a photo with the guys on Instagram - you saw it by chance, one hand resting your head on the edge of the bathtub and the other scrolling through your phone. ‘bday party w/ the fella 🔥🔥🔥’, with Benny below his arm in what looked like a half drunk pose, in what also looked like a strip club in the background. You stared at it for a moment. Then another. Then another. There were easy smiles, joyfulness, even happiness; like it was just a standard day, as if the world was okay as soon as the first beer landed on their tables.

There was never a question with them, a doubt. It was as if, arbitrarily, the main characteristic of a cop wasn’t useful for them to become the ideal professionals that everyone thought they were. There is no need for moral duty, responsibility and care, as proof that the world, in itself, was also not moral, responsible and careful.

That was it. It was this pain, this itch, that disturbed you, because you knew that no questions were directed at Theodore when things ended. He, above the law, with money in his pocket and a successful career ahead of him, didn’t receive any dirty looks for having cheated on his own wife, who in turn would, in fact, receive condescending comments, pats on the shoulder of comfort and an unfair response from a boss, who attributed your problems to the great evil of having lost an idiot husband. That was what you always hated the most.

You abandoned the phone at the closed toilet seat.

“Alexa, turn up the music!” You said after a moment, listening to ‘Life on Mars’ in full volume and with your eyes closed.

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

The first sip of coffee was distracted. When the taste hit your tongue, you immediately grimaced and threw the drink back into the cup, staring at the totally undrinkable dark thing.

Great. No good coffee as well.

You wiped the corners of your mouth with your fingers and left the cup on the table, a little unsure whether you should throw it away or not. Just… Ugh. You threw it in the trash can, massaging your eyes with the heels of your hands before taking a long breath.

The break room was naturally busy in the morning, with people on double shifts taking a break and those who were arriving, like you, in and out of the tiredness of the end of the day with the beginning of another. Everyone was chatting amongst themselves, exchanging details about cases they were working on or the new bar that had opened nearby, so it was a bit strange that as soon as you rolled your shoulders to ease the tension, everyone turned their attention to a Lennon out of breath who entered the room with an urgent voice.

“Did you know?” That's all he said, then turning on the TV and stopping in the middle of the tables to pay attention. You, who were further in front and close to the coffee machine, had to lift your head a little more to understand what was happening.

“Recognized for the successful work carried out on the Merrimen case, Los Angeles County Major Crimes, coincidentally on the day of the closure of one of the most intense operations carried out in the city and credited in its name, hands over the most recent drug trafficking case to the Drug Enforcement Administration, the DEA…”

You could hear some gasps from your colleagues, murmurs and shushings, so that they remained quiet and could listen carefully to what was there as if it wasn't obvious. After that, you just stared at the screen in disbelief, your brow furrowed and your hands outstretched at your sides. When they cut to the scene of the press conference in the building's press room, which appeared to have taken place not long before you arrived, you could only see Nick standing next to the sheriff, Walsh's team, and Mathias himself at the lectern making the announcement.

Mathias's voice was a background sound, almost like an irritating noise in the silence of that room that seemed huge. No commotion, no direct press releases, just a 'peaceful transition' (Walsh's words) to 'a more prepared and complete team' (also Walsh’s words), which indirectly could mean more than cutting spending by the County government but rather a nudge coward of someone who didn't have the balls to chest someone basically… male.

You felt a little bad about that.

But, heavens, everyone thought that. And when Gina, of all those present, said mid Walsh's phony speech right after he highlighted the inefficiency of the forensic team (a part you only realized when he used the terms 'difficulty communicating with experts' and 'inadequacy expert with the magnitude of the case'), you blinked and saw her standing for herself, arms crossed and ready to fight.

“Yeah, but you're not in front of the fucking San Francisco Chronicle, Walsh. For someone who always speaks your mind, you're putting on a bad act.” She said to the TV.

Look, the system was a curious thing, clearly presumptuous and obviously selective. It has always been like this, world to be world, human beings to be human beings. And perhaps that was what generated discontent that soon disguised itself as responsibilities and survival, at least on the part of people like you, Gina and Emma, in the sense of gender, and in Henderson or Lennon in the sense of race, for example. It was like a constant obstacle, often exposed like a ghost that could lie dormant until it struck again.

No one there got caught up in it because they didn't have time, but everyone recognized the mechanisms and adapted to them. Neither you nor Gina whined much when the sheriff organized annual running competitions and didn't stay to reward the winning women; from what little you knew of Henderson, you didn't see him complaining, for example, about the fact that Nick always put him in for questioning black suspects, tapping him twice on the shoulder and saying 'you know what to do', but heavy in a condescending tone. Hell, you always saw the same ridiculous type of episode happening with Lennon as well.

Taken back to reality by the commotion bubbling between your colleagues, you noticed Emma standing in the doorway as if she had sneakily appeared to observe the reactions and the two of you exchanged very tense silent looks. She didn’t look defeated, but averted your gaze as soon as it became just a staring contest.

You turned to the TV - to the takes of Nick and the guys during the Merrimen case, then at their faces during the press conference.

Huh.

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

The atmosphere was burial-like, to say the least. You had spent the day in the laboratory, like a forced routine return, and it was as if no one had the balls to open their mouth and speak verbally about the subject. There were official emails from the DEA requesting evidence that had already been collected, reminders from Emma about other cases you were working on in parallel, one thing or another from Ballard (who didn't know how to create an email conversation and ended up answering each of your responses with a new email). There was a sepulchral silence from Major Crimes, but not the kind that left them untainted in the precinct's dome of recognition and social hierarchy; it was a shameful silence.

If you could bet on a collective concern, perhaps everyone was tense at the idea of having been publicly exposed as incompetent, and if even the best team of detectives in the county had failed, there was no certainty of the stability of the Department's resources. This would not only make the LASD incompetent (or corrupt), but also incomplete.

You have a new text! Your phone said, right when you were in the middle of a photo digital treatment of a license plate from a robbery case, even if your mind were wandering. In one of the browser tabs, Zillow was open with apartments in the central area of the city and, in another, your aunt's Facebook because your mother said she had done a hair atrocity (she had dyed her hair egg yellow, which could be an atrocity indeed). You looked at the phone screen lazily, already expecting another question from Ballard about anything that was already written on your reports, and when you saw who it really was, you were surprised.

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

“Is this a bat cave or something?”

In fact it didn’t even look like a cave, it was just the rooftop of the building. From afar, you could see the maintenance guys working in the electrical system on the top floor (which was where the Department's technology section was located), so if O'Brien and the others were trying to create some kind of reflective scene after a defeat like Zack Snyder, you could only read how pathetic and improvised the attempt was. It almost made you laugh. Almost.

“Was that supposed to be funny?” Zapata asked with a scowl, to which made you raise your eyebrows at the animosity.

“I think so, but if you're offended I think I'm on the right track.”

“You really are a bitch.”

“Tony-” Benny intervened.

“Yo, there’s no need to-” Connors said.

“Yeah, Zapata, watch your fucking mouth,” Biting back wasn’t exactly the best idea, because you knew the spirits were agitated, but it was obvious that the context didn’t allow for that type of behavior against you. Everyone there knew that that reaction was the remnant of misdirected anger.

You two shared a silent glare. Tony considered your face for a moment and you did the same; when Magalon pushed him to avert the attention, Zapata waved him off and walked away - you and Benny shared a small glance, one he soon ended to look at Nick, who watched the scene while lighting a cigarette.

“We done?” He asked.

“Don’t know, Nick, are we?” You sighed in defeat, sitting on a concrete support and looking anywhere but him. Again, you did what seemed like a copying mechanism: brushed your hands over your face, leaned over your knees and just… accepted. “How?”

“He used Isla.”

And so, being a somewhat literate person in the context of dealing with police officers, you could see the pattern and tone of the conversation that had just begun: it was almost an interrogation. Everyone there, kind of around him, looking for the person who would go to the guillotine. It took a while, between the silence that followed, the way everyone (except Benny) was staring at you and Zapata's reaction so spontaneously explosive, but when you lifted your head and looked at that scene, connecting the dots, you frowned and felt truly offended.

“Wow.”

“We need to be sure.”

“And who do you think you are to act like that? A fucking Corleone?” That made you scoff, giggling in disbelief. You adjusted your stance, arms crossed and erect back. “Believe me, O’Brien, if I had anything to do with this shitty show, you would know it by my own mouth.”

“You reacted to Isla.”

“Because I’m a human being, Nick, the fuck.”

No one said a word. There was this soft breeze flowing around, given the time of the year and the area where you were, one that you noticed that made their hairs flow and you shiver a little. If you paid close attention, you would see frustration and rage and that regular disappointment of a kid when they have lost a toy they like or are denied a candy. The loss, whatever it was, hurt for them but not for professional reasons but for honor. A very uncompensated and arbitrary honor, but an honor nonetheless. And it was always easier to blame someone else. You knew it was easy to make a calculation that would work for you because there would always be the feeling that you were impulsive, stubborn, even cruel - because men hurt you, because you still resent things in your personal life.

“I think it's common sense that almost no one here likes you very much,” You said in a low tone. “And we can agree that ethics and professionalism aren’t exactly the main pillars of what we do.”

Nobody said anything, because you were right. It was actually impressive that you managed to maintain a calm, almost soothing tone right after being basically accused of something so serious. Deep down, you felt that, at least, Nick didn't put much faith in this hypothesis, that this was a demonstration of power in front of others because his hands were tied and this was truly new to him.

And you didn't ask what the plan was, what they were going to do next. You didn't care about that. No one needed to cry because they lost the case, it was obvious that it wasn't the first time this had happened - it certainly wasn't the last either.

Nick puffed some smoke out of his chest, eyeing you for a moment. Then, with a ‘tsk’, he walked closer and crouched down in front of you, eye to eye, making you realize how much he hadn't been getting a good night's sleep.

“He promised exclusive protection. For her children, for her… Even for the fucking cats she has,” He said, but you knew it was a personal talking, something the others knew but didn’t quite understood. “I can't offer that.”

“It became personal.”

“... Yeah.”

“And do you like her?”

No answer. Nick looked at you for a moment, then averted his gaze to the floor. You saw Benny there, watching, expecting, and you didn’t know why that made you sigh in some kind of compassion.

“You’re tired,” Not a question, but a statement. One you did calmly, almost whispered just so he could hear.

You two looked at each other. Nick was clenching his jaw, holding words in his mouth and turning them around enough so they could come back in a dry swallow. When he looked away first, looking at the floor, blinking a few times, it was the first time you really saw genuine frustration, a moment of weakness that maybe, one day, Debbie had seen, or that the co-workers who were around you at the moment also witnessed in a rare way.

Your brow was furrowed and you were truly confused by this gap. Looking around, above O'Brien's head, you saw Zapata looking at the city around him with an annoyed look, his back to the two of you; Murph kept his hands in his hoodie pockets, Henderson had his arms crossed. Benny watched you, then looked at the ground, shaking his head.

No, this wasn't about you, nor was it your fault. In that context, you were just a part of the realization of something you hadn't touched until you saw every defeated feature on that terrace.

“... Are you sure?” You asked, blinking a few times with a shaky voice.

Nick shook his head.

“And you expect me to do something about it?”

“No,” He said with a firm tone, getting up on his feet. “No one here is sure.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” It was directed to Tony, who just tsked and averted his gaze.

When everyone kept quiet, not daring to admit their mistake or even apologize, you were the one getting up, still not sure how to react and uncertain of how to end that conversation.

“Never do that to me again, don’t-” You collected your voice, clearing your throat. “If you're disappointed with how things ended, don't expect me to help put out your fires.”

“I didn’t ask you that.”

“So what are you asking? Mm? Because I know you don't want me to pat you on the head and tell you everything is going to be okay,” There was harshness in your tone, almost a fury. And surprisingly, he didn’t answer that equally. “Share the weight of your conscience with those who are really at fault. And, I don't know, investigate, prove, don't do anything. You're Nick O'Brien, Big Nick, the badass. From what I see, everyone here has the right to doubt, so if it's worth the advice, start asking questions in the right place.”

“Maybe you won't like it if I start doing that.”

“Oh, is it a threat?” With raised eyebrows, you walked a few steps closer, staring at him in the eye.

“It wouldn't be the first time you tried to harm my team with your shit. You were the first to point the finger at me because of Isla, but you didn't hesitate to make a scene with Walsh and put Benny in the middle of whatever it is you have with the guy.”

“Listen now-”

“Excuse me?” You frowned, not even letting Magalon finish the interruption he was doing while getting closer. “I didn't ask anyone here to defend me! If this fucking case went wrong, try to consider your incompetence or the fact that no one asked you to fuck a suspect.”

When he kept quiet again, you scoffed, shaking your head.

“It’s so easy, isn’t it? Walk around like you rule every place, do whatever the fuck you want, put the blame on everyone to feel better… I've always seen Walsh that way, but he's not an exception, he's a rule. You come here, accuse me, then insinuate something so…”

“So what?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then I was wrong. You’re dumb and naive enough to not see that. Or a coward.”

You nodded.

“You always had all the tricks in hand and let a widowed single mother almost get killed by a gang. Who really is the coward here, Nick?”

Turning your back, you walked away from him, already opening the door to leave the terrace. Before you could, though, you eyed him one more time.

“Whatever your plan is, when and if they ask me, I'll be sincere. About you and about her. Because I can do that.”

“You would never say anything against Emma.”

“And I don't blame you for not believing that. It’s clear that it's been a while since you've been able to understand honesty.”

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

“You called her a bitch.”

Hearing Benny's voice break the silence was strange, so everyone was confused before understanding what he was saying. When they understood, he saw Zapata shift uncomfortably on the couch, looking at the coffee table.

“I didn't think straight at the moment.”

“It seems like no one here has done that.”

“You want to say something?” Nick pressed with a rough tone, as if ready to snap at the detective right away. Benny measured him, shrugged.

“I told you it was a bad idea.”

“We needed to be sure. This shit is going to get ugly soon.”

“And you pushed away one of the few people who could keep us from getting screwed over too.”

The intimacy created that kind of unexpected conversation, even though everyone there saw Nick as an older brother or a symbol of leadership. When they exchanged glances after Benny's response, there was a silent consensus that the disagreements were slowly getting bigger, something that had been surrounding the group long before you showed up or the case.

Everyone continued smoking in silence and the tense atmosphere didn’t dissipate. Things weren't going well.

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

Who were you to point the finger? To define people by a standard of behavior? To say 'you’re good' or 'you’re bad'?

You knew Nick could and did play dirty. You would imagine, given recent events, that Emma had learned to play this game from the position she had. This left you in a spiral of personal conflicts because, in the end, you felt like a hypocrite for wanting so much for things to be as per the booklet. Hell, you knew what you were getting into when you started your career there - you always did. And at the same time, after all that, you felt a hint of disappointment, of suffocation, as if you didn't have a shred of rationality.

It was an explosion of things, of sensations; you didn’t know how to deal with anything and you couldn’t tell anyone. Maybe you were a little paranoid too. Sometimes you were watching Emma, waiting for something, as if at some point she let out a more strategic and 'selfish' nature.

The marijuana stash (that's what your brother called it) was in the drawer next to the bed. When you were with Theodore, he also used it, although he didn't really like it because he had headaches, so it was a common thing in the house.

You were on your third or fourth drink, staring at the ceiling and releasing smoke into the air. There was no music, just the low light in the room and the brightness of Kojak's aquarium. Someone had been trying to call for half an hour, but you didn't answer, keeping your eyes distracted on the ceiling - There were some stains from the beginning of an infiltration near the window. You would have to fix this too before considering selling the house. The idea made you grunt and grimace.

Before you could put the cigarette back in your mouth, someone knocked on the door. The doorbell had stopped working a while ago and that was another thing that had to be fixed.

“Who’s it?” You asked in a high voice, not moving from your spot.

No one answered. That made you frown, then sit - which gave you a small discomfort. Seconds later, your phone had gone off.

“... Hello?”

“It’s me. Lemme in?”

Everything was screaming for you to say no, to hang up and leave him waiting outside until he gave up and disappeared. It would be very convenient for him to be there, ready to convince you of something, to change sides or be more malleable; it made sense. Still, you were a little out of orbit from the weed, slightly sluggish and relaxed, so you calmly got up, abandoned your phone on the couch and walked over, opening it but not waiting too long to see him enter.

You took slow steps into the room. There was the sound of the door closing, then being locked, and then his footsteps coming behind, but keeping his distance.

“Weed?” He asked.

“Are you going to arrest me?”

“I could,” That answer made you snort. “But it’s Cali. And you’re literally my teenage wet dream right now, so I can let it pass.”

Teasing or not, you looked at yourself and noticed your clothes (or lack thereof): panties, a long t-shirt. When you turned to him, standing in the middle of the room, Benny was staring at your legs, but he wasn't smiling.

“You're like a broken record, you know that?” You raised your eyebrows, hands on your hips. “All you say is that I'm in your dreams. This is cheesy as fuck.”

“You didn't complain about that when you were riding me.”

“Oh, so this is my fault?”

“Well, you’re being quite hypocritical.”

“Fuck off.”

“Stop it.”

“What do you want?”

“You didn't answer my calls.”

“That doesn't answer my question, so I guess we're even.”

He was tense, stressed. You could tell. Benny wouldn't talk to you like that if he wasn't angry about something, maybe even frustrated because you weren't 'clear-headed' to talk at all.

For a few seconds, he considered you while licking his lips, as if the gears were turning in his head. Yours was also moving, but more gradually, slowly, which left you a little unresponsive when you saw him take off his jacket.

“This must be good, you didn't even hear me.”

“Mm?” You blinked, taking in the sight of his forearms while he lifted his shirt sleeves. That made him crack a giggle.

“Can I have some?”

Oh. Oh. The weed. He was already walking closer to the coffee table to grab the joint between two fingers, so you watched in awe as he put the cig on his lips and took a long drag, eyeing the burning tip with curiosity. Benny hummed and nodded while puffing the smoke.

“Shit’s really good. How did you get it?”

“... My brother,” And before he could take another drag, you pick the joint from his hands. “Smoke, hold and pass. That's the rule, smartass.”

“Are we in college or somethin’?”

“Shut up and sit down.”

That's what you two did (or at least he did). You took another drag, handed over the cigarette and lay down on the floor again, next to his feet, and faced the ceiling again.

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

It was a very silent few minutes, almost making you forget that Benny was there. When the effect of marijuana hit him, he was already lying on the sofa, without his shoes or his top shirt, limiting himself to showing his arms in a white tank top. This gave you a period of lucidity, very brief, and soon there was no more marijuana to smoke, despite the joint not being finished.

All your caution was being thrown out the window, you knew, but it wasn't like it was going to make any difference.

“Hey,” You called him in a low tone.

“Mm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Benny stayed quiet for a moment or two, as if gathering his thoughts, then you listened to him squirming on the couch, getting on his side to look at you. Sensing the attention, you did the same.

“Shoot it.”

“What happened with Walsh wasn’t on purpose.”

Silence. For a beat, you even thought that he didn’t hear you, given the fact he was already zoning out a little. You started to feel embarrassed - weird. Well, you were high, which could lead to a version of you who would babble about a lot of nonsense and shit, but that was something that came from your lucid mind, probably a thing you wouldn’t say so softly without the weed.

“It wasn’t a question,” He teased in a calm voice, smiling at you.

“... I know,” You smiled back, but it turned into a bunch of stupid giggling while you hid part of your face in the carpet.

It cooled down soon.

“I didn’t see it this way, you know. Walsh is a stupid motherfucker.”

“Jackass.”

“Dickhead.”

“Yeah… His head looks like a dick. An ugly one.”

“And there’s any pretty dicks somewhere?”

“Just as there’s pretty pussies.”

“Have you ever seen others?”

You looked at each other, a small smile playing on your lips. When realization started to slowly creep on him, he opened his mouth in shock.

“It was in college-”

“Always in college,” He rolled his eyes, grinning like an idiot.

“I had this friend, Kennedy. We were roommates, I was single at the time, you know… It happened. But now we’re just good friends.”

“Mm.”

“I’m serious!” You laughed.

“So you’re telling me that if this Kennedy comes up here tonight, ask to go down on you or whatever, you would say no?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Fuck, I would. I’m not cold blooded, gatita.”

A series of laughs filled the living room again.

“We’re going out of the question here, yeah? Having a serious conversation.”

“You were the one talking about dicks here!”

“Because you called Walsh a dickhead!”

“Okay,” He sighed, adjusting his body to lean over his arm and have a better look at you. Little by little, Benny started to frown, as if thinking hard on something. You would be lying if you said it wasn’t a beautiful sight.

“So?”

“I know you didn’t do it on purpose,” His voice was soft, calm, even if a little concerned. “Plus, you had just signed a divorce and Walsh was there talking about it, humiliating you. That wasn't right.”

You considered his words calmly, blinking heavily but still paying attention.

“Nick wasn’t in his right mind when he said that.”

“You think?”

“Mm-hm. And Zapata too. He acted like a fucking animal when he called you a bitch.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?” The question was serious, probably the first serious question you said since he came to your house out of nowhere.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re with them. Like… you know. With them.”

Benny nodded, taking in your words carefully.

“Fair enough.”

But he didn’t push the topic, nor tried to apologize or something. He let you have your doubts, probably because he himself couldn’t help but agree that maybe, if it was the other way around, there would be uncertainty on his part as well. You sighed, then, returning your eyes to the carpet and poking it every now and then, as if looking for something on it with false concentration.

“Hey.”

“Mm?”

“Come here.”

“What?”

“‘Wanna feel you,” He almost whined, extending one of his arms to grab you.

“That’s why you came? To feel me?”

“Are you fucking mocking me, woman?”

“I am,” You sat up carefully, smirking at him lazily. “Looked like you just waited for the best opportunity to come back here and fuck me.”

“But I don’t wanna fuck you, I wanna feel you.”

“What’s the difference?”

The position you stayed couldn’t be more convenient: him, starting to sit as well, legs spread while you rose on your knees, ready to get up. It gave him some time to stare at you with a lazy grin.

“Saying I wanna fuck would imply that I just came here for it,” He explained. “Feeling you could lead to sex, but with some warm up.��

“Both times we had sex had some warm up,” You argued, hands gripping his thighs lightly.

“And it was so good, wasn’t it?” Benny asked when you rose just a little to get closer to his face.

You observed his face for a moment before pecking his lips lightly. When he just sighed, melting into it, you smiled and gave him another kiss, this time a little longer, wetter - enough to, when you part ways, it made a muah. The fabric of your shirt was worn out, old enough to make it more thin and give you a better feel when you gently brushed your chest on his. It made you sigh against his lips, doing it again when he groaned a little, unable to move a muscle but reacting in slow breaths.

Both of you, silly high adults, brushing your noses, kissing soundly and ready to fuck each other’s brains out as if the world wasn’t basically on fire.

“I didn’t come here for this.”

This made you move your face, just a little, and the look on your eyes scrunched up in confusion. It felt like a spontaneous burst of lucidity, almost like a punch, and when he turned his face to the side, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands, you felt brutally rejected. You moved your hands away from his legs. Suddenly, the carpet was hurting your knees and you stood up, muttering a 'sorry' as you sat on the edge of the sofa, a little away from him.

“Did you come to defend Nick or something?”

“This has nothing to do with Nick.”

“So why are you here?”

He considered your face for a moment, still taking in the effects of the weed - even if you both started to feel more buzzed then properly high.

“You don't want to go to war with him.”

“Oh,” You raised your eyebrows, scoffing a sarcastic giggle. “So you came to be a gentleman and defend me from the evils of disagreeing with Nicholas O'Brien? I thought you made it clear that you didn't have much chivalry in your personality.”

“I don’t.”

“Mm.”

“But that has nothing to do with chivalry. You’re not being rational.”

“About…?”

Benny sighed.

“We both know it was Emma.”

“That shit again…” You groaned, getting up brusquely from your seat and wobbling a little before starting to walk away to the kitchen.

“What happened was-”

“A mistake. A fucking mistake.”

When you turned, Benny was up too, standing a few feet closer to the kitchen entrance with his arms hanging loosely on his sides. The lack of answer made you shake your head, grabbing a glass bottle of water from the fridge and drinking a good amount.

“I'm not naive to think she couldn't have been involved in this, but I'm not naive or stupid to absolve Nick of the shit he should be responsible for,” You noticed his dry lips, the way he just blinked at you with a stern expression. With a tsk, you caught hold of a cup in the sink for him and poured some water in it, not daring to give, but letting it rest closer.

He came, grabbed the cup.

You could feel the effects of the marijuana, which were already weaker before, start to leave your system. You were sick, you made a face, but you swallowed your discomfort with more water.

“I'm not Isla.”

It slipped out of your mouth like a slim and unstable thought, one that made him just nod, sipping on the water calmly while leaning on the sink beside you, eyeing the other side of the room.

“Didn’t think you were.”

“No?”

“Nn-nn.”

“But it would be easy to pretend that I am, wouldn't it? I’m alone, recently divorced, dedicated enough to work but very reticent about my boss.”

You knew you had offended him the moment you said it, but Benny didn't show any anger. He stayed quiet, sipped the rest of the water and stood in front of you, face to face, in such a firm way that you almost backed away if you weren't so irritated.

“If I were as much of a son of a bitch as you think I am, I would have let you finish what you started on that couch,” That made you avert your gaze, but he gently pushed your chin, bringing you to eye his face again. “I'm not Nick.”

“I'm sorry if you made it clear otherwise. I'm not very good at reading between the lines of someone who literally said they’re just like him.”

“With other people. I never crossed the line with you, did I?”

“Because I never expected anything from you. I don't expect anything from you, actually, but I get a little offended if you show up at my house and say things like that.”

Before he could answer, you kept going.

“She's just a bargaining chip, Benny. She always was. And despite our visibly very different lives, I know what it's like to be used and then discarded as if you’re nothing, as if every promise was nothing more than a lie to achieve something very personal, something that never had to do with you,” You said. “I don't want you to come here and expect me to point fingers or accuse people. If it was Emma, if it was Walsh, it doesn't make any difference if the person primarily responsible for this doesn't take the real blame.”

“You know the world isn’t a fairytale, don't you?”

“I do. And Isla knows it too, better than anyone. This has nothing to do with an imaginary, but with commitment. When was the last time Nick used his badge for anything other than taking it out of his pocket while a whore gave him a blowjob?”

Nothing. Just silence. For a long, perceptive, heavy moment - silence.

“Emma received a letter of recommendation from the DEA forensic department,” He said in a low tone, catching you completely by surprise. That felt like a test, the way he observed your reaction with care, looking for an answer. When he found it, Benny nodded. “That's why I came here.”

“... What? I don’t understand.”

“I can't remember the last time I had five minutes of conversation with someone who had nothing to do with this shit.”

You could barely process the information, what that implied, because you had every right to disbelieve and have your doubts. There was a suspicious look on your face, he knew that because you didn't hide it, but he didn't take offense this time.

“Stay away. Things are going to get fucked up.”

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

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