#yes because of that one song where part of it sounds like the distance by cake | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sprout-fics · 11 months

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Tag, You're It: Part One

(Poly 141 x F! Reader) 18+

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+ WordCount: 6.3k Tags: F! Reader, Minors DNI, SoapGhost, Restraints, Chase/Takedown, Hunter/Prey, PiV sex, Oral sex (M receiving), Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Consent checks, Spitroasting, MMF, Unprotected sex (Use protection) Warnings: Mild Consensual Non Consent A/N: This chapter is the revised version of the originally posted chapter. To see the original please go here

It’s Johnny who finds you first, naturally.

The team spends most of the day making you wait. You had found a hiding spot before sunrise, brought along a small pack of supplies and some things to keep you occupied while you waited for someone to find you, for the chase to truly begin. Yet by mid-morning you were bored, and by noon you were practically groaning in frustration, considering using your phone to drop hints so they would just get on with it.

So you decide to take things into your own hands.

You begin darting between safe zones, checking your corners, making sure to watch your six, eyes keen and trained for threats. This little game of yours had specific zones on base mapped out to avoid at different times during the day, forcing you to adapt to your environment constantly to avoid curious stares from other soldiers and recruits.

It’s fun, the thrill and anticipation has you feeling a bit like a little kid all over again, giggling into your hands as someone bypasses your hiding spot. Yet the thrill is only doubled by the knowledge of the consequences of you being found.

You realize too late that this new method of yours is exactly what the team has been waiting for.

You get sloppy. You’re looking over your shoulder when you round a corner at the edge of the armory in the light of mid-afternoon, halting mid step when you spot a familiar figure peeking around the opposite side of the building.

Shit.

You double back quickly, but it’s too late, because the Scot barks a delighted little laugh, calls after you as he gives chase. His footsteps are slow, purposeful, and for a moment you’re reminded of the villains in horror movies that seem to walk so damn slow and seem to inevitably catch up with their victims. It should terrify you, but instead it makes something in your stomach twist with exhilaration.

You manage to draw him to one of the empty supply warehouses at the edge of the base, skidding inside and diving into a smaller hiding spot hidden into the shadows. Yet Soap has clearly seen you at least enter the building, because in the distance you can hear his footsteps echo against the concrete floor, glass breaking under his boots.

“Ohh songbird…”

You feel your heart hammer against the cage of your ribs, hands planted across your face to prevent even a single sound from escaping at the tenor of Johnny’s voice floating through the unused warehouse, sing-song, teasing, hungry.

There’s a light flickering in the aisles of upended crates and empty boxes, and the intermittent brightness manages to catch against the whites of your eyes. The flickering dimness of this space seems to only add to the rapid thump of your heartbeat, muscles coiled in preparation to run, to flee should you be discovered.

“I know you’re in here.” Soap taunts, and you can hear the clear excitement in his voice despite the fact that he’s trying to play into the persona of an enemy- tracking you down, taking you what he wants, only to set you free once more.

He’s close, you realize as his boots thud down the end of the hallway. Too close. You can hear his footsteps from where you press yourself inside the shadows of a doorway, his heavy boots a purposeful, slow echo throughout the empty space. It’s almost like he wants you to know exactly where he is, advertises his presence with every noise. What his strategy is, you aren’t sure, but you’re certain that if he gets any close he’ll find you for sure, claim his prize through the price of your flesh, your pleasure.

“Come out come out, wherever ye are…” He chuckles, and you rise slowly from where you crouch, tip-toe to the door and see the profile of him vanish just beyond the edge of the hallway. It gives you the chance you need, and you quickly but quietly move down the other direction, keeping eyes on where he’s disappeared to.

Yet then your foot crunches against something fragile and you freeze, hear his pleased little noise of realization a split second before you bolt, shoes hitting the floor harshly as you sprint away from the sound of his pursuit.

“There you are!” Johnny calls gleefully from behind you, and Christ- how did he close the distance so fast?! You can see the blur of him in the periphery of your gaze, the blue of his favorite shirt a mere blob of color as you race away from him, heart in your throat.

You did promise to not make it easy, after all.

You skid around the next corner, nearly stumble, and launch yourself forward past a darkened doorway yawning into a pitch black room-

Before you realize your mistake a moment too late.

Skeletal hands reach out, snatch you mid-step and drag you backwards into the broad plane of a chest. You yell from behind the gloved palm covering your mouth, adrenaline spiking in your blood and trying to thrash away from Ghost as he hauls you further into the darkness.

“Caught you.” He murmurs in your ear as your hands are dragged behind you, back flush with the rigid surface of his front. It sends a jolt of something through you, dark and thrilling as he overwhelms you with his adamantium strength, smears charcoal across the inside of your skull with his mere presence. You thrash in his grip, trying to actually put effort in even though you’ve not once dislodged him in all the time you’ve spent in his hold. Exhilaration squirms breathlessly in your chest, bright and electric with every gasping breath.

It only grows when the zip-ties fasten around your wrists, and you again try to wiggle free with no success.

“You’re a fast little bugger.” Johnny pants as he catches up, leans on the doorway, his gloved fist planted on the frame. Yet his eyes dance with delight as he witnesses you caught in Ghost’s grasp, dragging his lip between his teeth at the conflict of outrage and desire in your gaze.

“Hells bells.” The Scotsman breathes, and he steps forward, his hand falling to the noticeable bulge in his pants, which he idly strokes through his pants. You hadn’t even noticed, and realize belatedly that the thrill of the chase must affect him just as much.

Yet then his eyes catch that of Ghost’s behind you and he grins, untamed and starved.

“Teamwork makes the dream work, eh LT?”

Of course. He chased you here on purpose, pursued you right into a trap. Right into Ghost. Working in tandem as they always do, sharing twice the reward with you, and with each other.

You fuckers.

“Get in here Johnny.” Ghost offers instead to Soap’s quip, and you clamp your thighs together as his hand abruptly descends into your pants, your wetness soaking through his gloved fingertips. You make a little sound of protest, trying to buck his hand away, only for a thick thigh to wedge between your legs and force them open.

“Looks like our pet likes to be chased.” Ghost observes idly, and if you didn’t know him better you’d swear he sounds detached, playing the villain all too well. It only ratchets the excitement inside you higher, and you answer it with a muffled yell that only summons a chuckle from the sergeant before you, now pressing against your front and sandwiching you between the two men.

“Tough luck, us finding you first.” He tuts, and his hand raises your shirt and presses flat against the softness of your stomach appreciatively, suggestively. “Won’t be much left for Price and Gaz once we’re done with ye, hen.”

You stare defiantly up at him, and it only seems to please Soap, who’s eyes dance bright in the dimness and his fingers rise to tug a nipple under your shirt. It makes you falter for a moment, the sudden sharp sensation making your expression shift into something wanting, a stifled little mewl escaping you at the pleasure that rises inside you between his fingers and Ghost’s digits stroking against your folds.

“Fuck, we’re going to ruin you.” He promises, and Ghost hums a dark, pleased assent in response. “Fill you up and send you scampering so the others can hunt ye down and have their fun too, aye?”

It’s the reminder that they’ll have their way with you before setting you loose again that has you shift on your toes, accidentally grazing your folds across the pads of Simon’s fingers. A bright trace of pleasure jolts through you as a result, and your eyes flutter for a moment as you try to resist the urge to repeat the motion. It’s hard to not break character while you’re this excited, trying your best to maintain the persona you’ve agreed upon, a little mouse caught in the jaws of a fox, held tight and let go, only to be chased down once more.

It’s exhilarating, and despite the feigned fear in your eyes you can see your own excitement mirrored in the eyes of the sergeant with his face tilted down to regard you. Even so, you see his eyebrows raise an inch expectantly, waiting for a signal for the two of them to continue this act of theirs, the dangerous hunters who have captured you and will treat you as they see fit. You nod enthusiastically against Ghost’s palm, and the smirk that pulls at Johnny’s lips sets your stomach aflutter.

“Don’t worry hen, we’ll take care of you.” He promises, and gently pulls Ghost’s gloved hand away, tilts your head so his lips descend to meet your own. Teasing, he seizes your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it before releasing it with a wet little pop. You make a little sound of protest against his lips, but Soap’s only response is to cradle the back of your head and press you further into him.

Kissing Johnny is always a touch overwhelming. It feels like you're drowning in him with the utter decadence he pours into you, lips moving against your own, tilting you into him, warm breaths fogging across your face as swallows down your gasps. It’s dizzying in the best ways, always leaves you a little drunk on the haze of him. The temptation of him makes your knees tremble underneath you, but even if you wanted to buckle you can’t, not with him pressing you up against Ghost’s front and moaning against your lips when you offer a little whimper of overwhelmed sensation. You try to suck it back in, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of your noises they obtain through the victory of your capture.

You close your mouth against Johnny as a result, sealing your lips against him a little indignantly at the sounds he’s able to elicit from you just by kissing you. Yet Ghost seems to catch on almost instantaneously, and the chuckle that rumbles up his chest vibrates against your back and sends you shivering between them. You clamp down on the shuddering gasp that threatens your throat, only for Ghost’s to press firmly down on your clit so abruptly it makes you choke.

“Nu uh, none of that.” He admonishes, and his other hand slides up to your face, squeezing your cheeks together and twisting you so you gaze up into his shadowed stare that reeks of devastation. “No need to be quiet, pet. Nobody but us can hear you here, so be as loud as you want.”

“Aye.” Soap agrees, and a broad hand reaches down to your back, dragging himself flat against your front so you’re squished between the muscular forms of the two men. “Can’t wait to hear all those pretty noises, sweetheart.”

You squirm a little between them, feeling too warm, too much suddenly with Soap trapping Ghost’s hand in your panties, pressing you up against the soldier so you can feel a poking hardness against your back. Arousal pools between your legs, and you whimper suddenly, baring your neck to them both when Soap rolls his hips forward experimentally.

“Soap.” Ghost says then, and you feel him nod, watching as Soap follows his gaze to a crate that’s about waist high in the corner of the room. Soap grins.

It takes him a minute for him to wrangle the crate at an appropriate angle away from the wall, making a point to cheekily pat it beckoningly at you. You don’t have time to roll your eyes though, because Ghost forces you forward, making you trip over your feet before your hips collide against it.

“Down.” He tells you easily, and there’s a hand pressing at the small of your spine, gently ushering you to bend until your cheek is pressed against the surface. Yet that isn’t enough, because his hands hoist your hips just a little higher so you have to balance on your toes.

They circle you, like sharks in the water, eyeing the prize of your flesh. Touching hands against your waist, your shoulders, tracing the swell of your ass. Wetness pools at your core, warmth spreading across every inch of exposed skin as they gaze down at you like the thing you are- their prey.

You try to raise yourself up off the crate, toes skidding as you seek purchase. It’s for show, the idea that you could escape from them. You know even if you stand, escape past the door it’s only a moment of freedom before one of them catches you once more, forcing you to the ground in defeat.

Before you can entertain the idea further, Ghost’s broad palm settles low between your shoulder blades, gently pushing you flat against the surface of the crate once more.

“You’re not going anywhere, love.” He warns, voice low with the whisper of a threat that makes you shudder with vivification under his touch. It’s the same tone he uses when you bite at him in bed to get a move on, to stop wasting time. Dark, amused, saying with his tone alone that he’s going to take his time in dismantling you piece by piece until you’re nothing more than a gasping, whining puddle of desire.

Now it echoes down at you and promises that same ruin, reminds you of your utter helplessness under their spell. “We’re just getting started.”

Behind you, Soap suddenly yanks your pants and underwear down to your knees, and the sudden air against your bare skin is enough for you to gasp, squirm away from the hands that smoothe over your hips. Yet Johnny’s touch is tender, almost reverent, a reminder of his affection for you, that even as you are their prisoner you’re their partner first and foremost, that they’ll keep you safe, wring the pleasure dry from you and then kiss the tears of overstimulation from your eyes after with a murmur of adoration.

It’s encouraging, and even as your heart pounds up your throat in anticipation your voice trembles as you play the part, snapping at them something to the effect of how they’ll never get away with this, to let you go.

You gasp as Soap’s hand cracks down on your ass smartly, making you flinch in surprise. He soothes his hand over the sting, the calloused palm of his hand grazing against the soft flesh there.

“Watch your words, darling.” He croons, sickly sweet. “Otherwise I’m sure LT will find a way to keep your mouth occupied.”

As if that somehow deters you. Instead you lift your gaze up to Ghost once more, summoning wordless defiance in your gaze. Ghost only chuckles, and you watch his other hand rub himself through his pants. The sight alone of his length pushing against his pants is enough for your expression to change, shift into something hungry.

There’s a pause between them, and as you look up you see a look exchanged between them before Soap’s voice speaks, softer and attentive.

“Color?” He asks gently, thumbs pressing into the dip of your flesh just above your ass.

You breathe in for a moment, consider the stammer of your heartbeat, the race of searing excitement that pulses through your veins in delightful anticipation.

“Green.” You declare. “About as green as a cadet fresh out of boot camp, Johnny.”

Soap huffs a little pleased laugh, talking over your sprawled form to Ghost. “She has a smart mouth, doesn’t she, LT?”

Ghost makes a little noise of assent, and his hand is unexpectedly sweet, reassuring for a moment as it strokes the edge of your face. You nuzzle into it briefly, flicking your eyes to him as a gentle reassurance. There’s a softness in his gaze as he tilts his head down at you for a moment before the mask of a hunter once more settles across his dark eyes, looking to the Scot behind you.

“We should do something about that, shouldn’t we, Johnny?” He asks darkly, palming himself before that same hand reaches to unfasten his belt. You can feel saliva collect in your mouth as he adjusts, frees himself from his pants. The flushed, thick girth of him has you flick your eyes up to him, pleading silently. Yet the look Ghost offers you is only amused.

“Over.” He states, and you feel Soap seize your hips and lift, twist so you suddenly are on your back, arms pressed under you.

“Oh, much better.” Soap observes as he catches sight of your half-lidded eyes. “Shite, we’re going to have so much fun with ye, pretty girl.”

You watch as Ghost unfastens himself, and allows his cock to spring free with a little exhale of relief. The girth of him trills low in your stomach with the reminder of just how many times you’ve been split on his cock, his hand pressing you into his shoulder, the pillows, the sheets, your teammates…

“Open.” He declares, voice low but firm, a hand cupping under your head and lifting you so the tip of him grazes against your lips before pulling back. Tease.

You jolt when Soap leans over you, watching intently as Ghost strokes himself just above your face, and pushes a single finger inside you. He groans at the warm heat of you, the little flutter of invitation that greets him. It’s enough to startle a wanting little moan from you, legs shifting around his hips wedges between your thighs.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” He hisses, dragging his finger out, only to push it back in. It’s embarrassing how wet you are for them, worked up from the chase, from their words, from their touch alone.

“The sight of you, hen” Soap breathes, his hand digging into your thigh to keep you from bucking. “Never seen anything prettier in mah life, I swear.”

You shift shyly, a little modest at the utter reverence in the Scot’s voice, skin warming as he gazes down at you. His lip is caught between his teeth, eyes glinting with utter fixation, watching the way you squirm under the intensity of his gaze. That look never fails to set your skin aflame, feeling his eyes trace your exposed flesh almost like he wants to eat you alive.

Before you can wiggle too far off the crate, however, Ghost presses a hand down on your shoulder to keep you in place with a murmur of “Stay. Put.”

“Can’t get away from us.” Johnny taunts playfully, and he steps back to pull your pants down past your ankles, tossing them to a corner of the room and fully baring your entrance to his burning gaze. “Fuck, look at this, LT.” and you whine a little as he swipes his fingers through your folds, holding them aloft so Ghost can inspect the webbed slick between them, glistening in the dim light.

Ghost hums in appreciation, and your eyes draw back to him as he presses a thumb against the slit of his cock, where a small dribble of precum coats the flushed tip. You can feel your mouth water at the sight, lips parting a half inch in beating anticipation of the weight of him against your tongue. Ghost manages to catch the half-lidded stare you offer him, because you swear you see the fabric of his mask twitch in a smile.

“Eager.” He observes. a hand cupping under your head and lifting you so the tip of him grazes against your lips. You don’t wait for him to tell you to open, jaw dropping so he can push just the head of him against you before retreating. You make a little noise of frustration at that, try to crane your head up to catch him, but Ghost keeps you in place, a hand wrapped around his cock and stroking himself just out of reach.

“Use your words, pet.” He encourages. “All you have to do is ask.”

You feel a flash of indignation at that, brow wrinkling in frustration at the idea that he wants to make you beg. Yet the desire of tasting him thrums low below your belly, and with a little twist of Johnny’s finger inside you the inhibition falls away with a shuddering little moan.

“Please.”

You hear Soap whoosh out a breath from the other side of you, air stolen from his lungs at the need in your voice. There’s a second finger stroking inside you now, and when Soap crooks his fingers you arch up with a little cry of ‘F-fuck, Johhny!’

“That’s it.” Ghost encourages. “Not such a smart mouth now, is there?”

It’s a little mocking, a little teasing, and yet laced with affection. It melts you at the seams, makes you swallow wetly, looking up at Ghost upside down.

“Please.” You beg openly now. “Please Sir, I-I want it. Just- ohh, hmnng-” You teeth your lip as Johnny once more curls his fingers, trying to close your legs for the barest indication of friction, only for the sergeant to plant a firm hand against the soft flesh of your thigh to keep them open.

“Oh, go on LT.” He encourages even as you writhe and whimper on his fingers, trying to force yourself down whilst also trying to rise up towards Ghost’s cock shamelessly. “I think she deserves it.”

Ghost nods with a little pleased huff, purring down at you as he once more presses the tip against your lips. “Good girl.”

Finally, finally he allows the head of him to push inside your mouth in earnest this time, gently cupping your head as he guides you down his shaft. You want to thank him, but your breath stutters to nothing as Soap scissors his fingers inside you, stretching your entrance until your back bows off the crate, drawing taut with need.

Your eyes flutter shut as Ghost gently rocks himself forward until at last the tip of him bumps against the back of your throat before pulling back and setting a gently, rocking rhythm past your lips. The precum of him floods across your tongue and you moan, eyes fluttering shut and opening your mouth wider so he can slide deeper.

“If that isnnae the hottest shite I’ve ever seen.” Johnny curses, and he shifts so he grinds the bulge of himself against you through his boxers. “Shame Price and Gaz aren’t here to see.”

“Day’s young.” Ghost remarks, and fuck- the reminder that they plan to just set you loose after this until your caught again has an electric pulse flutter below your stomach, making you clench down on Johnny’s fingers.

“Oh, ye like that?” Johnny breathes, amused. “Ye like being our capture or kill little thing, darlin?”

Yes. Yes- You think feverishly past the size of Ghost’s cock rocking into your mouth in slow, languid thrusts. You want to touch him, want him to reach down to Johnny, to circle your clit. Yet your hands remain fastened behind your back, and the thought of that alone has your legs fall open a little wider. You’re entirely at their mercy, submitting to their touch and whims as they use you as they see fit. You moan around Ghost, the sound vibrating through him and he grunts, holding back a little huff of pleasure before rocking into you a little deeper.

“Mah pleasure, LT.” Soap returns a little breathlessly, and he pulls himself from his boxers so the weight of him smacks against your thigh. You can hear the schlick of him as he gives himself a few strokes, making a point to let his length drag against your stomach teasingly. The sound of encouragement you make is muffled by the weight of Ghost’s cock on your tongue. The salty, briny taste of him floods across your tongue, precum coating your tongue as he presses further, further, until your nose presses up against his pelvis and the thickness of his cock makes your throat spasm around him. He waits there until Johnny rolls his hips inch by inch, at last pressing his hips flush with yours.

The whine you try to make only squeezes the muscles of your throat down on Simon’s cock and you hear him force air through his nose with a long, low moan dragging you deeper into the hazy temptation of pleasure. It fogs against your senses, the world narrowing down further and further until the only sensations left are your breathless moans as he retreats and the pressing, unrelenting fullness Johnny presses into you.

You hear the sergeant groan, his thumbs pressed into your stomach as he braces himself, relishing the grip of you down onto his cock. There’s a low, purring pressure as he gives an experimental thrust into you, giving you a moment to adjust before setting a pace in earnest. Ghost pulls out from you long enough to hear the cracked moan that makes you throw your head back against his palm cushioning it from the crate.

“Good girl.” He croons, holding himself and stroking to the same tempo Johnny sets inside you. “Taking him so well, pet.”

You shudder at the praise, nerves glowing brightly, warm with building arousal just as Johnny snaps his hips to yours in a precise, unerring thrust. The girth of him presses a delicious, wanting fullness into you.

“G-God, Johnny-” You pant, chest rising, face warm, sweat beading at your back. “Fuck, Johnny please, please, I want-”

“I know, darlin, I know.” He coos, fingers digging into your hips for purchase as his hips begin to smack against yours. The drag of him has gasps shivering from your chest, a series of punched out little moans as his reward as he begins to fuck you in earnest. “Look so pretty split on mah cock, shite-”

He groans, and when your eyes flutter to him you see him throw his head back, brow scrunched shut and beading with sweat.

“Fuck-” He curses, lost in the sensation of your walls gripping down on him, the stretch of you around his cock as you try to drag him deeper, deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good, give Gaz and the captain something to look forward to, aye?”

You choke on a little broken noise at that, at the idea of Gaz and Price getting their hands on you only to find Johnny’s load still dripping between your thighs. It whimpers up your throat, arousal sparking taut through your form and drawing your muscles a little rigid and wanting in response.

Yet then Ghost has the audacity to hush you, lifting your head and sliding himself back into your mouth once more to muffle any other noises you can offer. He too offers a long, drawn out groan as he resumes his thrusts a little faster than before, relishing your gasping moans around the width of him sliding into you wetly. His other hand braces against your chin, keeping you in place as he pushes just shy of your throat. You curl your tongue against the tip of him and relish the surprised little grunt he offers you in response, hips stuttering for a moment before he collects himself and pushes a touch deeper in response.

“Good girl.” He practically snarls, and his other hand raises to trace the slight rise of his girth in your throat. “Fuck.”

A hand descends to your chest, twisting a nipple through your thin shirt and you jump a little under his touch, clenching down on Johnny’s length buried inside you.

“Shite-” The sergeant moans, a little high in his throat. “Fuckin stranglin’ mah cock, hen, Christ-”

You huff as Ghost gently pulls back from your throat, and make it a point to flex your muscles and clench down on the stretch of Johnny inside you, if only to hear the keen that escapes from him in response.

It gives him the indication he wants, because soon you feel him thrust a little deeper, the curve of his cock grazing over something pulsing warm and full inside you. The sound you offer just as Simon pulls himself almost entirely out of you is nothing less than obscene, bucking up into him in an effort to repeat the sensation of your limbs going completely weak against the unyielding wash of searing, white-hot desire that coils sharply in your core.

A thumb smears the tears of pleasure beading in the corner of your eyes as Ghost pauses to take in the sight of you with dark, hungry eyes. You’re splayed on your back, bottom half entirely exposed as Johnny buries himself deeply inside you. The thin tank top you’re wearing bunches around your collarbone, revealing the rise and fall of your chest as you pant, gasping in desperate pleasure.

“Bleedin’ Christ.” Ghost growls, a hand twisting an exposed nipple again if only to see you jump with a little gasp of “A-ah-!”

“Aye, don’t forget about me.” Johnny teases, as he too speeds his thrusts into you, hands dragging you by your hips to greet the slap of his thighs against yours. It makes a muffled little whimper escape you, partly silenced by Ghost’s cock as it slides wetly over your tongue. You can only force your mouth wider, eyes rolling back as Johnny thrusts into you, each press of his cock filling you with delicious, addictive pleasure. It weakens across your hips, forces you pliant and open between them as they fill you at both ends, rendering you limp to their pleasure, and to yours.

You can hear every dragging breath from them both as they begin to use you in full, and you float endlessly in pleasure, unable to tether yourself down as something molten coils tighter in your core with every thrust. Whatever words they say next are lost to you, deafened by the series of choked moans that spill around Ghost’s cock, suffocating your chest in a searing, hot push of air that clouds your senses in warm velvet.

It’s so much, and you try to catch yourself but you can’t, helpless between them as pleasure winds tighter below your belly. The wet gush of you squelches lewdly around Johnny’s length as he thrusts with firm, precise thrusts inside you, and when he lifts a leg to give himself more access he manages to graze over that perfect, glowing nerve that briefly has you seize against them both, endorphins drowning out all other sensation as electricity races up your spine.

“Fuck, fuck-” Johnny swears in response to the broken, whimpering groan you give him, and you feel yourself suddenly twisted so you lay on your side, one ankle slung over his shoulder as his hips stutter against yours in an uneven rythm. Ghost adjusts to the new angle, and with every thrust you can feel him bump against the back of your throat, his voice dropping in a series of low, choked groans as he chases his climax.

You wish he’d pull back long enough for you to babble senselessly for them, your words an unending mantra of Yes, more, please, good, so good-

You’re lost in them, in the pull of Johnny’s hot, pulsing cock in the wet clutch of your cunt, the ridged veins on the underside of Simon’s cock tracing over your tongue. The marrow of you feels weak against pleasure, surrendering to them twisting you to their whims, reverent and yet merciless, knowing the map of your desire and plucking the threads of you until the stuffing of you spills free into their touch. Fuzzy, muffled by the thrum of blood in your ears and the drum of your heart in your throat.

You’re going to come, you realize. You can feel the inevitability of it winding through your veins, nerves alight with sparkling, glowing desire that burns brighter, hotter between the three of you. It draws closer, closer, and as it does you feel as if you gaze up at a towering wave that threatens to crash over your head. It shadows your senses and you try to climb upwards as it crest so you don’t drown-

Yet then Soap presses a thumb down on your clit and you sob at the sudden intensity of the pleasure right as your orgasm breaks over you, drawing you down into an endless tumult of sensation. Distantly, you can feel your walls spasm around Soap’s cock, your entire body going rigid as you suck in a breath against the urgent swell of pressure that releases from your core and floods through every fiber of your taut muscles.

You hear Soap whimper.

The sound must do something to Ghost, because suddenly he’s grabbing his sergeant’s shirt and dragging him closer, rucking the mask up to his nose so he can press a sloppy kiss against Soap’s parted, panting lips.

You feel Soap’s hips stutter as the aftershocks of your orgasm begin to pulse through you, and he presses himself flush with your hips before a silky wet warmth spills deep inside you. The groan that pours from his lips is only swallowed by the lieutenant in front of him as Ghost shifts to pull himself past your lips.

Simon releases Johnny, and as you heave and gasp for air, shuddering as your orgasm begins to recede, he fists his cock over your face, the shine of your spit glistening against the flushed width of him. He plants a fist next to your head with a cracked moan, bracing as his hips buck forward into his grasp, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure before his cock twitches, cum squirting across your face and fluttered gaze.

Johnny leans over you, thrusting a few shallow, slow jerks into you as the fluttering pulse of you milks him dry. His chest heaves, arms shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he slowly gathers breath. He braces on his forearms, bent over you, and you can feel the warmth of him press against your stomach as he gasps, hips jerking reflexively.

“Fuck.” He grits, letting his head drop to the plane of your abdomen for a moment as the three of you gather yourselves. “Fuckin’ beautiful, darlin. Did so well for us.”

“Y’good, sweetheart?” He gasps after a few moments, and it takes a few extra to offer him a nod, head drooping with the sudden dearth of energy your orgasm has left you. You can feel your heart still hammering in your ears, body slumped against the crate under you.

When Soap pulls himself from you, there’s a little whimper of overstimulation at the drag of him against your walls. Yet he only shushes you gently, kneading little circles into your hip to ground you once more.

“Shh, you did so good, baby.” He tells you earnestly, voice still a little breathless as he gathers himself. Likewise, Ghost forces breaths through his nose above you, trying to even his breathing and bracing a hand on your shoulder to keep you from flopping onto your back at an uncomfortable angle. When he shifts, it’s to reach for something on his belt. There’s a click as he flicks open his knife, cutting the zip ties from your wrists and freeing you once more.

“Solid, sergeant?” He inquires gently, and you nod to him.

“Right as rain, sir.” You offer, and he huffs a little noise of contentment at your response. His hands land on you gently, hauling you upright as Johnny fumbles for your pants tossed forgotten in the corner of the room. You tilt your head back into Ghost’s front appreciatively as Johnny gets them over your ankles the same way they came up.

“Can you stand?” Ghost asks, and even though you hesitate for a moment you nod. As you rise off the crate both he and Johnny tuck themselves back into order, exchanging a few words over you to check in with each other as well.

You wobble a little on your legs for a moment, and you can feel the smugness radiate from both of them without even looking. You shoot them a dirty look, but the look Soap gives you in return is full of mischief.

“Better get a move on.” Ghost intones, and his voice too is tinted with a chuckle. “Gaz and Price are waiting.”

“Aye, LT is right.” Soap drawls. “Day’s still young. Plenty left to play before it’s over.”

You nod, take a single step forward. Yet then you yelp as Johnny’s hand smacks against your ass, making you jump about a foot in the air in surprise. You stumble a few feet before you dart off, heart thrilling at the remainder of the game left just as the sun dips below the horizon.

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#john 'soap' mactavish x reader x simon 'ghost' riley #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soapghost x reader #soap x ghost x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly 141 #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #x reader #reader insert #fic: tag you're it

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actiniumwrites · 9 months

Note

hiya! if your requests are still open could i request a scenario any of the “immortal” characters (e.x: the archons & adepti) with a mortal!reader who exchanges a part of them to become immortal so that they don’t have to worry about leaving the character? the reader’s gender is up to you!

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 (𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄)

synopsis: in which you exchange your vision for immortality, determined to live an eternity with your lover

characters: venti, zhongli, scaramouche, and dainsleif x gn!reader

warnings: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of death and mortality, fear of death, mentions of morbid conversations, scaramouche might be a little ooc here, purposefully inaccurate depictions of how celestia and visions work

notes: um so this request was sent to me back in november of 2022, so, anon, i am very sorry it took me so long to write this. i loved the idea a lot so i hope you enjoy this. also i’m not 100% sure scaramouche is immortal, but he’s been around for centuries and isn’t human so we’re just going to assume he is 👍

Venti:

The wind was blowing softly as you walked up to the giant tree, Vennessa’s Tree. You could hear the faint sounds of a lyre playing an alluring tune among it. If your boyfriend was anywhere, it was here…or the bar.

An off key note made your eyes snap up from where you were watching the ground, not expecting him to have heard you so easily.

“Hello, my love!” Venti cheered.

“Hi, Venti,” you lovingly spoke softly, moving to sit down next to him. Your head carefully moved to rest upon his shoulder and he continued to play softly, although this time around, it was a different song — one of your favorites.

A smile pulled at the sides of your lips. It was the first one since you’d gotten back from your journey. The very same journey your boyfriend was unaware of.

When he finished playing it, Venti set the lyre down next to him against a tree root. His face turned serious, “Something’s wrong.”

“Is there?” you played dumb, unsure of how to bring up the topic at hand. Venti didn’t fall for it. He never did.

He began to scan over your body for any sign of injuries, afraid something bad happened. When he saw there was nothing there, his hands gently placed themselves on the sides of your cheeks so he could rotate your head. He smiled the whole time, but you knew he was just masking his concern.

“I can feel it,” he said slowly, eyes squinting as he looked far off into the distance, “something’s different.”

You tried to hold it back, but tears sprung to your eyes. There was no hiding it now, “Venti, I…”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he hurriedly wiped your tears as you looked up at him, “it’s okay, I swear! You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s just,” you sniffled. The tears weren’t from injuries or hurt feelings, but simply because you were overwhelmed. The entirety of your future was now uncertain aside from the fact that you could no longer face death. You had centuries ahead of you, and it wasn’t something you had before, “my vision. I traded it.”

“What? Why would you…” he mumbled, mind racing back and forth. You loved your vision. It was something you had worked so hard for as a child, a representation of your dedication. It wasn’t like you needed money or anything, so why would you get rid of it?

Through your tear filled eyes, you smiled, “You don’t have to worry anymore, Ven. All those years ahead, we can spend them together.”

“You…you’re…?” he breathed out heavily, realization hitting him all at once. A smile broke through his lips, happy tears of his own were beginning to form, “you did that for me?”

You nodded and he threw himself against you, embracing you tightly. In all the years he had been alive, Venti was sure he would be alone forever. But in life and death, you were with him forever.

Zhongli:

Zhongli hadn’t noticed right away.

He was perceptive, yes, but there didn’t seem to be anything amiss with you at first. You often hid things very well. It was one of the only things he didn’t like about you. If something were to go wrong because he wasn’t observant enough with you, Zhongli would feel perpetually guilty.

It wasn’t until weeks after your journey that he had finally realized something had changed.

You seemed normal for the past few weeks. There were a few moments where you were oddly fidgety or anxious, but he chalked it up to the fact that you had just gotten back from a work trip. Perhaps you were tired out from it. Plenty of people came back a little on edge from trips, he had seen it first hand.

When it became continuous, worries began to whisper in his ear. No, he hadn’t thought you cheated or did something bad. Zhongli knew you well enough to know you weren’t that kind of person. If anything, he was worried that something bad had happened to you. That maybe someone hurt you or there was something you couldn’t tell him.

So, he brought it up at dinner one day.

His hand reached across the table, warmly cupping it around yours. His thumb gently traced over the back of it, a soothing action he knew you loved. He inhaled and pursed his lips before bluntly asking, “Did someone hurt you? Because if they did, I want you to know you can tell me and I will take care of it.”

Your face morphed into confusion, awkwardly laughing at his wild assumptions, “I’m sorry, what? Where’d you get that idea?”

Zhongli retracted his hand from yours slowly. His face was now equally as confused as yours, “I apologize, my love. You have been acting rather off since your trip. I thought maybe something bad had happened or someone may have hurt you. Am I incorrect?”

Another awkward laugh fell from your lips before you sighed and averted your eyes to look out the window of the restaurant, “Yes, but nothing bad happened. I’ve just been a little…down about something.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a bit to the side, “If you were feeling upset, you could have come to me. You know I hate to see you like that.”

“I know, I just,” you started hesitantly, “I wasn’t ready to tell you yet.”

“Tell me…what?”

The whirlwind of emotions you had been feeling over the past few weeks began to hit you harshly and you couldn’t stop the tears from forming in your eyes, “I traded my vision, Zhongli.”

He took a few seconds to process, but his hand grabbed yours again. He wasn’t sure what you were talking about, but the fact that you were crying was enough to scare him, “I…I am afraid I do not understand.”

“I made a deal with Celestia…to be come immortal. In exchange for immortality, they took my vision,” you explained slowly, staring down at the table.

Zhongli rose from his seat slowly before walking to your side of the table. He kneeled down beside you, a few tears springing at his own eyes as he looked directly into yours, “Why would you do that?”

“For you,” you breathed out happily, cupping his face as the tears fell from your eyes “I want to be with you forever, Zhongli.”

Zhongli rose a bit from his place on the floor. Cupping your face with his hands, he kissed you softly, yet eagerly. You could feel the love and passion with in it. All the sadness melted away in an instant.

He had witnessed so many of his friends and past lovers parish before him. Victims to time and mortality. But here you were, willing to sacrifice something you cared for so much to spend an eternity with him.

And in that moment, Zhongli realized he’s never loved someone as much as he’s loved you.

Scaramouche:

You were used to Scaramouche pushing you away when things got rough. Not because he was angry with you or tired of you, but because his emotions were too much to handle. The sadness was too much to bear.

The conversation of immortality had come up very often. A worry of his that he just couldn’t seem to shake.

What would happen when you were gone?

How was he supposed to move on?

Love someone else?

If Scaramouche was being honest, he knew there was no way he could love another. Not after you, the one person he’s ever truly loved and the only one he hasn’t lost. You understood and cared for him in a way that no one else ever had or ever could. Despite not having a real heart, his love for you was so strong enough to make him feel like he did.

When you left for some sort of trip, Scaramouche hadn’t been suspicious of anything. You claimed it was for your job — just a week long trip out of Sumeru to take care of some business. It seemed urgent, according to you at least. He understood and didn’t question any part of your story, even if it did have holes in it.

Although he didn’t show it outwardly, the week without you was rather miserable for him. Anytime you were gone, everything seemed to remind him of the centuries that he had been alone. The people he had watched die or turn on him and how weak he felt. It made him wonder, once again, how he could ever live without you.

When you returned days later, it was late at night. The lights to your shared home were turned off and everything was silent. You dropped your things inside, but before you could head to your room, you caught a glimpse of your boyfriend through the window. His hat was cast aside on the grass next to him where he was lying down. The wind was blowing his hair softly across his face as he gazed up at the stars, something you frequently did together.

Coincidentally, it was during those times that the topic of immortality would come up. The stars made Scaramouche sad when he peered up at them. Despite not believing in their genuine existence, he would hate to look up one day and find you among them. Far away from him. Mortality permanently holding you in its grasp.

You silently walked outside to where he was lying down, careful not to disturb him. You laid down next to him, gently taking his hand in yours. His fingers interlocked themselves with yours, but he didn’t bother to turn and look at you, already knowing who it was. When you looked to him, however, his eyes were glistening with small tears, the stars reflecting in them. He looked ethereal, but you hated how sad he looked — eyebrows furrowed, a frown pulling his lips downward.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he whispered painfully, voice cracking a bit as his eyes finally met yours.

You send him a fond smile, eyebrows turning upwards, “I’m not leaving anytime soon. You don’t have to worry.”

“But you will,” he started, a hint of anger laced his voice, directed at those who dared to take away the one thing he loved, “You’ll leave eventually. Just like everyone I’ve ever known. It’s only a matter of time.”

You sat up slowly, reaching into the pocket of your pants and grabbing something out. A flash of metal caught Scaramouche’s eye. He sat up instantly, recognizing what the mysterious object was.

It was your vision. The bright shining blue light it normally had was entirely gone, drained of power. Wordlessly, you handed it to him. He grabbed it, but looked up into your eyes with confusion. When he did, he finally noticed the exhaustion and dried tears all over your face.

“What is this?” He angrily inspected the grayed vision in his hands, “What happened to you? If someone hurt you, I swear to you, I’m going to kill them.”

“No!” you quickly exclaimed, interrupting his oncoming burst of anger, “No one hurt me. I did this myself.”

“Start explaining,” he demanded. Although he looked angry, you could see the worry and fear in his eyes.

“I’m tired of these conversations,” you hesitantly started, averting your eyes to a tree in the distance. You could feel your own sad frown pulling at your lips as you fidgeted with the vision he had returned to you. Inhaling, you continued, “If I’m being honest, I’m not okay with leaving you either. It tears me apart to see you like this, Scaramouche. It sounds selfish, but I…I don’t want to think of your life without me. Not when it’s already hurting you this much and I’m not even dead yet.”

You paused to wipe the tears that had unknowingly began to fall from your eyes. Gesturing to the vision, you explained, “The trip I went on wasn’t for work, and I’m sorry for lying to you about it. It was to make an exchange. By trading this with Celestia, I’m no longer mortal.”

Scaramouche’s eyes flickered back and forth between yours and the lifeless vision rested in your hands. A mix of anger, sadness, and relief hit him all at once. Years of memories flashed in his head from all the mistreatment in Inazuma, the Harbingers, and to his newfound life in Sumeru. But most importantly, he saw you and all the ways you’ve loved him ever since you found each other. His voice wobbled a bit, dancing between the lines of neutrality and sadness, “Why would you do that for me?”

You tossed the vision to the side and held his hand again, “My vision may have meant a lot to me, but nothing will ever mean as much to me as you do. I would trade everything I’ve ever owned to be with you forever if that’s how it had to be.”

The two of you laid back down together against the cool grass, staring back up at the stars. This time, however, his arms embraced you tightly. The stars seemed to shine a little more brightly, a little more beautifully. There was no chance for them to take you away from him anymore, and Scaramouche was forever grateful for that.

Dainsleif:

The burden of immortality sat heavily on Dainsleif’s shoulders. It was a curse he bore, but not one he would wish onto anyone else. It was painful, unkind, and often struck those who deserved it the least.

When you had found him, you were not originally aware of the fact that he had been among those who were affected by it. You knew he originated from Khaenri’ah, but you supposed he was like your old friend Kaeya, who was also from there, but was not a bearer of the curse.

Admittedly, it was difficult to be in relationship with Dainsleif at times because of it. He trusted you wholeheartedly, but there was always this lingering sense of doom in his eyes. There were times when he would get close with you, share his past and his deepest desires, but then he would pull away. It was a constant game of back and forth with him.

You were aware it was because he was scared, terrified even. Dainsleif had lived a long life of loss and sadness. He had failed in his duties as the Twilight Sword and, because of that, he was forced to witness the death and destruction of everyone and everything he loved around him. Anyone he had ever loved he had lost, and he couldn’t stand to watch that happen to you too.

You couldn’t bear it equally as much. Dainsleif was the best person to ever have come into your life. Someone you knew could never hurt you. Someone who showed you more love than anyone else ever had. Your love for each other was like no other. The only thing that could truly separate you from him would be death, and he would love you until that day came.

As painfully beautiful as that was, it saddened you to a degree that nothing else could. You did not want to lose him as much as he did not want to lose you. And so, you decided to lessen his punishment. Immortality was supposed to curse him with loneliness and suffering, but that loneliness wouldn’t exist if you were by his side for the rest of time.

You left as soon as possible, vision stored away in your satchel and a notebook in hand. It was your notebook that held your recipes. As a chef, there were all sorts of ingredients across Teyvat that you had to often import or travel to obtain. It was the perfect excuse to leave without him raising suspicion. Because, although Dainlsleif detested the Gods and Celestia, he would never let you do what you were about to do. Not for him, and not for anyone else. Not even for yourself.

It took you about a week to return.

Dainsleif noticed instantly something was different when you returned. It was a little past midnight. He was sitting at the table of your home, window open to his left to let the cool breeze sift through the house. He had been scribbling away at a map when the door walked open, and in walked you.

There were dark circles around your eyes, a conflicting look swirling within them. Part of you looked relieved, while the other part looked saddened. His eyebrows furrowed as you stumbled in through the doorway, whispering a small greeting to him. Quickly, he was by your side and hugging you dearly.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, voice just barely above a whisper. You leaned against him, head tucked gently into his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his abdomen. Silently, you nodded.

Dainsleif carefully brought you to the couch in the living room, sitting you down gently and setting your belongings on the small table in front of you. The breeze from the window drafted through again, strong enough to make you shiver. In an instant, Dainsleif was up and moving to shut it quickly so you could be warm and comfortable.

“Something’s wrong,” he started, hand moving to cup your face as you gazed into his eyes tiredly, “I know you aren’t just tired. So please, tell me what happened on your trip.”

You crumbled in an instant, unable to lie to his face, “I traded my vision. I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually going to get ingredients.”

Confusion settled even deeper into his blood as he stared at you, unable to comprehend what you were talking about, “Trade your vision for…what? Why would you need to trade your…oh.”

When he realized, you nodded carefully. The silence that followed suit scared you. You often had a hard time reading him, especially now.

His next reaction shocked you, however. Tiny traces of tears sprung to his eyes, threatening to pour over at any second. Your eyebrows furrowed, but before you could say anything, Dainsleif quickly leaned in and kissed you. Your eyes closed and you returned it, feeling the sadness, desperation, and love behind it. When he pulled away, you could see two or three tears had fallen from his eyes.

Gently, you wiped them away and hugged him tightly. He held you tightly in return, and silently, you both laid back against the couch. Exhaustion hit the two of you at once, knocking you out as you slept within each other’s arms. You had been exhausted from your trip and all the emotions you had felt from it. As for Dainsleif, his exhaustion from being cursed had eased up a bit on him. It him all at once, the realization and the lack of loneliness or worries he would have to deal with from now on. There was no more till death due you part, because finally, Dainsleif had you for forever and you had him.

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deathbecomesthem · 3 months

Text

Anything We Want

Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

WC: 3.4K

Warnings: None, really. There are implications. Mention of scars.

Summary: A day at the beach, but with a lot of yearning.

Fic inspired by this song right here:

*This is a re-upload. Enjoy, friends. I consider this a special one.

Distracted. It’s been like that for the last few weeks, truth be told, but worse since you felt his eyes rake across your body earlier. Now you know, he wants you as much as you want him. It was unmistakable when he walked into your bedroom expecting you to be ready for the day at the lake with the kids. He stood too long looking at you with your bathrobe tied loosely around your body, hair wet, water rivulets running down your legs, chest, cheeks.

The rest of the world seemed to fade into the background, just you and him seeing. If not for the sound of your front door being thrown open, you’re certain the distance between the two of you would have shrunk until –

“Hey, where are you guys?” It’s Mike. Not just Mike, you’re sure, because it’s too much noise. They’re early, but so is Eddie. Of all the days.

“Uh, I’m coming, hold up.” Eddie’s stumbling over his own feet as he turns to try to head of the boys from barging into your bedroom. You take notice of the red blooming high on his cheeks, because it’s undeniable. The moment happened. You both felt it.

When you enter the kitchen, you find the boys play fighting and digging through your cupboards while Eddie sits at the kitchen table with a glass of water. He’s unusually quiet. You’ve got your bag packed, and you push past Dustin to get into the fridge to get the sandwiches you made last night for everyone.

“Are we all ready? Suits on? Towels? Sunscreen?” You answer is a chorus of yes moms. You hate the nickname. It’s why they still use it. You can’t help the way you want everyone to be happy, be safe. How could you not after everything?

“Eddie –“ he starts, his name pulling him out of the daydream he was having. You know what he’s thinking about, his hand on your skin, his mouth on your neck, your smell in his nose, you’ve got to bring him out of that, “You ready to get going?”

He clears his throat, knocks back the rest of the water, and nods. “Let’s get moving, everyone’s gonna wonder what’s taking so long.” His attempt to save face, act like he wasn’t the reason everyone was still standing around waiting to leave, brings out smirk on your face.

The boys are shoving and pushing their way through the front door, you yell at their backs, “you little shits pile in the back, I’m riding shotgun,” they all groan in response to your demand. They’ll concede, but it’s easier for them to know the score before they even try it.

“How are we doing, Ed?” You loop your elbow in his while you steer him to the door, “do you need me to drive? You seem a little out of it.”

Your good natured and knowing ribbing seems to give him the courage he may have otherwise lacked. As you step to move your way through the front door, he pulls you back and pins you against the wall – out of sight of the rest of the crew.

He touches your still damp hair, rubbing it between his fingers. “What have you done to me?” As if you’ve done anything, you have no response to the question. You see the crease in his brow, the concern. He’s questioning his feelings, and it makes sense. You both have become something of parent figures for the kids in the last few months. So much pain and loss, you and Eddie have been the constants for them. You two are an unlikely duo, for so many reasons, but you’ve worked so hard to be consistent for everyone. Mutual sacrifice and mutual dependence on each other. This is the first time either of you have really looked at each other.

“What are you doing to me, Ed?” Your eyes are searching his. His lips are parted, as if he has something to say. Your mouths are drawn together, as if each set is magnetized to attract the other. His nose is rubbing against your own as he angles his mouth to meet you, the heat of his breath fanning across your lips –

*Hooooonk* *Hoooooooooonk* The sound of the horn from Eddie’s van has you jumping apart from one another. Two heads shaking away the fog of desire. What is going on with you two?

“I’m gonna kill those little assholes.” Eddie grabs the cooler and beach bag before slipping on a pair of flip flops at the door. He looks like a dad ready for vacation in his self-altered jean shorts while the bottoms of his sandals slap against the soles of his feet with every step. You feel giddy watching him like this. It’s a rare thing, Eddie being comfortable enough to shed his leather, his second skin, and you wonder when it happened. When he decided you were safe. It must have been when I wasn’t paying attention.

The sounds of Eddie berating Mike Wheeler can be heard over the roar of the van’s engine starting, and the blare of Iron Maiden cranking over the speakers. You grab your sunglasses and keys, before stepping into the heat of the summer day. You take your time locking the door, thinking about how just a moment ago you were lost in a moment with Eddie.

The vinyl passenger’s seat in the van sticks to your skin the moment you make contact with it, you turn to see your driver for the day’s adventure, ignoring the sounds of teenage boys bickering in the backseat. “Ready, Eddie?” You give him your best smile, and this time when he smiles back, you see that flush return to his cheeks.

“Born ready, baby.” His cheesy grin and teasing tone succeed in making you laugh hard enough to let out an indelicate snort. You feel giddy when he throws the van in reverse and slaps his hand against the steering wheel.

With the windows rolled down, the warm summer air beats against your arm as it hangs out of the window. You don’t mind the heat, the warm embrace welcome after the cold winter and spring at the edge of hell. The beach has been calling to you, and Eddie answered it by providing a reason to leave.

“I feel like this place is going to suffocate me,” you’d spent the first half of your day working at the community center and the last half sat at a desk at city hall fielding phone calls concerning revitalization plans for Hawkins.

Eddie sat with his legs splayed in front of him, tray of weed on the table in front him while you lay flat on the shag carpet of your parents’ living room, fingers weaving between the pieces of soft material.

“We can’t have that, you’re too important.” He’s concentrating on his task at hand, providing you with something to keep the nightmares at bay. It’s been bad, and like he said, you’ve become important to the community. It was unfair and exhausting.

“So, I guess running away would be considered bad form on my part, hm?” You angle your neck up to catch his reaction to your thought. You almost felt like if he told you to, you’d pick yourself off the floor and run out into the night, getting lost somewhere without the constant ringing of a telephone. Without the desperate needs of so many broken people filling your mind.

“No, probably not a great idea,” he sees your face fall, and it pings his heart, because he knows it’s not fair. He wants nothing more than to tell you to fuck this place and run off, but he’s on the list of the people that need you, “well, not a good permanent idea. How about for a day?”

It hadn’t taken much for you to be excused from your work for a day. Your boss and the volunteer coordinator could see the exhaustion on your face dragging your features lower with each passing moment. You weren’t just a hard worker, you’d lost everything and turned your pain into a gift for everyone around you instead of wallowing in your grief.

Right now, with the wind whipping through the cab of the van, the boys in the back laughing, Eddie drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, you feel alive. More alive than you have in a long time. The hours on the road move languidly, you spend the time watching the way the curls move with the air. The way the muscles of the arms flex with each turn of the wheel. The way lips move in sync with the words sung by the musicians on the cassettes playing in the tape deck.

He catches you several times, and you feel no shame. There has already been an unspoken acknowledgement between the two of you. Now that you could see, there was no going back. His eyes were better used on the road in front of him, but you could see him trace along the curve of your neck when you used a finger to draw your attention to the places you want him to kiss when you get some time alone.

It’s the crunching of gravel under the van’s tires that draws you back into the present moment. The halting of the brakes, the wind no longer moving his hair around his head. The sparkling sun high in the sky. You could hear the waves and you knew that as soon as you crossed over the top of the dunes, the wind across the lake would cool your skin already dampened with sweat.

You hand the heavy load of beach items to the 3 younger boys and share the task of carrying a couple of umbrellas with Eddie. You’re both slow, letting the boys get ahead and pick their spot. Even now, you’re both too caught up in each other, stealing looks and grins while your sandaled feet sink into the soft sand of the path laid out before you.

“How long do you think they’ll keep us here today?” Eddie’s asking, but his eyes are pleading with you. You haven’t even found a spot yet, and he’s already ready to shake the rest of them off his back. As if it wasn’t his idea to bring them along in the first place.

“Oh, I think we have at least a good 6 hours out here, Ed.” You knock your shoulder into his, “remember I packed lunch and dinner for us. You insisted we take our time and not rush back home.”

He answers you with a resigned groan, “I’m just full of great ideas,” he stops and turns you. Sweat was already beading on his neck, and under the bangs that hid his forehead, you’re sure. Without thinking, you reach into a pocket and pull out a hairband. On tiptoes, you reach up and tie his hair back into a low bun, hoping it provides him with some relief. It’s not until you look back into his face that you see the expression of yearning he has as he takes in your look of concentration.

This is bad. Unbelievably bad. The kids would pick up on this before you and Eddie even know what’s happening. You need to find a way to cool his jets, and your own, before you find the boys’ spot on the beach.

“Eddie, you can’t keep looking at me like that.” Your own eyes are pleading with him now.

“I can’t help it.” Exhaling a sigh, he brings a ring clad hand to his face, raking it down from forehead to neck as if he could wipe away the need he has written all over it. “Sorry, I’ll try. Stop being so fucking sexy and maybe we’ll get through this in one piece.”

Without letting you respond, he jogs ahead of you. He thinks I’m sexy. The thought alone makes you feel lighter and taller. The thought alone sets your skin on fire, and you’re sure you’ll both burn before the sun sets on the lake today.

Coming over the hill you see Eddie making his way to the spot, a little way from the shore. Robin, Nancy, and El should be here soon. The family. Your only family.

Towels are lain on the soft ground, umbrellas create a blanket of shadow, and you are opening the big beach bag that holds snacks, water, cans of soda, and sunscreen. You line the boys up in a row and help them get their hard to reach places before shooing them away from you. Eddie’s up last, and you can see the hesitancy he has as he reaches down and pulls his faded Metallica t shirt over his head.

He’s pretty, ink speckled skin with the still red scars scattered across his torso. You focus on the work, taking care to spread a thicker layer of lotion over the scars and his tattoos. The spots that are most sensitive to the harsh rays of the summer sun. His breath is ragged while you run your hands across his sensitive skin. You make mental notes of the places where the brush of your fingers makes his breath catch in his throat. For later.

“Hey!” Robin’s shouts from down the beach pull your thoughts back to the present, again, and you give Eddie a soft slap on the back indicating you’re done with him for the moment.

“Go play with your kids, I’ll be here.” You can feel the girls getting closer while Eddie stands stock still in his spot looking at you. His breath is still heavy, his chest flushed, and it’s enough to send a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

“Promise? I’m afraid if I take my eyes off you, you’ll disappear.” His brows are knitted together, and you understand what he’s feeling. Like this might slip away from both of you if you let it. You give him a half shy grin and nod just as El barrels herself into your back for a sneak attack hug.

He’s off, with a wave backwards, he runs down to the edge of the water. The new additions set up their own spots next to your own, while you watch Eddie and Will wrestle in the wet sand at the water’s edge.

The hours drift by lazily, the water is too cold for you to spend more than a few moments at a time letting it cool your too hot body. The heat of the sun dries your skin quickly, pieces of sand stuck to every piece exposed to summer air. Today, this is the only place that exists. Everything else has fallen away, it’s just you with your toes dug deep into the cool sand.

It’s late afternoon when you catch him staring again. Nancy and Robin are in the water, splashing each other while the rest toss a giant beach ball back and forth trying to keep it from getting caught in the wind. Your paper fan doing its best against the heat. You give up and grab some ice out of the cooler sat next to you, running it along your collarbone and up the back of your neck. When you look up, Eddie is standing a few yards away, apparently frozen by the scene in front of him. He’s watching you, and now you’re watching him back. You close the fan and rest it against your forehead while you dip the ice, down the valley of your chest.

“Not fair.” He throws his hands up in the air in frustration, while you laugh. He’s approaching slowly, looking over his shoulder to ensure that no one’s coming up behind him. “You’re doing this on purpose, and I fucking know it.” He’s standing over you, casting the shadow of his form across your body. You think, you wish, it was his own body draped across you right now.

“I don’t know what you mean. It’s hot, Eddie.” You bat your lashes at him, and he throws his body down next to you. He’s all arms and legs most of the time, and now is no different. The rest of the group is distracted, and he takes the opportunity to drape his chest, sticky with sweat across your own. As if he read your mind just a moment ago. It could be read as his typical playful wrestling, Eddie could always be counted on to make any of his friends his unsuspecting victims.

His hands find your sides, and he squeezes firmly, not a tickle. His face mouth is close to your ear, and he barely whispers, “I can’t wait until I can spend some time alone with you.” You feel his desire pushing against the outside of your thigh, and you gasp a little. You can see Mike look back over to the two of you, and you wiggle under him as a warning.

“Eddie.” You huff out as his nose nuzzles at your neck. He breathes you in deeply before adjusting his shorts and climbing off of you before he lumbers back down the beach.

The sun is a little lower in the sky now, and you know it’s time to start a fire, it will be no time before all of the gear is packed back up and everyone drags their tired bodies back to the parking lot. So, you get to work. And Nancy joins you, her eyes watching your face more than you’re comfortable with. She’s always been more perceptive than you appreciate, she always knows what you’re thinking.

You work silently with your closest friend. She lets you keep your secret. You call the rest over and settle in, it’s an easy beach dinner that takes no real effort to setup. Each person with a metal roasting fork for their hotdogs, with sun kissed cheeks and sand dusted legs. Your eyes can’t stop watching him, though. You’re both devouring each other with your eyes while the rest of the group devours their dinners.

Nancy must know, because she does something you never would have expected when the meal is over and everyone begins slowly clearing away their garbage. You might be the mom of the group, but Nancy is the manager. Nancy knows how to get everyone working together, she knows how to run an efficient ship.

“Hey, everyone,” she’s slapping her hands together to get the attention of Dustin and Mike – they started an argument about something you couldn’t even begin to comprehend – “you two, hey! Mike, Dustin, and Will are all riding back with us, we’re gonna squeeze in, and everything else can go in Eddie’s van. You’re all spending the night at my house anyway, and I’m sure those two won’t mind a quiet ride back after dragging your annoying asses out here for the day.”

The way she orders everyone around brokers no room for argument, and she gives nothing away about her true intentions. You could kiss her, but that would remind everyone that Eddie only lives a little ways from the Wheeler’s and Nancy’s plan doesn’t completely make sense, so you just shrug in agreement and try to tamp down the adrenaline surge coursing through your body. Your mind flashing to scenes of lips on lips, hands roaming across sweaty skin, your teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder –

“Hey, you with me?” Eddie’s standing next to you now while you watch El and Will dragging the cooler down the beach. You’ve been standing here too long, lost in thought. He must have said something.

“Sorry, too much sun. What’s up?” His cheeks are tinted pink and you feel guilty for not telling him to add more sun screen at some point. He’ll be sore tomorrow.

“I said, let’s get the van loaded up, get them on the road, and we can, uh, stay for a little while. You and me?”

You put your arm through his elbow, something you do often, and you lead each other behind the rest of the gang. As they climb the top of the hill, and the tops of their heads disappear behind the dune, you stop in your tracks.

“Look, Ed.” You draw his attention back to the water. The sun’s slow descent in the western sky turning the water to a deeper blue, almost black color. It’s then that you decide, while the others load up the van, that this is alone enough. You draw his mouth to your own and close the gap between you. A prelude to the evening ahead. To the days and months ahead.

#eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson lives #eddie munson imagines

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wlntrsldler · 4 months

Text

now i see daylight | part ii: treacherous

song: treacherous by taylor swift

series description: set after lust conquers all, jamie returns to richmond and takes accountability for treating you like shit.

warnings: language-- it's ted laso, what did ya expect?; bff!sam, touch starved jamie and reader, A LOT OF ALCOHOL, richmond himbos

pairing: jamie tartt x f! reader

word count: 2054 words

series masterlist | main masterlist

When the whistle was blown for full time, the cheers in the arena were deafening. You couldn’t hear yourself think and everything seemed to slow. You stood behind Roy, clutching your camera, as you watched the sea of red and blue storm the field. You were only snapped out of your thoughts when Will jumped on your back, hugging you from behind.

“We’re moving up!” Will screamed behind you, beaming from ear to ear. “Come on, Y/N, let’s celebrate!”

You placed your camera on one of the seats under the tent and tossed a jacket over it. You followed Will into the middle of the field where all of the coaches, players, and fans were celebrating.

“Dani Rojas you legend!” You yelled, running toward Dani. He grinned at you, picking you up by your waist to spin you around. “I am so fucking proud of you!”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he put you down, holding you by your shoulders. “You will come to the after-party, yes?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

You made your rounds with all of the players. Most of them were so excited, they couldn’t say anything but, “Let’s goooooo!” Colin threw an arm around you and walked you over to Sam, who you still hadn't seen because of the chaos. When Sam saw you, he ran to you, smiling so wide you were sure his cheeks hurt.

“Y/N! Can you believe it? We are back in the Premier League!”

“I believe it. I knew you guys could do it.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he hugged you tightly. “Are you coming to the after-party? Please tell me you will. I can pick you up.”

You tutted, “Samuel, I will be there but you are not driving tonight. You deserve to get absolutely trashed.”

“Agreed, mate.”

There was that accent again. You turned around to see Jamie, glowing under the lights. Ever since the day he cornered you in the hallway, he made do with his promise. He didn’t bother you again unless it was for work. You’ve been more courteous to him. You no longer ignored his “good mornings,” or “how are ya’s,” but you still kept your distance. However, your resolve was slowly fading. Being around him again made you remember why you were so drawn to him in the first place. With him being a different version of himself now, it increased that attraction tenfold.

Sam looked between the two of you and smirked, walking away discreetly. He’s noticed the small smiles on your face whenever Jamie would come around. You tried to hide it, but Sam knew you too well.

You turned your body to look at Jamie, shyly looking at him. Jamie met your eye, eyes twinkling in a way that you haven’t seen since the last night you shared with him. He had a boyish smile on his face. You pursed your lips, trying not to let a smile slip, but you were unsuccessful. Jamie’s eyes got brighter, which you didn’t realize was possible.

“Great job, Jam.”

Jamie let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding at the sound of his nickname leaving your lips. He bit his bottom lip, stretching his hand out for a handshake, “I appreciate it, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his hand away. You walked toward him and pulled him into a hug. Jamie froze in your arms for a second before melting into the hug and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You didn’t realize how much you missed him until you felt his arms tighten around your torso. It was like you finally got a taste of the thing you were craving for months as if there was nothing else in the world that could’ve made this moment sweeter, better.

Your hand made its way to the back of his neck, where you cradled the back of his head, fingers softly tugging on his hair. It was muscle memory, how you used to cuddle him on his couch all those months ago. Jamie sighed into your skin, his warm breath awakening you from the trance you were under, causing you to pull away.

Both of your faces were flushed when you pulled apart. Jamie cleared his throat, looking down at his feet, before vaguely motioning somewhere as if there was something requiring his attention. You did the same, leaving to go in the opposite direction as him.

You turned around and saw Keeley with a smirk on her face, arms crossed with a knowing look. “World must be ending, I suppose?”

Blushing, you shoved her lightly, “Shut up.”

In true Captain fashion, Isaac rented a giant party bus for all of the players and a few special guests, including you, Keeley, Roy, and Will. The bus was taking all of you to a club in London that Isaac bought out for the night to celebrate the win and promotion. Roy, who should know better now that he was a coach, denounced his coach-ship before he stepped foot on the bus, stating that tonight he was “going to have the fucking time of my life!”

When you walked into the bus with Sam, you were hit with the sound of a club beat. Players were already a few drinks in from the bottles of beer and liquor scattered around the bus. Jan Maas was holding onto the pole, laughing as he fist-pumped to the song. Richard had a bottle of red wine in his grasp, which you later saw had a sticker on it that said “Property of Richard Montlaur.” Colin and Isaac were in the corner singing into a bottle of gin when “Hotel Room Service” by Pitbull started playing.

Sam was pulled from you by O’Brien who made him take shots. With you both being the last two the team was waiting for, the bus lightly jerked as it began its journey to London. The entire team cheered, raising bottles in the air.

You laughed as you tried to make your way around the bus, trying to find a friendly face that wasn’t too far gone. You knew all of them would regret this in the morning. You turned to your right and found Jamie and Dani sharing a bottle of tequila, laughing at something that you’d later learn was not that funny.

“Y/N!” Dani yelled when he saw you. He scooted over on the leather bench, leaving a space next to Jamie for you to occupy. “You are here!”

“I am!” You replied, shaking your head at how far gone the boys already are and you’ve barely even left Nelson Road. “How you guys feelin’?”

“Fuckin’ fantastic,” Jamie replied, taking another sip from the bottle. He handed it to you, which you took. You drank some and grimaced when the strong taste hit your tongue.

The two boys laughed as you passed the bottle to Dani. Dani stood up, holding onto the pole that Jan Maas was holding earlier, and began to make his rounds in the bus. He kept offering the bottle to anyone he saw. You couldn’t help but laugh at how they all took the bottle from Dani, despite not liking tequila.

“‘M glad you’re here.”

Your attention focused back on Jamie, who was staring up at you. His eyes were clouded, eyelids droopy. You playfully punched his shoulder, “How are you already drunk?”

Jamie furrowed his eyebrows, “You and Sam were so late. We had to get started without you lot.”

“We were thirty minutes late.”

“A lot can happen in thirty minutes.”

You snorted. It made Jamie smile. He bumped your knee with his. You looked at where your bodies touched. Your breath got stuck in your throat. You swallowed, “I guess I need to catch up.”

“Damn right,” a lopsided smirk graced his lips. He dug behind him in the ice bucket and pulled out a bottle of Clase Azul. He handed it to you, “Go on then.”

“Menace,” you replied, grabbing the bottle from him. Your fingers brushed, sending shocks throughout your entire body. “You know I can’t say no to good tequila.”

“Yeah, that’s why I bought it,” he shrugged, opening a beer. “I bought it for you. Nearly broke Bumbercatch’s arm when he tried to open it earlier.”

“Jamie, this is an expensive bottle of tequila.”

“Yeah well, Coach wouldn’t let me buy the whole team PS5s as a sorry, but he didn’t say anything about buyin’ you expensive liquor.”

You were sure that Jamie was only saying this because the alcohol was clouding his better judgment. He probably won’t remember this in the morning, or at the very least, he’d wonder whether or not this was real life or just something his mind made up. You opened the bottle and took a long swig from it.

As good as the tequila was, you still grimaced, frantically searching to find a chaser. Jamie, who remembered your drinking habits, held out a cup of Diet Coke. You downed the entire cup, sighing in relief when the taste of tequila was masked by the sugary drink. “Thanks, Jam.”

“Missed you callin’ me that,” he admitted, a look of longing on his face. “Missed you in general, to be honest. Been hell without you in my life.”

“Jamie,” you started, turning your body to him. “You’re drunk so I suggest you stop talking.”

“Am I makin’ you uncomfortable?” Jamie asked, concern on his face. He sobered for a moment, blinking back as if he was trying to figure out what he just said.

“No, no,” you assured him, placing a hand on his thigh. He tensed under your touch, letting out a shaky breath. You were really close to each other now. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I just don’t want you to say anythin’ you’ll regret in the morning.”

“Don’t think that’ll happen,” he said, nonchalantly. He took a sip from his beer, trying not to move too much in fear that you would remove your hand from his thigh if he did. Hesitantly, he started drawing figure eights with his pointer finger on your hand that was touching him. He let out a breath when you didn’t pull away. “Been regrettin’ not saying anything to ya. Should’ve told you how I felt that night. Or any night after that, really. I was just bein’ a prick ‘cause I was hurt that Richmond let me go.”

You stayed silent. You didn’t know what to make of his words. Was he talking about the night you told him how you felt? Surely not. What does he mean by tell you how he felt?

Jamie continued, “And the thing was, I knew Richmond had no say in whether or not I was goin’ back to Man City, but it still hurt, I guess. Woke up to a text sayin’ I had to go back to Man City from my agent. Not even a text from Ted, or Keeley, or you. Thought I didn’t mean nothin’ to any of ya, so I just shut everyone out.”

“And it’s real shit of me to do, ain’t it? Especially how I treated ya. I don’t blame you for not forgiving me or giving me a second chance.” He stopped drawing on your hand. He drank from his beer again. You looked at him. He had a small and nervous smile on his face. Testing his luck, he brought a hand up to touch your face. “Shame I fucked it all up really ‘cause you’re the only person I ever actually wanted to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jamie–”

“Come on, party animals!” Isaac yelled from the front of the bus. Somehow the top five buttons of his shirt became undone during the drive. He slung an arm around Will, who had a tie wrapped around the circumference of his head, “Let’s get iiiiiittttttt!”

The bus erupted in hollers as players trickled out of the bus. Sam, who was giggly under the influence, found you next to Jamie. Jamie, seeing that Sam was there to walk you out of the bus, waved goodbye to you and caught up with Bumbercatch. You held the Clase Azul bottle close to your body as you threw on a fake smile, walking off the bus with Sam.

part i: don't you

part iii: daylight

#ted lasso #ted lasso oneshot #ted lasso imagines #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso series #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x yn #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt series #jamie tartt oneshot #frances writes #frances song fics #now i see daylight

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asteroidzzzn · 10 months

Text

stargirl | part 4

pairing: leadsinger!ellie x bassist!reader

warnings: cursing, smoking, drinking, eventual sexual themes, ellies still closed off, reader is ridiculously delulu for a while, kinda angst im so sorry

songs in this chapter: do i wanna know - arctic monkeys

word count: 2.1k

a/n: i put my whole asterussy into this. also changed the pairing thing bc reader made a bit of a career change

summary: now that you're officially a the fireflies bassist, you're going on tour, where trouble will be looking for you.

it all arrived sooner than you thought it would. sooner than you were prepared for. you were told you were given twenty five to thirty minutes to get up on stage, sing some songs, and leave. you had good songs prepared, and you would practice all night in the hotel room before you performed.

seemed simple enough, right?

it was only a stadium nearly sold out by ten thousand people, maybe even more. and worst of all, you would have to sing. you had wished there was a contract you signed after joining the band, saying there was no way in hell you would sing in front of an audience, let alone a song you wrote.

but your mouth failed you when ellie asked you to be the one to sing the duet with her. yes was the only answer you could manage. for some reason, you felt a bit more at ease when you noticed the flash of a smile on her face your words caused.

you were getting used to ellie. you knew nothing about her past, but to be fair, she knew nothing about yours. it was surface level for the most part, except for...

you couldn't stop thinking about the journal. her songs. the trust she must have had in you. the lyrics. it made your head spin when you lingered on the memory. her masked grins, the blush hidden under her freckled cheeks, the way she sounded when she laughed gently, and how you had thought about bottling it up and selfishly keeping it just to yourself.

the way you had learned so much in that one night, yet so little. there were embarrassing instances where you would upset ellie by doing something so ordinary, such as complimenting her tattoo, and asking who did it. dina would pull you aside, muttering that "it's not about you, she's just having a bad day."

she never brought up the night when you shared your songs with each other. by the next morning, it was back to the tolerating sort of distance that was safe enough and never changing.

she treated you like a coworker.

༊*·˚

you were in the car, headphones in your ears playing a calming melody while you were half asleep. jesse rested with one hand on the wheel as dina curled up in the passenger seat, trying to get some sleep as well. ellie tapped a rhythm on her thighs and whistled a soft tune.

you yawned quietly and shifted around, pulling your blanket higher up to your neck. you made sure to keep distance between you and ellie. back in june, you found out the hard way that ellie didn't quite appreciate physical touch as much as the average person.

she mumbled something you didn't understand with your headphones in. apparently, the blanket had shifted off her lap when you tugged it towards yourself on the other side of the car.

her hand ghosted over your neck, leading up to your ear, sending harsh chills down your spine. your gaze shot to hers when she pulled one of the buds out of your year, and leaned closer to your face to whisper.

"don't steal the blanket, it's freezing."

you scoffed and paused your music. "is that really what you woke me up to say?"

"well, yeah. do you want me to die of hypothermia?"

"you'll live. and i'm not stealing it, because it's mine," you said, turning your head away to face the car door.

"oh, that's my bad. i thought it was your little sisters or something. cause, y'know," she said under her breath, but you caught it.

"i'll have you know, people of any age can own a disney blanket."

"whatever you say, princess."

your eyes widened against the blanket. you attempted to level your voice.

"saying shit like that will have you dying of hypothermia," you teased back over your shoulder.

"wait, no, actually. i'm really cold," she huffed out air in amusement, and promptly shivered.

you let out a heavy sigh. "okay, fine," you adjusted to sit in the middle seat, avoiding looking at her entirely as your thighs pressed together, but she didn't seem phased.

your head fell back against the headrest. you watched the stars fly by through the sunroof until sleep found you once more.

about an hour later, the car hit a bump. immediately after, jesse hissed, throwing a hushed, "sorry, guys!" towards the backseat.

your heads flew forward. you winced at the harsh awakening and glanced to your right. ellie had twisted to have her torso leaning on yours, as her head rested on your shoulder.

your breath hitched. she woke up quickly and pressed her hands on the seat to sit up, distancing herself from you.

you opened your mouth. an apology, maybe? your mouth closed. your gaze remained on ellie's. her expression was unreadable, but you could tell she was exhausted.

her voice was smaller than you had ever heard it when she finally spoke up.

"...just...for..."

you barely registered her breaths as words. her touch was light. she settled back into the position with her head on your shoulder.

you didn't dare say a word.

༊*·˚

you checked into the hotel at four in the morning, the next day. you were barely conscious of what you were doing, where you were going. dina handled the logistics, as she was the only one who had gotten enough sleep to be functioning at the early hour.

you trudged into the room. it was beautiful and spacious. two large beds were lined up on the left wall, a sliding glass door that led to a balcony with chairs and plants, a coffee table, a television, two closets, and a bathroom, with a shower and a bathtub.

while hauling your belongings onto the first bed you saw, dina explained that she and jesse would leave the door between the neighboring rooms unlocked in case you or ellie needed anything.

if it weren't four in the morning, you would have come up with a quick excuse to switch rooms. to not be stuck with ellie for a week straight, sleeping just a few feet apart.

unfortunatly for you, you nodded and let her slip away. the door clicked shut.

sheets rustling behind you and crickets chirping were the only two noises to be heard. you saw ellie had slung her suitcase on the bed and begun unpacking her clothing to fold them into her bedside drawer.

if it weren't four in the morning, you would have made a quip at her, something along the lines of, "you don't look like someone that folds their clothes so neatly."

there were a lot of things you would have done differently if it weren't four in the morning.

you stole a glance at her, that lasted a moment too long. she caught your eyes, and stared back. you said nothing. a silent agreement, that the events of this night, as well, would be left to be forgotten. never mentioned again. a secret. your secret.

it was a sudden, uncharacteristically timid habit you and ellie found yourselves doing.

glimpses hidden. the pointless acts of kindness, because one of you happened to remember a small detail. just by chance. nervous hands stilled by another pair. and there was nothing more. it meant nothing, you would tell yourself. there were just two hands searching for warmth, finding each other under tables, out of view.

there weren't jokes between the two of you. teases that could be interpreted in a way that meant things were real.

maybe this was just an act of convenience. maybe she did this with anderson, too. maybe you weren't all that special, or all that different.

but you couldn't deny the way she made you feel. so special, and so noticed.

on friday night, the four of you were huddled on the floor.

"you good, man?" jesse nudged you with his bottle, and took a swig. he passed it back to you.

you nodded with your eyes screwed shut due to the taste of the alcohol. you swallowed.

"i'm nervous. i haven't sung in so long, and i've never been in front of an audience this big. i'm terrified, actually," you said, your head beginning to buzz. your hand raised for you to take a large sip, but ellie caught your arm.

"hey, easy up on that. can't be hungover on stage."

"don't act like you care that much," you said, a pent-up hint of rage in your voice. you were angry at her. you were angry at her for being able to be so kind sometimes, yet so distant and strange, and everything else without a single explanation. but you needed to stop. before the alcohol urged you to say things that were meant to be unsaid. ellie's tongue poked her cheek as her eyebrows furrowed.

she ignored your comment. "we should practice the bridge of do i wanna know."

"i just need to get some sleep," you mumbled, pushing against the floor to stand up, but she dragged you right back down by your shirt. her tone became stern.

"we're practising. i won't let you get up there and embarrass me tomorrow. you said you were ready for this, so act like it," she emphasized her words with points directly at your chest.

"fine," you spat, digging into the pile of sheets scattered around for the song. ellie plugged in her guitar, and flipped a few switches.

"what are you doing?"

"i said we're practicing, so i'm making sure the guitar actually makes noise. for the song. songs kind of need music, if you didn't know. fuck else would i be doing, smartass? you always this insufferable when you're drunk?"

"i'm not drunk." you had to bite back a meaner response. in your peripheral, dina and jesse shared confused looks.

dina patted jesse's leg. "hey, we're pretty tired, and i think we've done enough preparing for tonight. see you guys in the morning," she gestured for jesse to stand up as well, who said a quick goodbye.

and shut the door.

"ready?" ellie glanced at you through her eyebrows.

you nodded, and she tapped her guitar, muttering five, six, seven, eight.

she was nearly whispering the lyrics. you inaudibly cleared your throat, and began to sing. you echoed along in a breathy, light tone when the song called for it, although most of the song flowed as a conversation between you and ellie.

it ended as quickly as it started, with one final strum, followed by silence. ellie set the guitar on the floor, and set her hands in the now empty space in her lap. her mouth opened hesitantly.

"that wasn't bad—"

"i'm heading to bed—"

the two of you spoke simultaneously. you stood up in a rush. you stared at her for a moment, then turned into the bathroom. you cleaned up and changed into your pyjamas.

you stared at the ceiling. your eyes found ellie, who was settling into bed herself. her body was turned away from you.

"...i'm sorry," you whispered.

ellie's head turned over her shoulder.

"why?"

"for being a bitch."

she snickered at that, and shifted so you both lay on your sides, facing each other from opposite sides of the room. she remained quiet, which urged you to go on.

"i'm terrified, ellie. i shouldn't have taken my fear out on you. you're right. i did say i was ready for this. but it's still...difficult. i don't want to disappoint you guys," you whispered as low as possible, with a sliver of a tremble in your voice.

her gaze softened. a minute passed. your ears rang from the silence. since you didn't have anything more to tell her, and she seemed to have no response, you flipped to face the dark wall, and shut your eyes. a tear slipped through your eyelashes. you made no attempt to rub it from your cheek. or the rest of the tears that began dropping, for that matter.

"goodnight," you said.

the opposite bed creaked. the wood under your own creaked. you felt her body beside you. she wouldn't touch you, she only laid there. maybe she waited for you to say it was okay. you moved to rest on your back, with your face near hers.

your eyes fell on each feature on her face. studying her. searching for something.

"goodnight," she whispered, inching dangerously closer to you.

you held your breath. you felt her own on your nose.

"tell me to leave, and i will."

"no," you shook your head weakly.

you grabbed her hand and flipped to face away from her. you placed her arm around your waist, and settled into her hold. her face nestled into your neck.

you took a deep breath, and fell asleep.

in the morning, you woke up not beside ellie, but an imprint on the mattress.

a/n: bleeeeh :p xD ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ i promise this does have a happy ending it will get there eventually i just needed some angst 🙏

taglist: @ximtiredx @gold-dustwomxn @elliesinterlude

also ill just tag some people that have commented on any of the earlier parts, so comment if u guys wanna be on the permanent taglist! :3

tags: @cassharass @lunarpretty @emluvselandabs @inf3ct3dd

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #tlou game #the last of us #tlou 2 #wlw #band au #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfic #rockstar!ellie

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icannotpickanamewtf · 10 months

Text

The Day The Music Died (PART FOUR)

(PART ONE) (PART TWO) (PART THREE)

Possessive!Spot x femSpider!Reader & Possessive!Miguel x femSpider!Reader

Summary: Grumpy reader is freaking the fuck out. You meet a certain supervillain +his sworn nemesis leader and things get a little darker.

Warnings: Violence, Possesive behavior, obsession, miguel lolll, bad commuinication from reader. Panicccc.

Was it bad that you could now stick to any surface you wanted?

Nah, just a little weird.

Was it worse that you could hear, smell, taste, and feel something that was miles away?

Yes. Fucking yes.

You could not get any peace and quiet after the incident.

Even if you dragged your pillow over your ears or stuffed them with cotton, it was futile.

Ignore the problem and it’ll go away.

Walking to work became more of a hassle when everything was so…much.

At least your wrists started to hurt less, but they still were sensitive as fuck.

Finally, you had a day off and what did you decide to do?

Find Spot.

Hopefully before this navy and red spandex creep found you first.

——

After stalking places where a supposed ‘supervillain’ would be, you came across the same abandoned park you were at a few months ago.

When it all went to shit.

The warehouse in the forest caught your attention, and so you strutted over.

You didn’t even have to look below your feet to make sure your didn’t trip. You had impeccable balance.

The trees watched over you like all those people when you were bit. The shadows comforted you. Birds chirped in the distance and you could hear the sound of horns honking in traffic behind you.

The warehouse had overgrown plants and cracks in the walls.

The perfect hideout.

The door was adjacent and was detached from its hinges from years of no use.

When you stepped inside, you weren’t even stunned to see the pale white lanky man tinkering on the floor.

Spot talked to himself a lot, you noticed.

“Maybe if I could just–No…no that wouldn’t work.” and “I’ll show them…I’ll show her.” were the most frequent thoughts that were spoken into the abandoned building.

He didn’t notice you come in, you were so fucking quiet nowadays that you couldn’t even hear your own footsteps.

And you were the one with the abnormal hearing.

“Spot.”

This launched him out of his science and he quickly swiveled to look at you.

“Woah–What–What are you doing here?!” Spot spat at you as you stood with your arms by your side.

Honestly, you weren’t all too sure yourself.

You were scared.

“I’m scared.”

…

It was silent. You could hear a pin drop. No literally, you could actually hear a pin drop from inside the city. Miles fucking away.

You kept a straight face as a tear slowly fell from your eye.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m scared.”

“What?”

Spot just stood in an amazed shock. You assumed that if he had eyes, they’d be wide.

“I’m weird now.” You hoped he wouldn’t make you talk more than you needed to. You were already embarrassed from needing help.

You were so fucking pathetic.

“Ok–You just–you’re what?!” He raised his voice, causing you to flinch since it seemed way louder than it actually was. “You are an absolute–why did you come to me?”

“I don’t know.” That was a lie. You did know.

“What do you mean weird? Are you just–Are you trying to screw with me?!” Spot just seemed to get even more angry.

You were just so tired.

You didn’t care.

“I lied. I do know.” Always honest, you had to keep being honest.

“Then why?! Because you made it clear you didn’t want me!” Static raised between you two as he spoke vigorously. Was it weird that he seemed more…hole-y than he was before?

“I don’t wanna say it.”

You really didn’t.

”Say. It.”

“No.” Your voice was down to a whisper, everything was too much.

”SAY IT. I’M NOT SOME WEAK–“

“I’m so scared, Spot. I need help. Please.” You were almost sobbing now. You were just…blank. You couldn’t bring yourself to even yell back. It was like someone stole your batteries and left you with no energy.

“It’s all wrong. Everything is too much. I can stick to walls. My wrists ache. I can hear your skin shifting against itself. I feel like I’m falling and always on the edge.”

”What–“ Spot seemed to calm at your admission, only slightly.

“I just want to disappear.” You didn’t even look at him, you couldn’t.

You felt awful. Bile rose in your throat as you spilt out your thoughts. You hated being like this.

“I feel sick.”

You don’t care. You really don’t.

“…I think maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

—————

Hot tears trailed down as you stood with a blank expression. Did you think some inter dimensional demon-looking dork could help you?

What have you become? An idiot for sure.

Or a monster.

You didn’t really know how to cry. It was hard for you to even comprehend it. It had been so long since you felt…since you felt anything.

You were exhausted, and so done with this.

“I’m sorry.” Spot hesitantly approached you.

“Ok.”

“No really, I’m sorry–“

“Ok.” You wiped at your eyes, rubbing them repeatedly to flush away the evidence that you even cried in the first place.

“Don’t cut me off. I–I need to know what’s happening to you. In order to help, yeah?” He treated you like a scared animal, as he delicately put one foot in front of the other.

He put you on edge. The goosebumps returned even stronger as he got closer, like your body was warning you of how dangerous this guy could be.

“Yeah.”

You don’t care. You just want to get this over with.

“So…” Spot waved his arms in front of you, now about three feet away. You could hear his portals that danced across his skin.

Right. You needed to tell him.

Tell him what? That you were going insane?

“Who are you.” You just wanted to move on, you wanted to know he wasn’t going to hurt you.

You were too vulnerable right now, it wasn’t safe.

Spot seemed a bit stunned by your curiosity, knowing that you hate talking.

“I-I’m The Spot–“

“No. Who are you.” You stopped looking down and stared at this face-hole thingy. You needed something against him if he could have anything against you.

“Johnathan. Doctor Johnathan Ohnn. I worked at Alchemax before…before I became this.”

Wow. He was a doctor? Like a mad scientist?

“What do you want.” You just needed to know more.

You don’t care. You really don’t care.

“Spider-man. He made me into…this. I’ve got nobody because of him. Not even my own parents love me.”

There was so much I wanted to say.

I’m sorry. How are you dealing with that? Can I do anything for you? I’m so sorry. I wish you were treated differently. I know what that’s like. Who is Spider-man? Could he be related to the spider in the exhibit? To the guy following me?

“What’s wrong with you?”

Oh. Right. That.

“I can hear things. A lot of things. Too many…things.” You didn’t want to give too much detail. He could still use that to his advantage and hurt you.

You didn’t want to be hurt.

“I can…climb up things. With my bare hands. I don’t get cold anymore. I can run really fast and lift up my bed with only my pinky finger.” You listed everything, trying to keep it as vague as possible.

Spot was inching even closer to you.

Your skin bristled at the lack of distance between you.

“My wrists they…they have bumps on them that…that shoot out things. Like rope. They hurt a lot and–“ You didn’t want to mention how sensitive they were, Spot could use that weakness if you let him know.

You don’t care. You really don’t.

“–and yeah. It’s all…It’s all wrong.”

Spot was standing right there, you swear you could feel his breath(?) or air coming out of his face hole. “Can you show me? Your wrists? It could help me–“

“No.” No. You can’t be weak now. He knows too much.

“Yes. C’mon, I just need to see them once and then I think I can produce a theory by what you’ve told me. Just once.”

You don’t care. You don’t care. You don’t care–

“Fine. Just…don’t touch the bump.” You lifted your wrists and pushed back your long-sleeved to show the little indent that reminded you of what was wrong with you.

You flinched back a little when his white hands completely covered your palm.

A faded memory flashed in your skull…

Spots large palms engulfed yours completely, but for real. Like you literally could not see a bare centimeter of your hand underneath his.

He seemed to notice with how he lingered with both of his hands onto of yours. You could even say he seemed enraptured and pleased with this new found discovery.

No. No don’t think about that.

Spot’s pointer finger went to poke around the bump, not touching it like you said.

When he grazed over it, you let out a soft shudder and blushed. That made you feel something. Something you don’t want to feel.

You tore your hand out of his and held it to your chest, your heart thumped violently. Spot seemed frozen in place by the sound you just released. He put his own hand to his side, curling it into a tight fist like he was holding back something.

“Spot, don’t touch it. It’s…” You couldn’t say it.

“Sensitive?” He asked.

Yes. Very.

“Did it feel nice?”

What. What did this guy just say?

“Stop. What’s wrong with me?” You just wanted to leave. You were too weak right now.

“Were you…bit? By a spider?”

How’d he know?

You nodded softly and kept your gaze anywhere but him.

“No…No way…” Spot was speechless in front of you.

“What? What’s wrong with me?” You were starting to get annoyed. This was too much. It was all too much.

“It was supposed to be Peter. Not you.”

…What?

“What? Peter?”

“You weren’t supposed to get bit. Thats not–Thats not how this works! It was supposed to be Peter! Not you!” Spot seemed frantic and panicked as he paced around the warehouse.

“Ok.” You didn’t care. You just wanted to leave.

“No…this wasn’t supposed to happen! Have you–Have you seen anyone that looks strange lately?!” Spot went to grab your shoulders but you took a step back to dodge the touch.

You weren’t good with touch.

Or words.

Or people.

Or anything.

An image of navy blue and sharp red highlights danced in your mind.

“Yes.”

“Shit. This–This isn’t good…just when I thought I had something going! Way to go Spot–Jesus–“ Spot railed off and started hitting himself in the face like some kind of punishment.

“Stop. Don’t hurt yourself.”

You honestly don’t care. You really don’t care.

He didn’t seem to hear you over him whispering to himself so you reached out and yanked his hand down. Maybe with a little more strength than you thought humanly possible, but it stopped him.

You let go immediately after he looked down at your hands that were intertwined.

“Don’t do that.” You just stood there.

You were really tired.

You don’t care anymore.

“Oh–Oh okay…sorry to worry you…I didn’t know you cared for me like that I would’ve–“

“Ok.”

You don’t care but ok. Sometimes it’s better to just shrug everything off.

You were too shut down to notice how his body quivered at your touch.

“This…This could work out. You can be my partner in crime! We can, you know, commit like–crimes together! This can work!”

Was that a question or was that a statement?

“The Society hasn’t even gotten you yet! You’re all mine!–“

What?

Spot sputtered as he noticed your eye brows rise exponentially, “I mean not like that but as in your like my own–like my own Spider-Girl!”

“No.”

You just wanted out. You didn’t want to be anywhere anymore. You don’t care.

“What do you mean no?” Spots head tilted in question.

“I am going home now.” This meeting was so useless. It just made you weak.

Spot reached out for you and managed to grab your arm before you slipped away. “No you aren’t.”

“Yes I am.” You were done with this.

“No! The Society is after you now, they’ll take you from–“

‘From me?’ is that what he was going to say?

Spot just held your arm, the grip would’ve probably broken your arm if you weren’t part fucking spider.

“I’m going home.”

Static ran out the warehouse and a pitch black hole seemed to enlarge on spots chest.”No! You can’t leave again! They’ll–”

A big crash from one of the broken windows rang out, your senses tingled as the new stranger ran up to spot and knocked Spot aside. The wall almost caved in with the impact from Spots abnormal size.

Owch.

“You’re coming with me.”

You looked away from Spot with a wince, you did not want to spend your day off like this.

“No.” You were going home, duh.

The man in front of you was large, bulky. He wasn’t as tall as spot, but man, he was fucking huge. He was dressed in navy blue hologram-like suit material with sharp red accents. He seemed futuristic.

The man spoke in a harsh tone, a lumberjack like voice. “I can help you, he can’t. He’s a–“

“NO. I won’t let you take her! She’s mine! You took everything from me! You won’t take her!”

Spot rammed into the man in front of you and began to pummel him with his fists as static rippled around you.

This was too much.

It was all too much.

You were going to throw up.

You don’t care.

So you walked out of the warehouse. Literally. There was no reason to stay. They were too busy fucking each other up that you just quietly stepped out. This was the only time you thanked your new powers for the fact you were deadly silent when you moved.

Only to be knocked to the ground by a heavily pregnant woman. There were more?

“Thank god LYLA called, you’re a tricky catch.” Honestly, strong respect to this expecting mother, you could barely get up from a cold a few days ago.

You didn’t struggle. You just laid there awkwardly.

“What’s going on?” You were starting to feel like you were on edge again. Like you were tipping and almost going to fall.

You wrists ached.

“You’re a spider-person now, hon. You’ve got a responsibility, even if it was a mess up that made you receive it.” Her suit was black and red with a white spider etched on the front.

“I want to go home.” Always honest.

“You will. We just have to work some things out, that’s all.”

“K.” Just get this over with. Just get this over this.

You really don’t care.

“Well…follow me then?” She opened a portal to what seemed like a…modern dimension? This was all so weird….

It didn’t look like Spots black holes.

Wait–Spot.

“What about Spot, and the weird man?” You were almost curious.

You don’t care.

“They’ll…make up?”

Yeah. That was totally a lie.

“Ok.”

You couldn’t care less.

“After you–“ the pregnant woman gestured to the portal.

You just had to get bit by some fucked up spider.

You looked behind you as you heard your name ring out the forest.

”STOP! DON’T GO IN–ergh–STOP SHE’S MINE–“ Spots voice strained against the sound of fists and walls crashing.

You don’t care.

“If I go in, can you not hurt him too bad?” You just didn’t like the sound of his voice when he screamed for you.

It didn’t sound like Spot at all.

“Ok. I’ll tell Miguel to hold back a little, ok?” She just gestured to the portal again,

”NO! NONONO! STOP–I can take care of myself! Don’t go in! DON’T GO–“

Something wet fell down your cheek as you walked in the portal and didn’t look back.

You don’t care.

Later on, you realized that the ‘wet’ thing was a tear.

What was happening to you?

TAGLIST: @arachnagirl--spidergirl , @naomeii, @thestealcrowalt ,@howlerwolfmax, @im00flynn

hey guys! Please leave me some reccomendations or comments on things you wanna see more of! There are tons of ways it could go!

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cupcakeslushie · 2 years

Text

@beeisblue Huginn and Muninn try to spoil Three when they can in their own pathetically middle of the road—thanks for trying way. But more often than not, they’re on babysitting duty to make sure Three doesn’t blow up his own lab—which can be pretty dangerous so they’d much rather keep their distance, but they do feel bad about not doing more to help. They’ll make a little appearance along with Shelldon in Donnie’s interlude, which is coming up next, after we conclude Mikey’s rescue arc!

That is definitely not sanctioned, but yes—Draxum is just too exhausted with Three’s antics at this point. The child used to be at least respectful out of fear, but it seems like ever since a few years back when Three hit some kind of mental, pain threshold, Draxum has had a hard time controlling and understanding his thought process.

The boys do change things up by way of casual clothes around the lair, just wearing whatever’s comfortable—pretty close to the show with Mikey and Donnie probably wearing more sweaters and joggers and hoodies than say Leo or Raph. As for missions I might change my mind if I can come up with something else fun for them to wear, but as for now…most of them change pretty quickly to their movie look as soon as they each unlock their ninpo. I’ve put Leo in 2012!Leo’s white vision quest hoodie until his finally moves on to his black and blue ninpo gear just because he’ll struggle with it the most so he’s kind of the only one who takes a while to switch over to his finale look. But I might throw them in something extra if I change my mind!

@artoflittleowlbird Just a little song I made up! 😅 I really struggled with whether I wanted a real song or if I wanted to just make something from scratch. It’ll play a role later on so I hope I didn’t make it too weird sounding! I wanted it to have a non-rhyming feel like it’s something old which Splinter might’ve sung them.

Leo does meet Hueso eventually. He’s super polite when Raph, Mikey, and April first bring him to Run of the Mill, but there’s something so tired in his expression that Hueso can’t put his phalanges on. It makes the man wanna feed him, wrap him in a blanket and plop him on a comfy sofa where he can’t get hurt.

@sskurwysyn I’m sorry I’m so bad at this part. All the names I’m thinking of sound so stupid 🫣 If anyone else has one they’d like to suggest I’m all ears 🤣. And Mikey swapped out his nunchucks once or twice, but would always go back to them as soon as he could. I do like the idea of him wielding a comically huge kanabo like it’s nothing. Little man does not skip arm day.

@little-banjo-frog Leo is a little too high up in the ranking for them to be close friends, but he has gone on missions with her as part of her training. She respects him much like she does Foot Lieutenant and Brute in the show, but once she really meets Raph, Mikey, and April and hears their story and connects the dots of their missing brother being Leo, her conscience takes over and she can’t help but see how screwed up Leo is from what Shredder’s done to him. BUT THAT’S OKAY—cause you can’t get any cooler than being a double agent!! She just needs to find the perfect time to get Leo to meet his brothers, and they can both leave the foot clan behind! Plus once she’d started sneaking out of the compound at night to play vigilante with Raph, she was done for—way too much fun! Good thing she’s so good at being quiet…be a shame if she were followed…..

Aside from accidentally blowing up a Chee-Z ball factory in one of his first times out, Donnie’s gotten away with: taking apart half the tech in the lair and leaving the parts strewn all over for someone to trip on, snapping at his brothers and saying things even he knew at the time he’d regret saying, being an absolute shit to April when he first met her, testing a stimulant on himself and scaring the bejesus out of everyone when he had a tiny case of cardiac arrest…And probably the most glaringly obvious time Splinter was mad at him, but held his tongue—when Donnie needed the wiring in the projector tv and tore the whole thing apart so they were all left without any entertainment for two days while he built them a new one from scratch. Yes, they got something much nicer out of it, but he could’ve at least warned them! Raph thought Splinter’s fur was gonna be dyed perma-red from how much he looked like a tea kettle about to explode.

Raph has to get a handle on Savage Raph pretty soon after Leo and Mikey get taken, just out of necessity, but he doesn’t get rid of the fear of being alone completely. Meeting April helps even more, but once they’re all back together it does become a bigger struggle for him to not panic when they leave his eye-line. It’s not even something that registers as an issue at first cause as long as one of them is with him, he can stay pretty calm, but eventually they do all have to split up for some reason or other, and he goes full Savage Raph for the first time in YEARS. It’s only top-side though, he’s fine being alone in the Hidden City and the sewers. April is always their best bet for calming him down though. They make a joke out of it later like maybe next time she should say something like “Sun’s going down big guy!” But it’s the simple fact that a part of Raph might be scared to lose his brothers again, but April has always been his biggest source of comfort and safety—she’s his big sister.

100% yes April and Raph can totally mind meld 🤣 i love it.

#ask slushie #separated au #rottmnt #rottmnt separated au #sep!au infodump

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silvantransthranduiltrash · 20 days

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Silvans find Maglor, part 1 (my au)

Legolas didn’t know how he got into this situation. He doesn’t know how he ended up in Imlardis, practically begging Lord Elrond to take his dad back because Maglor would. Not. Stop. Wailing.

He would like to blame Lasgen for the problem. But then he’d have to blame every single elf that was on her squad when they were doing a routine check up. And then he’d have to blame all the elves who had a hand in healing Maglor, and all those who agreed to keep maglor in Mirkwood. And his father because, elf who gave birth to him or not, Thranduil was a little shit who had no problem putting his kids into the line of fire.

All to say that everyone had a hand in what lead up to the current situation of Legolas trying not to loose his mind over the pure bullshit fate liked to spit at the Silvans.

Akami help him, he was to sober for this.

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

I suppose we should go back a few months in order to explain exactly how we ended up here.

It was a standard routine survey of the coasts of Middle Earth, simply to see if there was anything the silvans needed to keep an eye on in addition to Sauron and his bullshit, and some of the Avari sects that the Silvans didn’t have an alliance with.

Being a silvan was hard, don’t let the Noldor tell you otherwise.

Lasgen, oldest child of King Thranduil, was leading the party at a steady pace along the beach. The sun was shining, the wind was a nice breeze, it was fucking hot but you wouldn’t be able to tell just by looking at the scene.

And the narrator is sleep deprived so if the narration doesn’t make any sense, she doesn’t care. I assure you.

Where was i? Oh yes. The weather. It was horrible, but Lasgen and her warriors kept on moving. And eventually,

Eventually, they came across a mound of ratty hair, scrappy cloth, and dried up seaweed that stunk more than a skunk with diarhea. Lasgen was debating simply ignoring the offensive smelling mound or practising some civic duty by shoving it into the ocean or burning it when an unintelligible garble rose from the pile. She supposed that it could sound fagually like a song, if you took ten steps back, cocked your head, closed your eyes, a payed attention to only every second note.

Grimacing, she brought the group to a halt before disembarking from her horse and slowly approaching, trying desperately not to inhale anywhere near the abomination.

She grabbed a stick and poked at the pile. One poke, two poke, three poke. Groan.

Ok so there was definitely something alive under all the ratty scraps.

She held her breath before quickly reaching forward into the pile and yanking at the solid mass in the center.

An. elf.

There was an akami forsaken elf. In a pile of such disgusting stench it made horse poop smell nice.

How was there an elf there? Why was there an elf there? Surely they would have at least managed to keep themselves moderately clean or in contact with one of the elven settlements. They weren’t even that far from the nearest one, surely they would have been able to make it to the harbors if they tried.

Wait.

WAIT.

An elf. Near the ocean. Looking like the gods themselves went out of their way to trash him. Making weird gargling noises that could, barely, pass for music.

“Oh my god, why do i always find the weird ones?” Lasgen looked to the sky, begging for an answer she knew would not come. She turned to her squad, who had abandoned her to the stench and stayed a nice distance away. “Please tell me one of you has some nice deep reaching scents on you that will make it bearable until we reach back home. And some clothes? Anything to make this sad bag of bones more bearable.”

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr elves #the hobbit #silmarillion #legolas #thranduil #silvans #lasgen #maglor #4 silvan sibs au #house of edireth #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction

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marvelobsessed134 · 9 months

Text

Sparks Fly part one

Pairings: Tommy Lee x Fem!Country singer!reader

Warnings: age gap

Series masterlist

The MTV Video Music Awards. Thats where Tommy first saw you. You were up onstage accepting an award for best country song. Your song ‘Back To December’ won, and you had the biggest and prettiest smile on your face.

You were in a beautiful purple gown, your hair pinned up with flowers delicately placed in the braid that wrapped around your head. You didn’t have the typical big hair that was all the rage in the 80s. You were simply just yourself.

Tommy admired that, and he couldn’t help but keep staring at you the whole night. He hadn’t heard of you before since he’s not a country fan. But he’s so glad you won that award because now he was aware of your existence.

You seemed so kind and gentle. Beautifully feminine. Submissive. The kind of woman he’s always wanted. It was clear to him he needed to talk to you, but unfortunately he never got the chance.

The drummer was disappointed however, that all went away when he found out you were touring in LA. And so, he bought a ticket.

A country music concert was not somewhere Tommy Lee thought he’d be, but there he was standing in the VIP section waiting amongst other screaming fans. Some recognized him but kept their distance. They were clearly there to see one person and one person only. You.

And then, there you were rising out from underneath the stage on a platform. Your guitar in your hands as you began to play the first song.

He was really impressed by your vocal range and how you skillfully played the guitar. You were in a purple halter dress this time with your hair up in a ponytail. Looking absolutely beautiful.

The crowd sang along with you as you sang and danced to your songs. Sometimes you’d alternate between the piano and guitar. When one of your songs came on, one about heartbreak, he couldn’t help but feel anger towards whoever dared hurt you.

Then, you pulled out an electric guitar and started playing ‘better than revenge’ which you rocked. It was more Tommy’s style of music, and he really enjoyed it.

After the show was over you walked back stage with a towel around your neck to your dressing room. You put on a simple pink dress before grabbing your stuff and getting ready to go meet your driver.

Your assistant, Carol, stopped you however. “Miss Y/n, there’s someone who’d like to meet you.” You never turn down meeting fans so you allowed Carol to lead the way.

However who stood there wasn’t a fan, and if he was it’d be a shock. It was Tommy Lee. And well to say you’re a Mötley fan is an understatement. You are absolutely obsessed! And have been crushing on Tommy for awhile.

“Um, hi.” You said. Now you sounded like a fan. Which you are but to act like a fan at your own concert?

The brunette gave a small smile, “Hey. I uh saw the show it was really good.”

“Oh! You liked it?”

“Yeah.”

After a moment of silence you spoke up, “No offense but this doesn’t seem like the kind of show you’d go to. Did a girlfriend drag you here?”

“No, I came on my own accord actually. I wanted to meet you. I saw you at the VMAs and thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I didn’t get a chance to talk to you that night so now I’m here.” You couldn’t believe his words.

“Wow- um can I just say I’ve kind of had a crush on you for awhile?”

“Most girls do. Shit. That sounded awful.” He chuckled nervously.

“No, it’s fine I understand. So do you want an autograph?” You teased.

“Just your number would be fine.” Jesus he’s smooth.

“Yes! I mean, yeah sure whatever.” You said before grabbing a headshot and writing your number on it. You handed it to him.

“Thanks, I’ll call you sometime this week?”

“Sure.” And after the two of you said goodbye you couldn’t help but blush all the way home.

#motley crue #motley crue x reader #nikki sixx #tommy lee #vince neil #mick mars #fanfic #fluff #cute #series #tommy lee x reader #tommy lee smut #motley crue imagines #motley crue smut

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selpide · 6 months

Text

a long, confusing, existential introduction

i have noticed there's a proportion of us humans who seem to have a tendency to look for the essence of things

an obsession, some would say

(some would be right)

minimalism, others will state

(other will be wrong)

(there's nothing small about this search)

i am a number of this proportion, you see

everything i do, i try to undress it to the bones

find the skeleton

trace the carcass

what's the closest i can get to one truth before it burns my skin alive?

that's where i like it

that's where i live

a nomad in the borderland of skulls

there's some holy serenity in being able to go the distance

that distance

i went that distance yesterday

i have trouble putting into words what i do

and what i do is who i am

so i spend an unhealthy (what is healthy anyways?) amount of time in this so-called minimalist search for the most precise arrangement of letters to make other people understand what my ego claims as hers

i am a writer

that is without a doubt

the first thing i have ever been

the last thing i will ever be

let's set aside the clearness and focus on the blurry lines

i am a singer

(i make songs)

am i a singer?

i am a cinematographer

(i am an audiovisual communication graduate)

am i a cinematographer?

do i deserve to claim myself as part of these guilds, these collectives, these ideas, these concepts, these communities, these archetypes, these

words

do i deserve to be called by any of these perfect words?

when you are called by your name

even if you know you are not your name

(you are not some letters nor their sound

you are flesh and blood and bones and maybe, if we are all lucky, a soul

however

when this name is called upon)

you answer

as if you were synonyms

as if meaning and symbol became lost within each other until becoming one and the same

so when someone says

"writer"

and i turn my head

when i jump at the sound

when my brain has already done the job — and i cannot escape my fate — the fate my brain has woven for myself — when someone calls for a writer and i raise my hand

do meaning and symbol get mixed up just the same?

this is where it got heavy for me

do i deserve to claim the same name as every single person who came before me, and whom i admire, and whom i respect, and whom i couldn't dare to offend (them nor the rest of the world) by suggesting we may belong to a somewhat similar category?

but then again

names

words

why should anyone be worthy of a title? surnames are given. they come to us by birth. like it or not, they're part of our identity — they give information on who we are — be it by acceptance or denial — be it by proximity or self-made walls — opposite or mirror — we don't need to deserve our surnames. they are us and we are them.

am i a singer?

yes

am i a cinematographer?

yes

i first was a songwriter — a writer of songs. then i discovered i could sing them. badly. but they were sung. less badly. and they kept on being sung. less less badly. and then i discovered i could put my own music into them. i once met kim yerim on the streets of madrid. i handed her a piece of paper with the lyrics of my song written on them. and she spoke these words: "so you are a producer? you are a composer?". and it was a conversation, and she was looking at me in the eyes, and so i answered. i said: "yes". and it was as simple as that. because it is true. i produce songs. i compose songs.

i am a producer.

sunghyuk said i already am a producer.

and it is as simple as that.

so i write songs. and i sing them. and i produce them. and that's all too long to fit a social media bio, isn't it?

so what am i?

a music maker

i am a music maker

i first was a scriptwriter — a writer of scripts. then i discovered writing scripts was too boring for me. there is only so much you can control about a story with a script. movies have so much more to them. movies move. so i started editing videos. turns out i have an eye for that. rhythm. that's all it is, really. i have an inner metronome. i can sense patterns. i can repeat them. i am a little clock pedaling backwards and onwards and to whichever direction has the beat that pulses the brightest. but you can't edit a blank screen — you need images. and there is only so much you can control about a story when images aren't yours. so i got myself a camera. a little green sony point and shoot, y2k excellency, all digital grain and untreated saturation and pixelated zoom. then another camera. a little red sony handycam that, as i write this, is on the cabinet under the tv of this apartment in the middle of another continent that i moved to three months ago

(i got this camera when i was 14)

(i think it might be my favorite camera)

then another one

then you know how it goes

i became a videographer

but these cameras could take pictures too, right?

pictures are so beautiful

i became a photographer

this kind of motion got be so obsessed i could not picture myself doing anything in this life that didn't rely on its cadence

so i got into college and i majored in film

(it's not film)

(you can't major in film in spain)

(not in university)

(so i got into audiovisual communication)

(you can major in audiovisual communication in spain)

(in university)

(i specialized in film)

(i wrote a film script as my final degree thesis)

(i ended up working as a scriptwriter)

(i am, as of today, a scripwriter)

(i miss my red sony handicam)

(i miss the colors)

i miss the motion

i direct my own music videos

i keep a record of my own life

i can't escape live photographs nor still movement

there's so many information in there

how can you shorten that up for a social media bio?

a filmmaker?

but does that sum up everything?

i don't think so

so what am i?

an image maker

i am an image maker

let's get back to words

because i am a writer

that's the only one i savor between my teeth

every letter is mine to say, mine to keep, mine to pray, mine for me

a writer

but what does a writer do?

letters are the smallest piece of a writer's craft

but we are not letter makers

same happens with words

we work with them

we don't create them

(not all the time)

(not as a summary of our duty and routine)

(words are not the word)

it's sentences

i guess that's it

that's just how minimalist it can get

so what am i?

a sentence maker

i am a sentence maker

i am a music, image and sentence maker

but what is music?

what are images?

what are sentences?

art

i am an artist

yes,

but

(always a but)

aren't they all languages?

i am a translator

aren't they all symbols?

i am a speaker of metaphors

aren't they all unexplainable ?

i am a magician

aren't they all but a beautiful attempt to capture, to portray, to preserve, to understand, to celebrate, to blame, to share

life

itself?

i am a life curator

(it's funny

i have a song about this

i scrambled some of its lyrics around

i love clues and riddles and the silly breadcrumbs some humans leave for others to find in hopes of making their everyday a little more adventurous

i hope someone someday finds this funny

i hope someone someday

thinks of this

as an adventure)

this is me

sélpide

life curator, writer and magician

welcome to the museum

i hope you find yourself inside here

#writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers and poets #writerscommunity #songwriter #singer songwrtier #existentialism #artists on tumblr

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tinkertoysdamn · 8 months

Text

Stereo Hearts - We Built This City' Verse

Loki shuddered in irritation. Things were progressing on the overall plan but the rogue Time Agents still needed help, specifically they needed raw muscle. Mobius had made a suggestion, a good one in fact, but Loki was unhappy with it. “I can’t believe we are considering this.”

“She was damn useful on the last mission.” Mobius pointed out. Thora Odinson had been not merely useful, but the powerhouse behind that particular success. The fact that her presence had also annoyed Loki to no end was a bonus as far as Mobius was concerned.

“Yes but she was also–” Loki’s face screwed up in distaste. “Pining.” He spat out the word with great vitriol. “Obviously. Obnoxiously.”

It had gotten a little out of hand. “Maybe if we pull her from another part of the timeline,” Mobius suggested.

Loki lit up. “Excellent idea.” He clapped his hands together, pleased. “Perhaps after some distance from those blasted Guardians, she’d be more tolerable.”

Considering how Loki had whined to Mobius about his own long-lost Sylvie, Mobius thought the trickster god was being a bit hypocritical. Still— “Here’s a good spot,” Mobius said, looking over his Tempad. “It’s a few years later.”

Now fully on board with the idea, Loki’s eyes glittered. “Do it.”

Once again, they teleported onto a spaceship, but this one was considerably larger and of a different make then the one they’d been on before. “Good,” Loki muttered, “perhaps she’s taken up with new companions.”

Then they heard the music. It wasn’t nearly as old as that dreaded Pina Colada song, but it still made them pause. It was entirely possible that Thora was traveling with others who liked Earth’s music, but it was doubtful.

“Where’s it coming from?” Mobius whispered.

Cautiously, they made their way down the hallway, ready for anything. Except for perhaps that.

Up on a repair catwalk where two figures, one was partially buried in a vent, her fluffy tail peeking out and the other was Captain Brandy Quill. Considering her state of dress, she had not been expecting company. She was in a tank top and shorts, work gloves in place as they worked in tandem on a repair. Every once and while she’d exaggerate a hip swing or a movement to dance along.

Over the music Loki and Mobius could hear Rocket and Quill singing. Judging from how they split up the duet, it was clear they had some practice.

“Appreciate every mixtape your friends make. You never know, we come and go like on the interstate.” Rocket’s voice was less than musically inclined, but it was earnest, carrying through the ship.

Loki and Mobius lurked, not certain if they should draw attention to themselves or should sneak away without interrupting. If they were careful enough, maybe they could avoid the wrath of the Captain entirely.

It was then that the song shifted to the bridge. Quill elected to stop her repair to tug on the mechanic’s creeper to get Rocket out of the vent, only to belt more of the song at her.

“I only pray you never leave me behind—”

Rocket snickered under her breath. “You always get so dramatic at this part.”

Quill was using her spanner as a microphone now. “Because good music can be so hard to find.”

Rocket grinned. “I should be filming. Thunder Head would love this.”

“I take your hand, hold it closer to mine.” Quill was eating this up, chewing up the song and spitting it back out again with sheer unadulterated joy. She tilted her head back, letting the spirit and lyrics pour out of her.

“Thought love was dead, but now you're changing my mind!”

“Okay,” Loki admitted to Mobius. “She’s actually pretty good.” Then he ducked as the spanner nearly collided with his head.

Mobius jumped at the sound. “Oh my god.”

The music cut off. Quill stared down at them with righteous anger. “Don’t you dicks ever call?”

“Captain,” Loki tried to put on his most obsequious charm. “Pardon the intrusion but this is only the second—”

“Fourth.” Quill held up four fingers. “Four times you flarking jerks have done this.”

“We’ve only been here twice,” Mobius said. “I think I’d remember the other two.”

Rocket and Quill shared a disgusted look. “Time travelers,” Rocket complained. “At least it’s not in the middle of dinner this time.”

“Or when Tetrina’s trying to take a nap.” Once again, the best friends shared a look, but this time one of a remembered agony.

Things were getting off track. Loki attempted to regain control. “We’re here for—”

“We know.” Quill pressed a button on her com-unit. “Thora, your not-brother’s here again. Collect him before we throw him out of the airlock for real this time.”

“Always with the airlock,” Mobius muttered.

Quill wasn’t having it. “Stop showing up unannounced and it won’t be a problem.”

Less than a minute later, Thora barged into the room, already outfitted in her armor, her ax at the ready. “Where are we going today?” Thora asked, beaming.

“You seem awfully eager,” Mobius said.

“This is our fourth quest together,” Thora said. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Loki could spot Quill making a “I told you” gesture.

It seemed that his partnership with this variant of his brother would continue into the future. Someway, somehow, Loki wouldn’t drive her away. Loki found the thought more comforting than he would care to admit.

“This shouldn’t be nearly so perilous as before,” Loki told her. “But we need your strength regardless.”

“Excellent.” Thora was more than up for the challenge.

“Don’t bring her back full of holes this time,” Quill shouted down at them.

“No promises,” Mobius said, dialing up the Tempad. The Time Agents and Thor stepped through the portal, dodging any verbal barbs that Quill had left to throw at them.

As the portal closed, Thora said with a wide grin, "She's my girlfriend now."

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. It had begun.

My heart's a stereo It beats for you, so listen close Hear my thoughts in every no-ote Make me your radio And turn me up when you feel low This melody was meant for you Just sing along to my stereo

#thorquill #peter quill #thor odinson #we built this city verse #rule 63 #too dumb for ao3

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sprout-fics · 11 months

Text

Tag, You're It: Part One (Unrevised)

(Poly 141 x F! Reader) 18+

Masterlist

Rating: Explicit, 18+ WordCount: 5.2k Tags: F! Reader, Minors DNI, SoapGhost, Restraints, Chase/Takedown, Hunter/Prey, PiV sex, Oral sex (M receiving), Vaginal fingering, Dirty talk, Consent checks, Spitroasting, MMF, Aftercare Warnings: N/A A/N: This chapter has been revised to reflect changes in line with the rest of the story. Please see the masterlist for the updated version

It’s Johnny who finds you first, naturally.

So you decide to take things into your own hands.

You realize too late that this new method of yours is exactly what the team has been waiting for.

Shit.

“Ohh songbird…”

You did promise to not make it easy, after all.

You skid around the next corner, nearly stumble, and launch yourself forward past a darkened doorway yawning into a pitch black room-

Before you realize your mistake a moment too late.

It only grows when the zip-ties fasten around your wrists, and you again try to wiggle free with no success.

Yet then his eyes catch that of Ghost’s behind you and he grins, untamed and starved.

“Teamwork makes the dream work, eh LT?”

Of course. He chased you here on purpose, pursued you right into a trap. Right into Ghost. Working in tandem as they always do, sharing twice the reward with you, and with each other.

You fuckers.

You stare defiantly up at him, and it only seems to please Soap, who’s eyes dance bright in the dimness and his fingers rise to tug a nipple under your shirt. It makes you falter for a moment, the sudden sharp sensation making your expression shift into something wanting, a little mewl escaping you at the pleasure that rises inside you between his fingers and Ghost’s digits stroking against your folds.

Ghost presses down firmly on your clit and you mewl, nod frantically in an effort to get them to really touch you, giving into temptation and erasing this farce of pursuit that’s led you here. Ghost notices and huffs a laugh, low and dark in your ear.

“So needy, pet.” He murmurs, and you shift so you can grind yourself down onto his hand, eyes fluttering as it stokes the pleasure burning inside you. “Didn’t take you long to drop the act, did it?”

Of course it didn’t. That’s the bloody point, and you want to tell him as much, but instead Ghost’s fingers rub a gentle little circle over your clit that makes your knees abruptly weaken. You don’t buckle however, not with the men on either side of you keeping you upright.

“Don’t worry hen, we’ll take care of you.” Soap promises before you can even try to answer, and gently pulls Ghost’s gloved hand away, tilts your head so his lips descend to meet your own. Teasing, he seizes your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it before releasing it with a wet little pop. “Just need to ask us for it. Mm?”

You consider escape once more, could draw this out and try to get away even with your hands zip-tied, but between Johnny’s decadent touch and Ghost’s unyielding grasp, you find yourself with few other places you want to be.

You surrender, gasp out your reply in a wanting sigh that spills across his tongue.

“Please.”

Soap breathes out in a whoosh, the air tickling your face. His thumb presses down on your bottom lip, and you open your mouth willingly, tongue circling the pad.

He curses.

“Good girl.” Ghost supplies instead with a growl, and the full breadth of his gloved palm presses bare against you, cupping your mound and giving you the smallest indication of friction. You stifle a moan, throw your head back against his chest.

“Soap.” Ghost says then, and you feel him nod, watching as Soap follows his gaze to a crate that’s about waist high in the corner of the room. Soap grins.

They circle you, like sharks in the water, eyeing the prize of your flesh. Touching hands against your waist, your shoulders, tracing the swell of your ass. Working you up, making you wait, summoning your restraint to snap. Snap it does, because you grit your teeth and bite at them when the touches vanish.

“For fuck’s sake, just get on with it.” You groan.

Ghost chuckles, and a hand braces on your nape, raising you just an inch upwards so you’re forced to see the towering stature of him above you.

“Eager.” He observes. “Demanding words for someone who tried to run away.”

“I can’t run now, you bloody- ah!” You gasp as Soap’s hand cracks down on your ass smartly, making you flinch in surprise.

“Watch your words, darling.” He croons, sickly sweet. “Otherwise I’m sure LT will find a way to keep your mouth occupied.”

Yet behind you, Soap suddenly yanks your pants and underwear down to your knees, and the sudden air against your bare skin is enough for you to gasp, squirm away from the hands that smoothe over your hips.

There’s a pause between them, and as you look up you see a look exchanged between them before Soap’s voice speaks, softer and attentive.

“Color?” He asks gently, thumbs pressing into the dip of your flesh just above your ass.

You groan with frustration, forcing yourself back so you can feel the bulge of him wedged between your ass cheeks.

“Green.” You declare. “About as green as a cadet fresh out of boot camp, for fucks sake Johnny.”

Soap ignores you blatantly, talking over your sprawled form to Ghost. “She does have a smart mouth, doesn’t she, LT?”

Ghost makes a little noise of assent, and his hand is unexpectedly sweet, reassuring for a moment as it strokes the edge of your face.

“Over.” He states, and you feel Soap seize your hips and lift, twist so you suddenly are on your back, arms pressed under you.

“Oh, much better.” Soap observes as he catches sight of your half-lidded eyes. “Shite, we’re going to have so much fun with ye, pretty girl.”

You squirm a little at that, at being so openly on display for them. With your pants down to your knees, your shirt rucked up past your belly button, you shiver at the little thrill of exposure they give you. Yet then Soap’s hands descend past the soft flesh of your hips, two fingers gathering wetness from your folds and you whine at him, hiss at him once more to hurry the fuck up.

“Quiet.” Ghost declares, voice low but firm, a hand cupping under your head and lifting you so the tip of him grazes against your lips. You don’t wait for him to tell you to open, jaw dropping so he can push just the head of him against you before retreating. Teasing.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” He hisses, dragging his finger out, only to push it back in. You arch off the crate, trying to grind yourself down onto him with a little whine. It’s embarrassing how wet you are for them, worked up from the chase, from their words, from their touch alone. “The sight of you, hen” Soap breathes, his hand digging into your thigh to keep you from bucking. “Never seen anything prettier in mah life, I swear.”

You don’t answer, because before you can Ghost once more pops the head of his cock into your mouth before dragging it away once more and you want to curse.

There’s a second finger stroking inside you now, and when Soap crooks his fingers you arch up with a little cry of ‘F-fuck, Johhny!’

“That’s it.” Ghost encourages. “Not such a smart mouth now, is there?”

It’s a little mocking, a little teasing, and yet laced with affection. It melts you at the seams, makes you swallow wetly, looking up at Ghost upside down.

“Please.” You beg, biting back another demand in favor of a plea. “Please Sir, I-I want it. Just- ohh, hmnng-” You teeth your lip as Johnny once more curls his fingers, trying to close your legs for the barest indication of friction, only for the sergeant to plant a firm hand against the soft flesh of your thigh to keep them open.

Ghost hums, and finally, finally allows the head of him to push inside your mouth in earnest this time, gently cupping your head as he guides you down his shaft. You want to thank him, but your breath stutters to nothing as Soap scissors his fingers inside you, stretching your entrance until your back bows off the crate, drawing taut with need.

“If that isnnae the hottest shite I’ve ever seen.” Johnny curses, and he shifts so he grinds the bulge of himself against you through his boxers. “Shame Price and Gaz aren’t here to see.”

“Oh, ye like that?” Johnny breathes, amused. “Ye like being our capture or kill little thing, darlin?”

“Get on with it, sergeant.” He hisses at Johnny, and you can hear the strain in his voice now, as deeply aroused as you are. You take a little pleasure in that, that you are the one to summon this in him, and belatedly realize the amount of restraint he’s exercising in the act of trying to be careful with you.

A hand reaches under you, grips your ass as he lifts you to him. Yet as the dull pressure of his cock at your entrance clouds your senses in searing desire, his voice is soft as he reminds you: “Three taps if ye need to stop, hen, y’think you can do that?”

Ghost reluctantly pulls out of your mouth, and you make a point to hollow your cheeks so he slides free with a wet little pop.

“Yes, yes.” You tell him. “Three taps, please- fuck Johnny, please-”

You’re cut off when Soap guides the first few inches of himself into you, a long, choked groan dropping from the bottom of your chest as the girth of him presses a delicious, wanting fullness into you. “G-God, Johnny-” You pant, chest rising, face warm, sweat beading at your back. “Fuck, Johnny please, please, I want-”

Yet then Ghost has the audacity to hush you, lifting your head and sliding himself back into your mouth once more to muffle any other words you have to say. The salty, briny taste of him floods across your tongue, precum coating your tongue as he presses further, further, until your nose presses up against his pelvis and the thickness of his cock makes your throat spasm around him.

“Good girl.” He practically snarls, and his other hand raises to trace the slight rise of his girth in your throat. “Fuck.”

Johnny gives you a few more moments to adjust, drawing out and gently pressing himself into you again, a little deeper than before. You force yourself to breathe as Ghost pulls himself from the wet, hot tightness of your throat. A hand descends to your chest, twisting a nipple through your thin shirt and you jump a little under his touch, clenching down on Johnny’s length buried inside you.

“Shite-” He moans, a little high in his throat. “Fuckin stranglin’ mah cock, hen, Christ-”

It gives him the indication he wants, because soon he sets a slow, rolling rhythm just as Simon pulls himself almost entirely out of you, a thumb smearing the tears of pleasure beading in the corner of your eyes.

“Doing well for us, pet.” He breathes down at you affectionately. “Think you can handle a little more?”

You nod around him, maybe a little desperately, because your lieutenant chuckles and grazes his knuckles across your cheek before rocking into your mouth a little more insistently, groaning at the way you force yourself to relax around him. “That’s it.” He manages, voice tight. “Good, good girl.”

“Aye, don’t forget about me.” Johnny teases, as he too speeds his thrusts into you, hands dragging you by your hips to greet him. It makes a muffled little whimper escape you, partly silenced by Ghost’s cock as it slides wetly over your tongue. You can only force your mouth wider, eyes rolling back as Johnny thrusts into you, each press of his cock filling you with delicious, addictive pleasure. It weakens across your hips, forces you pliant and open between them as they fill you at both ends, rendering you limp to their pleasure, and to yours.

It’s so much, and you try to catch yourself but you can’t, helpless between them as pleasure winds tighter below your belly. The wet gush of you squelches lewdly around Johnny’s length as he thrusts with firm, precise thrusts inside you, and when he lifts a leg to give himself more access he manages to graze over a perfect, glowing nerve that briefly has you seize against them both, endorphins drowning out all other sensation as electricity races up your spine.

“Fuck, fuck-” Johnny swears, and you feel yourself twisted so you lay on your side, one ankle slung over his shoulder as his hips slap against yours. Ghost adjusts to the new angle, and with every thrust you can feel him bump against the back of your throat, his voice dropping in a series of low, choked groans as he chases his climax.

You wish he’d pull back long enough for you to babble senselessly for them, your words an unending mantra of Yes, more, please, good, so good-

You’re going to come, you can feel the inevitability of it winding through your veins, nerves alight with sparkling, glowing desire that burns brighter, hotter between the three of you. It draws closer, closer, and as it does you feel as if you gaze up at a towering wave that threatens to crash over your head. It shadows your senses and you try to climb upwards as it crest so you don’t drown-

You hear Soap whimper.

Simon releases Johnny, and as you heave and gasp for air, shuddering as your orgasm begins to recede, he fists his cock over your face, the shine of your spit glistening against the flushed width of him. He plants a fist next to your head, bracing as his hips buck forward into his grasp, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure before his cock twitches, cum squirting across your face and fluttered gaze.

Johnny leans over you, thrusting a few shallow, slow jerks into you as the clench of you milks him dry. His chest heaves, arms shuddering with the force of his orgasm as he slowly gathers breath.

“That’s it.” He tells you softly as your hands flop against you, and you gently rest on your back, chest heaving, blinking unseeingly up at the ceiling. “Take your time, pet. We’ve got you.”

Johnny’s touch vanishes from you for a moment, and when he returns he passes something over your head to Ghost. A wet, cool touch wipes at your face as he cleans off the cum from your cheeks and lips, gently scrubbing until you’re free of grime.

“How do you feel?” Johnny asks gently as your breathing at last evens out, and you raise a heavy arm with a cheeky little thumbs up, to which he chuckles.

“Fucking golden.” You manage at last, voice a little hoarse from your cries.

He seems pleased at that, and with a little murmur to his partner, you’re gently raised until you’re sitting up, knees falling over the edge of the crate. You slump against Ghost’s chest beside you, murmuring a little thanks when he presses a water bottle into your hands. You sip on it idly as both he and Johnny tuck themselves back into order, exchanging a few words over you to check in with each other as well.

You hum a pleased little noise and press yourself into the warmth of Ghost’s front, eyes fluttering shut in contentment. The gesture seems to bleed into him, because a hand braces on your shoulder to keep you there, thumb drawing circles across your skin.

“Solid, sergeant?” He inquires gently, and you nod to him.

“Right as rain, sir.” You offer, and he huffs a little noise of contentment at your response.

Soap comes to take his place at Ghost’s side, and he presses a kiss to the underside of Simon’s exposed jaw as a reminder of his attention to the other man as well. Then he bends to you, cupping your face in his hands and offering you the same treatment, adding a little kiss to each eye for good measure.

“Still with us?” He asks, and you want to roll your eyes, but choose instead to look directly into his blue-eyed stare.

“ ‘M good, Johnny. Promise.” You tell him honestly, raising a hand to the side of his face as well, the other tangling with Ghost’s fingers on your shoulder. “I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Soap does smile at that, and the utter adoration in his gaze forces such a fierce affection for him up your chest that you swear you’d take down the stars from the sky for him if you could.

“Think you’re up for another round?” He inquires, concern dissolving into a touch of excitement, mischief.

You huff. “At least give Price and Gaz a chance first.” You tell him, and Soap grins.

“Aye, though I’m hard pressed to keep you all to ourselves, eh LT?”

Ghost chuckles, twisting his hand so it catches yours. “The sergeant makes a good point, love.”

You do roll your eyes this time.

“You’re going to get me court martialed for disobeying orders.” You snark, but there’s no real venom to it, instead a pleased little smile spreading across your lips. “I should probably get a move on though.”

“Nah.” Soap drawls, and he straightens just so he can drag your forward far enough for your forehead to press against his stomach. “Ghost is right, day’s still young. Let us keep ye just a little longer, darlin.”

Well, you can’t really protest against that. So you let your eyes flutter shut, a heavy sigh of contentment drawing them both closer around you, hauling you into the comfort of their embrace.

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