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getosbigballsack · 5 months

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𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐸𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑙

𝑃𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢 𝑥 𝐶𝑎𝑚 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: 𝐻𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑜𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑧𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑦, 𝑝𝑙𝑢𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑝 𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓𝑓 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑛 𝑗𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑛. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 #1 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑐𝑎𝑚-𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙. 𝑆𝑜 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢 ℎ𝑖𝑚𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑎𝑚-𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑒𝑡𝑐

𝐴/𝑁: 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑢𝑛𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑖𝑟𝑐𝑢𝑚𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑏, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑤. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑦𝑒𝑡.

𝑊𝐶: 2.9𝑘

𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦.

✯𝐺𝑜𝑗𝑜 𝑆𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑢'𝑠 𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑃𝑒𝑛

𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦❤︎

Truthfully you were no stranger to this line of work. After all this how you were able to get through college, pay your bills and now living inside of a very nice apartment complex with your best friend.

Even so, now you’re rated as the number one cam girl on that site, due to your physique. Being extremely short and tiny to you is an accomplishment, because if it wasn’t for those two main factors then it may be a possibility that someone else would’ve turned out to be number instead.

So yeah, at this point you knew all the tricks and trade on the site. You knew what works best for you, you knew what the viewers loved, what they wanted from you. You also knew their dislike and so on.

To add, you also know what to do or how to grab your viewers attention by doing stuff like feature collabs with other cam stars or pornstars. It helps to boost your ratings and gain more recognition. And you know what they say, the more people who watch and subscribe to your content, the more money you’re about to roll in.

But funny enough, you’ve never once had a featured guest star on your livestreams, or even in the videos you’d post on OF. The thought had never crossed your mind, nor did you care enough to think about it. But today, you might actually consider working with a pornstar.

You almost choked on your water when you opened up your gmail and saw that you’ve received a letter from the owner of the biggest playboy magazine in Japan and he happened to be the number one hottest pornstar of 2023.

You almost jumped out of the chair when you opened the email that was sent a half hour ago and began reading.

Dear Y/N,

I’ve seen a few of your videos online and I must say I’m impressed. I have to say, I was pretty shocked to see such a small girl like you perform so well in bed. You’re a star baby girl. Oh, just to let you know I’m also your biggest tipper on your live stream.

Anyways, I want to make a proposal to you. You don’t have to accept but I’ll try my luck with you. Let’s do a big collaboration together at my place. It could be anything you like; like roleplaying, BDSM, or just simple vanilla sex. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’ll be fine with whatever you choose. I’ll just have to make sure that I inform my camera crew about the collaboration, and ensure that everything is alright and in place just so that you could feel comfortable.

I think this would be a perfect opportunity for the both of us. You'll have an amazing stream to broadcast and I’ll have content to post on my private website. Your rating will also go up, and as an added bonus I’ll make you the face of the winter 2023 playboy magazine.

So how about it, pretty girl? Do you wanna fuck me? Because I want to fuck you. Let’s talk this over at my place Friday, which is the day after tomorrow by the way. This is my address. I live at xxxxxxxxx in penthouse number two. I'll have a keycard at the front desk for you. Also call me whenever you are through with reading this email. My number is +81 xxxx xxxxx. I want to know what you think and if you’re up to the task.

I’m waiting for your call.

Sincerely,

Gojo Satoru.

You’ve never rushed to grab your phone so fast. But as soon as the device was in your hand, you quickly dialled up his number and after the second ring, he answered.

Gojo: Hello? Who is this?

You swallowed thickly, eyes almost popping out of your head the moment you heard his smooth voice through the speakers of your phone.

Gojo: Hello?

You: Uhm hello Mr. Gojo?

Gojo: Speaking?

You: Hi Mr. Gojo it’s Y/N, you said that I should give you a call immediately after reading your email.

Gojo: give me a sec and let me call you right back.

With that said, he hung up but immediately called you back. But instead of a voice call, he jumped the gun and went straight to facetime. You blinked a couple of times before answering, blinked a few more times the moment you saw his angelic face appeared on screen. “Hey,” he said and smiled at you with those perfect pearly whites as he stared at you with those cerulean eyes of his.

“Hello,” you answered with a shy, but adorable smile gracing your lips.

“You’re cute you know,” he complimented you which had your cheeks burning from being so embarrassed and shy at his compliment.

“Thank you Mr. Gojo,” you said to him.

“Please call me Satoru.” he suggested and you shook your head ok. “So, I guess it’s safe to say that you want to collaborate with me.” You shyly nodded your head at him and he chuckled. “That’s perfect, I’ll get in touch with my camera crew then and let them know that you and I are going to collaborate together.”

You said nothing, only stared and watched as he pulled out another phone from his pocket, you assume and began dialling a number.

“You’re pretty shy, for a cam girl that is. Most cam girls that I’ve worked with in the past aren’t as shy as you,” he pointed out.

“Well, that’s because I can’t believe that I’m on the phone with Gojo Satoru. I admire your work very much and to know that I have the opportunity to work with someone that I admire is making me feel a bit shy. I don’t know what to say or even how to act around you currently,” you answered truthfully.

“I admire your honesty, but no need to feel shy with me.”

“I’ll try not to be,” you replied and he laughed.

“You’re adorable… ah hold on. Nanami,” he called out to the guy who was talking to him through his other phone. “Y/N called and she said that wants to collaborate with me. Yeah- so I guess we can set up the guest room tomorrow and prepare everything for her stream on Friday night. Your streams are on Friday night right pretty girl?”

“Yeah I stream every Friday at 8,” you answered him.

“Yeah, so like I said we’re setting up the guest room for her stream. I’ll run through everything later in the afternoon, Nanami. Alright, later then,” he bid his goodbyes to Nanami then hung up and turned his attention towards you. “I guess everything is settled then.”

“I think so.”

“You sure?” he asked. You thought about it for a while, wondering if there was anything else you’d like to say and you almost said no, but that is until you remember something that you think it’ll be important for him to know before progressing further with the planning and preparation.

“Uhm, Mr… I mean Satoru. There is something that I’d like to say.”

“Go on, I'm listening,” he said to you.

You took a deep breath, closed your eyes and turned your head away from the phone and said. “You know I’ve never collaborated with anyone right?” He hummed in response to this. “Well part of the reason for this is because I wasn’t all that interested and the other reason is that I lack sexual experience.”

That shocked him a bit, blinking a couple of times as he blurted out. “You’re a virgin.”

You quickly shook your head no as you responded, “No, I’m not. I’m saying that I don’t have that much experience in bed. I’ve had sex maybe two or three times, but that’s it so I don’t know if I’ll have any fun.”

“Ah… doubting yourself already, pretty girl?” He asked while chuckled. You stayed silent and he never was really expecting you to respond anyways. “You don’t need to worry about having experience or not. You don’t need to worry about such silly things. All you have to do is trust me and trust that I’ll take absolute care of you and your squirting pussy.”

You gasped, “Mr. Gojo?”

He laughed, “Don’t worry your pretty little head too much about it. Anyways I wished I could stay and chat with you for the remainder of the day, but I just got home from Okinawa and I’m extremely tired. So, I’ll text you when I’m all rested and tomorrow you and I can talk on the phone and get comfortable with each other.”

“That would be lovely,” you said to him.

“Alright I’ll text you later to talk more about the collaboration.”

“OK Satoru, goodbye,” you said to him.

He smiled and waved at you as he bid his goodbyes before hanging.

Well then I guess you’ll be busy tomorrow and on Friday night. You were so excited.

…

The following night and throughout the next day, you’ve been texting with Gojo non-stop. You both shared funny memes, talked about your favourite food and such- you know just light innocent conversations to lighten the mood between you both until he started questioning you about your Journey towards becoming a successful cam girl.

You felt quite a bit shy at first, but still you told him how much you struggled to get through college and you found out that being a cam girl was the easiest way to make money. You didn’t plan on doing it for too long, but somehow you got so caught up in the fun and the blood rushing thrill, filled with excitement from being watched by a thousand people got to your head; you just decided that this was going to be your career for a very long time.

You even told him that at first you were so ashamed of yourself because you’ve never once thought that you would be in such a position to be showing your body off to the world. But overtime, you got over it and now, you could care less about what the public had to say about you and your career. He told you that he was happy to hear that you’re having so much fun with your job and he hoped to make the live stream just as fun.

After that conversation you went on to talk about random things while pitching a few topics about sex along throughout the conversation. You were honestly starting to feel a bit comfortable with him, you know, being able to have such obscene conversations with him without being scorned or called a slut. You even decided to give him a free private show that night. You were a bit nervous but comfortable enough to spread your legs for him in front of your webcam while he sat in his office to watch you.

He watched as you tossed your head back, your dainty hands gripping your breast, squeezing the mound as that tiny little booty of yours jiggled each time you slid up and down on that plastic dildo you use for your every stream. “Want me to tip you pretty girl?” he asked. But you shook your head no, too focused on feeling rubbery vein caressing your wet, gummy walls. He chuckled and licked his lips then he said, “Bend over for me… I want to see your pussy dripping all over that toy when you cum pretty girl.”

“Ugh… Ok,” you moaned and did as you were told. But not without looking back at the screen to see Gojo blue eyes staring dead at you. You could see him fighting against himself, trying his hardest not to pull his cock out on you while you gave him a show. He wanted you to have this moment for yourself, show him exactly how freely you’re able to express yourself when indulging in pleasure. So his cock will have to wait, blue balls would have to be his best friend tonight.

“Mr. Gojo… I,” You stuttered through your moan.

“It’s Satoru to you, Angel,” he said to you. “You wanna cum?”

“Yes, please may I cum Satoru? I really wanna… ahhh.”

“Go ahead,” he ordered before falling back against his chair to watch as you fell apart for him over the computer screen. Your pretty pussy was on display for him and only him. You bent your knees slightly to ride the dildo a bit faster, your thighs were trembling. He could see your pussy pulsing and creaming around his cock.

“Ah… Ahh… mhm,” you cried and twitched as you cum around the plastic cock. Gojo could’ve sworn he dumped a heavy load in his pants, but he is not going to check, well not right at least, not when you started to ride that dildo once again. Oh boy was Gojo going to have so much fun filming with you tomorrow and see how much he can make that pretty pussy of yours squirt with his fingers, mouth and his cock.

After what happened with Gojo that night, all the worries you had about filming with him disappeared during the night, only to return the next day when you walked inside his apartment to see him getting his makeup done for the stream. He greeted you with a smile the moment he saw you stepped foot inside his home and wasted no time in calling you towards him to watch as he got his makeup done.

He pulled you down onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your cheek, gripped your chin and slightly tilted your head upwards to meet his gaze. And just before you were able to utter a sound out of your mouth, he lightly pressed a kiss to your lips, then whispered, “There is a lot more where that came from pretty girl.”

His words left you a flustered mess, he had you blushing like a teenager who just got kissed by their crush. You knew that he was a smoother talker, based upon the conversation you had with him over the phone and somehow you knew that he had some sneaking plan up his sleeves to get you all flustered up your stream. But what you didn’t expect him to do was to kiss you as soon as you entered his home.

Dammit! He was dangerous.

Anyways it didn’t take him much time to get his makeup done, not that he needed it anyways his skin is already perfect as it is. But you guess it's somewhat showbiz, or pornbiz. Anyways he offered for his makeup artist to do yours, and while you declined at first, you ended up agreeing because you realised that you left your makeup pouch at home.

Anyways, as they did your makeup and so on, Gojo explained that his camera crew or lets say his friend Nanami would be inside of the room, filming the both of you while Geto sat in a private room and monitor your stream and thank the viewers for the tips, because you were going to be too busy getting fucked (basically) to be paying attention to stream. He went on to explain that there’s much to discuss with Nanami. He said that Geto is normally the one to explain what Nanami is about to tell you later, to new and upcoming Pornstars like you.

But since he didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much manly presence, Nanami decided that he was going to take up the initiative to explain it to you instead. As he went on to explain other things, you just sat quietly and listened. There isn’t much for you to say anyways.

After the conversation, he left you for a moment and came back with an envelope.

“What is this?” you asked him as you reached out for the envelope that he stretched towards you.

“A STD test results of course. It is important for me to provide you with this information. As you can see, I am clean. I don’t nor have I ever contracted an STD. With that said, I want you to trust me enough to have sex with you without using a condom. I don’t mind if you want to use it. At the end of the day, it’s your body and I want you to feel comfortable. That’s my goal here.”

“Ok Satoru,” you said while smiling.

“Great, now give me a kiss,” he said as he slotted himself between your legs. Your shyness kicked in once again. You tilted your head downwards a bit and peered at him through your lashes. He chuckled - how adorable you look he thought before resting his forehead against yours, his perfect pointy nose rubbing against you and you could feel his cool mint breath against yours lips as he whispered, “Better get used to kissing me now to avoid you tensing up in front of the camera.”

And with that said, he gently pressed his lips against yours, sweetly capturing the taste of your strawberry flavoured breath before pulling away. “Sweet,” he whispered, his lips moving from your lips and pressed them against your cheeks a couple times before returning to your lips to kiss you deeper and more passionately than he had before.

Your skin felt like it was on blaze - your heart hammering through your chest the moment you felt his tongue caress yours. “Satoru…” you whimpered against his lips. He chuckled before pecking your lips a couple of times.

To be continued…

𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑎 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠. 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑢𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼'𝑚 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ

@getosbigballsack 2024

#gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo #gojo jjk #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu gojo #jjk smut #gojo satoru imagines #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru fanfic

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myfandomprompts · 8 months

Text

Unhealthy Addiction

(drugdealer!Aemond x Reader)

Synopsis: Your sister is a drug addict, at the mercy of a dreaded drug dealer group led by a mysterious man. When you decide to save your sister from this life that kills her, you didn’t expect to build a whole other addiction to a perfect stranger.

A/N: Just some illogical & weird moderndark!Aemond smut in the October mood.

Words: 5.6k Masterlist

Warnings: dirty talk, dom, oral , vaginal, fingering, manipulation, possessive, begging, light bdsm, slight mention of drugs, praising

Your sister was at her lowest.

She kept screaming at you, scaring the neighbours, alarming the entire street when she went into one of her tantrums and you didn’t know what to do. She was hurting, a pain that only something chemical could ease and you refused to indulge her. This was all she had in mind, getting that fix, and she didn’t mind doing the most violent things, saying the cruellest things to you in order to plead her case.

She kept screaming how she could not be done, how she bought all the drugs from this scary guy, that he convinced her to sell for him. That she couldn’t refuse.

She had no control over herself anymore, but you didn't back down, you had to get her clean.

So you decided that you would take care of it for her.

You made her tell you where she got it from, a shady little place on Silk Street with shady people going around all day and night with business even the police didn’t even dare looking into as you forced her down to the ER. If it was the last link that tied her to this life and her addiction, you would cut it, and, as she dozed off in her hospital bed, you rushed to her flat in apprehension, grabbing the bag full of those terrifying substances and heading down to Silk Street.

You knew it was a bad idea, but you knew you had to do it. You just had to give the bag back, explain to them that your sister wanted nothing to do with them anymore, pay up whatever amount was necessary to make them forget about her and leave.

How naive you were.

You knock on the scruffy-looking door with a trembling hand, the chilly night already settling around you as dogs barked in the distance.

The door creaks open, dim light filtering through a slim screen of smoke that comes out of the messy room. The few people inside look concerningly calm, the soothing electronic music making their head bob inconsistently as the smell of weed slowly reaches you and tickles your nose.

“What?” the huge man at the door says in a flat tone, tattoos on his face but alert eyes strained on you.

“I… have stuff to give back to you,” you courageously state, staring back at him with all the fierceness you could muster and only earning an unimpressed look.

You owed it to your sister, you could do it.

He gauges your appearance mercilessly, unfit for this place and only when you take out the heavy plastic bag out of your purse does he nod silently and step aside to let you in.

You retain a cough, the scent of smoke becoming much stronger as you enter and making your eyes sting. Several pairs of eyes which weren’t hooded and gazing into the void looked lazily at you, eyes so dark there was no more colour in them, swallowed by the blackness of their centre. Two or three men stared at you like they would jump at you at the first false movement while the few women present were half laying on the couches, mouth open in what looked like delight, but you knew better.

A chill goes up your spine, hearing the door close behind you in a sharp snap while you feel the air shift around you.

You did not belong here.

“Who are you?”

The man came out of nowhere, brown skin and brown eyes, luxurious dark hair falling to the side of his face and all dressed in white with a heavy chain hanging around his neck. He scrutinises you, looking you up and down with a judgmental frown.

“It doesn’t matter,” you state after a difficult swallow. “I’m here to return this.”

The man eyes the bag you extend to him, a flash of recognition passing through his features but he doesn’t take it, rather deepening his frown. “Where did you get this?”

You bite your lips, growing uneasy under his gaze. All that you wanted was to leave this place as quickly as possible, even if you had to lie to achieve that. “Maria doesn’t want to do this anymore, and we don’t want any problems. So I’m doing the right thing, and returning it to you.”

The man sneers, an amused smile dancing on his lips and you tense. “Yeah, I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. You’re her sister, aren’t you?”

You don’t have time to answer as the man at the door approaches him with a serious look on his face, ignoring you. “Cole, the boss is back.”

“Perfect timing, he’ll want to see this,” the man named Cole answers without taking his eyes off you. “You’re coming with me, sweetheart. We’ll sort this out, don’t worry.”

You could feel it, the trap closing in on you as he takes the bag from your hands and turns away for you to follow him. “I just want to give you this and leave. Please.”

He gives you an uninterested look over his shoulder, shrugging. “It’s not up to me.”

You shiver as panic starts to fill your nerves, the desire to flee, to run becoming stronger but you make the sensible choice and do as you’re told.

He leads you into a cold-lighted room where the sole wide window is draped with a thick grey curtain and blocks your view of the humid night. The carpet floor is dirty, rendering you uncomfortable as you advance further into the room, chairs and stools stacked along the walls and an old looking desk standing at the opposite side. Even the huge couch below the window isn’t welcoming, the mess on the low table in front of it is filled with objects you don’t recognise.

You shouldn't be here.

Cole throws the bag on the table unceremoniously, the sound startling you as he commands you to wait. “Don’t touch anything.”

You try to settle your breathing, the room suffocating you as you realise that you are stuck, led there by a fool’s hope of coming to an understanding with these men, with dangerous people. You recall the frightened look on your sister’s face as she yelled at you, saying that she couldn’t fail them, couldn’t upset them.

Maybe you should have listened to her. Maybe you should have been scared too.

Muffled whispers filter through the door over the faint music, making you turn around with renewed anxiety as you recognise Cole’s voice. You know your time is running out, and you have no idea what’s going to happen. But then the door opens and you freeze.

It isn’t Cole, but someone much taller, leaner, terrifyingly attractive.

He has long silver hair, silk cascading down over his shoulders that are wrapped around a dark green vest. He wears black trousers, matching with his tee-shirt that clings to his form and contrasts with his skin, fair and white. He effortlessly radiated an unsettling confidence, which you could feel even from a distance, making every muscle in your body tense, and you don’t know where to look. He hasn't even spoken yet.

His eyes are fixed on you, a perverted glow shining within them but you can’t meet it, too focused on the angular features of his face, on how flawless his marble skin and thin red lips look under the dim light. Everything about him is captivating, from his collarbone that peaks from under his shirt to the long scar that runs across his left cheek and further up his eye.

At this moment, you understood why your sister had been scared.

He stares at you for a while before finally smiling briefly in unconcealed satisfaction and closing the door. You don’t move, too stunned to utter a single word as he slowly walks towards the table to pick up the plastic bag and examine it closely, humming to himself. You watch, speechless, noticing the red marks over his knuckles, the bruises that stain his fist and you swallow the taste of iron in your mouth.

The bag is carelessly dropped again as he reaches for a cigarette within his vest without a word, fingers enticingly coming to trap it between his lips and you’re hypnotised, desperate for him to acknowledge you, to say something. But then he flicks the lighter, casting an orange flame on the upper side of his face and you can’t help but gasp.

Unnoticed in the dim light, you can see it now, see how one of his eyes shimmers an icy blue, while the other one shone darker, deeper.

Blue as the night sky.

“You’re Maria’s sister?”

His voice makes you jump, his deep and velvety tone making the hair stand at the back of your neck and your heart race in your chest.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, words coming out of your throat in strained sounds. “Yes, I am.”

He nods, one corner of his lips curving upwards slightly as he takes a drag, making a thin curtain of smoke escape his sharp nose. “And you’re here because…?”

You manage to swallow the lump in your throat as he draws closer, intelligent eyes searching your features, making you hyper aware of how small you are compared to him. “I… just want to give the drugs back, so she can leave this part of her life behind. We won’t cause any trouble, I-I promise.”

He stops inches in front of you, his body going rigid as his eyes turn a shade of black, making you take a step back in reaction. “And what makes you think I can let that happen?”

You widen your eyes at the soft-spoken threat, freezing as you cower under his gaze.

He sees this. It makes him smile.

“Relax, kitten. I'm not going to hurt you…” he says in the same unsettling tone as his blue eye lowers to the way your chest heaves under your shirt. “It’s just… not how we do things. When you take my stuff, you make a commitment, and you have to go all the way through with it or you get punished. There is no return policy.”

You could see it now, right beneath the scar, the gemstone shoved inside of his eye socket, as blue as the starless sky. It glowed softly, beautifully, and you were left to wonder how a man like him could be so dangerously pretty.

You urgently chase the thought away, slapping yourself internally as you feel yourself shrink under his gaze. “She can’t-,” you try uselessly, feeling the noose slowly constricting around your neck. “I understand, but I’ll pay for you to take it back. I beg of you, it represents almost nothing for you. Please…”

Something noticeably shifts in his eye at your last word, his nostrils flaring as he takes some time to compose himself before asking. “What’s your name?”

You hesitate, thrown off by the question and unable to come up with the simple answer and he grows impatient at your silence. He takes a firm step forward, making the back of your knee hit the chair behind you as the faint heat from the tip of his cigarette reaches your sides somewhere over the skin of your hand.

“What’s. Your. Name?” he repeats slowly, a hint of darkness in his voice.

“Y/N,” you finally blurt out, barely hearing your own voice as he claims your space like it’s his own, prowling.

His lips form silent syllables as he repeats your name to himself, finally satisfied. “And do you know mine, kitten?”

You silently shake your head, feeling excitement rise at the prospect of knowing, shameful eagerness taking hold of your mind, not thinking for a second that it might anger him.

But he only clicks his tongue in disapproval, watching you like you’re nothing more than a nuisance. “I’m Aemond, and if you had known that, kitten, you wouldn’t be here. Because everybody fucking knows I don’t take things back.”

Your nerves stir in renewed fright as his words ring like a death sentence in your ears. You have to find something, anything that would suit him, please him, but your mind draws a blank, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place. You remain silent as he takes a drag from his cigarette, not tearing his eye from you and when he suddenly turns away, it leaves a cold trail of chills along your spine.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief, your lungs burning from your previous lack of air as he wanders around the room.

“I take it you don’t use?” he says unexpectedly as he crushes his cigarette in the ashtray before taking the bag again on the table, drawing a round white pill out with his usual soft tone.

“No…” you answer weakly as he rolls the pill between his fingers, your eyes following the movement, transfixed.

“Mh… You’re one of those… The ones that don’t take wrong turns, the good girls.”

The stress that had settled between your ribs turns into something warmer at the calling, his tone inexplicably making the last ounce of courage you have left emerge.

“If I didn’t take any wrong turns, I wouldn't have ended up here.”

He stills, his eye darting towards you like a single-eyed hawk and you bite your lips in instant regret, almost drawing blood as teeth sink into the thin flesh. His eye lowers to it and you instantly let go with a bashful expression.

He chuckles darkly, a devious smirk appearing on his features and you blink. “See, this is where you’re wrong. I don’t think you’ve realised the opportunity you just walked into… Y/N.”

You feel your stomach turn as reality hits you, your worst fear taking shape right in front of your eyes. Whatever he wanted with you, you could not let it happen, you could not fail your sister and get into the system like she did. She needed you. “Please, Aemond, I only want to be square with you and-”

There was a loud sound, plastic being crushed under immense force as his hand wrapped around the bag and violently squeezed. He took a deep shaky breath, his flashing gaze fixed on you as his knuckles turned white under the pressure. But it was gone seconds later, acting like it had never happened as he dropped the bag and started walking towards you.

“I used, once. This is how it all began,” he stated, a single slender finger brushing the edge of the table as he advanced. “I wasn’t really addicted, but I knew it was enough to cloud my mind, to make me believe that I needed it. But do you want to know what I really need, kitten? Why I stopped?”

You tried to hold his gaze when he lifted a single heated eye at you, excited by his little story, excited by something. He was in his element, he had the upper hand, he knew he was in control. You were only a slave to the fiery blood in your veins.

His finger had reached your arm by the time you registered his question, looming over it like a reverse magnet, untouching. He smiles when he sees chills prickle over your skin there, right before his pupils spread wider, an ink drop in water and you hold your breath.

“I like people begging me. I like the desperation in their voices, their scared little expressions as they mutter pathetic excuses, their pleas as I beat them…” You can feel the thrill in his tone, the pleasure that radiates off him, and you gasp when his finger finally touches your skin, burning. “I like hearing them beg me when they realise there is no escape, when they realise I’m the only solution, that I alone can give them what they want…I like this sensation of control, and I need to feel it on my own terms. Without any substances."

His hand has travelled down your arm, finding your pulse and you feel the thrumming of your heart meet his fingertips, pressing the delicate vein there. You wonder if he can feel your blood running within it, hot and wild.

“You know, when Cole told me there was a lost pretty girl that wanted a refund, I laughed and could not wait to scare that girl. How naive she must be, how foolish. Coming here, wanting nothing more but to protect her poor little sister, asking what I cannot grant you, thinking you’ll get out of it like it’s nothing and not realising the mess you’re in. Just… perfect.”

You want to talk, argue, but you had stopped breathing altogether when his face leans slightly closer to your shoulder and you hear him breathe in your scent, humming within your neck.

“But then, here you are… Pleading me, not once, but three times, kitten, with your sweet little tone of yours and I just-” he inhales brusquely, his pupil now completely blown out as you tremble beneath him. When he manages to talk again, his voice has dropped several octaves lower, guttural. “And now, let’s say that scaring you is not the only thing I want to do to you.”

The air feels sucked out of the room as tension fills it, palpable within the silence and you retain a whimper. His hold on your wrist turns stronger, as if to mark it, your pulse constricted beneath his fingers and you suddenly feel dizzy, gravity pulling you backward as you lose balance. You drop in the chair behind you like a stringless marionette, overthrown by him and his overwhelming presence.

He doesn’t flinch, neither does he comment as he leans over you, strong arms resting on the armrests at each side of you, trapping you as if he had planned everything. You huff when the tip of his hair grazes the skin of your cleavage, a silver curtain dropping under his face.

“So we're going to try this once…. Say please to me again, and I might reconsider your sister's situation.”

A ray of hope cuts through your foggy mind at his words, determination spurring within you as your treacherous tongue already rolls to form the words, eager to please him despite the lack of air in your lungs. “Please...”

The wood at your side cracks as he tightens his grip on the armrest, a repressed hiss dying within his throat as he composes himself again, hooded eye fixed on you, smothering.

“Hm… Yes,” he breathes, content visible on his features. “But the thing is, kitten, your sister was useful to me. She had access to people I didn’t, people like you. I’m sure you can see why it’s difficult for me to let her go.”

You know he is taunting you, dragging out what he wants from you and you know you have no choice but to indulge him, you need to indulge him. “She won’t survive if she keeps on, please.”

You can feel it, the pleasure he takes out of it, the delectable sensation he draws from your words as he licks his lips, a devious smirk tugging at them as he speaks slowly. “And what about you… Kitten?”

The near whisper makes your spine go rigid, his nose coming to loom over the junction of your jaw and you truly try to answer. “I- I don’t understand…”

He is the first to notice as his eyes are drawn to the sudden movement of your body under him: how tightly your thighs are clenched together, how tense you are as you shift, muscle tenses.

You blush shamefully, untying your legs to try to soothe the ache there as well as the heat pooling between them. He lifts a knowing eyebrow, observing you with excitement. "Hm… Not such a good girl after all, are you, kitten?”

He slowly lowers himself, broad hands coming to stroke the length of your thighs from your knees to your hips, the heat of his palms scorching you through your jeans and you repress a whimper, failing. “Did begging me turn you on, kitten?”

His voice is hoarse, playful. You notice his own arousal pressing against the fabric of his pants and it makes your legs widen, watching helplessly as your body responds to your primal urges. “Do you need me to touch you? Is that what you want?”

You struggle, trying to fight what had been evolving since he had entered the room but you find yourself overpowered by your desire, submerged by it. "Yes…"

He arches his eyebrow higher. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, please."

He almost groans as he slowly comes to unbutton your jeans, a warm hand sliding under it and your stomach tenses when he connects with your dampness. "Fuck, kitten. Do you want to say please to me again?”

He rises, giving himself a better angle as he comes to close his face over yours, suffocating as he waits for an answer out of you. When you give him none, he proceeds to grab your chin, pressing your cheeks between his fingers as he continues to stroke the heat between your thighs.

His face is close as he breathes your ragged breaths. “Lost your tongue?”

His gaze is unforgiving, his lips parted in delectation as you moan under him, and you suddenly feel the need to taste them, to chase them.

The movement makes him pull back, tutting as he grips your cheeks tighter. “That was bad. Very bad of you.”

You let out a plaintive whimper when he steps away, his hands departing your wet core and mouth as he comes to stand before you, jaw hanging low, slightly panting. His gaze is fixed on your glistening skin despite the harshness of it, a punishing glare within his eye as he lowers his jeans and briefs in order to free his bulging girth. You feel your mouth salivate as he starts pumping himself in wide long strokes, gaze transfixed on your face.

You’re unable to look away, heaving and hands gripping the wood of the chair tightly. You don’t realise the grinding of your hips against the surface of the chair, unconsciously chasing for what he robbed you of, wanting.

“Stop that,” he commands in a strained voice as precum starts leaking from his tip. You immediately obey, your body stilling as he comes closer, a pang hitting your core at the sight of his continuous movement over him. “You want a taste, kitten?”

One of his hands reaches for your hair, fingers tangling in them softly as he continues to stroke himself steadily, looking down at you with parted lips and he almost purrs when you nod bashfully. He guides you on the floor, eyes blown wide as he makes you kneel before him by a slight pull of your hair. You lick your lips in expectation, soothed by his hand within your strands and feeling the heat radiating off of him.

You feel warmth spread within your cheek as you approach but he suddenly yanks your hair strongly, holding you into place in a hiss. “Then beg for it.”

He has stopped his ministrations over himself, rather squeezing the base of his shaft and making the already swollen tip inflate with blood as he watches you with a harsh and wild blue eye. You have to swallow the saliva that has accumulated in your mouth to talk. “Please, I want you in my mouth, Aemond.”

He groans as he lets go of his throbbing cock and loosen his hold over your scalp, allowing you to finally run a playful tongue along his length and wrap your hands around him, appeased by the sounds you draw out of him. “That’s it… Good girl.”

You try to go slow, hollowing your cheeks while you take him deeper and deeper, but as the minutes pass you feel the pressure of his hand in your hair tighten. The next moment he is claiming your mouth, making his tip hit at the back of your throat in loud lewd sounds as well as gag several times before he lets you go with a low growl.

You try to settle your breathing again as he wipes the single thread of saliva that connects you to his cock before probing you up by your chin, chest heaving in lust. “Do you even know how good that begging mouth feels? Do you even realise?”

You only feel the aching inside of your lower stomach heighten through your daze, and your mouth forms lazy words you don’t know the purpose of, blinking weakly. “Please, Aemond…”

“Fuck, kitten. Are you going to ask me to fuck you, is that it? Is that what you want to say?”

His thumb grazes the side of your jaw and you barely acknowledge his length against your hip, hot against your flesh. “I- Yes.”

A low grumble escapes his mouth right before you’re pushed on the sofa without warning, his hands rushing to get rid of his vest and pants before tugging at yours, forcing you to dig your hands into the cushions as he bends you over.

You quiver as your skin is met with the cool air but the next moment he moulds his chest against your back and you freeze, his mouth coming to position inches from your ear as a rough hand grabs your throat from behind, squeezing.

“From now on, kitten, you beg me for everything. You want to be touched? You beg me. You want to touch me? You beg me. You want my cock? You say please. You want to cum? You fucking ask permission. You’re gonna be extra polite for me, you understand?”

You let out a strained sound against his fingers he takes for an affirmation before taking hold of your hips, not wasting a second to align himself near your entrance and you exhale in want as he lets go of your neck. Your fists clutch the fabric of the sofa as he runs his length against your folds once, twice, and you can’t help but close your eyes in frustration, feeling his pleasure growing at what he knows you’re about to say. “Please…”

You hear his satisfied growl as his fingers presses deeper into your flesh and you let out a quick gasp as he plunges into you in a swift stroke, quickly replaced by needy moans as you feel the ache in your loins sharpen. He fills you, his thrusts growing from controlled to erratic, faint praises whispered through the sounds of smacking flesh as he roams his hand over your back, and soon you feel your muscles pulse around him in building tension.

It makes him tighten at once behind you, fingers bruising the flesh of your ass as he suddenly withdraws and with a few last strokes, spills onto your back with a ragged groan.

“Fuck, look at the mess you’ve made…” he tuts while you whimper from the sudden loss, feeling your walls pulsating over nothing as he watches his cock glistens with your fluids. “You don’t care about being dirty, do you? You just like being a good girl.”

You whine again as he spreads his seed over your lower back soothingly, not caring for the stains but rather snaking a hand under your shirt, cupping one of your breasts to squeeze it as you wiggle under him, his name on your tongue.

“What is it, kitten? Do you need to cum?” he purrs as he caresses your breast firmly, hoisting you up against him.

“Yes please, please…”

His hold tightens, his face coming close to your neck and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek as he coos. “Prettier.”

The heat in your stomach thickens, heart racing against your ribcage in nervousness and you melt into his embrace. “P-Please, I need to cum. I need you to make me cum.”

He hums in satisfaction as he turns you around, flattening you against the back of the couch and yanking your shirt over your head as he spreads your legs, his jaw dropping in elation when he slides two fingers inside of you, making your head fall back with a loud moan. Your legs barely hold you as he rubs his thumb over your clit at a consuming pace, his long fingers finding the rough spot within you as if he had known it all of his life, and you’re soon panting heavily.

His gaze is fixed on your face, enjoying every moment, every painful expression as you’re closing on your high, waiting for you to say exactly what he wants and when he feels your walls clenching around his fingers, he stops, violently squeezing your inside between his three digits.

You wail at the sensation, meeting his harsh gaze and fascinated eye and soon you let out a strained sob, your inside muscles constricting painfully. “Aren’t you forgetting something, kitten?”

You swallow with difficulty as he smiles, his grip on you merciless, unmoving and you feel your legs tremble. “Please, don’t stop, I want- I need to cum. Please, I beg you.”

“Good girls ask permission, remember?” he grunts as he starts his movement again, rough digits now too slow on your wetness. “Try again.”

“Can I please… cum,” you plead in a strained sob, gripping the back of the couch more tightly but when he starts stroking your insides again, you see nothing but white, the coiling sensation within your core finally snapping and he doesn’t stop until you’re a puddle under him, letting you sink on the couch in a ghosting embrace.

“That’s it,” he soothes, grazing your waist and breast before gently making you suck on his fingers after the last shockwaves of your climax, tasting yourself through your heavy breaths. “Such an obedient little kitten.”

You slowly start to get the control of your legs back as he wipes some sweat out of your hair, but his gaze is nothing but soothing. “Fuck, look how hard you made me again, with you begging me so sweetly…”

He slowly runs one of his hands up your thigh, his hardening state hitting your flesh briefly before he lifts your knees up, positioning his weight over each of your thighs and you blink in anticipation, too dazed to utter a word. You angle yourself better against his body, the only confirmation he needs before he plunges into you again, this time his desire is too strong to wait for you to find your composure back.

It burns, vividly so, your swollen flesh barely recovered from your previous climax and you start moaning loudly, your hand rushing to your mouth to stop the embarrassing sounds from escaping your throat.

Two hands come to snap it away, lacing them over your head in a secure hold and you sink your teeth in your flesh when you meet his fierce gaze, the roll of his hips unfaltering. “No no no, kitten. Let them hear you, hear how desperate you are for my cock, how much you like begging for it.”

“Kiss me.”

He recoils slightly, his thrust slowing gradually as his single eye widen, the black of it taking over. “I don’t kiss my pets.”

“Please...”

Your voice sounds broken, a hint of determination within it that makes him blink and you can clearly see him battling himself for a moment before he crashes his lips against yours. The suddenness of it makes you moan against him as he devours you, the roll of his hips starting again deeper, needier.

It hits every right spot despite the overstimulation and soon you feel a numbness take hold of you, goosebumps spreading over your body. “Aemond, I’m going to-”

He grunts against your mouth as his hand comes to play with your breast again, freeing one of your own in the process that you bring to his face, stroking the smooth skin there along with the scar that marks his cheek. “You’re not cumming yet, I need you to wait a little while longer, alright kitten?”

His thrust slows again and you feel the pleasurable pain of being denied once more, filled by the need to obey him. “I can’t-”

“Don’t you dare cum before I say so, be a good girl and wait for my fucking permission, you understand?”

You close your eyes in a tremendous effort not to let the stretching sensation of him rocking inside of you overcome you too fast, your back arching under him and you feel his free hand flatten against your stomach to immobilise you, shushing you in a husky tone.

You beg one last time, feeling your guts heating up with the way he is chasing his own climax with deep thrusts and you dig your nails in his shoulder.

“Fuck… Come on, kitten, come for me, you can let go.”

Your vision blurs, your eyes rolling back as you cry out, your body going numb under the shattering pleasure and you don’t register anything, not how he follows you minutes later as you clench around him nor where he spills himself. You just feel like your limbs don’t obey you anymore.

You huff, feeling Aemond’s scent and sweat envelop you and when you open your eyes he is looking down at you with a hooded eye.

His thumb massages a spot over your shoulder and a sorry expression passes on his feature as he sets a strand of your hair aside. “I can’t grant you what you asked for.”

You feel cold all of a sudden, the air biting your damp skin as his warm fingers graze your cheek, feeling your disappointment.

“I’ll leave your sister alone, as you wished, but I’m not taking the drugs back. You’ll have to find a way to sell, as Maria promised she would.”

A wave of relief runs through you, happiness for your sister but an odd sensation takes place within your chest as the man next to you watches you with fierceness. “Because you… you’re going to be very useful to me, kitten.”

You don’t glance away, you don’t recoil.

Because you’re not sure you want to leave anyway.

Tagging @watercolorskyy and thanking @babyblue711 for the beta reading. We cannot disappoint.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #usermyfandomprompts #aemond x reader #dark aemond #dark!aemond x reader #modern au #modern!aemond #drug dealer au #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #Modern aemond #Dark aemond #Aemond targaryen x you #Aemond x you

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wlntrsldler · 3 months

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iii. you come around and the armor falls, pierce the room like a cannonball. now all we know is don’t let go. | luke castellan | state of grace

seventeen-year-old luke castellan returns from his failed quest and wonders if he's good enough for you.

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seventeen-year-old luke castellan came face-to-face with death but against his better judgment, and the medical advice from lee who told him to lay in bed and heal, he stood up to drag himself across the floors of the infirmary to sit beside the bed where you were unconscious.

thankfully, you were going to be okay. it would just take a few hours for the medicine to kick in until you regain consciousness. it was luke who took the brunt of the attack. he can feel the sticky bandages covered in his blood across his back and his face. luke managed to prop himself up on the small wooden chair.

he’d grown taller and bigger over the years and the chair was definitely not the most comfortable place for him, especially not with all his wounds, but he had to make do. he couldn’t stay on his bed, across the way from you while you slept alone. in the off chance that you’ll wake up before the 5-hour estimate they’d given him about the medicine, he didn’t want you to wake up without someone next to you.

you weren’t even supposed to be there. he didn’t even know how you’d found him, but he should’ve known better when you looked at him with that look in your eye, the look that he got from you whenever you were about to save him from something, even if he didn’t know he’d be in trouble yet. you always seemed to show up just when he needed you– like his own personal guardian angel.

he thought back to when he was fourteen and you let him tag along with you, oliver, and beth to the athena cabin because you noticed he was anxious to be left alone. you didn't even know what he'd gone through then, but you somehow knew exactly what to say, what to do.

he thought of his first full summer at camp. he'd just turned fifteen, before he was named head counselor, and he accidentally set the shed that the satyrs used to house their gardening tools on fire. the stolls managed to sneak in fireworks and the three of them thought the perfect welcome for the summer campers was a firework show. he wandered into the shed in search of a lighter and found one tucked underneath a tablecloth, probably left by one of the older campers when they smoked.

between him and his siblings, they shared one and a half brain cells so he, stupidly, tried the lighter while he peeked his head under the tablecloth and the whole thing erupted in flames before he could even react. thankfully, you were already out looking for him when you noticed he slipped away from dinner.

you helped him put the fire out before it got too bad and paid for the damage with the few drachmas you had saved up. luke managed to pay you back after picking up random tasks for campers for a small fee, although, you argued with him that it was okay, that he didn't owe you anything, but at that point, luke figured he owed you much more than just a few drachmas.

chiron and mr. d ended up loving the idea of the fireworks show and asked who was responsible for the festivities. you stood up and pointed at him, grinning like you were happy he was finally getting the recognition he deserved. he didn't think he deserved the credit, it would've ended in a shitshow if it weren't for you.

he was promoted to head counselor a week later.

luke fell asleep hunched over your sleeping body, sleeping on the side of his face without the fresh scar. he woke up to the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp a few hours later. he sat up, immediately holding your hand between his own.

“you’re up,” he croaked out, rubbing the tears away from his eyes, “how are you, angel?”

“feelin’ great, bub,” you faked a smile, exhaustion evident on your features. “how are you? you’re the one who got attacked by a dragon.”

luke flinched at the memory, holding your hand up to his lips, “don’t worry about me. i’m good.”

“let me worry about you, hm?” you mumbled. “i’m always worried about you.”

“you shouldn’t have been there,” he sighed. his anger against his father was rising again. “it was my quest. you’re not even allowed to go on other people’s quests anymore, remember?”

“you’re dumb if you think i was going to let you go into a suicide mission alone, luke,” you replied. you moved over on the small bed, motioning him to join you. “needed to make sure you were gonna be okay.”

“i don't want that if it's at your expense,” he mumbled, following your request. you laid your head on his chest, allowing him to push you closer to him. his hands found the ends of your hair, twirling it around his fingers, “don’t know what i would’ve done if you–”

he couldn’t finish his sentence. he didn’t want to think about it. he let himself be delusional, ignoring the reality of being a demigod. luke wanted to beat the odds with you, get out of here with you, mostly unscathed. he didn’t want to think about a life without you in it. he couldn’t.

“hey, it’s okay,” you placed his hand over your heart, letting him feel it beat. “i’m okay, see?”

your optimism was something luke admired about you. the way you viewed life like a gift despite everything you'd gone through. he wished he could see things the way you did, but he didn't understand it.

he looked at you, thinking of how you'd just risked your life for him, and he couldn't stop himself from feeling so hopeless. this was not the life you deserved.

he let out a breath, turning to face the ceiling, “i don’t understand how you’re not furious at the gods right now.”

“there’s so many horrible things to be angry at, luke,” you whispered, placing a kiss on his bruised hands. “i’m mad at the gods for allowing this to happen to all of us, their children. i am angry luke, but i have been given so much because of it, too.”

he stayed silent, letting you continue. he felt his breaths even out as he listened to the sound of your voice.

“i grew up as an only child until i met my siblings. now, i love them. i can’t imagine not knowing them,” you smiled, “the rest of the campers, they can be a handful sometimes, but there isn’t a boring day in my life. there’s always adventure and fun and love.”

luke turned to look at you to find that you were already staring at him. even in the dark, he can make out the look on your face. that face that made him feel safe so effortlessly.

“i met you because of them,” you continued, placing a soft kiss on his lips, trying not to put too much pressure on him knowing he was still healing, “there are so many things i am angry at the gods for, but knowing you… well, it makes up for it, don’t you think?”

he didn’t know if he had a complex enough vocabulary or if there were any words in any language that could scratch the surface of how he felt about you. you were in every part of him. he thought of you, your eyes when he woke up to the sun shining on his face, bright and hopeful because there was a new day ahead. he thought of you, your lips when he tasted the fruits they served during meals, sweet and addicting. he thought of you, your smile during his nightmares, safely pulling him back to reality, a life where you were there with him.

it’s only been you since he met you. he had a feeling it’s only been you in every life he lived before this one. and it will only be you in every life after it.

luke settled, “i love you.”

“i love you,” you replied, kissing him once more. “let’s rest now, hm? want to be able to kiss you proper.”

he couldn’t help but laugh, shutting his eyes as his body succumbed to the tiredness in his limbs, “me too.”

lee fletcher found you two tangled in the covers, sleeping soundly, when he entered the infirmary the morning after. usually, he’d scold his patients for disobeying orders, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the rules right now, not when you and luke looked so peaceful sleeping beside each other.

word about luke’s failed quest spread quickly after your return. the looks of pity were starting to get to luke. you noticed that he’d been distant, too, opting to not let you clean up his scars when he replaced the bandages. he only went in to see lee when he knew the infirmary was absolutely clear of people. he stopped letting you touch his face and run your hands down his back. at first, you chalked it up to the fact that he was healing and the wounds probably still hurt to the touch, but after a conversation with lee, where you slyly asked how luke’s healing process was going, you knew it wasn’t that anymore.

lee let you know that the wounds were healing faster than anticipated. new tissue was replacing his damaged ones and that the cream he prescribed luke would ensure that the scars would be faint, noticeable, but not as intense as they could’ve been. you walked away from your conversation with the boy with your shoulders sagged and your smile a little less bright. there was something else going on with luke and he wasn’t telling you about it.

when luke returned to the hermes cabin, tired from his three-hour-long training, he expected the cabin to be empty with all his siblings away at the campfire, but instead, he found you, tidying up around the area of his bed. he shut the door quietly, hoping to have a few moments where he could just admire you.

he’d been avoiding you more than usual so he hadn’t gotten the chance to spend as much time with you as he’d liked to. he doesn’t remember the last time he hugged you longer than a quick side hug before he was jogging to move onto his next activity or the last time he’d been able to have a conversation with you about something other than counselor duties. luke missed you. he missed you a lot, but he felt so disgusted with himself that he couldn't bring himself to be in your presence.

the scars were healing fine, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d think he was hideous and weak and a failure. it seemed like everyone else at camp did, anyway. the scar on his face stretched from his eye all the way down to his jaw. every time he looked in the mirror, it reminded him of what he wasn’t able to do, of what he put you through. it made him sick to remember it.

the wounds on his back started on his shoulder blades and ended in the middle of his spine. it wasn’t a good look. not even all his trainings and his workouts to get his back defined could hide the scar.

his wounds were now the first thing people noticed when they saw him. he hated it.

he wasn’t naive enough to believe that he was the most attractive guy in the world, but at least before the quest, he felt like he was average. he was tall enough, built adequately, and he wasn’t terrible to look at. but now, it felt like he was knocked down a few pegs. if he thought he didn’t deserve you back then, he sure as hell knew he didn’t deserve you now.

he watched you fluff his pillows and fold his blankets before he decided to make himself known. he walked over to you, placing a quick kiss on the back of your head, before walking to his dresser to pull out his clothes for bed.

“been waiting for you,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his torso. you gently placed your head on his back, listening to the sound of his breaths pick up. “where have you been?”

“training,” he replied, removing your arms from him. you placed your head so close to his wounds and he was sure you could feel the bumps of his flesh through his thin camp shirt. “why aren’t you at the campfire?”

you frowned, sitting on his bed, “because you weren’t there.”

“you can still go and hang out with your friends,” he reasoned, directing his head at an awkward angle so you don’t see the scarred side of his face. the bandage on his face fell off a few hours ago. he forgot to stop by the infirmary to ask lee for some more.

“don’t wanna hang out with them right now, luke,” you said, eyebrows furrowed. “i want to hang out with you.”

“i’m really tired right now, angel,” luke turned around again, pretending to dig through his drawers for something. he tilted his head low, hoping that his shadow would hide his face. “maybe tomorrow or something?”

“okay,” you sounded defeated. luke heard his sheets ruffle from under you as you got up. he followed the sound of your footsteps all the way to the door. he waited for the sound of the door to open, but it never came. instead, it was your voice, hushed, “luke, i don’t understand.”

he lifted his head, “huh?”

“i said i don’t understand,” your voice was trembling. luke couldn’t help but face you then. your eyes welled up with tears, bottom lip quivering as you tried to speak. “what’s going on with you?”

luke clenched his jaw, “nothing.”

“there’s something going on,” you rebutted, walking closer to him. you stopped in your tracks as he took a step back. you let the tears fall, “i can usually sense what’s going on with people but with you right now, i just can’t. i-it’s like i’m so blinded by how i feel about you that instead of understanding what’s going on with you, i can only focus on what i could’ve done wrong.”

“you haven’t done anything wrong,” luke licked his lips, wanting nothing else but to hold you in his arms. he was fighting back the tears now, too. the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry. he sniffled, “i’m just tired, angel.”

“that’s never stopped you before,” you said. “even before we were dating, you always found me just for the sake of being with me. we'd talk nonsense until we lost our voices, and then we'd sit in silence together. you used to sit and wait in the back of the art room until my lesson was over just so we could come back here and be together until it was lights out.”

“that was then.”

“what changed?” you asked, voice hoarse. your tears were unstoppable now. you rubbed your eyes, trying to get a clearer vision of the boy in front of you. he was hidden in the shadows of the dim light. “do you.. do you not feel the same about me anymore?”

“no, never that,” he shook his head, eyes wide. he tossed his clothes on his bed, stepping closer to you. “i love you, you know this.”

“so come back to me, luke,” you cried, taking a tiny step closer to him. “come home to me.”

luke groaned, falling to his knees. he buried his face in his hands, sobbing at your words. you ran to him, engulfing him in a hug, as his sobs shook his entire body. he mumbled incoherent words into his palms.

“what is it, luke?” you asked him, peppering kisses on the crown of his head.

he took a deep breath, “i’m not ready for you to realize that i’m not good enough for you anymore. i’m not ready to lose you.”

“oh my love,” you sighed, prying his hands away from his face. he turned his cheek, biting his bottom lip. you weren’t having it anymore. you grabbed his face in your hands forcing him to look at you, “what’s gotten into you?”

“i know you see it,” he said, voice cracking. his eyes were focused on the wall behind you. “the scar. i know you see it.”

“and?”

“it’s hideous, angel,” he confessed. a single tear rolled down his cheek. you were quick to wipe it away, “i know what people say about me now.”

“is this what all of this was about?” you questioned, pressing your forehead to his.

luke closed his eyes. he missed you so much. “yes.”

you removed your hands from his face and let your index finger trace the line down his scar. he sucked in a breath despite himself. he wanted to hide and shy away from you, your touch left him vulnerable and open, but he knew there was no need for that anymore. you pressed soft kisses all over his face, cradling his jaw in your palm. you kissed the lids of his eyes, the crease between his eyebrows, the points of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, until you got to his scar.

you were even gentler now, luke didn’t know how it was possible. he could feel your lips ghosting over the raised flesh, apprehensive. he squeezed the skin of your hip, giving you the okay. with that, your lips touched his cheek, a kiss with purpose.

luke shuddered at the feeling. why did he deprive himself of this? from the love in your touch and the emotions behind your actions? he pulled you closer, trying to make up for lost time.

you sighed happily in his grasp, pulling yourself away from his cheek to place a kiss on his lips. all the air was knocked out of luke’s lungs. he’d kissed you a million times before, but this felt different. luke knew you loved him, you said it more than he deserved to hear it, and of course, he felt your love in everything that you did with him; in stolen touches in the middle of crowds, in corny jokes you made just to see him smile, in your words when you tell him he’s more than enough, but in this kiss, it was all of those moments, all of what you felt for him, amplified.

he couldn’t breathe. it was too much, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from you, not when you were kissing him like this. not when you were anchoring him back to where he belonged. not when you were reminding him of everything he could have if he just let himself have it.

eventually, you pulled away from him, tear-stained cheeks and pink, raw lips. luke thought you looked incredible. even after all this time, over a year of being together and over three years of knowing each other, your cheeks still flushed because of him. a small smile made its way to his lips, you still had that effect on him too.

you got up from the floor, offering your hand to luke. he gladly accepted it and allowed you to lead him to his bed. you slipped off your shoes, your signature cartoon owl socks on full display as you laid on his bed. he joined you, pulling you close to his chest. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, fingers playing with the string of his camp necklace.

the campfire was coming to an end and soon the cabin would be filled with his loud, rowdy, siblings, who he grew to love, but for now, he’ll get lost in this moment with you. he’ll wander aimlessly in this feeling, the feeling of his girl asleep on his chest, a hand over his heart to remind him that she's still here. he’ll let himself get lost for a few more minutes, after all, he’ll always find his way back home to you.

#living out my i can fix him dreams with this one #frances writes #state of grace #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke pjo #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #frances song fics

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slutforsilverfoxes · 10 months

Text

Y’all ate this Hotch x BAU!reader imagine up 👀 Who am I to deny you more when asked so nicely? 🖤

Things remain strictly professional while the case is ongoing, your team and the Seattle division’s sole focus on catching the unsub. But once your resident bad guy gets his one way ticket to a life sentence, Aaron’s former colleague insists on celebrating over drinks…

“I can’t believe you completed the triathlon!” Agent Brandt exclaims with a laugh, her hand coming to rest on Aaron’s arm. From her spot in the booth opposite to you, JJ nudges your leg under the table. Your gaze cuts to hers, and you resist the urge to mime gagging yourself on your straw. Instead, you use it to suck up the last of your second mojito. There are a few appreciative titters around the table and Brandt soldiers on, “Who would’ve thought our nerdy prosecutor turned agent would do something so athletic?”

“Make no mistake, the nerd is still hiding underneath these muscles,” you chime in with a coy smile, the mix of jealousy and rum swimming in your veins giving you the push to overtly squeeze your husband’s bicep for good measure.

Aaron pointedly clears his throat and directs a frown towards Emily whose cellphone camera has made an appearance just over the lip of the table to no doubt document the scene unfolding for Penelope’s benefit. “All the credit goes to my partner here,” he says rather smoothly before draping his arm across your shoulders.

“Oh wow,” Brandt says through a tight-lipped smile, “you did it, too?”

“Sure did,” you respond cheerily while using your straw to swirl the mint leaves around the bottom of your empty glass. Aaron can hear the mischief building in your tone and he pinches your side half-heartedly in warning, but you quietly smack his hand away and continue, “Gotta stay in shape to fight off all the soccer moms vying for this guy’s attention at Jack’s games.” You allow yourself to relish in the flash of recognition in Brandt’s eyes before she slowly retracts her hand from your husband’s arm.

“Goodness,” she laughs and has the grace to blush at her earlier conduct. You feel a twinge of guilt until Aaron’s former colleague looks at him and says, “I didn’t realize you had a girlfriend.”

Derek covers up his laugh with a cough, and Emily mouths a delighted uh oh. Aaron turns to you with a silent plea in his eyes to let the comment go, but your lips are already twisting into a, “Me neither, babe.”

“She’s just teasing,” your husband is quick to soothe all parties’ ruffled feathers as his colleague’s blush grows a shade darker and she studiously avoids making eye contact with you. “We’ve been married for a few years now.”

“And what a wonderful few years it’s been seeing the two of you grow together,” the eldest member of your team adds with a sense of finality. You flash a grateful smile at Dave, and the conversation takes on a more lighthearted tone over the next and final round of drinks.

—————

On the jet back home the next day…

Your novel tumbling out of your hands and onto the floor of the jet has you jolting awake, and Aaron shoots upright in his seat across from you. A quick glance around reveals the rest of the team suspiciously engrossed in their respective activities- Derek’s listening to his post-case playlist, Spencer’s reading yet another book that’s above your pay grade, Emily and Dave are sharing sections of the New York Times, and JJ’s on her phone, likely texting Will- but the fact that no one so much as bats an eye at the startling noise tells you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take a profiler to understand why you and your husband just can’t seem to stay awake on the early morning flight.

In answer to their unspoken question, you offer, “Didn’t sleep well last night,” by way of an explanation, fighting the blush threatening to creep across your guilty cheeks.

With a click of his teeth, Derek laughs out, “My man,” and Emily pipes up, “We’ll chalk it up to a hangover.”

“Behave, all of you,” Aaron counsels in an utterly non-threatening monotone, his voice still thick with sleep. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes to scold them, just crosses his hands over his chest and settles back in his seat to get some much needed rest. The corner of his mouth ticks upward for the briefest of moments before his features fall back into their emotionless state.

You tap his ankle with your foot and one eye cracks open to find you smirking at him. “I saw that.”

“Get some sleep, Agent Y/L/N,” he orders in lieu of addressing being caught.

Tugging Aaron’s suit jacket higher up on your body, you dutifully close your eyes and hunker down under your makeshift blanket. Already drifting back off to sleep, you murmur, “That’s Agent Hotchner to you, mister.”

Aaron’s answering smile could rival the sun itself.

—————

[A/N: Idk if I like this 🙃 But then again, I go through these mental gymnastics every time I post my writing on here]

AH tags 🖤 @gothwifehotchner

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totaly-obsessed · 6 months

Text

Questions

Mary Earps x reader request

-> Mary gets jealous of the Reader for getting all the glory after an outstanding game -> requested by @michellelawrence222 under a different story - I hope you like it!

-> Cursing

a/n: I'll try to catch up with requests next week - Uni is killing me rn.

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Playing on the same team as Mary, your fiancé, was the best scenario there was for you. Not only could you play with your partner – but your job was your childhood hobby. Your life was a literal dream.

And so was Mary – she was your dream, your future.

She always paid attention to you, valued you and your opinions, and helped you find your voice and ultimately yourself. She was an angel sent from heaven – a much-needed sign of peace for you and your chaotic life when you had met her all those years ago.

But a side not many people got to see from your girlfriend was her jealous one. The goalkeeper was usually the calm and organized one in your relationship, but when someone got just a little too close to you? All thoughts went out the window.

You found it quite cute. Yourself not ever able to imagine yourself with anyone else than her, not even able to pay attention or able to think of anyone else than her. But Mary, sweet Mary tended to get jealous or as she liked to call it ‘protective’.

It wasn’t intense or overbearing. She didn’t make you change clothes or stay home or any of that cliché stuff you see in the movies. Mary just liked to know that you were hers and that she was yours.

Whenever she got jealous her cheeks would turn red, her brows furrowed and her cheeks would puff up, desperately trying to calm herself down.

But that certain day was a little different, she was jealous of you, not someone who got too close to you. You.

As a striker who scored as often as possible, you were often in the spotlight – seen as a ‘savior of the club’ – while Mary was the unsung hero. She worked hard. Day and night to get better and to be the best goalkeeper in the WSL. But the recognition got lost somewhere you could not understand – your fiancés's biggest fan.

On that unfortunate day, you had scored two goals in the second half after Nikita Parris had scored in the first, while Mary had scraped every ball off her own goal line, making this one of the best games of the season for Manchester United.

Yet the applause for Mary’s efforts fell short, all eyes on you and Nikita. Your fiancé had enough. How come she did everything she could to keep the score zero on their side, but no one cared? If she had let all those shots on goal in, this would be a very different situation and she would have been heckled by fans and critics alike.

After the game you were on a winning high, like everyone else on your team – it was a great game. But Mary was scowling in a corner, not even looking at you. Meanwhile, every interviewer there wanted to speak to you and you did your best to talk to each and everyone.

Once you finally entered the dressing room it was mostly empty, aside from your fiancé who looked busy sorting through her bag. “Hey, baby. You did so well! I’ll shower real quick and then we can go, hmm?” You pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek, a little weirded out by her jerking her head in the other direction, and letting out a grunt.

The drive home was tense. You had hurried so much that your hair was still wet and you were missing your socks, trying not to make Mary wait any longer – you thought she was annoyed with you because you took so long doing the interviews.

Her left hand which usually found its home on your thigh was clutching the gear stick. The silence was swallowing you whole at this point – and it felt like shit.

At home she stomped into the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Meanwhile, you did your best to cook up a decent meal out of the stuff you had left in your cabinets – it eventually came down to a pasta dish.

But Mary didn’t make her way down, while you waited patiently on the couch, your partner's favorite show already lined up on the TV.

You had already called out for her, texted her, and knocked at the bathroom door – but she never made her way out to you. Tears brimmed your eyes as you sat the meal in silence in the harsh kitchen light. The usual setting of the couch made it clear that something was wrong – so you avoided it.

Maybe she just needed to wind down by herself, just some alone time?

But after three hours and falling asleep on the couch twice, you decided to head up to bed, packing Mary’s dinner portion into a Tupperware box in the fridge.

The bathroom door was now open and the lights were shut off. At least she had left the room.

The blonde was already in bed, a book in her cramping hands as she ignored your presence. “Mary?” She didn’t even look up. “I left your dinner in the fridge. Do you want me to heat it up for you? I can bring it up and you can eat in bed if you would like?”

She still eyed the book, aggressively turning the page which nearly teared under the force she had used.

It felt like walking on eggshells as you got ready for bed – leaving the bathroom door slightly open, scared that she would just vanish from the bed. The silence nearly drove you mad as Mary’s tense jaw shifted from one side to the other.

Eventually, you sat down on your side of the bed, feet still on the ground as you had your back to your fiancé. Your hands fidgeted nervously. Had you done something wrong? Why was she so mad at you?

“You really put in a shift tonight baby, you did so well.” The scoff that left the goalkeeper's mouth was immediate. You could not really understand why – she really did play great tonight and while she was her own harshest critic, she usually knew when she did well. “No, you really did! That dive you made-“

“Will you just shut up?” Oh. So, you really were the problem here – good to know.

You nearly wanted to vomit with how sick to your stomach you felt but if you being quiet made her happy, you would be quiet. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you slid off your slippers, finally getting into bed, your back still turned to the love of your life.

Mary however didn’t care – in fact, she rolled her eyes at you. “Do you want praise for shutting up as well?” Her voice was cutting and you nearly didn’t recognize her. Gone were her soft eyes and lingering touches, instead you could feel a hate-filled stare hit your back as you remained quiet – sobbing into a pillow.

“Give me a second and I’ll post it for you: ‘Star striker good at staying quiet – she deserves a fucking Oscar’ Maybe if you beg you will finally earn a trophy instead of praise.”

Who was this person in your bed?

“I don’t understand what’s happening Mary. How c-“ The blonde started laughing like a maniac. Maybe she was just tired from the game and the stress. “Of course, you don’t fucking see what is wrong! Too busy bathing in the glory while I do all the goddamn dirty work!”

Mary had gotten out of bed, pacing up and down the open floor, pulling at her hair while mumbling to herself. “What if I hadn’t been there, huh?” she was shouting now, angrily gesturing through the air “Who would have stopped them from coming? No matter how many goals ya would have scored, still would have lost without me.”

You flinched as your cold feet hit the ground but your cheeks were still hot in anger, the tears on them nearly evaporating. “Where are you going now?” Mary looked well and truly out of her mind, crying as well. “I’m gonna sleep on the couch. Maybe you should just go to sleep and calm down. Drink some water as well, huh? I love you – good night.”

Your voice was curt as you pressed a short kiss to her cheek, tasting the salt of mixed tears. But you left your fiancé no place to argue as you left the room while she could just stare after you.

The couch was comfortable enough to spend a night as you desperately hoped that she would just come to her senses overnight. It felt like someone had body-switched the woman you loved so much, for someone really mean.

But Mary couldn’t sleep, lying awake in your usually shared bed, clutching your pillow to her chest – what had gotten into her? How were you to blame for the people not recognizing her efforts and work? You were the first to congratulate her on everything, always making sure to mention her in post-match interviews.

If there was anyone at fault it certainly was not you.

Fuck.

You could hear her trudging down the stairs before you could see her, as she stood still behind the couch, nearly standing like a ghost in the kitchen. “You wanna say something?” The nervous gulp showed you that the goalkeeper didn’t expect you to still be awake.

“I’m sorry – I fucked up.”

A sigh so deep that it nearly knocked out the rest of the air in your lugs, left your lips as you sat up again – your head would surely kill you, as a headache already forming from all the crying. Mary sat down on the spot that you had cleared for her.

“Say it again, to my face and tell me what has gotten into you.”

Gone was the scared woman from the bedroom, you’ve had enough. If she wanted to behave like a child you would treat her like one. Mary took your hands into hers, shocked at how cold they were. Her eyes met yours in an ashamed gaze, looking up through her lashes.

“I am sorry for treating you the way I did. I was angry that you had gotten all the glory after the game – but that wasn’t your choice and I shouldn’t have come at you because of it.”

Even in the dark Livingroom, you could see the frustrated tears making their way down her cheeks, wetting your hand as she pressed a kiss to it.

“I accept your apology, Mary.” She could finally breathe, pulling you closer to her and giving you the first of many kisses.

“Pull something like that again and I will kill you.”

You would always be her number one fan, and maybe you just needed to show her that bit more, tell her after more games how well she did – talk about her in more interviews because no matter how frustrating life could be – she was the answer to all your questions.

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #lionesses x reader #engwnt x reader #mary earps x reader #mary earps #man united wfc x reader

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frannyzooey · 3 months

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On The Green: 1

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: Mature (violence, slight gore, killing - typical Ezra 😌 — will be explicit in later chapters)

Summary: Two strangers meet.

a/n: New series alert! Man alive first chapters are hard, and so I am going to yeet this into the universe before looking at it anymore. I owe everything to @bageldaddy for educating me hardcore and for being so extremely kind and thorough, and to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for her Ezra eyes and inspiration and to @familyvideostevie for her support and enthusiasm and notes. It took a VILLAGE to get through this one. Enjoy meeting our stranger. :)

You come to surrounded by unnatural stillness.

An absence felt in the air surrounding you, there is something about it that tugs at the foggy corners of your brain, beckoning you closer to the surface. You try to listen for anything beyond the ringing in your ears, and there is…something.

A beeping sound emerging through the fog, its incessant chirping grows clearer. You blink slowly, your limbs made of lead when you try to turn your head. Instead of trying to investigate, you let yourself slip slowly back into the lush darkness, closing your eyes.

But the strangeness of the silence tugs at you, and the beeping gets louder.

Splices of memory come through in sharp flashes:

The deep, bone-shaking tremble of turbulence.

The grating sound of tearing metal.

Beeping - so much fucking beeping, every sensor in the transport pod going off - and the whole cabin jerking to the left, your body weight pushing against the fabric restraints, your dad’s voice raw with hoarseness as he screams orders at you and –

Oh shit. Your dad.

Your eyes pop open, and you sit up - or rather, you try to, but every muscle resists. Battered and bruised, you fumble at your harness with clumsy, shaking fingers. Looking up as it finally clicks open, you’re about to leap from the chair when you freeze.

He’s there next to you, unmoving.

Dead.

“Dad?” you whisper.

You can see without even checking for a pulse that he’s gone. That’s the feeling that pulled you awake, the vibration of life gone from the air. The stillness weighs heavy in the small space, and the beeping gets shriller somehow, more noticeable in the utter silence.

The pod shrinks to a claustrophobic dome, and your breathing starts to come fast. Harsh, rapid exhales out of your open mouth and then you’re vomiting, right onto the floor. A cold sweat breaks out under your thermals, and you swallow hard against more bile that threatens to come up.

There is blood splattered on the dash, pooled around the buttons. A deep gash gouged across his temple, his left eye already swollen beyond recognition. You stare at the dark, pulpy wound that runs with blood and with a heave, lose the remaining contents of your stomach.

To have hit his head like that, he must have unbuckled and tried to fix something mid-crash, but why? Why the fuck would he do that? He knew better than that. You try to think about the sequence of events, but there is only a blur. A foggy, black spot in your memory, hazy images obscured by panic.

You remember pieces: watching Puggart Bench grow smaller as you ascended through the atmosphere. The vague details of your father’s latest scheme, along with promises that this would be your last job. The frustration you felt at those words – ones you’ve heard a million times.

You remember rolling your eyes and slipping on your headphones, and then scolding you for not paying attention after he jabbed you in the shoulder to take them off, and then…this. Somehow this. Guilt settles deep in your gut.

Keeping your dazed eyes glued to the floor, you ignore the blood and beeping and the dead fucking body. You crouch low in the safety of your chair, winding your grip around the harness strap as an anchor and you sit for a moment, trying to steady your breathing.

You sit.

And sit.

–

“Think she’s got anything left?”

The words spread condensation across the lower half of his visor, and Ezra listens for an answer he already knows isn’t coming.

He always asks anyway: a constant dangling bait, in hopes his partner will bite.

He hasn’t yet.

Ezra bends back over the rough dug pit, his fingers splaying through the loose dirt. Anything worth digging for is sealed in his case already, but he stalls, thinking.

He had watched the pod streak across the sky; the sight not unusual on the Green. Mercs and prospectors landed here every day to try their luck on the uninhabitable planet, but the speed in which the pod broke through the sky was unusual. Ezra could tell it was going too fast, even from the ground. His dark eyes had tracked the potential opportunity’s descent from behind the shield of his visor, and when the ground shuddered with the impact, he felt it through his gloves.

If it had landed safety, protocol would be to keep his distance – no use needlessly engaging in a potential threat. However, he doubted that was the case after watching it fall to the earth like a stone. If he had to guess, the occupants were probably dead, and therefore, in his favor.

His old pod flashes through his mind; nonfunctional and by now, probably stripped bare. If he doesn’t get there quickly to stake his claim, this one could fall to the same fate. It didn’t look sizeable by any stretch of the imagination, but he doesn’t need big.

He just needs enough to fit one man, and his case.

Ezra keeps his voice light and conversational.

“Did you feel that?”

He looks up at his silent partner, and is met with a blank stare. Or at least Ezra assumes it’s a blank stare, with the man’s visor blackened. He can’t see his face, and has never been able to. He’s had many offers of partnership while on the Green - some out of desperation, some through coercion, some forced upon him – and though his current partner is one of the latter, he had been secretly pleased at the sheer size of him. Brute strength a valuable commodity; the hulking man is more of a utility than a partner.

“Think it’s worthy of our time to investigate, or do you suppose there won’t be much left after a landing like that? If you want, I can go it alone?”

Met with more silence, both from his partner and from the unforgiving atmosphere of the Green, Ezra grimaces with annoyance when his partner starts to walk in the direction of the site without him.

“Hang on now. We approach together.” Climbing out of the pit, the loose soil slips under his boots. He scrambles up as quickly as he can, unwilling to see his chance at the remains slip through his dirt-crusted fingers.

“Now then,” he breathes heavily. “I think it would be befitting of us to use caution in our approach. The passengers may still be alive, and feeling panicked enough to pose a risk. I think –”

The hulk appears to listen to half of what Ezra says, and then turns abruptly mid-sentence, walking away.

Snatching up his case, Ezra switches off the comm link in his helmet and his expression falls from tactful to annoyance. His eyes narrow on the man’s broad back, his fingers itching for his thrower.

Grumbling, he follows.

“Fucking idiot.”

–

You’re going to have to touch it.

You wonder what it will feel like – stiff with rigor? Still pliant with traces of warmth? Heavy and impossible to move?

In all the ways you imagined you’d probably find your father dead, you somehow hadn’t thought about the logistics of actually moving his body. You imagined someone else would be the one responsible for it. Medical staff, most likely, who were used to the clammy skin and the stiff weight of death.

Not you.

Yet another thing you’ll have to do unwillingly for him.

The reason you’re on this godforsaken planet in the first place, he’d forced you along to help him pay a debt owed for those fucking drops he relied on to get through his days. Days that bled into nights spent waiting for him, more his parent than his child. A freefall into the nomad life since your mother died, you’d been trailing behind him for years - an afterthought, only remembered when he needed something.

A reluctant digging partner when he forced you to be, but also a navigator, a cook, a laundress, a caretaker. You were a lot of things to him, but never the one you wanted to be the most.

Never a daughter.

Your eyes slowly scan the disarray of the cabin, taking in the damage. For all the things he asked you to do, he had kept you in the dark when it came to any actual useful skills that might help you in this situation. Prospecting, digging, self-defense – anything that would have afforded you a glimpse at the possibility of independence – all of those were kept from your reach.

Never a mechanic either, unfortunately for you. How the fuck you’re going to fix this thing, you have no idea. The manuals for it were tucked away somewhere, but they required at least a basic understanding, and you have barely that.

You could stick with the harvesting plan he had vaguely outlined to you on the way here (assuming you could even find the gems, let alone dig them up), try to come back and fix your pod during the evenings (assuming you could even figure it out) and then try to catch the next slingback home (assuming you could even get off this planet).

Your other option would be…none. There are no other options.

The entire situation expands into something overwhelming, each step far outside your base of knowledge and your breathing starts to come fast again. You scold yourself, willing it to slow.

Panicking again isn’t going to help shit.

Wrestling with your emotions, you take a deep inhale and close your eyes, focusing on the first step.

Before anything else, you have to move him.

–

Through the edges of lush greenery, a pod.

Ezra tries to tamp down his excitement, kicking his senses into high alert to scan for whomever it belongs to - but there is nothing.

Fucking silence, the bane of his existence.

Though in this case, a good sign.

His own pod taken from him months ago in a standoff between himself and his former crew, this off-white piece of rubbish appears as treasure to him. It’s banged up for sure: one of the engines loose from the frame and the metal surrounding the bottom crumpled from hard impact. Unlikely that anyone survived the crash, anticipation thrums through him at the harvest in front of him.

Keeping his expression measured, he beckons his partner to approach with him, silently advising caution.

The idiot doesn’t though. Instead, he stomps forward and punches at the hatch button with force.

Ezra frowns deeply, anger slipping into his tone. “Hey,” he reprimands sharply.

The man pays Ezra no mind as the ramp slowly opens.

–

One hand extended towards your dad’s shoulder, it hangs hesitantly in the air for a moment. Inching forward, you try to summon every ounce of bravery that you have and just when it’s about to touch—

A loud thump sounds outside the pod, and your hand jerks back. Crouching low along the side of the pod, you crawl through the ship's scattered contents all over the floor and grab the thrower, trying to desperately wind a sufficient charge for a shot or two. The rummaging outside grows louder, and you crouch behind your chair, gripping the weapon in your sweat slick hands. Panic floods through your veins, the sharp stink of fear oozing from your pores as your body shivers with adrenaline, and you flex your hold on your weapon.

The door to the pod opens with a hiss, and two men emerge.

One slighter than the other, which isn’t saying much—anyone would be slight compared to the size of the second man. You aren’t even sure how he managed to get into the pod, between the width of his body and his height.

Rising swiftly, you point the weapon at them.

“Stop,” you force out, trying to mask the tremble in your voice.

The lithe man freezes, surprise showing on his face for a split second before disappearing. Tilting his helmet in thought, he speaks.

“Now this is something I’ve never seen in all my time in the Green,” he muses with a drawl. “A little girl.”

A statement, not a question, and you bristle while he continues to study you curiously.

“Leave, or I’ll shoot.”

Your finger flexes on the trigger, and he raises his hands in front of him.

“Calm down, little bird. My partner and I merely ventured this way to see if all was okay after that crash we heard.” His eyes scan the cabin, a scattered mess. “Seems it was quite the landing.”

Shuffling your stance a fraction closer, you keep the thrower trained on them. “I’m fine. Now please. Go.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re fine.” He sounds completely unbothered, like you aren’t pointing a weapon directly at him. Taking a slow step forward, he peers around you. “Your partner sure doesn’t seem fine.”

“He’s not my partner. It’s my –” You freeze, scolding yourself for immediately volunteering information and his gaze drops down to your father’s lifeless form. The stranger's face sobers, and he looks back at you.

His jaw shifting in thought, his partner seems to grow bored of the conversation and takes a heavy step forward, advancing on you.

“Stop,” you try to order, panic creeping into the command, but he doesn’t. He keeps going, his large arm reaching towards your thrower. His massive grip choking the barrel, he rips it clean from your hands before you can even think about stopping him, and you crouch back behind your chair, trembling.

“My apologies for my partner, little one. He’s not keen on having weapons pointed at him. You can understand, I’m sure. Why don’t you come out from behind that chair and let’s talk. A deal, if you’re open to it.”

You don’t want to strike a deal with them. You know that any deal you attempt to broker on your behalf is going to be in their favor no matter what the conditions are. Your father never taught you the skills of negotiation – those were always done out of sight. Your mouth dries, sweat beading along your nape. What fucking deal could there even be to make that doesn’t end up with you dead? Or worse?

With so much happening in the last two hours, it’s hard to process anything, let alone a negotiation with deadly strangers on a hostile planet. How you handle this situation could be literally life or death for you, and you beg your brain to pick up pace.

Please. Please. Come on, think.

Your mind still struggling but knowing you’re running out of time, you force yourself back up.

“The deal was leave, and I won’t shoot.”

He only grins at that, and rage at the unfairness of it all flares bright through you.

“Besides, why should I believe anything you say? You’ll probably just kill me the first chance you get.”

“Why would you assume I intend harm?”

You don’t have anything to say to that, instead looking at his partner. Fear at his sheer size displays clearly on your face no matter how hard to try to mask it. “Why else would he steal my gun? Shoot me first before I can shoot, right?”

“If that was the case, he would have shot you already.” He lets a beat pass, his eyes narrowing in their focus on you. “Still could though, I guess.”

There is something behind the indifference in his voice, something in his eyes that begs you silently to listen to him — but then his partner raises his thrower, and several things happen at once.

You whimper, dunking behind the tattered chair.

The smaller man whips his railgun from his hip, pulling the trigger.

You scream, and the bullet hits his partner square in the chest.

The larger man stumbles forward as if to grab him but the smaller one shoots him again, the second shot landing in his gut. The force of the close shot pushes the larger man backwards, his heavy body slamming into the pod wall.

He slumps down, collapsing into a lifeless heap.

There is a beat of weighted silence; your form frozen.

The roguish man’s profile faces you: dark features partially obscured by the dome of his helmet, you can see closely shorn brown hair in matted disarray with a shock of white that smears just above his temple. Black eyes that glimmer in the fluorescent light, the edges lined with age. Tanned skin, a strong nose, plush lips under a mustache.

He stares at his dead partner with something akin to satisfaction, and it turns your stomach to think of not only how quickly he resorted to violence, but also how much he seems to enjoy it.

“Well would you look at that. Now we have two to move.”

Still in shock, the violent scene in front of you startles you just as much as his nonchalance does. You watch as he turns to face you; a hooked scar marring the skin under his eye.

“Now little one,” he says with seeming politeness. “You ready to hear that deal?”

#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x you #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect/you #ezra prospect/reader #ezra x you #ezra x reader #ezra/you #ezra/reader #pedro pascal

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lots-of-pockets · 10 months

Text

Trust in me

Pairings: Natasha x you

Words: 2418

Warnings: none that i know of

Summary: Natasha gets injured on a mission, and as a result, allows you to carry her for the first time.

It had been a complete accident. Something she knew could have been avoided had she only been paying attention. One second, her widow bite had attached itself to the metal grating, and she was falling with the knowledge she'd land safely on her feet. The next, she'd hit the concrete with a thump, and a cry of pain she didn't even know she was capable of emitting had slipped from her lips without permission as her hands clutched the gravel below.

It hurt. Oh god did it hurt. But she had no time to really take it in before she found herself being hauled to her feet by non other than Clint. He'd all but dragged her back to the quinjet, and Natasha had collapsed onto one of the seats doing everything possible to swallow back the sobs she knew were desperately trying to escape.

She didn't know what happened. She doesn't know what went wrong, even now after making it back to the Avengers compound. She'd fallen from further heights before. More times than she could even count and every single one of them she'd come out completely unscathed. Not a single bruise on her.

She stares down at the bruised and swollen appendage with a look of distaste on her face, eyes stinging with tears she refuses to let fall. How could she have been so stupid?

You rush into the compound slightly winded, skin clammy with sweat as you head straight towards the medbay. You'd been in the middle of dinner when a phone call from Clint had halted you mid task. It was Natasha. She'd fallen and had hurt herself in the process. She wouldn't let anyone near her, not even the doctor on call.

You hadn't waited for further details before you were grabbing your things and scrambling out of the house. Natasha was hurt. She was alone and you had to get to her. You were pretty sure you break several laws doing so in fact.

You hadn't been dating for long. A little over six months perhaps so the honeymoon phase was still very much in progress. You spent practically every waking moment together with the exception of missions and such, and you knew full well you'd never loved anyone as much as you'd loved her.

That very L word had yet to be spoken aloud however, because despite how much you clearly adored one another, she was still Natasha, and Natasha's walls were built so high you sometimes feared you'd never be able to tear them down. There were moments though. Moments when you see that soft gaze and hoped that one day, she'd let you have her completely.

When the medbay door comes into view, you hasten your pace slightly until your hand was pushing on the handle and you were stepping inside. The sight that greets you all but breaks your heart. There Natasha was, sat on the large medical bed clad in only her tactical suit that was half off and tied around her waist. Her leg was elevated in front of her, bruised and swollen beyond recognition and your stomach all but clenches at the sight.

What breaks you further was the look on her face. She looked small, so scared, and when those green irises meet your own, they immediately become shiny with tears. Instinct alone seemingly has her reaching for you, and you don't hesitate to comply with her silent plead. You cup her cheeks first, thumbs tenderly grazing over the soft skin. That seems to be permission enough alone for the dam to break, the first hot tear of what you suspect would be many streams down her cheek leaving a wet trail in its wake.

"Oh baby, it's okay." You murmur as you bring her into your arms, her hands immediately scrambling for purchase and clutching the material of your shirt at the small of your back. You cup the back of her head, pressing your lips against the slightly tangled and sweaty tresses. "You need to let them look at you okay?" You find yourself somewhat pleading as you run your hand up and down her back, but Natasha simply let's out a choked sob as she shakes her head.

Her hands tighten around you, almost as though she was terrified you were going to push her away. In a desperate attempt to sooth her fears, you tighten your arms around her trembling frame and take a small step closer to the bed. It was a few minutes later before you dare to speak again.

"Baby, you're hurt. Please." But Natasha's almost silent cries seem to grow slightly in volume, and you decide it would probably be best to give her a few moments. You continue with the gentle ministrations against her back, your lips pressing continues tender kisses against the top of her head and to any part of her body you could reach from your current position. Her body soon becomes still, and you crane your neck slightly to peek down at her.

Her eyes were red and bloodshot, nose tinged red and cheeks soaked with tears. Feeling your own throat constrict at the sight of seeing your girlfriend so upset, you give her hip a gentle pat to get her attention. In response, you get an almost timid hum of acknowledgment.

"Would you let them fix you up if I held you?" This wouldn't be the first time Natasha had allowed you to hold her. In fact, behind closed doors, she was quiet the snuggle bug contrary to popular belief. It had taken a while for her to get to the point though. When you first started dating, simply resting a hand on her arm without warning appeared to be too much, and she'd often flinch away without really meaning to.

She'd always apologise though, eyes shy as she'd cautiously reach for your hand to encourage it back to her body, and you'd comply with her silent implication, using the pad of your thumb to trace gentle circles on her skin making sure your hand remained within her line of sight at all times.

It took many months if trial and error, mainly on your side, to get her to the point of being comfortable enough with affection, and now, a part of her body always has to be touching your own, and she was always the little spoon when it came to cuddling.

Her favourite position, however, was laying completely on top of you with her head nestled just beneath your chin. Her legs would curl up on either side of your hips, and she'd spend hours in your arms if you let her, hands clinging to your shirt whilst your own would slip beneath her sweater and simply rest on the bare skin at the small of her back.

Outside closed doors however, she couldn't be more different. The most she accepted was hand holding and the occasional kiss on the cheek or forehead, and even then it wasn't often. It was why you were so wary of asking despite the fact you knew it was the only thing that would sooth her.

Natasha remains silent for a while, so long in fact you feared you may have said the wrong thing. But then you feel it. A timid nod against your chest, and you knew then she must be in some pretty horrific pain.

"Okay, hang on tight angel." You murmur after pressing another kiss to the top of her head, coaxing her arms to wrap around your neck as opposed to your waist. Once you were sure she was hanging on, you slip an arm beneath her legs and situate the other around her waist. You then, for the first time in your six month relationship, lift your girlfriends body up into your arms.

It was no secret that Natasha was petite, and it was also no secret that should she allow it, you could lift her with absolutely no issues. But Natasha wasn't the kind of person who lets herself be coddled to that extent, even behind closed doors, so you take a few moments to relish in the feeling of holding her like this knowing you may never get the chance to again.

She was lighter than you anticipated she'd be, and the way she clings to you has you falling all the more in love with her. A few quiet moments pass before you turn and gently ease yourself down onto the spot she'd just vacated, the red head sat comfortably on your lap with her legs sprawled out on the bed next to you. Her upper body twists slightly as her arms curl up in between both your chest, and she hides her face in the juncture of your neck before you could really get a good look at the current emotion on her face.

With the knowledge of how hard this must be for her, you allow her to remain hidden in her little safe space as you murmur gentle words of encouragement into her ear, one arm holding her close to you whilst the other rubs gentle circles across the length of her back.

It was only after her nod of consent a few minutes later do you finally allow the doctor into the room, and just like you had suspected, her ankle was well and truly broken. Natasha doesn't utter a single word as her ankle was casted, nor when asked about her pain on a scale of one to ten so you take it upon yourself to answer for her and listen to whatever instructions the doctor throws your way.

An hour later, it was all over, and it was just you and Natasha again. Your lips quirk up into a gentle smile when she finally peaks her head out of your neck, letting out a quiet huff at the sight of the massive, bulky cast on her leg. It went from her toes all the way up to just below her knee. She turns to you, a pout on her lips, and you tenderly lean up to kiss it away earning yourself a shy, yet genuine smile.

You secure both hands against her hip and give her a gentle squeeze before speaking.

"Are you ready to head home?" The pad of your thumb slips beneath her tank top, grazing gently against the bare skin of her hipbone.

Natasha doesn't hesitate to nod her head, a soft exhale slipping from her lips and hitting the skin of your neck leaving a pleasant sensation in its wake. You give her another soft squeeze before beginning to rise to your feet with her in your arms with the intention of grabbing a wheelchair.

"Me too. Let me to grab-"

Before you could even begin to lift your butt from the bed, a small no slips from Natasha's lips prompting you to look up at her up at her with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Baby, you can't walk." You regretfully inform, but Natasha shakes her head again. Her lips part, and you wait for her to tell you the problem but not a single syllable seems to want to escape her lips. She lets out a deep, slightly frustrated sigh before trying again, clutching the material of your shirt in her hands in what you knew was her attempt at keeping you sat. You comply, knowing that whatever she was trying to tell you must be important if it was so hard for her to say,

"I.." she trails off, letting out another sigh before shaking her head, "No wheelchair." She mumbles, her voice holding an air of finality despite its quiet tone.

"Nat," you try, but she cuts you off with another shake of the head.

"No. No wheelchair. I want...will you..."

"Will I what baby?" You soften your tone slightly, giving the side of her thigh an encouraging squeeze.

Natasha looks down at her lap, her quiet, almost bashful voice filling the room just moments later.

"Carry me."

It was said so unsurely, so hesitantly you feel your throat constrict with the onslaught of tears. Pushing them back, you reach up and cup both her cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just between her eyebrows.

"Of course I'll carry you, angel." You reassure, and Natasha flushes a light shade of red when your lips move down to meet her own in a tender kiss. That doesn't stop her from reciprocating however, and she does so without hesitation, her hands rising to cling to the shirt situated either side of your waist.

After a few moments, you force yourself to pull away knowing you'd never make it back home if this were to continue. Natasha pouts, and you can't help but playfully nip at her bottom lip as you rise to your feet with her cradled in your arms. That earns you a quiet giggle, and your stomach flutters at the sound as you somehow find it within you to temporarily set her down so you could pack up her things.

Once everything was stored away in her ops bag, you temporarily set it aside before heading back over to Natasha. You bend with the intention of lifting her up again the same way you had before, but before you could so do, she leans forward and wraps her arms around your neck.

Your hands rest on her sides for only a moment before her intentions become clear, and with a soft kiss to her neck in acknowledgment, you slip a hand beneath each of her thighs and lift her slight frame up into your arms. You bounce her up slightly before bringing both arms down to rest underneath her behind, easily supporting her weight in your arms as you bend to grab the discarded ops bag and throw it over your shoulder.

As silly as it sounded, she fit absolutely perfectly in your arms, and you knew for a fact holding her like this was going to be your new favourite thing. Her chest was flush against your own, arms secure around your shoulders as she buries her face into your neck. You smile at the feeling of the tip of her nose grazing against your skin.

"Ready baby?" You give her behind a few soft pats, and all Natasha was able to give you was a sleepy hum of content.

Your heart melts at the sound.

"Okay, angel. Let's go home."

It took a little more time than intended but I finally got this finished. I’d love to hear your thoughts!!

#soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #fluff #natasha x y/n #black widow #natasha romanoff #your name #sick natasha romanoff x reader

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phonydiaries · 7 months

Text

a Dance in The Dark - P x Reader

It’s late when you reach the puppet’s quarters. Long shadows loom along the walls of the hotel and a draft rustles past you, pajama-clad and disheveled from a night of restlessness. You hadn’t bothered to switch your clothes, knowing your dear puppet wouldn’t pay it any mind. You had half expected to find P dormant at this hour, but instead he’s laid out on the floor with his legs kicked over the side of his bed. A book -which he seems thoroughly engrossed in- is held up above his head, its pages illuminated by the yellow-green light of Monad’s lamp, which casts a soft halo about the edges of his face. You rap your knuckles against the doorframe and his eyes jump to you, startled out of their careful concentration.

“Can’t sleep.” You sigh, gesturing down the hall with a tilt of your head. “Walk with me?”

With a twitch of a smile, Pinocchio tosses his book to the side and rolls haphazardly out of his place on the floor, clumsy with excitement.

Knowing the hotel well enough, the two of you make your rounds of its many chambers in the dark, ever so often bumping elbows to each other’s ribs. Your barefoot steps cast dull echoes through the halls as you dip in and out of doorways, poke behind desks and rummage carelessly through shelves. In the deep blue foreignness of nighttime, you feel exploratory; curious like children let loose in an enormous garden just brimming with unrealized discoveries.

Passing through the entrance hall, you seize the coveted opportunity to act a fool behind the front desk. “Hello, you’ve reached Hotel Krat.” You say, picking up the receiver of the hotel’s long-dead rotary phone. You’re sat on top of the desk now, your legs swinging over the side. Pinocchio glances up at you, his hands preoccupied diligently petting the hotel’s beloved orange tabby. You feign listening to the nonexistent voice on the other end of the phone. “Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Spring is busy at the moment. I’m afraid he’s in a very important meeting.”

After thoroughly nosing about, you find yourselves settling in the piano room, you and Pino curiously flipping through pages and pages of sheet music. P’s interest is especially piqued by one booklet and he takes a seat at the piano, attempting to make sense of its pages. An admirable attempt is made as he plinks slowly and diligently away at the piece, tugging at your sleeve when he gets stuck. You barely know more than he does, and as you sit together at the bench your fingers tangle and trip over each other. The resulting notes are dissonant and clangy and you both fall into ripples of laughter at your duet's messy melody.

The night wears on calmly, P fingering through a box of cobwebbed records, most of which are scratched beyond recognition. He retrieves one with some care and blows a layer of dust from the cover, his nose scrunching as it flutters across his face.

You’re lying on the floor, limbs outstretched like a lazy snow angel as P futzes with the gramophone. There’s a few moments of anticipatory static before the record crackles to life; a somber piano score reverberates through the dim and intimate space. You close your eyes as a woman’s wispy voice floats through the room, cool and calm. Something about the melody, the echo, the timbre of her voice makes your ribs fall heavy around your heart like a slowly but surely shrinking birdcage.

Close your eyes,

Come to me,

Feel alright,

Just dance with me all through the night

“I can’t stand it.” You start, “It’s beautiful… but it makes me so sad.”

You wonder if P is affected differently, maybe even more than you are by the emotional quality of the music. He certainly seems to have a fascination with it. “What about you?” You ask, your head turning to glance at the puppet.

P’s eyes flicker towards the ceiling and his mouth twitches to the side in thoughtful consideration. He lifts a finger at you -hold on- while he rises from his place at the piano stool and arranges himself with precision beside the grand. He stands up tall, shoulders back, one arm held out just-so at hip level, the other outstretched as if resting on the shoulder of a ghost. You beam at the fine mimic work in front of you.

“Really?” you ask, your brows knitting with intrigue. “Makes you want to dance, huh?”

He nods enthusiastically and motions for you to join him. Your mouth hangs open for a moment.

“Oh- no really I don’t know the first thing about it.” You stammer. Before your days at the hotel as Pinocchio’s companion, you had never known such affluent people and knew very little of high society or of their practices. Any formal knowledge of dance was utterly foreign to you.

P assumes a swordsman’s stance and shrugs at you, nonchalant, as if combat training and dance were the most naturally drawn parallels in the world.

“Sparring with you isn’t the same.” You say flatly, but P’s already made up his mind, and before you know it his hand is closing around yours and he’s tugging you up off the floor. You laugh nervously as you rise to your feet. “No, I’m serious! I don’t-” You begin to protest, but you catch a glimpse of his face, wide pleading eyes and creased brows. He smiles with all the calculated charm of a fox, handsome and cunning. You exhale deeply, steeling yourself before meeting his gaze.

“Oh fine.” You relent, much to his chagrin. “Just watch your feet, I mean it.”

P’s smile is annoyingly triumphant as he holds his hands palm-up out to you, seeking your guidance. Always so much concern for your comfort, you feel your cheeks warm just barely and hope the low light of the piano room masks it.

“Right. Um. Let’s see, you’ll put your hands…here.” You say, taking his hands in yours and leading them to the crook between your waist and hips. He steals curious glances at you as you do.

“And then I guess I’ll just…” You trail off, as your hands fold neatly together at the nape of his neck. You stand still for a moment, just looking at each other in the dark, the features of your faces obscured and foreign. This isn’t the way these things are normally done, you think, in pajamas, in the dark, but you can’t imagine it gets any better. If not for the undercurrent of music, you may have forgotten your purpose here entirely. P takes the first step, and you follow his lead with a dull anxiousness. Strangely enough, your movements feel still and mechanical compared to his. You try to loosen up, rolling your shoulders back, allowing yourself to be disarmed. P’s presence has a funny way of setting you at ease.

The two of you move slowly in circles through the room, swaying gently like awkward young lovers. You draw into him as the music carries. Your cheek settles against his shoulder and his arms wrap around the small of your back and you breathe easy. It’s a lovely feeling, the way your bodies fit together like this, like they were made to. As you continue to step and sway, you close your eyes and listen to the gentle whirs and clicks of your companion’s heart…although…

You maneuver slightly and press your ear to his chest. With some surprise you notice a skipping in its usual rhythm, bolder than you’ve ever heard it. You pull your head away and look up at P’s face in awe, a glinting smirk crossing your lips.

“Pino, are you nervous?” You ask, cocking your head to the side. His face contorts and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but nothing comes of it. He actually looks flustered and you almost don’t believe it. “It’s just me.” You say simply. At this, Pinocchio’s face softens, his brows turning up as if he’d taken offense.

“Just you?” He asks, and the timbre of his voice surprises you. You spend so much time together, and yet hardly do you hear him speak. Your smile fades slowly, replaced with an expression of curiosity. You nod hesitantly and hum in reply. P shakes his head at you, deliberate and slow.

“Not just.” He murmurs, his gaze holding yours intently. “Never just you.” You realize you’re holding your breath. A ghost of a whisper slips past your lips.

“Oh.”

Your fingers itch for something you can’t quite name and you find yourself pulling the puppet closer. His head dips to meet you and you feel a stray lock of his hair brush your cheek. His breath is warm.

The song ends.

The needle of the gramophone lifts and the air is stretched thin with a cutting silence. You’re left in the dark together again, frozen in place. It feels terribly long, like you’re both waiting for something.

“The music’s stopped.” You say, shattering the stillness of the moment, and as P moves to retrieve the record you immediately wish you hadn't. Your hand extends to stop him, fingers closing around his wrist. “But- we don’t have to, you know.”

In the dark, you think you see him smile. He holds you like glass, delicate, and picks up again, moving leisurely to the music playing only in his head. He hums the tune softly and you follow suit, the two of you meeting in a duet of somber sounds. You wonder if your chests swell the same, if your breaths and heartbeats synchronize, following each other blindly the way you do now. The motion feels like crashing waves, steady and rhythmic, comfortingly repetitive. You fall into the flow of it all over again, leaning against P, sturdy and secure. You wouldn’t mind doing this all night.

Feels alright, indeed.

#shalalalala KISS THE FUCKING. BOY.#P talks more than usual meaning a total of 7 words #piano and gramophone are not in the same room but I realized that too late so you're gonna have to be okay with that #lies of p #lop #lies of p fanfic #my writing #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader

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overtail · 2 months

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Can u do zuko x tall reader headcanons? Her being his height or an inch taller??

i mean I'll do that but way taller since Zuko is canonically 5'3...................

he's our short king guys

Zuko x Tall Reader Headcannons

pre-book 3 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

-zuko was always taller than you as a kid

-he was always teasing you since you were such a short girl

-over summer break, when you and your family went on a trip when you two were 11, you came back extremely tall

-'pre-teen growth spurt I guess?'

-he always felt very inferior to you

-you just kept getting taller as the months went on

-when you signed up to fight in the army, you were teased and called a boy by the others in training

-zuko always defended you, and made sure you felt like a girl

-he would get you flowers, try to get dresses for you, and would always call you his 'girl best friend', even though you were his only friend

-when he was sent on the mission to find the Avatar when he was 13, you couldnt accompany him

-you were devastated, even going as far as trying to quit your soldier training

-but when he left, you gave up on your efforts

-you worked hard, writing letters to zuko that were never sent

-you celebrated his birthday, buying gifts that collected up in the closet of your bedroom

-everyday you believed he would come back

-but he never did

-you gave up after about 2 years

-you tried to focus on your work of becoming a soldier, graduating at 13

-you were the most versatile and strongest because of your height, and you were the top of your ranks

book 3 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

-over three years later, zuko returned

-his hair was longer, his scar was fully healed at this point

-he was taller now, but not by much. you still towered over him

-he didn't recognize you at first. you of course knew it was him, since the announcement of his arrival was spread throughout the kingdom

-since you were the most trusted by your commander, you were assigned to guard zuko

-you waved awkwardly at him, and the only thing that confused him was that such a tall person has such a feminine figure

-he didn't see your face under the helmet, so that added to the non recognition

-'y/n?'

-he hugged you the moment you took off your helmet, waving back

-you were maybe 2 or 3 inches taller than him

-though it had been 3 years, it was like you were back at iroh's house, learning how to play pai sho

-'you're a soldier now? sick'

-he was already happy that he had his honor back, but seeing you made him ecstatic

-every say you two would take walks around the palace

-you two would eat lunch together, visit the village

-until he started dating mai

-you held no grudge against her - she was a lot like zuko

-you were happy that he met his other half, someone so indifferent to him

-that's what made you jealous

-you two stopped hanging out like regular

-'wanna get lunch?' 'I'm going on a picnic with mai'

-the title friend slowly faded into just being his bodyguard

-🔞it was always so awkward hearing him and mai get up to things in his room as you stood guard outside

-🔞you always wished it was you

-the possibility of you being too tall ran through your mind, how being a soldier cracked your femininity

-on the day of black sun, you caught him writing a letter and setting it on his desk

-'what are you doing zuko?' 'theres no time to explain'

-you insisted that you come with him, that you could help him

-it was both because you wanted to protect him and stay with him

-he told you that he was abandoning his role as the crowned prince of the fire nation, and that if you wanted to come with, you'd no longer be a loyal soldier

-when he said yes, you were both ecstatic and worried

-you would be leaving your whole life behind - you'd be commiting treason

redemption 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

-none of the members of the Gaang trusted you and Zuko

-they thought you were one of the soldiers that were on the ship with zuko

-you tried explaining to them you had to be 16 to graduate the training academy, and zuko left when they were both 13

-when sparky sparky boom man attacked, you and zuko helped fight him

-they trusted you a bit more, but still held a grudge against zuko

-they forced you two to sleep in a secluded tent together

-the first night you two stayed, there was an awkward silence

-you two were still distant

-'what was in that letter?'

-zuko explained to you that in that message, he told mai that he was leaving her

-he thought it was for the best

-you felt bad for him, not aware that he was going through a break up without telling anyone

-but at the same time, you were happy

-you had a chance

-'im sorry man'

-you tried to hug him, but he looked away.

-something was off about him

-'what wrong zuko?' 'i need to tell you something'

-he not only broke up with mai because he was leaving, but because he liked you

-he looked up at you as you two sat in the tent. the lantern light flickered as you moved closer

-the kiss was soft and first, tender, and practically just a peck on the lips

-when you pulled apart, he was extremely red

-🔞kissing wasn't all you did that night

freaky deaky 🔞 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

-zuko loved putting his face in your chest when you hug

-he likes kissing every part of your body, especially since there's so much of it

-he likes it A LOT, especially when he can make you buckle beneath his words

-you're such a strong girl that it makes him powerful when he's dominating you

-likes the arch of your back when he's hitting it from behind 🫣

-loves watching your long fingers prepare yourself for him

#avatar the last airbender #fandom #fanfic #fluff #smut #atla zuko #zuko x reader #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #zuko

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infrared135-36 · 6 months

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the zoomers playing gachas now get so defensive and aggressive over them compared to what I remember from the early to mid 2010s. I see so many people saying “well Y is a gacha but you totally don’t need to spend like Z gacha! It’s more like a live service!”, or “X gacha fans try playing a gacha that actually respects you like Y!” I see this all the time for people shilling shit like Arknights or Limbus Company. Please for the love of god can we get back to the point where everyone can recognize creating a game in the gacha genre is inherently exploitive. I’m not saying this to shame anyone who plays them because I don’t really give a shit, of course there’s pedo-pandering heavy games like blue archive and increasingly FGO that I wish would EoS but that’s a different discussion. If these “nice” gachas wanted to be “buy an update a month” or whatever live service games, they would have been. It doesn’t matter if you think they’re nice about it, they made these games specifically to be gachas because they make a shit ton of money. In one single “dead” month for Limbus Company they basically made the same amount of money that the entire Pathologic 2 kickstarter made for example. And this is even after alienating half their fanbase pulling that incel shenanigans shit.

You don’t need to defend their money grubbing asses even if idk you see the game as an inherent aspect of who you are and your identity so anyone criticizing the game itself is as if they’re criticizing you as a person, which, because of the growth of SNS sites especially since covid, I think a chunk of this is. I don’t think that makes these games unable to tell interesting and moving stories or have lovable characters - on the contrary, they have to make sure gacha-original characters will be pulled for, so they invest a lot of time into their appeal, even embarrassingly having them break the 4th wall and directly say this is the case like in FGO. However every single character design and story has to be created under the gacha framework and the unrelenting need to appeal to their userbase. Why do you think there’s a lot of “badass old men” designs in FGO but after 8 years there’s not one single woman with even the whisper a wrinkle? Why did they change Frankenstein’s berserker screams to be a cute anime girl voice? Why do many of the male Arknights characters have detailed, shaded and distinguished facial features while most of the female cast has the classic anime bug eyes, dot nose and line mouth, especially with the full animal-faced characters?

It’s like many entertainment industries where the characters must have mass appeal but on steroids because you’re not paying to buy the game, you’re paying for the 1% chance of getting the character, so the game lives or dies based on their appeal. I don’t even mean this in a sanctimonious “therefore don’t play them” way, there are “traditional” video game companies pulling stupid, damaging and illegal shit all the time, gacha is not the one single evil thing within the industry. I would just like to see recognition about what you’re playing. It’s a gacha game. Yes even Limbus Company is made to have you gamble, that’s literally the reason there’s daily log in incentives and a gacha currency…. It doesn’t matter if you think these games are nice or fair to you. They’re gacha games, they were made to make money from you first and foremost. Keep skeptical about what they do, you don’t need to jump in and defend their practices just because you like the game.

#fgo #fate grand order #limbus company #Gacha #gaming industry #arknights #r1999

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redditreceipts · 2 months

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This is actually a TIM explaining why it's legitimate to be anti-feminist because feminism has done nothing for TIMs/trans and has even been hostile towards them

https://www.tumblr.com/havenofcybele/744684220115566592/some-thoughts-on-feminism-from-a-trans-perspective?source=share

well feminism has given half of the trans population human rights, the right to vote, and legal recognition as a person lol. (of course you wouldn't bother to think about trans men, because you're a male and all you care about is yourself, but well)

it has admittedly not done anything done for trans women, because feminism is for women and trans women are not women lmao

yah, interesting thing to think about, right? That the people who stand in for women's rights continue to do so, even when those women don't identify as women anymore.

Also, the question is so stupid. Like, even if I thought that trans women are women, asking what feminists have done for trans people is like asking what anti-racist activists have done for disabled people. And when they struggle to find an answer, I then as a disabled person tell them that I won't be participating in anti-racist struggles anymore because they don't focus on ME (the most important person in the world)

also, I think it's kinda smart for those "trans feminists" (like Julia Serano) to act as if trans activism and feminism were compatible. you can of course come out and tell the world that you dislike feminism as a trans woman, because feminism is about protecting women and you as a man feel neglected, but it will really not help your cause in the public opinion lmao

I mean he's kinda right in his assessment though. Feminism is a movement to liberate women, and his bullshit ideology is not compatible with that. Feminism will always be about women, and as a man who wants to retain his privileges, being an anti-feminist is a logical conclusion. If you live in a patriarchy long enough, your privileges will appear to you as "rights", and taking away your privilege to define women as a man will seem to you as oppression. I guess it will be harder to convince your ftm brothers, because they actually know what it's like to live as a woman under patriarchy, but well, you're just proving the femininists' point by your post. Men as a class primarily care about retaining their privilege to oppress women, and this guy accurately recognised that and wants to stand in for men's rights instead. I guess normal people would have empathy for the struggle of a marginalised people that they're not a part of and not throw a tantrum when these people's emancipation means making themselves uncomfortable, but what do you expect of people socialised as male? this kind of rhetoric is like a plantation owner who lets their palm oil get picked by people in the global south and pays them $0.10 per hour, and then he turns around and says "What has the anti-imperialist movement ever done for plantation owners??? why should i support them when they want to take away my rights to exploit people?" like yeah, of course you shouldn't support them if all you care about is your own gain. but the people getting angry with you for not supporting a movement for the liberation of a marginalised people you are not a part of expect you to have the tiniest shred of empathy and not only care about yourself, but that's apparently too much asked of a man lol

#radblr #radical feminism #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists please touch #gender critical #feminism #gc feminism #gc feminist #gender abolition #radfems please touch #radfems please interact #radfem safe #listen to trans women #misogyny #patriarchy

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carrrrino · 7 months

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HELLO I am very excited for this project! I wanted to express a concern though…it’s rather hard to find the any info on the project aside from what’s on the blog (which isn’t…very much information wise) I’m not sure if that’s an intentional decision…

I know when I first found the info I….kind of didn’t believe this?? That sounds odd. I suppose what I mean is, it didn’t seem the most legit. I did digging through the blog, read all the links, searched for a Twitter and YouTube accounts and had a hard time doing that as well…Simply because there is very little information on it. Which there’s nothing wrong with…I was wanting to suggest (as an outsider) that you and your team put more announcements/ marketing into this…?

I REALLY hope to see this project grow, it’s absolutely deserved, and very few people seem to know about it. I’d hate that to be something people miss out on. I don’t really expect an answer on this but I thought I should share the concern as an outside perspective. 💛

I really hope this project is going well for you and that it gets the deserved recognition as it’s coming out!!! So excited!!!

I'm so happy that people share the same excitement and concern for the series. Also, the fact that you guys think it's worthy of success Is truly inspiring! I think it's time I SAY something though about my current situation.

TL;DR - Our team basically went inactive after the summer; everyone returned to their lives and I'm the only one who can keep up with the project unconditionally. I didn't mean to dishearten you guys! It's a pain in the ass to work alone - excluding voice actors and SFX producers. The OUTBREAK blog will change entirely, it will be used for info and marketing. This blog will just be general art created by me (&no-namestuff). I will continue to work on the series independently, but I'll definitely give out more info as requested and make things more legit whenever I can!

Over the summer, a group of us began working on the project together, but as most of my friends returned to school and their regular lives, it became almost impossible to keep going. Currently, only a few are available to help, but they're too busy.

I didn't want to worry anyone by saying that it's basically just me working on the project; it's tough to balance animating, scripting, marketing, planning, publishing, AND funding by myself. Over time it (advertising and insightful communication) just became indifferent to me, I even considered going silent for a while until I had a mother-load of progress, but that's really not fair.

The project was a bit of a mess when we started. We didn't plan on making it a big deal, my animations were half-assed and incomprehensible; I barely knew how to work Adobe and could barely even pay it off, the sound was going to be recorded via iPhone, the script wasn't even halfway done, and voice actors weren't thought of until the Prologue. After more than six months of work, Verse 1-4 (or 6?) was deleted because of issues with the file.. this really drew the line for everyone.

So here I am, despite everything; I revised the script, which is barely halfway done, redesigned the characters, read more into the multiversal conundrums of AUs and UNDERTALE, built a portfolio, studied poses for the action scenes — and there’s still a lot that I have to learn. I'm working on Q&As, asks, and the teaser / test / project animations. I don't want people to be confused or hesitant, so I appreciate you a lot for reminding me of this. As requested, I will provide additional details about the project too :) !

No-Name's theme is in progress (thanks to Synth Mints), I've invested heavily in software for good quality animations, talented voice actors from this fandom (some you might even know) have agreed to voice for me - I'm extremely grateful for their help. Even if it takes years to release an episode or pilot, I'm still excited about the outcome. Who knows, I might even have a genuine team by then! :D

aw geez sorry for the whole bit-life story, I'm just trying to shed some light on the situation for you all. I do care, I want everyone to know that, it's just hard work.

Until the next teaser animation, please have these lil' pieces of teasers / lore as an apology!

SD by @/galacii ERROR by @/loverofpiggies / CrayonQueen

LASTLY today is my birthday yayyy 🥳🎂

#wish me luck #next anim is way longer than 5 seconds #I hope this sums things up #outbreak #shattered dream sans #no name sans

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nomadstucky · 3 months

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Title: I'm so in love with you. Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader WC: ~3.7K Content Warnings: SMUT (Unprotected, Simon is a biiiit of a bottom, Simon likes being bit) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, feels, Reader gets injured, angst but it does have a good/happy ending. I know I just posted a Simon Riley fic, but the brain rot DO be brain rotting. My current hyperfixation. I have lots of other stories half-written or fleshed out for all the characters I write for, and I am getting to them, I promise!!

Wonderfully beta'd by the ever amazing @universitypenguin - if you have not read anything Alice has posted, please do so! The Princess and The Lawyer is AMAZING!!

Requests are open, feel free to submit, and to those who already have, I promise I am working on them!!

It was moments like these that you genuinely dreaded, sometimes wishing that you had chosen something different. Everyone, even now, always questioned why this was the career chosen. You had never been able to fully answer, always giving a vague, ‘I’m in it for the same reasons everyone else is.’ Never truly knew why, what pulled you here.

The satisfaction when you had won was unlike any other, but so were the nightmares. The constant replay of the field, the battles, the close calls that could have ended up much worse. It was never about you, no, rather your teammates. The close calls they faced, that were your fault. If you had been a few seconds quicker, or had just slowed down and aimed properly, you could’ve avoided these moments.

That’s where you currently found yourself, in a meeting with Captain Price, and Lieutenant Riley. Both very terrifying men. At least, Price was trying to make it easier on you, giving soft smiles, and ‘Ghost, relax. Everyone makes mistakes.’

A bite of ‘doesn’t matter, they should be able to conduct themselves properly.’ Was fired back. It was no secret the Lieutenant had a distaste for you. Maybe because you were ‘reckless’ as he had described you multiple times. Perhaps it was because at the end of the day he ended up having to save you more than once. Soap had attempted to calm your nerves one day, explaining ‘he gets like this with everyone. ‘S not just you.’

You saw the way he acted upon passing. With other soldiers, it was a very slight almost imperceptible nod of his head, but for you the ever-present scowl on his face seemed to deepen. No matter what you had tried, you could never get that recognition that you so desperately wanted.

“Captain,” you said, gaining his attention, “W-While I appreciate the help, he’s not wrong. I-I don’t agree with the way he’s making his points, but I should’ve been paying more attention. Gaz could’ve been seriously hurt i—“

“He could’ve been killed! Because of you!” Ghost’s voice boomed across the Captain’s office. You jumped in your seat.

“You’re absolutely right,” you said looking at Ghost, “and I am sorry.”

He grunted in response, before stalking out of the room.

“Ignore him, he’s stressed out over the next mission.”

You shook your head, “He’s right. Gaz could’ve died because of my mistake.” The guilt sat stationary in your chest.

Price offered a sympathetic smile, “Ghost’s has also had some close calls. That is very similar to the potential today. We all have had some pretty close calls. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You nodded, and rose from the chair on a shaky breath, “thank you.”

Price nodded, “You’re welcome. There’s a debriefing in an hour.” He reminded.

You nodded and walked out to get ready for the meeting.

Three hours later you had found yourself in the middle of the battlefield. According to Price, it should’ve been an ‘easy’ mission. Gather the intel and get out, you hadn’t planned for the ambush. You had been almost positive you were safe, hidden behind a barrel, Ghost beside you. That was until you caught sight of the enemy behind you.

You caught them raising their gun, aiming for the lieutenant. Soap screamed for him, you pushed him clean out of the way before hearing two gunshots ring out. One of which had pierced the enemy, knocking him down instantly. The other lodged itself into your thigh. You didn’t quite register the shot at first. Not until Soap was by your side.

“Just go. Scan the perimeter, make sure there’s no more, make sure Gaz has the intel.” You spoke before he even had a chance to say anything to you. Soap ran off, you sat yourself down, still hiding behind the barrel. Your hand weakly pressing against the wound in your thigh.

You leaned your head back against the barrel, closing your eyes as your hand was replaced by Ghost’s gloved appendage. You whined as he put more pressure than you had been. “I know, I know. Stay with me.”

You giggled softly, “ironic, isn’t it?” Your head rolled to the side. “This time it wasn’t you saving me.”

You watched Ghost’s eyes pass between your face and your leg repeatedly. His voice became distorted as he spoke into the walkie on his shoulder, more than likely explaining the situation to Price, and Gaz. Your eyelids grew heavy, so you opted to keep them closed.

You could hear the concern in Ghost’s voice, but you could no longer hear the words. Could still feel the gloved hand pushing at your skin, but no longer the pain. You slowly allowed yourself to fall into the unconsciousness pulling at you.

You came to, to the sounds of beeping and hushed voices. Confused, you opened your eyes, “Jesus.” You squinted, looking around. You found Price, and Ghost by your bedside.

“Hey. How do you feel?” Price spoke, keeping his voice soft.

“What happened?” Your voice came out weak. Ghost handed you a small paper cup with a straw. Noting he didn’t have the gloves on anymore.

“Drink this. Small Sips. ” He spoke. You took it, taking a small sip as he instructed.

“You were shot.” Price spoke up again, and everything came back to you, “You were lucky. The bullet missed the femoral artery. Small fracture, you’re off for the next 8 to 12 weeks.”

“8 to 12 weeks?” Your eyes widened, “No, Price there has to be a mistake! Surely it won’t take that long!” You handed the cup back to Ghost.

“That’s what the doctor has said, and that’s what we’re going by.” Price told you before his phone went off, and he walked out to take the call.

You groaned, throwing your head back into the pillows. Ghost chuckled before handing you the cup again, “I bet you’re really regretting taking that bullet for me now huh?”

You looked over at him, “not at all,” you smiled, “but I have to ask, where’d the gloves go?”

You heard, more than saw, the audible gulp he took. “Had to take them off.”

You nodded like you understood the implication of what he was saying. Which you did. You remembered him pressing his hands down against the wound trying to get the blood to clot. Saw how your blood stained the white part of the skeleton fabric.

When you looked back up at him, you could see the fear. For once you saw your strong-willed, cold-hearted lieutenant, genuinely scared. For you. Like he was reliving what happened. Like he couldn’t believe you were still here.

The word lucky rattled around in your brain. Echoing Price’s infliction. You were incredibly lucky, though you weren’t sure you’d admit it out loud. Something had shifted. You weren’t able to pinpoint exactly what, but something in the air of your hospital room felt different.

The aftermath of a mission always did funky things to you. Things you could never fully understand. Adding to that, the fact that you had been out of commission for the last 10 weeks. You had been a little rusty. Which was how you found yourself being dragged out to Ghost’s office. You were sure that he was mad, that he was going to berate you when he called you to his office. However, he led you past his office, and into his personal quarters. “You’re always such a problem.” He said as he closed the door behind you.

“I didn’t see it!” You watched him.

“I’m not saying anything.” He defended.

“You are! You’re saying that I’m a problem.”

“Because you are. I consistently am having to step in and save your ass because you’re so reckless.”

“You can’t seriously sit there and get caught up in the few times you’ve saved me! Are you serious?! This is a fucking joke. You’re a fucking joke.” Your voice raised, anger shooting through your body.

Ghost glared at you. “I’M the joke?! You must really think highly of yourself!”

“Highl— What?! This is. No. No! I’m leaving. I will not allow you to sit here and treat me like this.” You stomped towards the door. You didn’t make it very far, before Ghost’s hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Do you care so little for your own life?” He spun you around to face him.

”What?”

“Honestly, you’re reckless on the field, you almost stepped on a damn landmine today!! You took a bullet for me!”

“I told you, I didn’t see it! I’m not reckless, and who knows what would have happened if I had let the bullet hit you! You could’ve died! I wasn’t willing to watch anything happen to you, when I could’ve helped!”

“Why?!”

“Because I care about you! Because the thought of you not being here hurts me more than I want to admit! Because the thought of not hearing your fucking voice every day, scares me!” You shouted, feeling the tears come to the surface of your eyes, but you refused to cry in front of him.

The shock of your words had Ghost releasing his grip on you, if only slightly. You shook your head. “Forget it.” you sniffled and opened the door walking further down the hallway. Ghost snapped to his senses, and called you, but you were out of his sight.

You had asked Price for some extra time. “A few more weeks, I want to make sure that I’m ready to be on the field again.” Was what you had told him, when in reality, you wanted to prolong your solitude. You hadn’t spoken to Ghost since your outburst, but he seemed content in letting it happen. Leaving you alone.

Sure, you had run into each other a few times, damn near impossible not to, but never spoken to each other. In the time that you hadn’t been on missions, you spent it in your room reading, or in the gym trying to strengthen yourself.

The boys had come back from another successful mission, elated but bruised. You smiled and hugged each of them with the exception of Ghost. You merely nodded at him, he stood stoic as ever.

Soap threw his arm around you before leading you inside, with everyone following, “You’ll have to come with us on the next one. It’ll be just like old times!” He sang.

You giggled, “yeah, maybe. We’ll see how I’m feeling.”

“Well, at least come out to drink with us tonight! We’re heading to Bar Code.” Soap shook your shoulders lightly. He was always in a good mood after a successful mission.

You nodded, “Sure.”

That was how you found yourself in civilian clothing, sitting across from Price. Just shooting the shit with the boys reminded you of old times, better times. Price called your name, “you’ve been training. A lot harder than we’ve seen you before.”

You smiled, knowing it was a compliment of the highest form, “Thank you, sir. I just want to make sure that I’m ready to be back in the field.”

“So, I can count on you for the next one then?”

Your smile widened, as you nodded, and Soap and Gaz whooped and cheered. “Well!” Gaz was the one to throw his arm around you this time, “I say that’s cause for celebrations! I’ll go get more drinks.”

He moved to stand, but you put your hand on top of his on your shoulder, “let me.” You giggled as he withdrew and stood, walking over to the bar.

Ordering what you knew everyone liked, you leant against the bar as you waited for the drinks. A slimy looking man slid next to you, “what’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all by yourself?” He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Oh,” you said quietly, moving away slightly, “I’m not alone. Here with some friends.” Of course Ghost had caught sight of him before he got close to you.

The man followed you, before a hand reached out to grip your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned away. “C’mon. Don’t be like that. I bet they won’t even notice if you’re gone.” You could smell the alcohol on him before he even opened his mouth.

You kept pushing at his chest, getting more alarmed by the moment, “I-I’m flattered, but not interested,” you looked around for someone, anyone to help you, but found no one. “I really should get back to my friends.”

In an instant, Ghost was by your side. Unwrapping the stranger's hand from you before pulling you behind him. “You okay?” He looked over his shoulder at you.

You nodded, and walked to the table silently. From what you saw the unknown man backed down pretty quickly, given Ghost was still in his tac gear, minus the vest.

Ghost had come back with the drinks and set them down. Not another word was said between you and him for the rest of the night.

Getting back to the base, everyone went their separate ways. Everyone except Ghost who pulled you with him into an empty barracks room. It was a standard room, with a bed in the back corner, small desk and lamp on the right side, and an armoire on the left. “Ghost.. What do–”

“Simon.” He cut you off.

You tilted your head, confused. “Call me Simon. Please.”

“Okay… Simon. Is there something you need?”

His eyes fluttered shut as you said his name. “I think a conversation is needed.”

“Conversation about what?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“What did you mean?” His eyes opened, solely focusing on your face, your reaction to him. “You said you care about me. But there’s so many things that could mean.”

You took a deep breath in, and dropped your arms. “I’m exhausted. We can talk about this later.” You turned for the door.

Simon muttered your name, “You and I both know if you walk out of here, this conversation won’t ever happen.” His voice stopped you from moving any further. “Please.” His voice softened to a whisper.

“You’re a big boy, Simon. I’m sure you can figure it out. Given the context.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Why? So you can embarrass me some more? To make me relive that specific part of the conversation for days? I already have. I shouldn’t have said anything, it was vastly inappropriate.”

Simon shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Tell me. Please.”

A shiver flew down your spine. “You make it sound so easy. It won’t fix anything.”

Simon stayed quiet behind you. He was close enough at this point to feel the body heat he gave off. You sighed, defeated. “I care about you.” You whisper.

“And what does that mean?” Simon whispered back.

You closed your eyes, staying quiet. This time when he said your name, he coated it in adoration, in awe. Pressing his body even closer, you caved.

“I’m into you.” You felt his forehead come to rest on your shoulder.

“Again.” He commanded, softly as his arm wrapped around your waist.

You smiled, biting your lip, “I like you.”

Simon pulled you back so you were fully flush against him. “Again.”

“I have feelings for you.”

His grip tightened, hand moving to your hip as he spun you to face him. “Once more.” He watched you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I am so in love with you it hurts sometimes.”

“Yeah?” He breathed, and you nodded as his face drew closer.

“Yeah” you whispered moments before he pushed his mask up just past his nose, and kissed you.

Fuck, he was good. He knew how to hook you in, one hand resting on the hinge of your jaw, and the other on your waist. Pulling you in, while simultaneously keeping you where he wanted you.

You couldn’t resist kissing back, placing your hands firmly on his chest. You could feel the low rumble he let out. Pulling away for a second, Simon dragged his thumb down the center of your lips. Your breathing was rapid, your mind felt like it was in the clouds.

Without thinking, you leaned back in to capture his lips this time. His hands drifted down your body, before tapping the backs of your thighs. You shook your head only slightly to still keep your lips attached to his.

He grunted into your mouth, before crouching slightly, and lifting you into his arms. You gasped before breaking apart, “Simon, put me down.”

You saw his lips pull up into a smirk, “gladly” you watched his mouth form the word. He walked over, tightening his grip only moments before dropping you against the mattress.

You squealed softly, before this mountain of a man was sprawled out on top of you, reattaching his lips to any skin he could find. Kissing down your face, to your neck. Hands pawing at your body, lifting your shirt to caress your skin. You whined, before sitting up only enough to pull your shirt off.

“Atta girl.” Simon praised before reattaching his mouth to yours. His hands roaming your body, gently groping along his way as he finds the buttons on your jeans and slides them along with your panties off in one motion.

You truly don’t know what came over you, the need to have Simon under you, succumbing to whatever you wanted, was overwhelming.

So that was exactly what you decided to do, as you heaved your body so you had him pinned beneath you. The surprise of it alone had him pulling away from you. Hands coming to rest on your thighs.

You made a show of removing your bra, the accompanying groan from him as you removed the last article of clothing was satisfying. You carefully slid down his body, removing articles of clothing as you went, until he was completely naked, and completely at your mercy. You looked down at him, your lip between your teeth.

“Not so big and bad now are you?” You spoke softly, lining Simon’s leaking cock with your entrance, not able to stand another moment of the teasing.

“Don’t be a fucking tease, baby.” Simon gritted out.

“Me? Never” You spoke, sliding him inside until you were flush with his hips. Gasping, as he gently bucked up into you.

The grunt Simon let out had you clenching around him. His hands clasped around your hips, expletives being whispered into the air around you two.

You brought yourself up just enough for him to slide out enough, before dropping yourself back down. “Fuck, yes. Just like that.” Simon whined.

The sound alone had you falling forward, hands coming up to catch yourself on his chest. You let out a moan, as his hands roamed your body. “C’mon. Need me to take the lead?” He teased.

You bit your lip as you straightened yourself out, and started bouncing on his cock. Simon’s head rolled back further into the pillow. Small chants of yes left his mouth. You glanced down at him, completely at your mercy, and you let out a borderline pornographic moan.

Simon’s neck had been on full display, the veins distended, almost inviting. He was clenching his teeth, so as to keep all those little sounds in. Eventually, the intrusive thought won and you leant forward. Lips and teeth sucking a bright red hickey into his neck. “Oh, Fuck.” Simon mewled.

Laving your tongue over the new mark, you felt a swell of pride. “Can’t take it?” You whispered into his ear, gently biting down on his earlobe. Simon let out a high pitched whine. “Who knew Simon Riley liked being bitten huh?”

His hands settled back on your hips, “please” he grunted.

You cooed, straightening and planting your hands on his chest once again, as you worked yourself against his cock. “Awwww. D’you wanna cum?”

Increasing your speed, you could feel the stutter in his breath under your hands. One of his hands running up your back, to cup the back of your neck, pulling you down.

Capturing your lips, he kissed any and all smart comments, and thoughts out of your head. Simon pulled away from you enough to let out a long, drawn out moan, as your hips stuttered, and you felt the warmth of his cum flooding you.

You gasped, not expecting it so quickly. The pure, unadulterated power you felt in this moment was enormous. You just made big, bad, cold-hearted Simon Riley cum before you.

Simon’s hands fell to your thighs, gently running his fingers over where the bullet had entered, “shit.” breathing labored, unable to think.

You looked down at him, breathing picking up, eyes wide. “One more.” You surprised even yourself. “Give me one more. Si, just one more.” You spoke, grinding your hips against his.

He grunted your name, “I can’t.”

“Yes, yes you can. Gimme one more. You’re such a good boy, Si. You can gimme one more, yeah?” You whined, resuming bouncing on his cock once more.

Simon whimpered, “Please.”

“Yeah, there it is. Look at you. Letting me use you like this. Fuck. So good for me, yeah?”

You watched Simon’s eyes roll back in his head, mouth open just slightly, allowing all the little noises loose. The little moans, hiccups, and half whines. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t getting to you.

“You’re so hot like this. Can’t shut you up, can I?” You spoke, hips faltering.

Soft chants of please left Simon’s pretty pink lips, head rolling from side to side. He was a sight. “Gonna cum again for me, Si?” You taunted him.

Simon hiccuped, and nodded furiously. His entire body tensed, letting out an absolute wrecked moan, you once again felt the warmth of his seed, which only triggered your own orgasm this time.

Head thrown back, grinding your hips before slowing to a complete stop. Slowly you lifted yourself on your knees and climbed off him. Simon chuckled as you collapsed beside him.

“That definitely was not expected.” You wheezed out, attempting to catch your breath.

“What part?” Simon smirked, pulling his mask back down.

“All of it.” You yawned, and curled into his side.

“We can dissect it in the morning, get some rest.” Simon ran his hand along your back gently, and you fell asleep in no time.

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