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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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Can’t help falling in love

summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

warnings: friends to lovers (at the age of 9, 10, 15, 17, 19), a pinch of angst (Aemond healing after losing his eye), but overall so fluffy and sweet you may want to skip dessert

words: ~ 5500 (I got reeeally carried away with that love confession)

Aemond is weeks away from his tenth birthday and he feels as miserable as ever. That feeling is an iron weight upon his heart, his mood irritated and face features grim more often than not. He is still without a dragon — and it’s the only thing he can think of, day and night, steadfast and stubborn in his obsession that most of his family finds to be blown out of proportion. It might have stang him less if only it wasn’t for the constant teasing and pitiful jokes that added to his distress and the never-ending heartache. He learns to keep a straight face and act as if he doesn’t really care, but deep down he does, way more than he’ll ever admit.

His training sessions are a way to channel his anger, and he lashes out at a straw man, again and again, clinging to the thought that, at least in these moments, he is not entirely powerless. He keeps his focus on the target, attentive to Ser Criston’s advice — “Soften your knees”, “Keep your feet light, your hands heavy”, and for a couple of hours he forgets about his misery.

It’s when the training comes to an end, the dreaded realization sinks in again, and Aemond is lost in his thoughts, mindlessly twirling the wooden sword in one hand, his gaze wandering around the yard.

And then his eyes fall on a bright green spot — and all of a sudden, he sees you. A girl of his age, the hem of your green dress a bit dusty, boots covered in dirt, a few strands of hair fallen loose, a coy smile on your face. You meet his gaze and wave at him excitedly.

Aemond looks dumbfounded. A girl in the training yard. Waving at him. He blinks once, twice — and in the next moment, you’re standing merely a few steps away, glancing curiously at his sword.

“It looks so hefty! Is it heavy? What is it made of?” a string of questions, your voice sweet and joyful.

There’s a brief pause and maybe you mistake his stiffness for arrogance as you are quick to add:

“Oh, my manners!” gasping but showing no actual regret. “Forgive me,” you curtsy, your smile growing even wider. A timid smile appears on his face in return and he finally comes to his senses.

“It’s made out of red oak. It’s not very heavy, you get used to it,” Aemond raises the sword, letting you take a closer look. Within another blink of an eye he finds himself talking to you, your questions endless and maybe a bit naive but he genuinely enjoys it.

That’s until you both hear a loud cry.

“Lady Y/N!” your nanny comes running in, out of breath and scowling. “I told you not to wander around...,” she chokes on her words at the sight of the young prince. She curtsies, too, but it isn’t nearly as cute as when you do it.

She sprints decisively in your direction. “It wasn’t very polite of you to interrupt the prince’s training, you little menace!”

And then Aemond, to his own surprise, moves to stand in her way.

“She didn’t interrupt a thing,” he disagrees, lips thinned into a tight line.

The nanny stops and looks at Aemond dubiously, switching her gaze from him to you.

Ser Criston is the one to resolve the conflict — he comes from behind, with a polite smile plastered on his face.

“Young lady can watch from the balcony. The guests are very much welcomed,” he calls for the maid to escort you and your nanny up there. While you’re away, he looks at Aemond with a grin:

“Already wooing the ladies, my prince? Let’s hope you are as good with your sword as she thinks you are.”

He does make Aemond work for it but the prince fights back, winning one bout after the other. He keeps glancing at you and you wave at him every single time.

Aemond is too young to know what love is, too shy and guarded to even entertain the thought of it. But when you look at him, with your childish grin and your eyes bright with mirth, he doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 2.

It’s been two weeks since Aemond lost his eye and he hasn’t left the bed. The pain is still blinding, burning and constantly making his only eye water. But what hurts even more is the humiliating disability. The triumph of claiming Vhagar died down, and now the prince was faced with the harsh reality he needed to adjust to and the process wasn’t an easy one. The fever has only recently gone down, leaving his body weak and freezing from the lack of movement, but he couldn’t bear the thought of stepping out of the room.

His mother wouldn’t leave his side and even Aegon often came to visit, clearly blaming himself for not being there for his little brother. Yet their presence barely brought Aemond any comfort and most of the time he would pretend to be asleep to avoid any conversations. He knew they only meant well and he was being cruel but he couldn’t help it as his pride was shattered and he gave in to sadness.

That is until one night he wakes up to a weird sound. He’s only half-awake when he hears a vigorous tapping that clearly comes from the outside. Except it's not from the other side of the door — but rather outside his window.

He’s startled by this guess and suspiciously walks closer. It takes him a few seconds to focus his gaze and discern a human’s silhouette — and then another few to realize that it’s you standing on the window sill. He feels like his heart will jump out of his chest as he rushes to open the window.

You climb through and clumsily drop to the floor. But before he can get worried, you are on your feet again, eyeing him with concern.

“Oh, Aemond,” your gaze and voice are both so soft, it makes his lower lip quiver. You carefully approach him and put your hand on his shoulder, gently sliding it on his back in a soothing motion and then cuddling him. He welcomes your company with a sigh of relief. You smell of oranges and you give the best hugs.

“They told me no one was allowed into your chambers,“ your hushed whisper burns his ear. “The silliest thing I’ve ever heard!” you pull away from him, still lightly panting, cheeks flushed and hair messy. “I knew I had to find a way to come see you.”

You examine his face, frowning at the scar that’s still healing.

“Does it hurt?”

He only nods, afraid that if he opens his mouth, he won’t be able to hold back a sob. You move closer, resuming the gentle motion of rubbing his back.

Ever since that day in the training yard, you kept in touch, regularly sending each other letters, chatting about everything and nothing, sharing your little secrets and observations. You recently mentioned that your parents allowed you to come see him again, but with the tragic change of events, Aemond completely forgot about the preplanned visit.

“I will take his eye,” you say out of the blue, caressing the unharmed side of his face, your voice laced with anger. Aemond thinks he might’ve heard it wrong.

“...Whose eye?”

“Luke’s! I shall take his eye, as payment for yours,” you tell him with zero hesitation. For a girl of your age, you’re way too eager to plan such a thing, yet he somehow has no doubts that you can actually do it.

Aemond shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t,” his voice quiet but firm. “The King was very adamant about that, no payment is needed.”

“Well, maybe he is too old to think straight,” you retort. “You are his son and you lost an eye! Justice must prevail,” you tilt your head at him, clearly thinking that you’re in the right.

And he knows that you are but he also knows no justice will be served. It’s the last straw for Aemond — he looks away in shame as tears, hot and angry, start falling down his cheek. You waste no time hugging him again, letting him cry on your shoulder, and the two of you stay like that for what feels like an hour.

And then, in the comfortable silence of your embrace, he hears you asking, very seriously:

“Are you sure I can’t take his eye?”

At that moment, he can’t stop himself from letting out a laugh — a weak one and barely audible, but still, he laughs, for the first time in two weeks, and you are the sole reason for it.

Your cheek is pressed to his, your fingers running through his hair, and Aemond realizes he can’t lose you.

He begrudgingly persuades you that taking Luke’s eye isn’t worth the trouble.

By the age of fifteen Aemond becomes quite accustomed to the eyepatch and it gives him a boost of confidence. Losing an eye only made him train harder and his persistence pays off when he’s the one to win, time after time, no matter who his opponent is. His hair grows longer, now silky smooth and with no sign of his boyish curled ends, his face features sharpen. He learns to walk with his head high and hands clasped behind his back, mastering the intimidating look that makes most people want to stay away from the one-eyed prince.

His tricks could’ve never worked on you, though.

You come to visit him a few times a year, and he eagerly awaits your arrival. All the days in between, you keep talking through letters, them getting longer as you get closer. He keeps those letters locked in a hidden compartment of his table. And sometimes, for no specific reason — or maybe for the reason he can’t yet formulate — he is drawn to reach for them, which always ends with him rereading the letters for hours. Some of them he knows by heart and yet it never stops him from having the pleasure of seeing your handwritten stories and little jokes that were only meant for him.

Today is no exception and Aemond is so enthralled by reading, he almost misses the knock on the door. The sound brings him to reality but he is in no hurry to react. The knocking comes again, and the prince groans, annoyed at the maid’s persistence. He carefully puts the letters back and goes to the door, armed with his cold gaze.

And then he opens it — and it’s you standing in front of him.

Aemond barely has time to register what’s going on when you launch yourself at him, your arms immediately enveloping him in a tight hug, your laugh ringing in the air. He hugs you back and, while you can’t see it, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“I swear you’re getting taller every time we meet!” you look up at him, beaming, and he lets you in. “I soon will need a ladder just to hug you properly.”

“I’ll be sure to let my body know of your disapproval,” he sneers and you stick out your tongue.

“While you are at it, shall you also work on your friendly face? I overheard the maids being frightened to go into your chambers,” you try giving him a scolding look but end up giggling at his reddened cheeks.

“I am friendly enough!”

“Yes, nobody glowers quite like you,” you snicker and flop right on the floor, the move always making him smile. Aemond tried persuading you to sit on any other surface that’s actually meant for sitting but you insisted that his fluffy rug works just as well, so he eventually gave up, deciding to join you. He never complained since.

Before he knows it, he’s immersed in the conversation while you enthusiastically share the recent news and everything that’s happened to you on the road. Only about half an hour in, he notes a small bag you’re clasping in your hands.

“You come bearing gifts?”

“Oh, I almost forgot I had it,” you laugh, abashed. “I decided I should bring you something to replace this crumpled-looking thing”.

It takes Aemond a minute to realize that you’re talking about his eyepatch. But he has no time to protest as you silence him with a gesture of your hand.

“I took it upon myself to count for how long you’ve been wearing this one already,” your tone gets serious. “I must say, that number is disturbing.”

There’s a moment of silence and then he clears his throat, his voice unsure. “Very kind of you to think of that, I shall replace it later on.”

He reaches his hand to take the bag but you quickly cover it with yours, fingers brushing over his, and he freezes.

“Are you still not convinced that I can take a look at it?” you try to make eye contact but he averts your gaze.

“Aemond, I was with you and I think I’ve seen enough back then — none of it scared me.”

“It is not a sight for the faint of heart,” the prince mumbles, his bravado faltering.

“Well, I don’t remember fainting the first time. You should have more faith in me,” you try to reason, holding his hand.

Aemond ponders for another minute — or maybe ten, he isn’t sure, and you patiently wait, not wanting to press him any further. Then he finally makes a decision and, after taking a long, sad sigh, he removes the eyepatch and looks at you, the sight of him is the very definition of insecurity.

You stay silent for about five seconds before concluding:

“Oh, it healed so nicely!” with no hint of uncertainty in your voice. Your smile reassures him a little as you peer at the sapphire, looking very pleased.

“The gem compliments your eye very well,” you give him your verdict, taking the new eyepatch out.

“We might have a different understanding of what a compliment is.”

“This is me trying to say that I really like the way it looks,” you chide him lightly. “And I consider myself to be quite understanding, thank you very much. Will you stop pouting and let me put it on?”

At this point he surrenders, giving you permission, and you move closer, giggling with excitement. You gently fix his hair, making sure it’s all combed back, and then lean to put the eyepatch on. You have a habit of biting your lower lip when you’re too concentrated on something, and Aemond can’t help but gaze at that part of your face while your teeth graze over the pillowy surface.

He’s never let anyone this close — and not just in the sense of physical proximity. The moment is very intimate, and the softness of your movements tugs at his heart. He is suddenly very aware of the very short distance separating you two, and he holds his breath. You are oblivious to his stare and soon lean back, satisfied with the result and glancing at him with something akin to fondness.

He wishes he could paint a picture of you right at this moment, so tender and caring and sitting by his side.

He also wishes he could kiss you — and that thought scares him to death. And yet, once it appears, it never goes away.

Aemond is seventeen and his life has been pure torture since you stopped visiting him. He hasn’t seen you in over half a year (seven months and eleven days, not that anyone is counting). It’s not your fault as your father has unexpectedly fallen ill and you couldn’t leave his side. The prince exhausted the maester with questions, asking for advice to write back to you, worried sick that your separation would be stretched for way longer than he could handle.

Luckily, the Gods took pity on him, and he was glad to learn that your father got better, and you will come to King’s Landing soon. Your visit coincided with Aegon’s birthday, but Aemond didn’t care about the feast, his mind only occupied with the thought of seeing you. He was both nervous and excited to the point of not even hiding it, which led to Aegon teasing him relentlessly. Helaena, on the other hand, wholeheartedly supported Aemond’s feelings for you.

“She will be delighted to see you, too, I am sure of it,” his sister tells him the day before the event.

“But the reason for it might be of a different nature,” Aemond remarks, and Helaena gives him a compassionate look.

“You will never know her true feelings unless you ask,” she encourages. “The two of you are so close, I consider her part of the family.”

Aemond knows that he’s of age and his mother hinted that, despite him showing no interest in courting, some ladies still found him attractive. He dismisses the idea but then finds himself thinking of it from time to time. When the realization forms in his head, it’s nerve-wracking but oh so compelling — he thinks he would’ve really wanted to marry you. He just doesn’t know how to tell you about it.

The day of your arrival comes, and Aemond wakes up at dawn in anticipation, determined to confess his feelings. He tries to come up with a speech, but it feels wrong and sounds weird, and he decides it will be better to improvise. He all but runs to the courtyard to be the first one to greet you. However, when you step out of the carriage, smoothing your dress, and your eyes meet, Aemond stops dead in his tracks and the world around him stands still.

His confidence might’ve blossomed — but not nearly as much as your beauty did. Somehow in those recent months, you’ve matured into a woman that takes his breath away.

It’s not a drastic change, it’s all in the details: the contours of your face are more defined, the cheekbones prominent, your hair knotted up high in a perfect style and even your pace is much slower and gracious. You walk towards one another, both suddenly cautious. But when you are a couple of meters apart, a well-known smile appears on your face and you hold your arms out to him and he finally hugs you again, after all this time. Aemond relaxes, inhaling the familiar scent of fruits that you undoubtedly munched on your way here.

“You look exactly as I remembered you,” you say as you slip from his embrace.

“And you are a sight to behold,” he breathes out, taking you in, and your cheeks heat up at the compliment. You’ve never been shy with him before, so this is also new. He wonders what might’ve caused this change.

As the two of you walk around the castle, it feels a bit awkward at first, and you keep glancing at him with emotion he can’t read. But Aemond is too happy to see you to give it much thought, and within an hour you ease into the conversation, too. By the time the evening comes, the tension disappears, and you are laughing at his sarcastic remarks again, and he savors every second of it.

The feast in honor of Aegon is lush and crowded, but you stay by Aemond’s side, enjoying each other’s company, and he only has eye for you. When the music gets too loud, you sneak out and soon find yourselves in his chambers, just like in the good old days.

Aemond is in the middle of telling you about Aegon’s recent foray to the Flea Bottom, when you say. “It’s just the two of us,” your fingers sink into the fluffy rug. “You don’t have to wear it with me. You know it, right?”

He wears the eyepatch with everyone, only taking it off before going to sleep. Moreover, he actually cherishes it because it’s a gift from you.

Aemond hesitates. “I thought you quite liked it.”

“I only gave it to you because yours started to look like it was pulled off a dead man’s body!” you laugh.

Before he can think of an answer, you lean closer — your shoulder brushing his, your hand touching his face, the same gentle warmth he remembers so well, — and remove the eyepatch yourself. The sight doesn’t bother you in the slightest as you confess:

“I accept you the way you are, Aemond,” and then, a moment away from him opening his mouth and saying the thing that’s been on the tip of his tongue for the duration of the day, you add, “That’s what friends are for — and you are my best friend.”

And just like that, with this word alone, his plan goes out the window.

A friend. Aemond can’t even be upset at the reveal, because, honestly, being your friend feels like a blessing in itself and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. How could he be so selfish and foolish to even think about risking it all, risk losing you?

So he keeps his feelings to himself, locking them away deep in his heart, and doesn't argue with you.

Maybe he should have.

By the age of nineteen Aemond reaches the conclusion that he wants to take the risk. Otherwise, he thinks he might actually die as his heart can not hold all his feelings anymore. In two years' time, there isn’t a single thing about you that he hasn’t come to love, and keeping it a secret becomes harder with each day.

Aemond is ridden with doubts to the point where he can’t hide it any longer and he decides to seek advice — and the prince can’t think of a better person to talk to than his mother. Unbeknownst to him, Alicent was the first one to notice. Years ago, when you were kids, she quickly sensed the effect you had on her son, and it brought her joy as she watched the two of you get closer with time.

So when Aemond bursts into her room, anxiety radiating off of him as he starts jabbering away, his pacing erratic and voice trembling, it takes her about a minute to realize what's going on.

“My dear, I think you must talk to her,” she approaches him, an understanding look on her face.

Aemond cuts his speech short, eyeing her with wonder:

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“Your affection for her is as bright as a fire blazing,” Alicent chuckles. “I believe she is the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“Should I tell her...?” he doesn’t dare say it out loud, not yet.

Alicent briefly takes his hands in hers, squeezing them. “You should tell her the truth.”

Her encouragement gives him a dash of hope, lifting a weight off his chest. Aemond knows in an instant that the letter won’t cut it, and you must have the conversation face-to-face. Fortunately, your next visit is in a month, so his suffering won’t last for much longer.

Aemond almost reaches the door but then sharply turns to his mother again, his cheeks flushed:

“Will you give me your approval?” and this time, he looks straight at her as he wants to see her genuine reaction.

Alicent smiles, quick to reassure him. “Yes, Aemond. Your betrothal would only make me happy.” The prince feels elated, almost euphoric, as he finally goes to meet you and runs the remaining distance from his chambers to the yard. But when he sees you, the smile disappears from his face because he notices that something is wrong.

You look visibly upset, your eyes watering and fingers fumbling with the dress, even though you try to force a smile in return. The hug you give him is weak and you keep looking at your feet.

“What is the matter?” he’s never seen you this sad, but you brush him off.

“It’s just a headache, no need to worry.”

Yet that’s exactly what he does, offering to call for the maester, or to prepare you a warm bath, or bring you some tea...

“A cup of water would be nice, thank you,” he leaves you in the hallway to go and get it himself, the task only takes a couple of minutes. When he returns, you stand with your back to him, your shoulders are shaking — and he hears quiet, muffled sobs. If it wasn’t for the nearby table, he would’ve thrown the cup away, his focus on you alone. As he rushes to envelop you in a hug, you don’t fight it, instead nestling your face against his chest, not hiding your tears anymore.

Aemond gives you some time before asking again.

“This doesn’t look like just a headache. What is the cause of your anguish?” now he’s the one running his fingers up and down your back.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a groan and a whine.

“My father says I am to be betrothed soon. He says I am of age already and... and he wants me to meet some of my cousins,” you sniffle. “I told him I have no wish to get married but he refuses to listen,” you bite your lip, not wanting to cry again.

Surely, that’s not how Aemond wanted to ask you. But he decides to take his chance.

“Mayhaps there is another way out that could make you feel better.”

“Please don’t tell me Vhagar will burn them down,” you jest but the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. Aemond thinks your idea isn’t that bad — but he has to try his first.

“If he insists you should marry but doesn’t have a particular candidate, maybe you can pick one yourself?”

“I’ve met all my cousins — and half of them are imbeciles, the others are too old to survive a wedding,” you scoff.

“Then pick someone you are not related to,” Aemond suggests.

“Do you have a particular candidate in mind?” when you ask with a tinge of annoyance, you don’t think he will answer. And then you look at him — and see him grinning before he says:

“Me”.

You glare at Aemond with eyes wide and mouth agape, the expression frozen on your face for a good minute.

“Are you laughing at me?” you manage to say.

“I wouldn’t dare,” his nerves are as tight as a wound-up string.

In the blink of a moment, your face lights up. You are looking at him indecisively, searching for words, agitated. But Aemond mistakes your confusion for rejection.

“At the very least you will marry someone you know,” he tries to reason — but it backfires, wiping the joyfulness off your face.

Taken aback, you inquire. “You pity me?” He doesn’t grasp the poor choice of his words yet.

“You pity me and that’s why you want to marry me?” you give him a look of disbelief, your eyes glossy, and he can’t get his head around what just happened.

“Oh, it was so silly of me to think that...,” you choke back a sob, putting your hand over your mouth.

Never in his life he thought he would be the reason for you looking so heartbroken. Aemond covers your hand with his palm — and you let him, as he tries to gather his courage.

“I only meant to say that I —”

And then you recoil, snapping your hand back.

“Aemond, don’t,” you take a step back from him, then another one. “You have said enough. Please, let me be,” you turn away and leave the hall in a hurry before he can utter another word.

... 1.

He finds you at your usual spot, under the blossoming cherry tree. You’ve always said you liked the color of it, little white flowers reminding you of early spring, your favorite time of the year. You don’t know that Aemond insisted on planting that tree specifically for you. Just so he can sit nearby and, as you were basking in the sunlight with your eyes closed, he would get a chance to look at you with all his unconditional love and have those moments engraved in his memory.

Come to think of it, he had so many memories of you — and every single one of them was bliss, and he can recall them so easily like it was yesterday.

And so he does.

“When we first met, you wore a green dress,” his voice startles you, but you don’t turn to face him, sniffling with your arms folded. “It was the color of forest trees. Black lace around the hem of it, the matching hair ribbon that you kept losing,” he keeps his distance, his hands shaking.

“Yes, I remember it pretty well,” you sigh, avoiding his gaze, baffled by his sudden outburst.

“The second time was when you climbed through my window, almost gave me a heart attack,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice that you catch even without looking. “Blue dress, you tore a huge piece of it and couldn’t care less. You were the first person to make me laugh in two weeks even though it seemed impossible. But not with you.”

He sees your eyebrows furrowing, hands sliding down to rest on your knees.

“Helaena’s name day came next, your dress was bright pink. Luke tried to make fun of it and you threw a cup full of water in his face. To this day, it’s one of my fondest memories.”

You dare to look up at him, perplexed, your eyes wet from crying.

“Three months after was the light-blue dress, then the peach one and the brown one. Then the white one which didn’t survive the horse riding lesson, and Helaena gave you one of hers. Light green, too long for your liking, even though you pretended otherwise to please her,” the corners of your lips tremble, your face softening.

“Then for a year you only wore violet, much to your nanny’s dismay as she thought it made you look ill. And I thought you were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, no matter what dress you were in,” he can’t take his eye off you.

Your face expression melts into a stunned one.

“I didn’t realize it back then. Or maybe I didn’t know how to call it. I just knew that your visits only brought me happiness,” he takes a step toward you, uncertain, but you don’t move from your spot.

“When you were fourteen, you picked the autumn colors — orange, dark yellow, deep red. Your started braiding your hair, tried to braid mine,” you can’t hold back a smile. He was fussy when you first voiced the idea but he ended up loving the process so much, he would allow it just to feel your fingers flowing through his hair.

“I think you actually enjoyed it,” you mumble, and Aemond smiles, too.

“I did. I enjoyed every minute that I got to spend with you.”

You stand up then, feeling your pulse quickening.

“The day you brought me the eyepatch, you wore emerald green. I was terrified to show you the scar,” he pauses, catching his breath. “You assuaged my fears with your kindness. But then I was terrified to learn that I wanted to kiss you.”

You think you are dreaming. Is it possible that you fell asleep under the tree? You don’t want to get your hopes too high, but when he looks at you like this, your own fears start melting away.

“Then was the black dress, the grey one, another white one. The golden one you wore to meet Vhagar,” when he saw you that day, he almost forgot how to breathe. You showed no sigh of apprehension as you fearlessly approached the dragon. He was absolutely besotted.

“And then came the agony of not seeing you for over seven months,” he closes his eye for a second, overwhelmed. He almost misses it when you speak:

“Seven months and twenty-five days. Not that I was counting,” his eye snaps open, instantly on you again.

You gravitate toward each other without even noticing. Aemond’s heart skips a beat when you’re at arm’s length, your eyes shining and lips slightly parted. Even in the state you’re in, you look so beautiful, it’s mesmerizing, and the words are stuck in his throat. You are the one to break the silence.

“Aemond, please don't give me false hope,” your heartbeat is too loud, you don’t hear your own voice. He does.

“I do not wish to marry you out of pity,” Aemond takes the last step. “I want you to be my wife because I am in love with you,” he wipes away the remaining tears off your face, his fingers linger, making you shiver. “I’ve been in love with you for quite some time. For a few years, actually,” his voice gets low. “For what feels like an eternity,” Aemond murmurs.

“Why haven’t you told me?” you pout, nervously toying with the collar of his shirt.

“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same. I still am but maybe... Maybe I am wrong?” his gaze is fixed on you, one of his hands following the contour of your waist, your body warming at the touch.

“Tell me that I am wrong,” he whispers, begging.

You look at his lips, the soft curve of them that you’ve dreamt of for so long.

Aemond always thought yours were the most kissable he’s ever seen.

You don’t know who closes the distance first — but his mouth is suddenly on yours and the sensation leaves you disarmed. Kissing him is like being swept with a wave of tenderness, and you’re floating in it, his lips so fervid and supple — truly perfect — your head is spinning. The kiss is not awkward nor modest as you hastily cling to each other, his hands gripping your waist, your chest pressed into his.

Aemond feels like he’s drowning, and he wants more of you — all of you, and then your fingers tug at his locks, eliciting a groan from him, and it is simply a miracle that his heart doesn’t explode. You move in impeccable sync, in the passionate harmony that erupts from years worth of mutual pining. His lungs burn but he resists the urge to break the kiss and stretches it out the best he can until you are breathless, too.

“Never knew that you were so fascinated by my wardrobe choices,” you tease, and his hum turns into a chuckle.

“You know what my favorite memory is?” you ask, your forehead resting against his.

“When we were ten-and-three, and you were teaching me how to hold a sword. I tackled you to the ground and scraped my knee,” you both smile at your then enthusiasm. “And you set everything aside to spend the rest of the day with me even though it was hardly a wound. And I remember thinking,” you hook your finger under his chin, “that there’s nowhere else I would rather be than with you, with this favorite boy of mine.”

The air around you is tense, and you are enchanted by each other.

“Did that help to prove you wrong?”

“I may need some convincing,” his breath fans over your lips.

“You can take your time,” you laugh — and then the sound of it is muffled by his athirst mouth. His favorite memory will be this.

And every other moment with you that’s to come.

author’s note: I’m sorry if this came out messy and rushed. I tried my best to write a shorter fic (this is short for me lmao) and idk how I feel about it. I much rather prefer them longer because I’m a sucker for stories about two people getting to know each other and falling in love BUT I get it that others don’t want to read long ass fics (which kinda breaks my heart but I'm being so very brave about it) anyways, thank you for reading! 💙 the longer version of this fic might have looked like this (yes, this is a shameless plug! because I adore this one to pieces!! bite me) 🎵 the title is a quote from Elvis Presley’s song (duh). there are quite a few covers of it but one of my favorites is by Twenty One Pilots. there’s also a female version — by Ingrid Michaelson — and I think both of them fit the story really well. 💞 my masterlist P.S. I’m also on AO3 (lol, who isn’t), in case you prefer to read fics there.

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

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lvlyghost · 8 months

Note

Hello do you take requests cause I had this idea in my mind but I suck in writing

how bout a ghost x reader where he had a bad day and takes it out on his beloved reader who he's been in a really long relationship with, by starting an argument and maybe saying some really mean and bad things that break the reader. Like the reader is only a shell of herself and completely ruined by ghosts words and just crying or sitting completely still staring off the wall or just staring at nothing just being numb.

What would be interesting is Simons reaction when he realizes the damage that he's done, maybe he would cry/break down idk when he sees the usually happy reader being so dull and almost lifeless yk

But Pleasee don't do this to our hearts and write some comfort and a happy ending please I couldn't handle too much angst❤️😭

The Weight of the World

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

TW: heavy angst, literally got some mid anxiety writing this🥴 swearing, self-doubt, hurt-comfort and slight fluff towards the end. lmk if i missed any.

A/N: finished this in one sitting lol, also not proofread and poorly edited, i've been having a shitty week so expect more angst lol. meet me in therapy. Enjoy anon!🤍🌟🫶🏻💕

Masterlist✨

You hesitate right outside Simon's studio, the place where he secludes himself from everything and everyone. Ever since he came from his last mission he seemed to be on the edge constantly. The usual softness that he reserved specifically for you was... absent.

Still you wouldn't let that stop you from approaching; having dating him for a few years now let you know so much of that. You knew when he was hurting. When he was sad, angry, jealous or even happy. Little to no people could say that.

Somehow this was different. He wasn't even letting you in, constantly keeping you at arms length and that hurt. How were you supposed to get to him this time? Get him to talk to you?

To look at you again with that same glint in his eyes, the spark that you ignited in him and that won't fade away even years after.

The sound of a chair creaking startles you, the same time the timer in the kitchen goes off. You walk back, turning the oven off, and sticking out the apple pie you so happily baked for both with hopes that you'll get him loosen a bit that dark cloud that's been looming over Simon these past few days.

The door of his studio is yanked open the heavy stomp of his boots resonating across the small apartment you two share, then his bulky frame appears just to grab the keys to his black motorcycle.

"Simon!" You call him, burning your hand in the process. He stills halfway through the living room, waiting for you to say something else. Wetting a cloth hurriedly and wrapping it around the burnt skin.

"I made something for us... maybe," standing behind him you leave a reasonable space between the two. You swallow down hard. "Thought we could have it together and just, you know spend...-"

"I don't have time for that now." His voice is cold and monotone. "Don't wait for me."

"But Si-" he turns on his heels, eyes hard and unyielding. He approaches slowly, making you gulp. "What's gotten into you, Simon?" You fight back the tears, this was the man you loved so dearly, the man you knew loved you back; there was a reason for the golden engagement ring on your left hand. "I..-"

"Fucking hell would you stop that? Please just..." he notices the wetness in your eyes. "I can't do this. Not anymore."

"Whatever it is I promise we can work it out together!" your lips quivered. "Just talk to me!"

"I don't need to talk about anything girl!" He seethes, one finger pointing at you. "Think some cheap counseling with you will make things right? Bloody hell no. Neither some homemade bread, this isn't fucking working and it won't until you learn how the bloody world works."

It breaks your heart into a tiny million pieces, breathing becomes a challenge and the injury in your hand can no longer be felt. Simon's words were worse than any physical pain. Where was the man you loved? The man who used to lift you up and kiss you on the forehead? The man whose hands couldn't stop roaming your body late at night? The man who'd helped you reach out for things he probably put away in the highest shelf so you'd ask for help. That same man that had proposed to you no long ago, right before he was deployed to a special op God knows where. The fabric of his mask moves when he keeps talking but you don't listen. You can't. Just like you can't stop the tears dribbling down your cheeks and the tremble of your hands. Simon's jaw clenched, brows furrowed as he takes a step back and leaves.

You walk sluggishly to where the dessert awaits. It's when your knees buckle that you finally let out a loud cry.

Simon knows he isn't a good man. He's done quite questionable things that he could never say out loud. He knows he's fucked in so many ways. But he also knows that there's one thing that kept him from spiraling further down into an abyss of death and self-loathing.

You.

The woman he decided he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. The girl that didn't care about his past, the bad moments and his complicated persona. You who would selflessly love him without asking for something in return. What had you seen in him in first place? Even now after three years he can't wrap his head around the fact that he has someone who waits for him.

Simon knows how much he loves you, but what he doesn't know is how—or in what earth—he deserves every part of you.

You've been avoiding him ever since that horrible night. Words he can't take back. Looks that haunt him every time he closed his eyes. He hears you cry when you go to sleep or when you're taking a shower. Muffled sobs and wails that will come for him until the day he dies.

You avoid him like a plague, when he walks in. After all he's the one to blame. He wanted to ask you to tear him apart maybe that'd feel less painful.

The last remaining of sanity that was left in him came crashing down when he began to notice how you stared off in a haze, numbly looking at the window. He was losing you. Destroyed the one good thing he had. So, a few days later, despite his own demons. Despite the things that broke him all irreparably during the last mission in Moscow, he comes to find you. Sucking in a sharp breath as his eyes set on your left hand.

The engagement ring was gone, forgotten someplace unknown. Simon felt the panic wrenching his guts.

It's all on him.

He whispers your name, calls you softly. Slowly sitting in front of you, the coffee table creaks under his weight. Words get caught in his throat.

"May I take your hand?" He pleads, not getting an answer. Simon sighs, lowering his head as silent reigns yet again. "I don't deserve you." He murmurs, eyes bored into the floor. "I... I ruin everything I touch. Just never thought I'd ruin my girl."

Your eyes flutter shut, wet tears clinging to your eyelashes. Simon watches as you stand and leave without a word, he follows close behind to your shared room.

"Love..."

"Don't call me that!" the hurt in your voice... the resentment in your eyes, he's earned it.

Simon reaches out for your arm, grabbing you firmly but gently, mindful not to harm you.

"Right I deserve that." If there's one thing Simon regrets it's being the reason that your eyes no longer shine. "What I said... what happened I...-"

Shaking your head and biting down your lip.

"You never gave me the chance, I thought we said we'd always find a way."

"I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry baby." in an instant he's pulling you close, although you want to push him away, scream at him, slap him for the calvary he made you go through. "I'm not good with words, and I'm no good person." You feel his body shaking with anxiety as your eyes widen in shock. "I tried... I can't forgive myself for my mistakes."

"Simon..." he hushed you, cradling your head with his big hand. "I can't sleep knowing I can't protect you from what's out there, couldn't bloody protect that kid in Moscow, or my family."

You guide him to the bed, sitting down side by side and holding onto each other.

"Said I would always be with you Simon, why the hell did you push me away?! Have I not given my everything to you? We promised to always make it work!" He grabs your face staring intently into your eyes. "What happened there?"

He blinks, deciding how much to say. There was no need for you to know the entirety of it. He wanted to shield you from the horrors of this world, and he would as long as he lived.

"A young lad whose life's was cut short because I wasn't there on time. How can I come back to you, be happy when someone else just lost their kid..."

"That wasn't on you! Simon Riley you stop that now." He inhales, cinnamon and vanilla flooding his senses. It's you all of you. "Stop carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. We do that together, yeah?" Your chest hurts from how hard it's beating. "You've done far so much. You won't lose me."

A rumble in the sky and cars passing by outside your home is all you hear. Brown eyes like honey stare back into your soul.

"You took it off..."

"I burnt my hand, it wasn't healing properly. And you know what?" He quirks a brow. "It wasn't homemade bread. It was an apple pie, you silly."

"You'll never forgive me for that one won't you?" He doesn't chuckle but the air feels lighter.

"No. Probably won't." Simon takes your burnt hand bringing it to his lips, they're soft against the marred skin.

"But we're still getting married, yeah?" He asks.

You smile fondly, humming when he kisses your forehead, tears have now dried.

"Yeah. We're still getting married."

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crushmeeren · 6 months

Text

Gojo/Fem Reader Drabble

Warnings; age gap (you’re 24, Gojo is 40), major daddy kink, praise kink, vaginal sex, anal sex dirty talk, cursing, Gojo really gets turned on by the fact you’re younger than him—as do you

Note; God. This turned out way longer than I wanted it to be. It’s probably about 1000 ish words? Probably less, I’m not sure, but it’s an AU where Gojo is the definition of a single DILF & you are his new babysitter. Things progress from there..enjoy 💕

When you first got recommended to babysit for Gojo Satoru—you hadn’t thought much of it. You needed the money and you had a great track record. You had heard good things about the man in the circles of moms, but you had never met him yourself.

You heard how ethereal the man is, but you just brushed it off as exaggeration of bored housewives. Either way, the other families you had worked for gave you glowing recommendations. The only thing you felt was out of place was that he was a single dad.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, you just usually deal with the moms. Whatever, no skin off your back—it’d be fine.

To your immense satisfaction, it was. It is. Gojo has the most wonderful four year old little boy—Megumi. You love that kid as if he’s your own and he loves you. But, the moms were not wrong—Gojo is angelic. Snowy white hair, clear blue eyes. Tall as fuck.

You were not even the least bit surprised when your thoughts started turning wildly sexual towards him. Hell, he’s a DILF if there ever was one. You did feel a bit guilty though. You’re not here to lust after your boss. You tried to squash those thoughts for a long time.

Nevertheless you couldn’t get used to his god like stature. Only made infinitely worse by the fact that he’s pushing forty—and you’re only 24.

When you learned that tid bit of information, you shamefully rubbed fast circles into your clit after you got home that night just to the thought of calling him daddy while he fucked you. If it’s not obvious—you have a huge daddy kink.

After almost a year of your pathetic, overwhelming pining for the man, your stomach fell out of your ass when you learned the white haired man had the same—if not more lewd thoughts/feelings about you.

He had invited you stay late one night after Megumi had gone to sleep, watch a movie, drink some wine. You agreed, because well at this point you were past the point of friends and it was the weekend. Plus, you were very close to both of them.

The two of you had drank enough wine to loosen your lips. Not sloppy, but enough for the lines to get blurred. For you to start calling him Satoru. Enjoying the way it made him blush.

For Satoru to drunkenly admit he’s been shamefully lusting after you for months. For him to almost forget he was telling his deep dark secret to the person it’s about.

You sat side by side on his fluffly couch, thighs pressed together, heads fuzzy. Satoru had his head thunked back onto the sofa, eyes closed while you admired how long & lean his legs really were.

When the man just blurted the words into existence—no prompting needed.

“I’m a terrible person,” he mumbled, eyes still closed. You hummed in question, focusing intently on his snowy eyelashes. “I think—no I know, I have feelings for you. I feel so guilty for wanting to have sex with someone so much younger than me—so fucking bad,” he slurred, shifting his head and opening his eyes to look into yours.

Warmth instantly curled in your gut, you felt the enticing burn of arousal blistering through your limbs. Your pussy involuntarily throbbed.

You quietly admitted that you felt the same way, cheeks burning as you confessed to touching yourself thinking about him. Satoru leaned in close, giggling.

“Don’t worry little one, I stroke my cock daydreaming about how your tight, young pussy would feel hugging my cock. Bout how much I could show ya. Bet you don’t have that much experience do ya little girl?” Satoru drawls, wolfish grin on his lips.

You could only whimper at the filthy words, shifting your thighs as he trailed the soft pads of his fingers up the sensitive skin of your forearm, over the inner crease of you elbow, tickling the underside of your bicep. The thick, heady tension between you two pulsing through the air.

You don’t know who leaned in first for the kiss, but now you’re in Satoru’s bed—wine long forgotten. Both of you bare ass naked, tangled in his blankets.

Satoru has a large, sweaty hand clamped over your mouth, trying to keep your whines muffled in his palm.

You’re trying not to wake up Megumi as Satoru has you ride his cock. Pussy stretched open blissfully, so slick—Satoru’s cock kissing your cervix.

Satoru is sitting up, back against the headboard. Knees bent, feet planted so his thighs act as a cradle for you to rock your hips back and forth against.

He’s making you work for your third orgasm. He was eating your pussy not even five minutes ago. Now, Satoru trails his free hand down your spine, following the knobs down to the crease of your ass.

You squeal a surprised, muffled version of his name into his palm as he presses the pad of his pointer finger against the pink, taught skin of your asshole. Your hips stutter.

Satoru’s eyes brighten as if he’s just tried a new sweet and loved it. He tilts his head at your reaction. He shakes his head condescendingly, making a tsk noise when you stop moving.

“That’s not my name is it sweet pea?” He teases, pressing his finger harder against your rim. Your eyes flutter shut and you shake your head no, low moan escaping you. “Tell me what it is,” he demands, blue eyes piercing. He takes his hand from your mouth.

“Daddy,” you choke out softly, nails digging into his shoulders as he continues to loosen the ring of muscle. You’ve come to a stand still in his lap, unused to the sensation.

“That’s it, what a good girl for daddy,” Satoru purrs. “Say babygirl, has anyone ever fucked that pretty ass of yours?” He muses, raising one eyebrow and biting the tip of his tongue.

“No daddy,” you whimper. His cock twitches inside you.

“You gonna let daddy be the first one?” He presses harder on your rim, tip of his finger sinking in. You yelp. “Promise daddy’ll make ya cum like you couldn’t believe,” he coos.

You feel a bit nervous, worried about the pain, but after so long you trust Satoru. You nod your head, happy to give him this first. His head thumps against the headboard as he groans. The hand not in your ass squeezing your waist violently.

Quickly Satoru helps you rise off his cock manhandling you until your cheek rests on the sheets and your ass is in the air. Satoru steps off the bed to grab lube from nearby.

Your belly flutters, pussy clenching when you admire just how tall he really is. How his cock is glistening from your pussy.

He’s behind you again before you can think, rubbing your lower back soothingly as he slowly presses one lubed finger into your ass. You gasp, fingers clenching the sheets shakily. The sensation unfamiliar, burning, uncomfortable.

“Shh, it’s okay little girl, I’ll make you feel good,” he soothes, pumping his finger in and out for a couple minutes. You take a deep breath, relaxing as Satoru presses his middle finger in along his first finger, all the way to his knuckle.

“Daddy!” You squeal, forgetting to be quiet. The stretch is overwhelming, a mix of a dull ache and pleasure. Satoru bends over your back, gripping your hair and shoving your face into the mattress.

“Hush,” he hisses, stretching you open with his fingers, scissoring them. You nod, almost sobbing in the sheets. He lets go of your hair and you keep yourself muzzled. You hang on, thighs twitching as Satoru works a third finger in, loosening your rim to his satisfaction.

You don’t even notice at first there’s three, it’s starting to feel amazing. So yes, you do whine when he pulls free, empty sensation almost unbearable. Satoru chuckles, lining up his slick cock with your ass.

“Don’t be like that sweet pea, daddy’s just gonna use his cock to fuck you now, mkay?” He teases, rubbing his tip over the soft, warm skin of your rim. You turn your head, whispering your yearning to him.

He wastes no time, gripping the base of his shaft and pressing forward, tip popping in past your rim. The sharp sting causing you to tense up, before it fades to a dull ache.

Satoru lets out a twisted version of a whine, carving a space in your ass with his cock until his curly white pubes brush your ass.

“Okay little one?” Satoru pants, petting your lower back, straining with the effort to stay still.

“M’okay daddy,” you whimper softly, ass clenching rhythmically around the thick cock splitting you.

Satoru sucks in a breath through his teeth—ass sucking his cock in so well. He grips the fleshy area at the crease of your hips and thighs, nails digging brutally.

Satoru starts with a teasing backwards pull of his hips, until his tip remains. He smoothly pushes all the way in and that’s when you understand. It clicks in your mind.

The pleasure from anal sex is divine, brain melting as he rocks his hips back and forth, creating a smooth, fast paced rhythm. It��s intense, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

A warmth burns violently in your lower belly like you’ve never been pleasured before. It’s so fucking good, you immediately know you’ll be addicted to having his cock in your ass. Your grip doesn’t loosen on the sheets below you.

“Daddy,” you moan after a few moments. Trying to be as quiet as you can, wanting Satoru’s attention. Hearing the skin of his pelvis clapping wetly against your ass has you already on the verge of cumming.

“What baby? Daddy’s cock feeling too good?” He teases, breathlessly. He watches his cock disappear into your puffy rim as he waits for your answer.

“Mhmm,” you whine. “M’gonna cum already.” You muffle your sob in the blankets. Satoru laughs meanly behind you, but he thrusts harder at your words.

“Already?” He questions incredulously. “That was fast” He purrs, tilting his hips so he’s hitting your sweet spot through your ass. You’re letting out continuous ah sounds as your orgasm winds up tight, the intensity of it making your heart rate spike.

“Daddy—cumming,” you manage to squeak. Going silent as your orgasm pulses through your entire body. The blood in your veins thrums at a dizzying pace. You almost feel high as Satoru fucks you through it.

“Oh god. Yes, fuck—just like that, my sweet little girl,” Satoru groans through clenched teeth, raining his palm down harshly on your ass. You cry out, feeling your ass jiggle from the spank.

Your thighs start to shake as Satoru doesn’t let up in his movements, but you start to float down from your high, still getting railed by Satoru.

“Daddy,” you slur, trying not to scream into the sheets as he chases his own orgasm. “Can’t take it, no more please,” you whine, trying to move forward. He just giggles, gripping your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts—he knows you don’t mean it.

“Just a lil longer sugar, mkay? Daddy’ll paint your back white, promise,” he coos, sounding blissed out. You nod, taking in breaths that rattle your chest.

Satoru throws all his weight into the next few thrusts, forcing a wail out of you that neither of you pay any mind to. Lost in the bliss.

“Fuck fuck fuck, daddy’s g’nna cum sugar,” Satoru whines, yanking his cock out of your ass—which causes your rim to clench painfully.

He fists his cock twice before he lets out a strangled sound. You feel long ribbons of warm cum all over your back—even up to your shoulder blades.

Satoru lets go of his cock, sitting back on his heels, panting. He pulls your legs out from under you so you can rest on your belly.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so satiated in your life. Every inch of you feels like jello. Neither of you speak for a moment, getting your bearings. You still can’t breathe yet.

Eventually, Satoru pats your ass comfortingly before standing from his bed to get a damp wash cloth to clean you with. You lay there limp as he wipes his release from your skin. He pokes your rib playfully but you only twitch, opening one eye to look at him.

“You alright little one? Did daddy fuck you too well?” He teases, giggling. You hum, nodding your head. He actually laughs this time, head tilting backwards.

A soft knock on Satoru’s door makes the two of you jump in surprise. Your heart skips a beat and you raise up to sit on your knees.

“Daddy?” Megumi’s tiny voice calls out softly. “Are you in there?” You and Satoru share a panicked look. Thank God you locked the door.

“What is it my love? Are you okay?” Satoru calls out fondly. You’re shocked he’s able to keep a steady voice.

“Come lay with me daddy, I had a bad dream,” Megumi whines, little sniffles coming through the door. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest from the little boys sad voice. Satoru’s eyebrows scrunch in concern.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream Gumi, I’ll be there in a second to lay with you bubba, go lay back down,” Satoru soothes.

“Mkay.” Megumi’s soft footsteps fade away as he makes his way back to his room. Satoru looks at you guilty but you give him a sweet smile.

“Go, it’s okay—poor Gumi, I hope we didn’t wake him,” you whisper, feeling bad. Satoru looks at you like he’s in love—he is, and kisses your forehead.

“I’ll be back, then we have to discuss how to tell Megumi we’re dating tomorrow. He’s gonna be surprised to see you so early.” Satoru pulls on a pair of loose sweats and heads towards his door.

You hum in agreement, something warm and sweet settling in your heart that Satoru already assumes you’re dating—which you’re not complaining.

You watch the door shut behind him and you shift around pulling on the t-shirt Satoru was wearing, snuggling under his sheets and promptly pass out. You sleep peacefully knowing Satoru will return soon to wrap his arms around you and hold you tight.

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 8 months

Text

Part 2 to: The Lieutenant's Whore

Dom!Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader, John "Soap" Mactavish x fem!Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" Mactavish, Reader

Summary: Hearing what he shouldn't have, Johnny is rightfully angry and what does he let that anger lead to? A bad attitude that leads to even worse decisions. As you confront him about this sudden change in demeanor, things start to heat up. What happens when Simon finds out? Actions have consequences and Johnny is about to learn that you will only ever belong to the man behind the mask.

Word Count: 11.6 k

Warnings:

The promise of going one more round had kept you in Simon’s bed, completely naked and filthy as you eagerly waited for him to get hard again. Another shared cigarette was being passed between you both to wile away the time so there was no real need for conversation; you didn’t come here to have a heart to heart, though you would have waited for hours and hours if it meant you could experience even more of the depravity that had just transpired.

As the burning smoke was exhaled out of your lungs and past your lips, a thought popped into that devious little head of yours. “You do realize that it’s the weekend, don’t you?” you questioned him casually as you passed back the cig for him to take a drag.

Simon placed the stick between his lips and drew the poison deep into his chest. “What of it?” he questioned back before he upturned his eyes at you with a smirk on his lips, letting you know that he was on to your train of thought. “You got somewhere to be, luv?”

You chuckled. “I sure do,” you played as you moved yourself onto him to straddle his lap between your thighs. You held up your fingers to count off things one by one. “Let’s see, where do I start? There’s on my back, on my knees, bent over with my ass in the air. It’ll probably take a couple days to get to it all.”

Simon shook his head with a roll of his eyes as he dug his meaty fingers into the bulk of your ass before giving it a swift smack. “So what I’m hearing is that I’m going to be absolutely knackered come Monday, is that it? Does my little slag want me to keep her dicked down all weekend?”

“As if you had a fucking choice,” you said with a devious smirk, “though it is easier to have you on board of your own volition. Do you know how hard it was waiting to do this again? Oh, no you’re gonna make it up to me and my sore fingers by keeping me busy for the next two days.”

As if he was ever going to say no to that proposition; as long as you both stayed locked up in here, no one would notice that you two had started something that would not be easily stopped. “You goin’ soft on me already? Can’t stand to think ‘bout bein’ away yet?” Simon picked mercilessly.

“You wish, bitch,” you didn’t even miss a tick, “there’s only one thing I’d miss and it’s situated between my legs right now.”

For emphasis, you rocked your hips over that meaty appendage and felt a twitch. Coming back from the dead already. Good, you’d give it a bit more to make sure that it would keep growing. Once it was quite stiff, you stopped rolling your hips and sat still; he was gonna pay for that remark.

“But, I need to grab a few things from my room before we go again,” you continued. “I will need to clean myself from time to time and lord knows I’m not about to use whatever 5-in-1 you have rotting away in the back of your shower.”

Of course you’d pull this shit the minute his cock was almost fully hard again. Fucking infuriating skank, why the hell did you make him enjoy the torture so goddamn much? Your palms were against his bare chest for leverage as you were about to move back off of him, when his hand firmly clasped around your chin to keep you in place. Going toe to toe with you since last night had been a thrill and even now he enjoyed matching your energy.

“Fine, I’ll let you go, but you’ve got approximately ten minutes to get your shit and get that sweet arse back here,” he said, drawing your face into his until his lips were nearly on your own. His breath was harsh from the tobacco, but you didn’t care; you liked him best filthy. “Best hurry, luv, cause if I’m left waitin’ with this stiffy any more than what I’ve fuckin’ given you, I’ll make you ride the tip of my boot with your bare pussy until you’re beggin’ and pleadin’ with me to do you proper.”

Fuck. That was enough motivation to get your heart racing and ready to go and you quickly swung your leg off of him so you could exit the bed. His eyes stayed glued to your back as you went in search of your discarded clothing that lay scatter around his floor. As you redressed, those auburn eyes traced the outline of your bare ass until it vanished behind the tight fabric of your jeans.

“Hate to see you leave, but goddamn is it a fuckin’ pleasure to watch you go,” Simon purred through the billowing smoke of another cigarette as he watched you throw back on your disheveled shirt so you could make it across base without gathering an indecent exposure charge.

You shot him one more quick glance before rushing off. He had pulled the sheet up just over his legs and lap as he lay propped up against the wall with his arm behind his head. It was hidden behind the fabric, but you could still see the outline of his cock starting to tent it up and that only made you want to hurry even more. No sense in wasting all that for some clean clothes and a bit of shower gel.

It was still pretty early as you stepped outside Simon’s quarters, the sun’s first light had barely even started to lighten the sky yet so you felt sure that no one would be skulking around to see you leave. Not after last night anyway; most of the others were probably just tucking in to sleep off the booze. You crossed through the base with not a care in the world other than getting back to what was waiting for you beneath the covers.

What you could not have known was that someone close by had heard the sound of the Lieutenant’s door opening and you making your way out. Soap had wanted nothing more than to sleep off not just the alcohol, but the sinking feeling in his chest at what he had stumbled upon earlier in the evening; his mind had other plans though and after sitting in the silence of his room, letting the agitated thoughts run rampant through his mind, he had decided to leave before he worked himself up more than he already was and did something really fucking stupid.

A striking set of blue eyes clocked you nearly running through the base back to your barracks, still wearing the same damn clothes you had on the night before. Soap bristled at the sight as he felt that burning anger welling up in his stomach once again, which only got worse when he saw you exiting the barracks in the same quick manner with a bag now strapped to your shoulder.

He didn’t want to, but quietly he followed behind just out of sight and sure enough you were returning right back to the Lieutenant's room just as he feared. As he watched Simon meet you at the door with just the sheet from his bed barely clinging to his hips and drag you back inside, he felt his heart sink straight into his feet as his fists balled themselves tightly together.

If this was a one and done thing, a drunken mistake that you had let run its course, then Johnny was sure he could get another chance to win you over. But seeing you return to that room destroyed any hope he had that he would get the opportunity to show you that he could give you an experience just as spectacular as what he had heard through the walls in that brief moment.

Kicking the dirt beneath his boots, he stormed off back to his private quarters and entered with an agitated huff as he slammed the door behind him; he couldn’t risk anyone seeing him like this and asking their dumb questions that would surely rotten his mood even further. The wall shook as the door made impact within its frame, the percussive sound reverberating off the walls. “Fucking pussy,” the Scot cursed himself. “Ye lost yer chance at her because ye had to be a lovesick pup. All fur whit?”

Cracking his knuckles before re-clenching his fists, he pulled back his arm and released it directly into the wall. It was enough to make the wall give, but luckily not enough to leave a permanent mark. “Now she’s getting fucked by that bastard,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “That was suppose tae be us in my bed. ‘twas mah name she was suppose tae be moanin’.”

His anger was supposed to be directed at himself, as there was no other that was to blame. Who was the one that pussyfooted around the topic whenever it seemed to present itself? Who was the one that got to worked up at times to meet your obvious flirting with some of their own? And who was the motherfucker that decided to let you leave the bar that night without even asking you if you wanted to go back to his, when you had been all over him all night? All of it was Johnny’s fault in the end.

It was clear he had let his crush mess with his head and though he should have taken the loss and moved on, his mind decided it would rather put that anger towards someone else and that new target would have to be the Lieutenant; he was the one that got to have you while Johnny sat alone with only his hand to keep him satisfied.

So now Simon would have to deal with Johnny’s wrath. And he made sure to start putting that aggression to good use before the day was even out.

Sweat was pouring and limbs were entwined, cock pumping in and out of a tight hole when several hours later a loud knock sounded through the room, making you startle with a jump and Simon grumble with agitation. Try as he might to regain composure to continue, it was shattered when again a loud bang rang out.

Pulling out of you and hopping out of bed in a flurry of anger as he threw on a pair of sweatpants laying near to cover himself, he crossed the room and wrenched the door open only to be met with - nothing. He stuck his head out to look around the area, but it was quiet and undisturbed with not a soul in sight, which only pissed him off more.

You silently listened, curious as to what the intrusion to the middle of your screwing was, but there wasn’t a sound. With a grumble under his breath Simon shut the door and made his way back to you. “Fuckin’ nothing,” he confirmed, slipping quickly back out of his pants and joining you under the covers.

“Whatever it was, it’s done now,” you said trying to get him to focus back on the task at hand. “We probably needed a breather anyway.”

“Done already, sweetheart?” he smirked, setting the tone back to what it was before you were both so rudely interrupted. Frustration be damned, there was still fun to be had.

You shook your head before extending your finger and poking it straight into the middle of his chest. “Now you’re just wasting time. Get back inside me before you regret it.”

And just like that he was back in the moment as he shoved you onto your back, getting between those legs once again like the good little soldier he was to pepper your tits with a flurry of kisses.

Before evening hit that same instance happened twice more, always when you both were in the thick of it when things were the most heated and not easily stopped; it wasn’t as if you weren’t taking breaks, but whenever those long stretches of time came around, they passed by undisturbed. It was clear that someone was doing this on purpose, but the question was why? You were going out of your way to be as quiet as you could, though there were a few times you just couldn’t help it. Still, if someone had a problem with the sound, why not just say something since no one knew you were in there?

It was all very strange, but since the perpetrator couldn’t be caught you tried not to give it more mind; no sense in ruining your weekend. That was until you entered the dining hall that night for supper with Simon in toe like your own personal scary guard dog, and you noticed a significant shift in the atmosphere.

Not wanting to draw attention to the fact that you and Simon were in close proximity and hoping to keep the status quo so that your little secret wouldn’t be found out, you had decided to sit and eat separately. It wasn’t what either of you wanted, but you’d be back in each others company soon enough after you refueled.

Looking through the hall for a place to sit, you caught sight of Soap sitting off from the main group he usually hung with. It struck you as odd; it wasn’t like him to eat alone. Grabbing your food, you made your way over to him and took up a spot by his side. There was a noticeable shift in him the moment you stepped near; where he had been close and talkative before, now there was distance and silence that filled the space between your bodies as he didn’t even bother to greet you. That was not normal at all.

“Hey you, fancy meeting you here.”

You watched as his back tensed as if he had been spooked, caught off guard from being lost in deep thought, but he did not say anything in return to your greeting.

“Everything alright?” you asked as you took your seat, setting your food down and turning your body to face him in your seat with a curious eyebrow raised.

Soap quickly looked at you before he diverted his gaze into his plate, messing about the food with the tip of his fork. It looked as if he hardly had even take a bite yet. “Fine,” he answered curtly, still not meeting your eyes.

It sounded off to you and the whole thing just felt wrong, though maybe you were simply reading too much into it. The alcohol had been plenty last night and it was possible the Sargent had just overdone it after you had left the bar. That was a rare occurrence for sure, but it did happen every once and a while; perhaps last night was just another time you could add to the tally. Nudging him in the ribs with your elbow, you tried to cut the tension with a joke.

“Did the liquor make you her bitch?” you picked, expecting the usual cheeky comeback about him being able to hold his own, but you were only met with him jerking away while his spine visibly bristled at your touch.

He cleared his throat. “No.”

The reply felt even shorter than the prior one and whether or not he was going to admit to anyone right now, something was definitely wrong. “Okay, okay,” you said as you held your hands up in surrender, “just trying to make conversation, but I can see you’ve got your fucking knickers in a twist.”

Nothing, not even a smirk. Whatever it was that got to him had really sunk its fangs in deep. Fine, no more picking since that seemed to only make it worse. Maybe a deviation in conversation would work better.

Picking up your own fork, you began to mess about with the food on your plate. “You know, I really had a good time with you last night. We really need the team to get out more often when we have the time so we can have more fun together.”

The clang from his fork hitting his plate as he threw it down caused those around to look up at the both of you. The suddenness of his action shut you up as you waited to see what he would do next. Quickly he stood from his seat and gathered his things, still without ever making eye contact; he wasn’t going to sit there and listen to anymore of this inane bullshit, not when he was actively trying his best to forget the way you felt against him and all that pent up sexual tension he couldn’t hope to explore anymore.

“Ah gotta go,” he muttered as he left you sitting there, wondering what the hell happened.

You watched him leave the hall before you turned your sight over to Simon sitting not far from you and shot him a look of ‘what the fuck’, which was only met with a subtle shrug. He had noticed the unusual interaction as well, though you knew his feelings about you and Soap, so it wasn’t much consequence to him that he was leaving you alone now. At least he wouldn’t be trying anything with you again as long as he was away.

Still, with the incidents earlier, it was just too much of a coincidence to fully ignore the change in him. You ended up eating in silence just thinking over everything that had happened since the bar in hopes that maybe you could figure it out, but by the time you were finished you had nothing and so you let it be. Besides, Simon was already staring at you, waiting for you to discreetly follow him back to that den of sin that would be your residence for another day so you could end the weekend on a good note.

And what a glorious fucking time it was. The knocking only happened once more and Simon had not even stopped that time. “If it’s important, they’ll fuckin’ say so,” he had grunted as his pace didn’t even slow while he continued pounding into you.

Those sheet were absolutely ruined by the time you were both finished, covered in enough stains to create an entirely new pattern on the fabric, though neither of you were complaining; you didn’t have the strength to. Shit, it was a bitch to even think about leaving, though you knew that you had the privilege back that whenever the mood struck again all you had to do was come find him.

And yet even though you were going to leave there completely and utterly satisfied, something was still eating away at you and it had everything to do with a certain Scot with a newfound sour attitude.

“Something is seriously up with him,” you conjectured as you were drying off after just getting out of the shower, before you were set to get dressed and leave. “I have a sneaking fucking feeling he knows something is up. I think I should talk to him before this gets out of hand. I’ll probably try and catch him some time this week for a little chat; if he does have suspicions we don’t need him spreading that shit around.”

“Probably should avoid being alone with him when you do it,” Simon added.

You paused. “Is that for my benefit or yours?” you shot him a knowing look.

He stared right back at you. “Yours if you know what’s fuckin’ good for ya,” he said firmly. “He’s livid now, but there’s no sense in risking him tryin’ to get close to ya again.”

“Oh, possessive much?” you chided him. “I can handle myself.”

Getting up from his seat on the bed, he moved in and his aggressive kiss hit your mouth quickly. “Never said you couldn’t,” he returned as he broke the connection. “But I don’t want no manky bastard tryin’ anything with you, ever. I meant what I said, sweetheart.”

You kissed him back once more. “I’ll be fine.”

A swift smack to your backside punctuated your kiss. “Fine,” he conceded. “Now, get your arse outta here before I change my mind about lettin’ you go back to your bed.”

It was a few days before you found the time to actually address the Soap situation, as whenever you went looking for him the man could not be found. Literally, you would hang around his usual places, hoping to casually run into him and strike up conversation, but it wasn’t happening.

It wasn’t till the middle of the week when opportunity presented itself and found you at the right place and time. As you were passing through the superior’s offices on other business that evening, you saw it just out of the corner of your eye. The bright, florescent overhead light shone from inside his office; he seemed to be the last one still there, working late. Immediately you jumped at the chance to confront him, your feet carrying you quickly in that direction before he had the possibility to evade you once again. Whatever this was that persisted between you both was going to get resolved one way or another right here and fucking now.

Rapid fire knocks upon the open door to his small office made Johnny look up from his seated position behind his desk where he sat busy with paperwork and the moment his sight clocked you, his eyes widened in surprise.

“Can I come in?” you asked.

Johnny immediately diverted his gaze just as he had been, his emotions getting the better of him. “Ah’m kind o’ busy at the moment,” he brushed off your question as he pretended to busy himself with the papers on his desk, but you weren’t satisfied with that.

You took a deep breath as you stepped over the threshold. “Look, I think we need to talk.”

“Ah dinnae think we do,” he scoffed back.

See, again this wasn’t normal. There was no way in hell the old Johnny wouldn’t jump at the fucking chance to engage in chitchat if it meant you would stick around. Something had crawled up his ass, that was certain, you just didn’t know what.

“Johnny,” you said, brow furrowed at this sudden shift in attitude towards you lately. “What’s goin-”

“It’s Sargent tae ye,” he snapped, immediately shutting you up and cutting you off before anymore could be uttered, “’n’ ye’ll do well tae mind that.”

“Well excuse me,” you said angrily, instantly agitated by the way he had just jumped down your throat unprovoked. “What the fuck has got into you lately? Maybe you want to fill me in as to why all of a sudden you want to act like a bitch and pull this rank shit with me? I thought we were friends.”

“Friends?” he repeated the word with a sneer.

“Yes, friends,” you reiterated. “Ya know, pals? Good buddies? Or was I wrong?”

You had come here under the best of intentions, to clear the air of whatever the hell was going on, but his sudden hostility towards you changed all that without a second thought. Johnny wanted to continue with this bullshit then you were going to match that energy; you weren’t one to be fucked with. Even still, you needed to get down to the bottom of just how much he knew and fast.

What he said then took you by surprise. “What? Ah thought ye got wet by men in higher ranks,” the statement slipped angrily from his lips.

“Excuse me.”

Finally he looked back up into your face. “Did ye think ah wouldn’t fin’ oot about what it is ye’re up tae, hmm?” he questioned. “Aboot ye ‘n’ Ghost getting far tae familiar. Oh, thought yer wee secret was safe did ye?”

You stared back at him, furious. How the hell had he found out about that? Had he been following you when you didn’t realize it? You swore you’d been more than careful at keeping all that on the downlow. “I knew you were sweet on me, but fuck Johnny, you stalking me now?”

He shook his head. “Maybe ye should learn how tae fuck more quietly, lass,” he scoffed. “Ye’re lucky the whole base didnae hear ye taking th’ Lieutenant like a fuckin’ whore the other night, though now that ah think aboot it maybe they should. Maybe Price would like tae hear aboot this gross miss use o’ rank manipulation by one o’ his favorites.”

Oh, so this is what it was all about…that bit alone made it blatant; it was him that had been trying to sabotage you getting dicked good by the big man on base and it was all because he was jealous. His snide, underhanded comment made that crystal clear. You should have seen this coming a mile away, what with how he was practically in your pants at the bar that night, but being blinded by an overabundance of top quality dick can make anyone blind. Still, you never thought he would go as far as to threaten you; honestly you didn’t think he had it in him and it caught you slightly off-guard.

“Why don’t you just shut up and admit it,” you shot back with white hot aggression at his weak attempt at blackmail. “Admit that the only reason you’re standing here right now acting like this is because you didn’t get to tap it first. You had your chance the other night, do you know that? Shit, you had even more chances than that if we’re both being honest, it’s not my fault you didn’t jump on any of them. You snooze you loose, bitch, and now it’s the Lieutenant that gets all this to himself.”

Johnny had never been jealous of the masked man before the other night, but hearing that he had squandered his chances to have you only made his blood boil in his veins. All the time you had both spent together, all the flirting, was it all for nothing because he wasn’t headstrong enough to be his usual cocky self and go after what he wanted?

And then the bar, he hated to think it, but was that all a part of some big game? He had had his suspicions the way Simon had stormed out of there that night and you following not long after, but so entranced by your company he was that he let it slide. Now that he really thought it through it was something he had to push out of his mind because he knew he might not like the answer if he thought about it for much longer.

Cheeks burning and mouth dry, his emotions got the better of him and Johnny couldn’t stop the shit spewing forth from his mouth as he rose to stand on his feet. “Ye think ye’ve won th’ lottery, dinnae lass? Sure, L.T. might be able tae give yer body what it needs, I dinnae know what kind o’ game he’s got, but what aboot when he’s finished? Ye think he’s really th’ best option tae keep aroond?” he questioned, as he moved out from around his desk, closing the distance between you both with a few steps. “A’ve been soft aroond ye because of my feelin’s, but if ye wanted someone tae treat ye like a slag in th’ bedroom all ye had to do was say so. But what aboot after that though? How aboot also bein’ treated like a princess in public, cause if that’s th’ case yer lookin th’ wrong direction Bonnie. L.T. dinnae seem the type for that sort o’ thing.”

“And what if I like being treated as only a toy and nothing more, hmm?” you pressed him. “Maybe I don’t want to be your princess; maybe I like being a whore?”

Damn, he knew you were rough around the edges, a strong broad who knew exactly what she wanted, but something about a girl who wasn’t about to let a man make her feel weak in any sense of the word only made him want you more. Tough women who posed a challenge to win over made the Scotsman weak in the knees.

“An what aboot when he gets tired of ye, hmm? Ye know he will. Ye gonna come crawlin back tae me then?”

You smirked; god, he was trying his hardest to slide his way between you and Simon. Could you really blame him? No, but that didn’t make his disrespect any less. “Is this your angle? Talk shit and think it’s gonna change my mind, like I don’t know what the hell I’m getting myself into. Cause that’s pathetic.”

The corner of his lip upturned. “Na, pathetic is th’ way I’d have ye begging me fur more before Ah’m done, baby girl.”

Well damn, that wasn’t half bad, you thought with a chuckle. Eyes locked to his, you gave him a impressed nod. “I almost believed you, good job,” you praised his performance mockingly. “But I’m not some little girl that you can just throw on the charm and seduce; you think you know the type of woman I am, but you’ve only hit the tip of the iceberg baby. You gonna talk a big game, big man, you gonna have to live up to it.”

“Who says ah cannae?” he pushed back. “Maybe ye dinnae know me as well as ye think ye do either. Maybe ye’re afraid tae admit how much you want me.”

As if you had so easily forgotten how he used to act before his little heart had grown attached to you; like you hadn’t been there times before where he had picked up a girl from the bar, using not only the charm of his quick wit, but his slick attitude to win her over. Perhaps he had forgotten that you had not always been the object of his desire, but that was besides the point.

Johnny was trying to cross a dangerous line with you and that would not stand, not one fucking bit. Offended wasn’t the words because let’s be honest, being lusted after was anything but euphoric. However, if he thought he could come between you and Simon he had another thing coming; no matter what he did, there was no way you would not be immediately running back to the ghost-masked man of your desire. That didn’t stop you from playing the game though.

“I’m genuinely curious now since you want to talk your bullshit,” you said. “I know you have a cocky streak in you a mile wide so come on, let’s see it; show me what you got if you have the balls for it. Cash in on the checks that that mouth of yours is making. But, you know if ‘he’ finds out what you’re doing its not gonna end well for you.”

You thought calling his bluff would make him back down, but your challenge had the opposite effect now. The short distance that still existed between you both was now reduced to nothing and you could feel a muscular arm sneaking its way around your hip towards your back before he sharply snapped it back into himself with you in its grasp, pressing your body fully up against him. “Ah’m not scared o’ th’ likes o’ him.”

“You should be,” you smirked. “You think he likes to share? If you’re not careful you are gonna be in a lot of pain.”

That hand at your waist slithered its way down to your ass, where he palmed it and gave it a tight squeeze over your pants as he made your hips grind against him. “A’m done talkin aboot him ‘n’ what he wants,” Johnny said. “How aboot we talk aboot if ye want me tae stop.”

Fuck, the air suddenly felt thick with forbidden lust and though you would never belong to anyone other than Simon, it was hard not respond to Johnny’s overwhelming intensity for you in that moment. His other hand not currently gripping your ass found its way to the back of your head and he laced his fingers through the strands of your hair where he held them locked down before pulling to make your head jerk back and expose your neck.

Leaning in, his breath wafted over the tender flesh down towards your collar bone. Nostrils caught the sweet scent of your perfume mixed with your natural musk and it made his head spin. “Ye think ye know whit a’m capable o’, Bonnie, but ye have no idea. Why dinnae show ye just a taste o’ it? Think ye can handle it?”

You stayed silent as he brought his head in closer towards your own, his lips inching in towards your mouth steadily. Confident and headstrong looked good on him; he should have started with that from the beginning and maybe you both would have moved past friends sooner, but now that you knew what true domination felt like, he could never hope to live up to that. As good as you felt in his arms, there was no forgetting the man who was consistently making you come.

“Please, can I handle it?” you mocked. “I’d have you whimpering on your fucking knees in an instant if I wanted to.”

“We’ll see aboot that, lass,” he said as his lips were almost upon yours, his growing hard-on pressing into the bulk of your thigh. Desperate boy, you thought. The warm, sticky heat moistening the air around your mouths from your mixed breaths, his grip on the back of your head tightening as he agonizingly rendered the distance between you to near zero, made your pulse quicken in response under his touch. Just before that first connection…his lips nearly there…you could almost taste him…a voice boomed into the room from the door making you both jump.

“Mactavish!” a gruff voice bellowed out from right at the doorway, making the Scot’s head turn with a snap towards its source. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’? You off your goddamn rocker?”

There he was in all his glory, the owner of your cunt, standing there menacingly as he took up the entirety of the exit with his size; his eyes flared with an overwhelmingly intense hatred for the man currently putting his hands all over what belonged to only him.

Leaning in towards his ear as Johnny kept his sight on a pissed off and fuming Simon, you chuckled low and seductive. “Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” you said in sing song fashion. “Told ya.”

Stalking inside with a huff as his pulse raced through his veins to make his body shake, Simon slammed the door to the office shut behind him and locked it, securing all three of you inside until he decided when and if he would release you. That strong jaw shifted back and forth under his mask as he ground his teeth together to stop the rage that would surely make him end up in military police custody for homicide from consuming him, though if Johnny didn’t let you go soon those twitching muscles in his forearm from his clenched fist would soon be connecting with whatever he could get his hands on.

“This doesn’t concern ye L.T.,” Johnny spat, still clinging to you tightly, “I sugges’ ye leave.”

“Fuck no, this directly involves me,” Simon hissed, cracking his knuckles that were itching to bash his skull in. The vitriol in his voice had enough of an acidic bite in it that it could have burned a hole through the fucking floor. “You currently have your filthy mitts all over something that doesn’ belong to ya. I sugges’ if you want to keep those hands attached to your goddamn arms you will get them off ‘er, now.”

“Ah think she can decide fur hers-,” Johnny tried to hold his ground, but that was not about to last. There was no chance in hell he could out intimidate the master of intimidation.

Simon cut him off abruptly before he could continue with this blatant disrespect by getting directly into his face, planting his boots firmly into the ground in case he needed to take more drastic action to get the bastard to release you back to him. The hate-filled glare that bore into Johnny’s eyes made a sneaky shiver run up his spine. “Do you think this is a fucking game, mate?” Simon threatened low and menacing, his accent getting more heavy with his growing anger. “I am not fuckin’ playin ‘round here. Get your filthy fuckin’ hands off of what isn’t yours. Now.”

The rage brewing within Simon’s words were not meant to be taken lightly and as he wasn’t about to move until you were free, there was nothing more he could do. Looking back towards you once again, Johnny bit his lip hard to stop himself from popping off without thinking things through and ripped his hand out from around the small of your back and off your hip.

“Come ‘ere,” Simon snapped his fingers at you and you shot Johnny one last look of ‘I did try to warn you’ as you crossed in front of him towards your lover.

Christ, that was too close for comfort and Simon needed to re-stake his claim right then and fucking there before he lost his goddamn mind; you were his. His. And Johnny was going to have to understand that right this fucking minute. Keeping this whole thing a secret only worked when no one was trying to worm their way between you both, now that Simon had seen with his own two eyes how his treasure had almost been stolen by someone he called friend he couldn’t see straight; he had to rectify this now and there was only one way.

He had to make his claim known without a shadow of a doubt to the one trying to undermine it.

Once you were within range, Simon grabbed you and spun you around quick; flinging your back at the wall before he pinned you against it. The full weight of his body pressed you into to surface as if he were trying to fuse you into it. In the same breath, his customary mask was wrenched above his mouth and he wasted not even a second before he took your lips heated and greedily with force.

Johnny had not kissed you, Simon’s sudden intrusion had made quite sure of that, but the bastard’s lips were near enough that that hulking beast of a man had to remove even the specter of their touch by taking them with a dizzying intensity that left you clenching your thighs. Goddamn was he grateful that a sudden knot in his stomach had told him to come find you; if he would have waited and Johnny had gotten to you he would have lost his fucking mind.

“Fine,” Johnny growled angrily at this garish pissing contest that he was being forced to witness as you both had him blocked in; screw this small ass office. “Ye’ve proven yer fucking point. Ah got th’ message. Now, how aboot ye get th’ fuck oot.”

Simon ignored everything around him except for you, his lips too busy performing that intricate dance of back and forth, connecting and reconnecting over and over with your full lips again and again until your mouth burned with the friction. Hands roaming your body, following curves that he knew by touch alone, periodically smashing up against you, a whimper escaped from you and Simon readily drank it down. You closed your eyes as you let him fill you with his possessiveness; this is why you could never ever belong to another.

“Did ye hear me?” Johnny piped up once more, done watching someone else make you come apart at the seams. He wanted you both out, now. “Ah said ah got it; Ah’ll leave her alone. Ye can fuckin go.”

One more hard, lingering kiss was left across your mouth before Simon broke the connection and paused a moment to admire his handiwork. Your lips, bright red and swollen from his assault, your cheeks blossoming with color, with the lust-drunk look plastered on your face, all made up the perfect picture. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Does he know?” Simon posed the question under his breath.

You nodded as you held Simon’s gaze. “Pretty much all of it,” you confirmed that there was no sense in hiding anything anymore as Johnny was aware of your involvement with each other.

“You want me to go, really? For what? So that you can try this shit again ‘nother time?” Simon challenged while keeping his eyes solely on you. “Sure, you’ll cool down for a bit, but let’s be honest mate; take a look at her, you aren’t gonna stay ‘way for long. No, no one’s going anywhere. Ya haven’t learned well enough yet, but that’s gonna be rectified right here and fuckin’ now.”

Giving your lower lip one last quick nip, he released you from his grip and turned to face his Judas. Brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, Johnny’s posture shifted as he stared back, waiting to see what Simon would do. His palms grew sweaty as Simon moved back towards him, pointing a thick finger hotly towards the chair stationed behind Johnny’s desk.

The idea came to him in a split second as rationality had fled when the anger had settled in, a nugget of a thought that was born that first night you and Simon had rekindled your passion for fucking each other’s brains out, and now it returned to the forefront of his thoughts. The way you nearly vibrated with excitement on top of him that night when he brought it up, he knew you would be more than game for it if he suggested it now; of course his perfect little whore would want nothing more than to please him.

“That type of disrespect isn’t gonna fuckin’ fly with me,” Simon hissed. “You knew she was not up for the takin’ and yet you still tried. Now you are gonna pay; you’re gonna sit there and watch as I fuck her right on your desk. You’re gonna listen as she screams my name and see first hand just why she is mine and mine alone.”

This was ridiculous; as if Johnny were just going to stay here and take this shit. “Ye cannae do this,” Johnny said in protest, but it was in vain as Simon was not going to give up; the beast had been provoked.

“Oh yes I can; you brought this on your goddamn self by putting your nose where it didn’t belong. Now, sit - the fuck - down before I make you,” Simon demanded and begrudgingly Johnny followed orders. The skull masked giant was scary intimidating when he wanted to be and with the several inches in height he had on the pretty boy in this enclosed space, it was enough to make him submit.

Johnny subdued, Simon refocused back on you. That rough palm cupped your cheek, making you look up at him and only him. With a heavy touch he drug the thick pad of his thumb over your lower lip as he stared at their fullness with hunger in his gaze.

“How about it, hmm?” he asked. “Why don’t we give Johnny boy here a show he won’t fuckin’ easily forget; it’ll be just like you wanted. Don’t you want him to see how good you take me? He thinks he knows what you need, how about we show him how bloody wrong he really is.”

The idea of performing in front of Johnny was enough to make your head buzz with the sudden intensity of your arousal. You would have allowed the entire base to watch you get plowed by Simon, getting absolutely destroyed by his massive cock, if he asked it of you, but Johnny would do just fine.

“Fuck yes,” you agreed without hesitation. Your lover had been disrespected after all and you knew with the way Simon was fuming that the rage-fueled sex would be oh so good right now.

“Good girl,” Simon praised in the gravely tone that fit his accent to perfection. “That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

Your lips already raw and still parted as you waited for his mouth to come back to yours, eyes hooded with lust, you did not even protest as those large hands moved down the front of your torso and took hold of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head to leave you standing in your bra.

“She’s really giving you a treat, Mactavish. You think everyone gets this view?” Simon spat back behind him as he moved you both right before the desk with you in front of him, your back pressed against his chest. He may be the only one who could touch you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want others to watch as he did it. No, he wanted to parade you around just to show off what others couldn’t have.

Those muscular arms crossed themselves across your torso, pushing your tits together to give them more lift as they sat still inside your bra while his mouth found the crook of your neck where he laid the first of a few quick nips. “Neva seen such a glorious sight, have you Johnny?” he groaned, looking down into the peaks of your breasts that had popped up over the top of your lingerie. “Let’s make it even fuckin’ better.”

With one hand he drew the clasp in the middle of your back together, pinching the sturdy fabric until the tiny hooks unclasped themselves and your bra hung loose at the front of your chest. Coming back around, his hand grabbed at the middle of the bra and wrench it forward and off your shoulder to leave your breasts fully exposed. “Don’t need this, I’ve got something for those juicy tits.”

Those two oversized hands of his cupped the fullness of your breasts within their grasps, cradling them against the palms as they spilled a little through his grip. Taking your pink rosebuds between his thumbs and the side of his pointer fingers he rolled the tiny beads around until they stuck out prominently in between his digits.

“You like that you little slag? Fuck, you have enough tits to go around, luv,” Simon said pointedly against the side of your head as he continued to work at your nipples, waiting until he got the whimper he was looking for before addressing Johnny again in mockery. “Doesn’t that just eat you up inside Johnny boy? That I get all of this to my fuckin’ self?”

A hand slipped down the front of your pants and inside the waistband, traveling across the warm, soft skin of your abdomen until it hit the crotch of your pants so that he could cup that rough palm against your sex. A moan escaped your lips as he scooped up against it and applied a good bit of pressure. “Oh,” he hissed delightedly as a dampness instantly hit his hand, “she’s already drippin’ for me, aren’t you, luv? Mmm, I think she’s enjoin’ bein’ the center of attention. Too bad you can’t get a feel of these silky petals old boy; they’re so warm and wet and soft it should be a goddamn crime. Fuckin’ hell, they’d make Satan himself repent ina fuckin heartbeat.”

You could feel Simon’s girth throbbing against your tailbone as he massaged up against your swollen clit, his other hand still cupped around your breast. He was clearly enjoying this as much as you were, audience be damned. His cock was so hard it was about to rip a hole in the crotch of his pants as he put all his energy into you, feeling it throbbing with each beat of his pulse as his heart worked extra since all the blood had rushed to that girthy appendage.

Head heavily falling back against his shoulder, you let yourself go completely to him while your hips began to move with him as you thrust against his palm to create even more friction. The thrill of having Johnny sitting there, eyes glued to you as if he were unable to pull his sight from your form only made your skin tingle with excitement and heightened your arousal. It was true, you loved being the center of attention and to have Simon so possessive over you was the icing on this sinful cake.

“These have got to go, baby,” Simon’s voice at your ear growled, his hand leaving your cunt for the moment as he tugged at the waistband of your pants. Nimbling he undid the button and pulled down the zipper agonizingly slow and you swore you could hear the second that Johnny had stopped breathing.

Simon’s heavy panting was at your ear as the rest of the entire room stood silently still. If it were up to him in that moment he would have just thrown you over the desk and entered you without another second being spent, but his anger had not left him completely yet and he really wanted his brother in arms to be destroyed.

“Slide them off, easy now; make Johnny squirm with the anticipation of it,” he ordered before he leaned in so that only you would hear the next bit. “Make him pay for tryin’ to take you from me; ruin him.”

Lifting your head back up off Simon’s shoulder you brought your gaze directly to Johnny’s face, holding his sight locked in your own. Your mouth still agape with your short, rapid exhalations you made a show of slipping your fingers into the now opened waistband at the hips. Pushing them just a little, they moved down an inch as you jutted your hip out seductively. Then you paused as Simon latched those lips to your neck.

“Do you want to see me Johnny?” you asked in a breathy whisper. “Cause I really, really want you to see me. All of me.”

Johnny could have easily looked away from the sight before him, no one was forcing him to watch, but try as he might to pull his hungry gaze away he couldn’t. Simon was right, fuck you were gorgeous being absolutely manhandled like that even though it wasn’t him that was doing it. Still, the way your body looked as it flushed pink with the heat of your pleasure made it hard not to enjoy the show. If the tightness now giving the front of his pants a good tenting was any indication, he was going to be in pure agony for weeks on end.

His silent, wide-eyed stare spoke volumes and again you lowered the waistband just a bit more, right at the base of your pubic bone. The little patch of neatly trimmed hair at the top of your pussy had just started to peak through the zipper as you paused for the second time.

Sucking the silky smooth flesh of your neck, Simon hummed into you. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he praised how well you were following his direction. “Steady on.”

Heavy thumps from his pulsating heart could be felt in his ears as Johnny watched on with baited breath while you finally slipped the cloth concealing your cunt off your hips and down over the curve of your ass, not stopping until you had pulled them completely off your legs and they lay resting on the ground. Standing back up to your full height you gazed back up at your audience with innocent doe eyes as you bit your lip playfully.

“What do ya think?” Simon posed the question to Soap who was now foaming at the mouth. “Can you think of anything more beautiful than this? And it’s all fuckin’ mine.”

God, the ecstasy of being paraded around like Simon’s favorite toy was out of this world and you couldn’t help but revel in the euphoria of it all. As much as you knew Simon wanted Johnny to pay for what he did, you knew that the only reason he agreed to such a punishment in the first place was because he desperately wanted someone, anyone, to know that he had you under his thumb.

And something about how incredibly, indescribably, ridiculously hot that thought was made you absolutely feral.

You ran your hands around your neck and down around your breasts, giving them a squeeze before continuing down the line of your body. You glided over your hips while giving them a twist before stopping just shy of your cunt as Johnny’s chest heaved heavily up and down.

“Fuck,” he said barely above a whisper as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and you smiled.

Simon moved back against you, his forehead resting against the side of your head as he pawed at his cock within his pants, trying to adjust the painfully tender organ to sit more comfortably to no avail; he was too worked up now and only one thing would fix it. Still, lips resting at your ear, Simon gave another command. “Touch yourself.”

That was an order you would not hesitate to follow.

Extending your middle and ring fingers, you slipped your hand fully down between your thighs and split yourself open slowly; fuck, you were just as tender as he was, your throbbing clit could barely take anymore without some form of release. Easing your fingers inside, you found that precious bean and began to stroke concise circles over the top of it.

“Mmmm…” you moaned into your closed mouth as a shiver ran through you.

Pressed up against you, Simon could feel the shake in your arm as you worked yourself, the muscle of your bicep vibrated on his torso and rubbed against his abdominals. He focused everything on the little mewls and groans you let flow out of you like music as you drew out your own ecstasy stroke by even stroke. If your loyalty to him was ever in question, it was resolved now as you followed his orders completely without hesitation.

You were the farthest thing from God as something could get, but the damnation was more than worth it just to covet you all to himself. If Simon ever felt the need to worship, it was your body that would be his religion now.

His hand cupped your cheek to hold your head against him. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” Simon groaned, eyes still closed. “Are you thinkin’ of me as your fingers do all the fuckin’ work?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Say it, out loud.”

You swallowed hard. “I’m thinking of that fat fucking cock of yours plunging deep inside me. Goddammit Simon, please, I need you baby.”

Yes, oh fucking God yes. “Look at Johnny, say it again.”

Eyes heavy lidded found the Sargent’s face. With voice clear, you spoke your truth, unashamed. “God I need to feel Simon’s cock stretching me out, filling me full, making me vibrate. Christ, I need him to fuck me stupid.”

A pathetic whimper sounded behind closed lips as your stroke hit a bit of extra sensitivity. The vision of him finally bending you over the desk to enter you was all you could imagine now and it made you writhe with anticipation.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Simon grunted, his phallus bruising your leg as he ground the hard tip into your thigh. “I’m gonna fucking fill you so full to the goddamn brim with me, I’ll have your legs shakin’. You want that, to be stuffed full? Maybe I’ll really stuff you, give you everything.”

His brain was misfiring, his heartbeat pounding, his pupils dilating as each agonizing second passed until he could not hold back a thought that came forward towards the surface of his mind. The ultimate show of possession, the peak of ownership, the true slap in the face of the one watching you both right now. And he let out that thought that was snaking its way through him like electricity.

“How about we make Johnny watch as I fuckin’ breed you?” he growled, low and primal, putting his whole chest into it.

Simon almost had to grab you to stop you from falling as your knees nearly buckled out from under you at his salacious statement. That came out of nowhere to take you completely by surprise, but Jesus Christ what a visual that you were instantly obsessed with now. Was he trying to stop your heart because if he was going to say shit like that he better have a defibrillator on standby.

“Yes, fucking yes,” you whined as you fingers began to move faster and faster against your clit. “Do it baby, fucking breed me. Fill me nice and deep. Make this pussy yours.”

It was so wet between your legs the sound of your fingers stroke through your slick was now audible and Johnny was trying his hardest not to pass out. What he wouldn’t have given to have the balls to get up, throw Simon out, and have his fucking fill of you; that was a dream, but shit was he burning to slide his cock into that slopping mess gathering between your thighs.

“Please, Simon,” you cried out, “take me now. Please, I can’t fucking stand it anymore. I need to feel you.”

Simon’s member was so tender with a deep ache that it was almost painful. Enough was enough, screw Johnny and this bullshit display, this wasn’t waiting another second; if he wasn’t inside of you in the next beat it felt like he would burn to death.

A strong hand gripped your wrist and ripped your hand from out between your thighs before it moved to your hip and was joined by the other on the opposite one. You were being shoved forward, pushed from behind as Simon blocked your hips up against the edge of the desk. You were already bending over it when his forearm pressed into your shoulder blades to guide you down before his fingers were running the length of your spine to your ass.

The other hand quickly pulled down the zipper on the front of his pants and finally he was able to release himself, his pants hanging loosely about his lower hips. His cock was so swollen and feverish to the touch, the moment it hit the cooler air outside his clothing he winced. The two prominent veins along the length throbbed and pulsed with his raging heartbeat and the engorged tip shimmered with a bit of precum that had leaked out.

No time was wasted as he used his booted foot to spread your legs open wider, shifting his hips in against your ass as he slid the tip of his phallus between your damp petals. Slipping it back and forth as few times, he coated himself in your juices; he was about to go all in and he would take as much lubrication as he could so that nothing would be snagging.

Once satisfied he again grabbed your hips and aligned himself, thrusting hard towards your entrance, inserting himself fully into you. You took him all in perfectly, your body swallowing every last delectable inch as if it was designed to hold all of that girth.

“Oh god baby, you’re just suckin’ me right in, you greedy bitch,” he hissed, those fingertips bruising your skin as he held on for dear life. “Christ, take it all, slut.”

He had to pause to collect himself, otherwise this would be over before it had begun. It should be a goddamn felony for you to feel this good, as if it were that first time all over again. You had to have a bit of witch in you to keep him under your spell like this.

Breathing through the waves of ecstasy threatening to undo him, he regained his composure and began pounding into you with strong, robust thrusts, pulling almost completely out of you before slamming back into your core down to the base of his cock. Your body rocked against his intense thrusts, breasts bouncing across the desk as your face was pressed even further into the surface; you could only moan as the euphoria coursing through you at his movements was intoxicating.

A strong grip around your neck from behind picked up your head and pointed it forward right back at Johnny’s face from off the tabletop. Mouth open and jaw slack as you breathed through each delicious thrust from Simon’s cock, you locked eyes with the mohawked Sargent and held his gaze.

“There we go, you keep those eyes on ol’ Johnny boy there, pretty girl” Simon growled. “I want him to see the look in them as you take every last goddamn inch of me.”

The warmth radiating from his body made your skin tingle as your back began to glisten with perspiration; his fingertips left trails of fire everywhere he touched and you were more than willing to burn for him. He kept the pace even, making each thrust count as he hit that tiny bundle of nerve endings inside of you.

You could feel your pulse match his in perfect unison, your heartbeats determining the pace he pounded that cunt of yours. The harder his hips pumped into you, the more the sounds of your bodies slapping together filled the silence of the room. What beautiful fucking music your screwing made. The force shook through your trembling body, but the precision was spot on in hitting that perfect spot time and time again until you were so inebriated on the exhilaration of the over stimulation.

Gagging on his own moan, Simon looked down to watch himself thrust in and out of you. Too much, it was all too damn much; you took him so goddamn well, the way your juicy cunt pulled his cock in. No one had ever made him this pussy-drunk, not in recent memory and as you bucked against his pelvis, that intoxication only grew.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you buck any harder and I’m going to blow my load right fuckin’ now,” he grunted between thrusts. “You want that? For me to fill that pussy full? Why don’t you tell Johnny what you want.”

You licked your parched lips as you struggled to regain your ability to speak. “I need him to fill me Johnny,” you said, your eyes pleading with the man directly in your vision staring, unblinking. Your eyes begin to water, its too good, its too much. He’s hitting deep, as deep as the angle can get while his testicles bounce of your pussy to add that extra bit of stimulation. On your tiptoes, you are backing it up until your ass is flush with him, mouth hanging open as you pant like a bitch in heat, saliva threatening to drip from your lips. “Please, I can’t take much more.”

Johnny’s hand began pawing at himself unconsciously through his pants, trying to calm the storm. It feels like you are asking him a question, but his brain was so hazy he couldn’t form solid thoughts. That desperate look in your eye, the begging swimming in their depths, he could feel the breadth of your desire for the man behind you.

“Please…”

Simon turned his attention to Johnny for the first time since before he entered you and smirked. “So needy isn’t she?” he asked. “Always making me work for it. She’s almost fuckin’ there, though, but this part is just for me.”

Quickly he pulled his cock out of you amidst your whimpers at suddenly feeling empty and spun you around, picking you up so that your ass made contact with the surface of the desk where you sat. There was no need to worry, he was back in between those legs in the blink of an eye and as you wrapped your thighs around his hips, he thrust back inside that tight, sopping wet cave.

His body shuddered harshly from the feeling of your silky walls being wrapped around him again. “Goddamn, sweetheart,” he grunted, his eyes meeting yours. You were a mess, a beautiful disaster, and his breath hitched as he admired your flushed cheeks, glazed eyes, swollen, cracked lips; all his doing.

Those primal instincts within his marrow took over and all he knew, all he cared about was the feeling of your walls constricting around him and how that pleasure takes all his cares away. His lips crashed upon yours furiously, completely muting your whines as his movements become more ferocious.

“You are mine,” Simon said repeatedly in hushed groans against your lips as if trying to pour the sentiment down your throat. “Mine.”

His, you thought. Only his.

Harder and harder his abdominal muscles clenched and retracted as he put everything into the force of his thrusts. Your tits bounced up and down in front of his face, jiggling with each hit as you wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to hang on as he rocked your body.

“Say it, I want to hear it,” he demanded suddenly; as much as he was struggling to hold it off, it wasn’t working, and he was about to come.

“I’m yours, Simon,” you mewled, your grip on his spine tightening.

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. “Again.”

You swallowed the saliva gathering in the front of your mouth to coat your parched throat. “I’m yours, Simon, only yours,” you said louder this time.

“Again.”

“Simon, this pussy is yours, only yours, forever yours. …Fuck.”

With that last syllable he was gone; his cock pulsed violently inside you, his body writhing harshly while he drained himself dry, coating your walls with his fluids as he continued to pump inside of you. There was no way he was going to give up until you had come too. A few more strong thrusts in and out with steady rhythm and that was all it took, you were crying out as well, throwing your head back as you shook with the intensity of it all. That grip on your hips turned painful as Simon dug his fingertips into your flesh to keep you both steady while you rode out your orgasms until there was nothing left to give and once he finally released you, you toppled backward onto the desk exhausted.

Pulling out of you nice and slow, everything was far to tender to move quick anymore, he gazed down at his masterpiece. Your entrance dripped droplets of his seed as it spilled out of you and something about it made him shiver with excitement. You looked absolutely divine stuffed with his cum.

As he looked back up towards your face, he was met with your sleepy, ecstasy-filled smile and his heart leapt in his chest. Goddamn, this was a fucking dream. He leaned over your exhausted body and pulled your head up, mashing his face into yours as he captured your lips and held them locked until he could feel your heartbeat slow to a more respectable rhythm.

Releasing you and resting his forehead on yours, he holstered his cock back inside his pants. “Get dressed and head back to my quarters, I’ll be there in a bit. I got something to finish up here first.”

You nodded into his head and he helped you to get up off the desk and grab your clothing, holding your tired, shaking body steady while you put everything back on. “You did so good for me, luv,” he whispered his praise before walking you to the door to unlock it and let you out, re-locking it behind you.

Johnny was already on his feet by the time Simon turned around. Crossing the room in just a few large steps, he was on him. Simon’s large hand wrapped itself around his throat as his face inched in closer in intimidating fashion.

“You ever try to touch ‘er again, anything more than just a friendly little handshake, and I will make it my mission to ruin your fuckin’ life. Understand me, Sargent?”

A nod of his head. “Yes,” Johnny said quietly as he struggled against his grip.

That wasn’t good enough. “I didn’t fuckin’ hear you,” Simon snapped.

“Yes, sir,” he said more firm this time.

“And if words get back to me that you went to Price about this, well, let’s just say that certain actions have consequences. Is that also fuckin’ clear?” Those rich chocolate eye bore down into Johnny’s soul with the seriousness of his words; this would be the one and only warning he got.

The sour look on Johnny’s face let him know he had gotten the message. “Crytsal, sir,” he confirmed.

“Good,” Simon snapped, releasing the grasp on his neck just as quickly as he had taken it.

Moving back, he straightened himself up to make sure nothing would look out of place to anyone he would pass on the way back to his room before speaking again. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sargent. I know I will.”

And with that Johnny was left alone as Simon threw open the door and stalked back out of his office as if nothing of note had taken place here. There was no telling right then and there what would happen next, as Soap's head was still reeling, but one thing was for certain: things were about to get interesting.

Tag list: @igotmajordaddyissues , @abbiesxox

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granolawriting · 8 months

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ Just a few drinks: A Joel miller x reader (18+)

Summary: A complicated Joel gets tipsy at the same bar you're at. And when you try to leave, he's not keen to let you leave alone.

Tags to note: brief enemies to lovers, dom!Joel, petnames (tame), age gap (a given), uncharacteristic drunk

A/N: my first work for Joel, hello TLOU readers :)! leave me a message if you have any ideas for anything else I could write about <3 enjoy

word count: 3.3k

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Another clash of wood and hardened glass echoes throughout the small bar as you look over to see another shot downed by him.

There was some sort of drinking game, transpiring between him and his brother, though you’re one to care less. The sound of the noise, the groans that escaped him, and the slurred words that you heard coming from his companion were enough to anger you enough to want to shut them out at all costs. But, that was difficult since there wasn't really heavy pickings of what could constitute a bar in the state of things. They make do, they supply liquor, and it's too good an offer for you to let up.

You and Joel, have a bit of history, to say the least. Having worked side by side begrudgingly at certain points, all you’ve discerned from him is that he's good for nothing, at least when it doesn't involve his own self-interest. And sure, that's been a while ago since now but I doubt he's got any change in him. He's not the kind of man to change, and the entire time you’ve known him he's been an asshole to you, and right back to him have you been an asshole right back.

Another loud clunk interrupts your thoughts once more, and as it does you say the first thing that comes to mind. Raising yourself from your seat exclaim;

“Do you mind shutting the fuck up? Some people don't want to hear you getting drunk the whole night.”

It escapes your mouth without another thought. Quiet murmurs are shared around the room as all eyes are on you, including the dark brown ones that now meet your gaze.

Joel is a rough-looking man, about 30 years your senior, with salt and pepper hair slightly overgrown upon a tan face, littered with scars and an omnipresent pout upon his face coated with a layer of hair for his beard. His body is quite muscular, in a way that tells many stories with every muscle group providing a specific purpose to his very private, lone adventures or so you’ve come to learn. Covered only with a weathered plaid shirt rolled to his elbows, and equally worn jeans with shoes that have seen miles before your conception it was safe to say that he was decently experienced. You could tell just by looking at him.

But as he looked at you, you felt increasingly vulnerable at the sight of him eyeing you. Studying you. The seconds seem to pass like hours as he musters something to say in reply,

“How’s bout you make me then, sweetheart?”

Words that slur slightly from the mouth of a man clearly tipsy renders you speechless. A smirk upon his face that was uncharacteristic for his usual brood, you were flushed at the sight of it. This bold flirting wasn't something you were used to, and discerned it was a way to catch you off guard, and nothing more. You decide not to give him any more attention that he seems to want, and with a sucking of your teeth, you sit back down in your chair to have your back partially face him once more.

The night drags on as they seem to listen, but only partially. The clinks were still able to be heard, and if you tried hard enough you could tell which one was drunker. Not ideal, but it seems your words did at least a little bit of damage. Though ever since that moment, you felt as though eyes were on you most of the night's end. But as you gaze up at the moonlight shining from the window of the bar, it's decided that it's more than time enough to head back to your apartment. You didn't have anywhere to be the next morning, but you also didn't have the idea of listening to their nonsense for the next unknowable hours haunt your mind as you tried to think otherwise.

Lifting yourself up from your seat once more you casually walk out of the bar expecting nothing more than a simple walk home, but clearly, why would that ever happen to you? You make it a meer 12 paces out from the bar before you hear a raspy voice yell to you;

“Where’rya goin hm? We already miss our audience.”

“Home, Joel. And you should too. You’re making an embarrassment of yourself.”

“Aww but where's the fun in that hm?”

You hear shuffled legs grow louder along the dirt as they make their way closer to you.

“Just shut up and leave me alone. I don't care where you go.”

Your responses were short and crass. Just like he was to you every time but what seems to be this exact night.

“I already told ya, sweetheart, you’re gonna have to make me shut up. Haven’t so far yet have’ya?”

He purrs in a voice you can tell is laced with a smirk just by how he said it.

“You’re sick, Joel. What the hell do you want from me?”

You pivot your feet by the end of that question and turn around to watch him close the few feets gap between you two.

“Kiss me”

“What.”

“I said kiss me. Sure that'll make me shut up”

You stood shocked for a moment. This wasn't the Joel you knew, this wasn't the man who would bump into you during patrols because he didn't think you were awake enough. This wasn't the Joel that would work for whoever gave him the cash, and this especially wasn't the Joel who barely ever spoke. Especially to you. This was a man you did not recognize standing in front of you, intoxication peppering his cheeks red and he looked upon you, and an unrecognizable gaze in his eyes fixated on you. When you looked at him during this moment, he was almost handsome. Alluring. You'd never looked at him this way before, never given him the time of day but as you stood there. Basking in the moonlight and allowing its glow to reflect off of his skin there was something enticing about it. A yearning to feel the muscles coating his arms, a craving to feel his calloused hands around your body and above all-- an unshakeable desire to do exactly what he just asked of you. But you couldn't, not so easily, not so simply you can't just disregard everything that's happened between you two you don't like him god damn it! Why is he acting like this, why;

“Why the fuck would you want me to do that hm? Is this some bet for you and your buddy inside? Well, consider me not interested. Go kiss some other bitch.”

You were proud of your rebuttal, repressing your urges wasn't hard for you, but for something like this, it seemed especially difficult. Though, without skipping a beat a Joel who seems to have only heard the first half of the question states through persisting smirk;

“Well why wouldnt’I want to, darling? Just look at you. You're close to one of the finest things I've seen here in a real long time. Ain't nothin’ wrong with askin now is there?”

The way his eyes dug into yours, the way he seemed to pierce yours with the unshakeable gaze only a drunkard full of liquid courage could attain. You were at a crossroads. You felt in your heart you weren't to be made a fool of if you did do this, from the pure hunger in his eyes you’re sure a kiss would be more than covered by that, but another part of you didn't want to give him this satisfaction. The flattery of his attraction to you was one thing, but to allow him to indulge in it on some one-off drunken night isn't really the reputation you want to have. You

Before you can process your next move, you watch him start walking away from you, and into the bar.

“Well, I’ll be seein you then.”

Lowly uttered with that raspy voice of his was about it for you. You couldn't be logical anymore, you wanted him and that was final. Before he can move another step you pull him towards you in a kiss. Tasting what you'd craved for what seems like your whole life between your lips you feel his smirk grow into a larger smile as he embraces you for more than a single kiss.

Soon a kiss turns into two, then six, then every other number that falls between the start and the first gasp of air between you two. And as you gasped for air you heard that same rugged voice whispered within your ear;

“Sure did shut the both of us right up, didn't you? Good girl.”

At this point, you were nothing but a flurry of emotions, all for him, all about him, all craving him. And as his hands trailed from your waist to your jaw, holding your soft skin within his calloused fingers as he yearned for more of your kiss like he'd been needing it his whole life. He was rough, sloppy, and needy with how he held you. Strands of your hair caught in his fingers as he gripped your face, all you could do in return was lay your arms over his shoulders and grip at his hair all the same. You were desperate for him, passionate to say the least.

You wanted more, and you could tell he did too. And as this fact was exchanged between dilated, impassioned eyes he offers, no, tells you;

“My places about a block up the street. Follow me.”

Butterflies invade your stomach at the prospect of what he just said. His demand, even to bring you home implies things that can't be done just steps away from an open bar. And as every heavy step of his boot trails ahead of you, it feels as though thousands of miles are between you, and the door to his apartment. You felt like you couldn't walk straight, as though the taste of whiskey on his lips had seeped deep into yours, that you could barely think straight anymore.

Though before you knew it there laid the door marked with his name, a sign it was his. Keys jingle as he fumbles with them all, finding the proper one after a moment's search and you hear the sound of an unlocked door parallel the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard, as your desperation grows incessantly.

Before you can process it, Joel has you pinned against the wall adjacent to his front door, moving it closed with his foot as he begins his assault on your lips again. His hands trace all over your body now, from your hair, holding clumps of it in his hand as he kisses you roughly, or his hands finding their way on your waist, but beneath the layer of fabric that covered your stomach from sight. His calloused hands gripping onto your bare waist, feeling every groove between your body did you simultaneously learn the indents on every finger's unique callous.

Sticking his tongue inside your mouth elicits a moan from you, and with that does he lift you from your legs as though you were nothing but a small toy. Without letting up for a moment, his hands wrap around your thighs, hoist you up and carry you to the top of his bed, where he swiftly drops you as a means to crawl on top of you.

At this point, he groans at every slight movement you do, a bite to his lip, a tug to his hair, and most especially a quick deviation from his lips to trace his neck with kisses and bites was enough to buck his head back in frenzy. But as he straddles on top of you, arms and legs caging you in as his hands hold your wrists onto the mattress and his legs, much stronger than yours keep you inside his space he makes it clear that he wants much more.

“God I can't fucking stand you darlin, you know that?”

Words groaned almost into your mouth as you let up from another myriad of kisses, he steadies himself on top of you on his knees now, glancing down at you through uneven breaths.

“You’re even better than id’ve hoped for eh? You don't fucking know how long it's been, you don't wanna know honey.”

As he speaks his belt is undone by his hands, hearing the clank of metal drop on the floor next to his bed.

“What do ya want from me now hm? I wanna hear it from’ya”

He looks down on you with a much more purposeful, sadistic smirk as he awaits your words. Your beg, for him to fuck you. He knows what you want, he knows what he wants and he especially knows it's the same damn thing. But he gets off on having you say it, asking for his cock that you can feel throbbing right above you as he loosens his pants.

“I,”

You’re getting choked up on words, barely having caught your breath from what he’d just done to you, and even more choked on the words you have to say.

“Be a good girl, and spit it out wontcha?”

You buck your hips at that simple phrase, feeling his heat press against yours in the process are you even more dizzied by the simple touch of it through the fabric, the friction alone could drive you insane.

“P, please Joel..”

“Please fuck me.”

The words almost moaned out of your voice as you take another chance to grind on his cock, taking in the friction, the pure size of it to get you off feels so easy and so intense. He chuckles slightly,

“I can't say no to a lady when she asks nicely now can I?”

A voice even deeper than his usual is what utters that sentence, something deeply sexual has overtaken him. Bits seen in the way he treated you before but you feel like now that with a simple tonal shift, you’re being exposed to a well-versed, since-forgotten part of Joel. and as he takes his jeans off with ease, and yours with even greater-- letting them slide down your hips slowly as he takes in the unveiling of the rest of your body beneath him, you could tell that fact was more true than you could ever imagine.

So there you two were, in but underwear to control how tense he was, and to withhold how wet you were. However that didn't last for long as he felt his fingers past the lining of your underwear to your heat;

“God, sweetheart. All this for me hm?”

And as he moves close to your ear, with a dark rugged tone,

“You want me cock so fucking bad don't you?”

Lifting himself back up again to look down on you, his posture slightly bent to keep his hands feeling you up you can't do anything but moan and whimper over it. Grinding on his fingers that barely touch your clit you desperately ride him for any speck of sensation to overtake you.

“I can't wait any fucking longer. God, you’re a sight don't ya’know that? When you're not talking up my ear, when you’re obedient, I can't fucking resist you darling.”

He takes his fingers away from where they once were to your disapproving whines and begging with your body. Though soon after you feel something much larger than a finger feel your heat. His hands find your body once more but only to slide your underwear past your hip, and give his cock more room to feel the mess you made for it.

Sliding it up and down your clit carefully, between your folds did you find the teasing unbearable. Feeling him twitching against you, hearing his groans at the slightest traction his cock would find between the wetness in between you, you couldn't do anything but moan his name. Asking him to please fuck you.

After a few more pulses outside you, he lifts your legs to be upon his shoulders before going inside of you. His head knocked back in a deep groan as he slowly entered you, A bite to his lip and a feeling of tight grip around your legs was almost simultaneous as he finally gave himself exactly what he’d been throbbing for the moment he stepped out of that bar. Your legs shake at mere impact, feeling them suppressed by the grip of his rough hands around you, There's no more that you can do but grip the sheets covering the bed for some semblance of support through neverending moans as he goes out as slowly as he went in.

“Fuck you’re perfect for me arent’ya”

Escapes him through groans as he holds back as much as he can as he goes in and out of you. Savoring every inch of you by the pace of every pulse. Though as he reaches to a certain point, he stops flush against you, entirely inside of you. In the seconds he spent like that you could feel him absolutely fill you. He was perfect, just enough to hit the exact spots you never could yourself. But as he almost exits you once again he enters with a great deal more intensity. Quickness. He can't hold himself back anymore, and as the thrusts get more uneven and his groans become louder; clashing with moans that go in unison with every move inside of you you feel your whole body move with his cock. As he gripped you by your thighs and held your body to thrust into him, you felt every inch of himself through every nerve in your body. Every part of your body was coated with pleasure at the sight of him almost manhandling you like this. Sweating, groaning, panting, and cursing over how fucking good you felt made you feel like you were going to cum.

And almost like he read your mind, he moves one of his arms to your clit, and places his thumb right on top of it;

“I'm going to make you finish the same time as me, think you can do that darling?”

He was close too, and you didn't care where he did it.

As his words grow jumbled under mutters and covered groans of pleasure as his breath became unsteady at the feeling of you wrapped around him more and more as his fingers pleasured you even more than you can imagine, you feel yourself climaxing right on his cock, feeling your walls contract over him that felt so hard inside of you it made it feel even better to finish on.

That was more than enough for him, as your screams for his name echoed through his walls he hammered straight into you, sweat coating his peppered hair as he watches you orgasm right below him, he groans your name with a final shove deep inside of you, letting his cum drip down every part of you.

Slowly he removed himself from you, leaving behind a trail of white to seep down from inside of you, to the mattress you lay on.

“You were such a good girl, I'll get us some stuff to clean up. Why don't you stay here a while.”

Is whispered into the only ear uncovered as your head tilts to lay on the mattress in exhaustion, as gruff as ever but with a softness to his voice that bore kindness that felt so needed after a night like that.

You stay lying there for a bit, as Joel goes to clean himself up then you, and then to gather some blankets for the two of you as you dip in and out of slumber.

That night, of course, was the first of many nights thereafter. All underlying with the screams for his pleasure, and ended with his body wrapped around yours til night's end. And through that, he slowly warmed up to you.

#the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel smut #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #enemies to lovers

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lottesreads · 8 months

Text

Why Me? - Part 4

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Cursing, insecurities, pining, mommy/daddy issues, throw up, little bit of angst, mentions of pregnancy, dirty jokes, mentions of death, mentions of being drunk/drinking

Word Count: 6892

Summary: The next morning commences after Bob sleeps over. You tell him things you never thought you'd talk to anyone about, and you both get to know each other a little better.

A/N: I realize now I have no posting schedule, I just post when it's done, so sorry 'bout that! Things are starting to pick up and I cannot wait to get to the next couple of parts, enjoy! And as always, love to know what you think!

Masterlist

Contrary to popular belief, you are actually a very level-headed individual. You made it through the academy and multiple deployments, often as the only woman in your squadron. You pushed back when people tried to knock you down, and you were able to do it by yourself. You didn’t need to call your dad for backup, he often didn’t know just how much shit you had to sit with just because you held his last name. It wasn’t just the Navy that held you in suspicion because of this. Your own flesh and blood held some animosity toward you. You often heard your grandmother tell you how great her daughter’s life could have been, “If your good for nothing father hadn’t come around.” You took it as she meant it: If she never had you.

That’s how it has always been around your mother’s side. She met Mav when he was stationed in Florida, your mother on spring break from her junior year in college. She was barely old enough to drink, but they made quick enough conversation. He was still in his flight suit from work when she walked into the bar with the rest of her friends. Only looking for a little fun she quickly left them in the dust for the man behind the aviators. They spent the entire week together until she had to go back to Ohio. He gave her his number in case she ever found herself back in Florida, and that was it. That is, until about a month later after finals were over and she still had one test to take. It came back positive.

Pete was thrilled to hear back from your mom already, hoping they’d be doing a different kind of catching up. Instead, he was met with the sound of your grandmother yelling at him through the phone. He didn’t hear much, but the few words and sentences he did catch were “pregnant”, “kill you”, and “my baby”, but to be honest he didn’t hear a lot after the first time she said pregnant. To be fair, your dad stepped up to the best ability the Navy would let him. He requested a transfer to be closer to the two of you, calling Carole for advice, and when you were born, she and Bradley even made the journey to see you.

Then there were the deployments. Everywhere he went, Mav seemed to piss off someone, whether it be his Captain, Admiral, or anybody above him who had the power to send him out, they did. Moving to Virginia, your parents tried for the first two years of your life. They really did. Your mother ended up dropping out of school to take care of you while your dad was away. Always citing the Navy for the reason their troubles began. When he was back they’d fight constantly, her saying he was always away, and him telling her that it was his job. She couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. Thus started the arrangement you grew up with. Spending the school year with your mother, and the summers with your dad. Even if he had to leave in the middle, you spent the rest of your time with Carole and Bradley. A great reprieve from your mother’s side. Even from such a young age you felt bad taking away Carole from Bradley, learning guilt from your family very early on. There was one point when Pete was deployed when you were 8, Bradley 14, that you told him this. He told you he felt the same way about your dad and ended the conversation with, “We can share.”

You miss the times when you couldn’t wait to see the two of them. Which makes what happened last night even more bittersweet when you look back on it. Your dad didn’t even think there was conflict between you two, he just saw his kids talking again. That was enough for him. You didn’t even want to think about Carole right now. It always hurt, but knowing that her girl was fighting with her boy would have her smacking the both of you upside the head.

You could practically feel her in your brain the next morning. Either that or your head was pounding from all the tequila and lack of water in your system. From behind your eyelids you can tell the sun is just barely starting to come up. Damn that internal clock. You dare to move your face further into the pillow, but still completely at the feeling of something moving underneath your arm. Your hand lies curled into Bob’s side, the remainder of your arm resting over his stomach. You must have shifted in the night, you on your stomach, Bob’s hand now resting on your arm. His head facing toward you, eyes fluttering every couple of seconds, obviously in a deep sleep. He looks so peaceful like this, it almost stops your heart from beating out of its chest.

You take slow, measured breaths, praying you don’t wake him up. Not wanting to leave the only moment thus far that you’ve seen Bob completely at peace. Your eyes get caught wandering over the same few freckles across his nose and cheeks. As you admire the appearance of each dot, you are made painstakingly aware of how close your faces are. Your arm unintentionally flexes around his side and he takes a deep inhale. You close your eyes immediately, scared that you may have woken him up. His hand starts to smooth up and down your arm as you try to quiet your breathing. His hand abruptly stops in the middle of your arm as you feel his head lift from the pillow. You are trying your darndest to quiet your breathing all while your heart rate is skyrocketing. An impressive feat you are hoping Bob doesn’t catch on to. His head falls back to the pillow as you hear him let out a breath. He hasn’t dared to lift his hand from your arm quite yet, it still lingers, his fingers now tracing small shapes.

Oh god that was even worse. Feeling his hand wrap around your arm gave you butterflies. But now he was being so- delicate. Drawing deliberate shapes and patterns, none of which you could decipher. He was fully aware of what he was doing and now so were you. Your chest begins to feel light until the butterflies in your stomach are absolutely lurching. Wait, no you were going to be sick. Your eyes shoot open, alerting Bob, as you untangle yourself from the sheets and run toward the bathroom. Barely making it in time your stomach promptly evacuates whatever was left in there from last night. You can’t even hear Bob follow you in, but are made aware of his presence as he holds back your hair and rubs your back. Even as you’re puking up your guts, you take a moment to acknowledge just how touching the gesture is. And then you feel immediately guilty for letting Rooster get to you last night and ruining the plans you made with Bob.

Once you’re absolutely sure you’re finished, Bob helps you stand as your eyes meet in the mirror. He grabs your toothbrush, applying some toothpaste and handing it to you.

“You feeling ok?”, he asks as you begin to brush your teeth. You close your eyes and nod, not finding the strength to look at him quite yet. “Where do you keep your pain meds?”. You spit and rinse your mouth, continuing to lean over the sink.

“Cupboard to the left of the fridge”, you grumble. Just as soon as he’s gone, Bob reappears right next to you with a couple pills and a glass of water. You graciously accept the drugs and sip the water. You spare a glance in the mirror and catch Bob’s eyes. He had put his glasses on at some point, but was still sporting the sweatpants you lent him. It seemed weirdly intimate and almost fitting to see him in your clothes as well as in your bathroom. Oh god. This poor man had to put up with you all night and had to carry your drunk ass up the stairs. You place your hand over your forehead in embarrassment. “Oh god.”

“What’s wrong, you gonna be sick again?”, concern etches into his voice.

“No it’s not that. I’m just- I’m so sorry I ruined your night.”

“My night wasn’t ruined.” This has you opening your eyes once again and turning to Bob.

“How did I not ruin your night? You were supposed to go out and play pool, not carry your drunk coworker up the stairs and have to crash at her place.”

“Ok, first thing: If I recall correctly we did play pool. Number two: I offered to drive you home and then carry you up the stairs. And number three: I crashed here because I wanted to make sure you were ok. I didn’t feel right leaving you drunk and alone.” He seemingly and very purposefully left out the part where you practically begged him to stay in your bed. And you are grateful for that. The levels of empathy and generosity radiating from this man are astronomical. After getting through the exterior of anxiety and doubt, there is a big old softy in there.

“Well, thanks for doing all that. You didn’t have to.” You shyly offer.

“I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I didn’t make sure you were taken care of.” You look up and share a small smile with him. Seemingly meeting your embarrassment and his kindness in the middle. But your head is still pounding as you wince at the light coming through the door. As if he could read your mind, Bob closes the blinds to your bedroom alleviating the pain slightly. “Let’s get you back to bed.” You blindly take his arm as he leads you to your bed once more, allowing you to get situated before he comes back. The bed dips as he sits next to you, “Fair warning, I’m gonna place this rag on your forehead, ok?”

“Ok”, you whisper. Bob gingerly smooths the cool rag over your head and places the glass of water on your nightstand.

“Now that I know you haven’t died during the night-”

“How can you be so sure? It doesn’t feel that way”, he lets out a small huff of laughter.

“Because you still have the ability to be a smartass. It’ll be a cold day in Hell when you don’t have a quick comeback.” You smile at his use of the word ‘smartass’. You want to take it with a grain of salt, but hope it means he’s more comfortable around you to finally swear.

“Robert, such language.”

“I know I know, just don’t tell my mama.” You open your eyes a crack at the use of his southern drawl, smiling. He’s smiling right back at you, breaking the contact finally as he clears his throat. “Anyway, I’ve gotta get home to Sylvia. But I’ll be back later if you’re feeling better to go grab your car.” You reach out to grab the nearest thing to you, which happens to be his hand.

“Bob, I didn’t even think about my car. I am so sorry. I’ll just walk over there-”

“Hey it’s fine”, he squeezes your hand, “I only live about 10 minutes away, it’s not that big a deal.”

“After this you better be able to call me your friend. You took care of me while I was drunk and held my hair back as I puked. That’s as close as two people can be.” He smiles at your tired words. Of course he wanted to be your friend. He wanted to be more, but he would take anything you were willing to give him. And therefore what the Navy would allow. But he shouldn’t get ahead of himself. It still baffled him why you would want to talk to him in the first place, but here you are. Bonding over the fact that he took care of you. It wasn’t even a question in his mind, he was always going to make sure you were ok.

“Of course you’re my friend”, taking a look down at your still connected hands he realizes all the compromising positions he’s put you in during the last 12 hours. Deciding this is still too intimate for friends, he slips his hand out of yours and stands. “I’ll be back later if you’re feeling up to it.”

“If you insist.” Bob grabs his pants from their folded position on your dresser as well as his phone, looking back to you for one last glance.

“Oh I do.” He taps the door frame, “Get some sleep.” Your eyes slip shut as you succumb to a sleep you would classify as coma-like. You don’t even hear the front door close, Bob being mindful and shutting it as quietly as possible so as not to disturb your headache further.

Bob couldn’t help the smile that crept on his face the entire drive back to his place. You wanted him to be your friend. You wanted to spend time with him. And more importantly, he would be seeing you again later. He didn’t even care he saw you throw up this morning, he still thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Not to mention you were funny as hell and strong-willed. You didn’t back down when Rooster had confronted you, and you ended up beating him in pool, drunk. Thinking of how amazing you are had the smile slipping from his face. What exactly did you see in him? Even just as a friend, what could he have to offer you?

He all too soon pulls up to his driveway, noticing Phoenix’s car waiting for him. He furrows his brow, she never said she was coming over. He makes his way to the front door, unlocking it and walking in. He’s greeted by the sound of paws on the hardwood floor running towards him. Sylvia stretches her back legs jumping up on his chest.

“Hey girl!”He greets her with head scratches, gently resting her front back on the floor. Hearing him enter, Phoenix frantically rounds the corner and lets out a sigh of relief.

“Oh thank god. Where the hell have you been?!” She looks him up and down once, face contorting in confusion, “And who the hell’s pants are you wearing?”

“I crashed with Mantis, she was pretty drunk and I didn’t feel right leaving her alone. Why are you here?”

“Because you haven’t answered your phone all night or this morning! I was worried about you.” Bob grabs his phone from out of the pocket of your pants, realizing he left it on do not disturb. There in all their glory are the missed text messages and calls from Phoenix.

“I’m sorry, I put my phone on silent so it wouldn’t wake Mantis up.” Phoenix smiles softly at the notion, but furrows her brow once more.

“Wait, where exactly did you sleep?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you were afraid of your phone going off and waking her up that means you were pretty close.” Bob looks away and rubs the back of his neck. “Bob, answer the question.” The way she squints her dark eyes at him makes him realize she isn’t messing around.

“I was in her room.”

“Did you sleep on the floor?”

“No” He responds quietly, hoping she didn’t hear it. By the way her eyes widen and mouth drops he knows she did.

“BOB!” He quickly holds his hands up in surrender, attempting to clarify the situation.

“I only did because she didn’t want me to leave! I stayed on my side the entire time and I promise you nothing happened.” She huffs out a sigh.

“If Mav finds out you were in his house, in his daughter’s bed-” Bob’s face reddens at her implications.

“Phoenix! Oh my god! You’re making it sound like something it definitely wasn’t”, he rubs his face in his hands avoiding her gaze.

“All I’m saying is, you are literally in her pants right now.” He continues to hide in his hands while Phoenix snickers at her own joke.

“You should go.”

“Oh come on, you’re the one in her clothes! But if it’s making you uncomfortable I’ll stop.” He peeks through his fingers and realizes she’s being sincere. She hears a muffled “thank you” from him as she makes her way to the door. “Good to know you’re alive. We still on for brunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah I’ll be there”, Bob mumbles out, still embarrassed.

“Good, Rachel’s really excited to meet you.” Bob finally looks at Phoenix and smiles, noticing the love-stricken look on her face.

“Well I’m excited to meet her, too.” Rachel and Phoenix have been going out for three months, Phoenix only now taking the initiative to introduce her to her friends. Not wanting to scare her off by bringing her by the Hard Deck. Last night only solidified that she was making the right choice in not doing so.

“See ya later!” she calls out, shutting the door behind her. Leaving Bob alone with Sylvia, he bends down and gives her all the attention she deserves. He takes her head in both his hands and scratches her ears.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here last night”, he says in the baby voice reserved only for her, “Daddy had to go take care of someone. I know, I know. Maybe you’ll meet her someday.” She cocks her head to the side. “But don’t get too attached, that’s gotta be my problem and mine alone.”

True to his word, after texting to make sure you were feeling ok, Bob came over to retrieve your car. After getting a few more hours of sleep and almost throwing up a couple more times, you were able to shower and down a few glasses of water. Then miraculously you put on some clothes and were attempting to do your hair as the doorbell rang. As fast as your legs let you, you cautiously walked down the stairs to open the door. Even with the pills you took earlier this morning, you were still feeling lightheaded. Not even attempting to eat anything after Bob had watched you at your not-so-finest moment.

You open the door and there’s Bob in all his coiffed hair and wire frames glory. Sporting another t-shirt that wraps perfectly around his biceps as well as jeans that hug his legs just right. You really wish you were a pair of jeans right now. You barely even notice he’s holding your neatly folded sweatpants until he holds them out for you to take.

“I washed these for you, thanks for letting me borrow ‘em.” You graciously take them, taken aback by his thoughtfulness. You really shouldn’t be surprised anymore.

“Thanks Bob, you really didn’t have to do that.” He simply shrugs and puts his hands in his pockets, straining his forearms.

“It’s really no problem. How are you feeling?” You move to take the pants back to your bedroom, answering him while climbing the stairs.

“I’m alright, definitely better than this morning, thanks to you.” You return downstairs and find Bob admiring the framed pictures on the walls. Some of you and your dad, some of just you. And of course some of Bradley with his family. He picks up a frame of you, Bradley, and Carole. You were only 10, and didn’t know it at the time, but it was one of the last summers you’d spend with the Bradshaws. “Oh god, don’t look at that.” It was meant to be playful, but scared Bob nonetheless.

“Sorry.”

“No I’m sorry, I don’t want to subject you to pre-pubescent me.” He smiles softly and looks back at the picture in his hands. You’re sporting a great toothy smile and hugging Carole while she sticks out her tongue and Bradley gives you bunny-ears with his fingers. Bob doesn’t think he’s ever seen you smile that wide since he’s met you.

“You look so happy” He watches as you reminisce, your eyes softening while your finger runs over the woman’s face. You don’t look a thing like her, but he notices the similarities in Bradley.

“I was”, you say simply. You clear your throat, breaking the both of you out of the moment. “So, you ready to finally get rid of me?” He lets out a small laugh through his nose. That statement could not be farther from the truth. Bob opens his passenger door for you, almost reaching to help you up, but pulling his hand back before it lands at your waist.

“Good to know it wasn’t my truck that was the problem.” You scoff at him as he slides into his seat, pulling his seatbelt on as you do the same.

“I happen to like your truck Robert, just not so much when I can barely feel my legs beneath me.”

“Glad to hear it.” You both smile at each other until he tears his eyes away to the road to get going. The radio begins to fill the silence with its humming, guitar filling the cab of Bob’s truck. His hands start to sweat as he looks over at you, your eyes closed as your head falls back to the headrest. “How’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints yet”, you mumble. Bob chokes on his spit, eyes widening. Did he hear you correctly?

“What?”, he asks quickly. Your eyes mirror Bob’s as you look over at him, his gaze narrowly avoiding yours as his face heats up. You slap your hand over your mouth, forgetting whose presence you were in.

“Oh my god”, you say behind your hand, taking it away only to rest it in between the two of you. “I am so sorry, it’s a reflex response at this point! Phoenix showed me the Elvira movie while in school and it’s just something we say now.” You start to laugh nervously, hoping to dissipate some of the awkward tension you created. His facade cracks as your nervous giggle continues, he begins to break into a full hearted laugh while your giggle turns into something akin to his. “Bob”, you say as your laughter dies down, “If we’re going to be friends you’re going to have to get used to stupid crap like that.” His smile grows a bit wider, as he imagines himself laughing like this with you more often.

“I could get used to that.”

“Good”, you say, resting your head once again. Trying not to stifle another smile that threatens to take over your face.

“But seriously, how are you feeling?” You let out a large sigh.

“Oh you know, drugs can only do so much.” He knows you’re not letting on to how bad you’re actually feeling as your eyes remain closed.

“Have you had anything to eat today?”

“Oh god no, you were there this morning. I haven’t even dared to try to keep anything down.”

“Well that’s why your head still hurts. You need to absorb the lingering alcohol with some carbs. I know just the place.”

“Ya know I usually have dinner with someone before they sleep over, not the other way around.” Bob’s face still reddens at your remark, but this time he doesn’t shy away from laughing first.

“You know me, always breakin’ the rules.”

Bob pulls off into the parking lot of a small diner, one that had not seen any renovations since at least the 80s. You’re out of your side before he has a chance to open your door. He’s kind of glad you don’t give him the option. He wants to be a gentleman, but doesn’t want to toe the line between friends and something else. He does open the door for you and lets the hostess know it’s just the two of you before getting seated in a small booth close to the back.

You both begin to look over the menu before you speak up, “So, what do you recommend?” He glances up from over his menu before reaching over and pointing at yours. You can’t help but notice the veins bulging out of his hands and forearm as he does so. You keep reminding yourself that friends aren’t supposed to think of each other this way but you just can’t stop yourself from remembering how his hands felt on you. The drag of his long fingers over your arm, and the way his hands gripped your hips-

“They serve breakfast all day, and make a mean biscuits and gravy. But you can’t go wrong with a burger and fries.” Your stomach lurches at the thought and Bob must notice the grimace on your face. “Or, if you’re not feeling up for something that big, they do have good soups. But mama always said that the best cure for a hangover was some nice greasy food.” You smile at the slip of his accent.

“Well, if your mama says so.” His hand retreats as his lips curl up at your mirroring of his accent. The waitress comes over to take your orders, and at his mama’s advice you order a burger and fries. She leaves with the menus as you turn your attention back to Bob. “So, where ya from Bob?”

“I shoulda seen this coming”, he starts to fidget with his hands, drawing your attention back to the long digits.

“What do you mean?”, you respond coyly, feigning ignorance.

“Oh come on, I say ‘mama’ one too many times and people start asking where the twang comes from.”

“Well?”

“If you must know, I’m from West Virginia. Born and raised.” You raise your brows.

“No shit.”

“What?”

“It’s just that I spent every summer with my dad in Virginia. We’ve been next door neighbors this entire time.” Bob allows a slight smile to take over his face, entertained by your excitement.

“Where’d you spend the rest of the year?” It’s your turn to tear your eyes away from him. You try not to let the thought of your mom and her family affect you, but it’s obviously no use.

“With my mom, in Ohio.” Regardless of the fact that Ohio is also a neighbor to West Virginia, you brought up the time with your dad instead. Before he’s able to ask any follow up questions, the waitress comes by with your food, dropping the heaping portions in front of you. You hesitantly take a bite, but instantly melt into it as the first taste hits your tongue. “Shit, that’s good stuff.”

“What’d I tell ya?”, you smile at him through a mouth full of burger while he takes a bite. Opting to slow your roll before you upchuck anything else today, you set your food down and take a drink of your water. “So, your family’s still in West Virginia?” Bob gently sets his burger down and gives you his full attention.

“Yeah, I got an older brother and a younger sister. As well as my mom and dad. They live back on my family’s ranch.”

“So you are full-heartedly a John Denver country boy”, Bob laughs and stares down at his plate.

“I guess I am.”

“So how’d you end up in the Navy then? Assuming your family wanted you to work on the ranch.”

“They just wanted the best for me. One day I picked up a book in the library about planes and I was hooked. Then a Naval recruiter showed up to our high school and told me about the aviation program and here we are.”

“Here we are.” You share eye contact for a quick beat, both smiles growing slowly on your faces once more. You can’t help but feel a little jealous of his family. Both parents just wanting the best for their kids, supporting them no matter what. “I bet your mom’s the kind of person to have a sticker on her car saying ‘Proud Navy Mom’”. He bites his lip to stifle a large grin and you know you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“I plead the fifth.” You break out into a small laugh while Bob admires your smile. He wants to know more about your family but is hesitant to bring up the subject. He decides to go for it anyway, hoping to get to know you a little better than surface level. “I already know about your dad, but I’m assuming your mom wasn’t too thrilled when you joined?” Your hand stops mid-air from bringing the ketchup covered fry to your mouth. You place it back on the plate and dust your hands off on your jeans avoiding Bob’s gaze.

“Uh, no. No she wasn’t. There’s a reason I didn’t tell either of my parents I was going to the Academy, my dad didn’t even know until I sent him a graduation announcement.” Bob’s brow practically raises to his hairline.

“Really, not even your dad?”

“No”, you say shaking your head, “After everything that happened with Bradley I didn’t want to risk him pulling the same bullshit.” “What exactly happened between you and Rooster?” You shake your head again, looking at him this time.

“You don’t wanna hear that.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.” Your eyes latch on to his, the sincerity oozing off of him.

“Well, he was like a brother to me. Closest thing I’ve ever had to one, excluding the step-siblings who couldn’t give less of a shit about my existence if they tried. And after my dad pulled his papers to the Academy I never heard from him again. I tried reaching out, and every year I still sent him a text for his birthday. But he never responded.” You swallow and look away from Bob, debating whether or not you’d tell him the whole truth. “And then when I needed him the most he still didn’t pick up. I even left him a voicemail hoping he’d hear it and after six years he’d respond. But nothing. After his mom died, I thought he’d need us more than ever. Turns out he was angry enough to never speak to us again.” You look back at Bob, bringing you down to earth once more. “That was, until this mission. It took them almost dying to get back to each other. That and one weekend in the middle of nowhere, God knows what they talked about.” Bob waits patiently, noticing you struggling to find the words to continue. He continues to nod and stare at you. Not in a pitiful way, but in a way that he wants to understand where you come from. “And I guess I’m still mad at him because both him and my dad got closure. I didn’t. I’m not going to apologize for something my dad did, and I guess Rooster doesn’t think he has anything to apologize for. And now they’re off playing catch-up, and I’m… still here. Not that right here is a bad thing, I’m glad to have your company.”

Bob’s eyes go from understanding to confusion. “If he made up with your dad, that still doesn’t explain why Rooster’s being- “A dickhead?” You cut him off. There’s a small fire behind his eyes now, a look you have never seen on Bob until this point.

“Yeah.” You shrug, going back to your fries.

“I dunno, I’m no psychologist but I think it has something to do with the fact that I started all the smart comments and he’s just getting back at me. Still, I’m angry at him for good reason. I don’t know what his is.” You go back to your food, hoping Bob will notice your want to shift the gears of where this conversation has gone. “But now that you know my tragic backstory, I’m gonna have to kill you.” Catching the way you dissolve into humor, Bob’s face softens as he takes your hand across the table, he seems to be doing that a lot in the past week. You’re not mad about it, not at all. Just.. perplexed. How could you go from barely talking to this man, to sharing some of your darkest secrets with him all within the span of six days?

“Hey”, he brings your attention back to his face rather than your smaller hand in his. His brow turned up in the middle, conveying empathy in the highest degree. “I’m sorry you have to deal with all that, especially by yourself. And you know what, Rooster sounds like a total-” He stops to find the word he’s looking for, you look on waiting to let him see what he comes up with “asshole”, he finishes for himself. Your eyes widen as you take in his words, and that’s when you feel him squeeze your hand in his much larger one. The same hand that traced your arm this morning when he fell asleep next to you, the same one that lifted you up all those stairs, helped you into his car, the same one that pulled you off the ground after your failed exercise, and the same one that is now reassuring you that everything is going to be ok. He can’t know for certain, but for right now everything is better than ok while he holds your hand in his.

You want to tell him how safe he makes you feel, how you want to tell him more about yourself. Something you always had a hard time doing. You squeeze his hand right back and gaze into his ocean-blue eyes. You get lost in them before you’re able to seemingly find the words you’re looking for. They’re in your heart, but you can’t get them to your brain and out of your mouth. You open your mouth to speak, but before you’re able to get anything resembling a ‘thank you’ out, you hear your name being called.

Your head turns in the direction of the voice, as both you and Bob immediately retract your hands from each other. You’re met with Penny and Amelia walking toward the booth you and Bob are seated in. Your heartbeat is racing as you blink rapidly, you barely manage to speak, “Penny, hi!” You glance back at Bob as he rubs the back of his neck, avoiding any eye contact. Why are you so nervous? It’s not like you were doing anything wrong. You were just holding hands across the table with your newly coworker turned friend and getting lost in his gorgeous eyes. Absolutely nothing wrong with that.

“Hey, good to see you made it out of the parking lot alright last night”, Penny remarks as she and Amelia stand before your table. “Not that I had any room for doubt when Bob was the one making sure you got home safe.”

“Right, yeah he made sure I was ok.” You feel a flush take over your face at the prospect of anyone finding out Bob was in your bed last night. Especially your dad’s girlfriend and her daughter. But you know you didn’t do anything wrong, friends share beds all the time. It was purely platonic. “I’m sorry for last night though, won’t happen again.”

She waves her hand, “Don’t even worry about it. You had a little too much to drink in a bar, it happens all the time.” Amelia scoffs at this.

“I heard she got absolutely hammered-”

“Amelia!”Penny scolds her. Bob turns to face the wall, attempting to hide his laugh as you lightly kick his foot. “Anyway, what brings you two here?”

“Oh you know, just pulled off on the way to grab my car. Bob mentioned they have great burgers.” You give him a sly smile, as if it was your own little secret they were the perfect hangover cure.

“That’s exactly why Amelia and I are here. Just having a little date before the bar opens later.” You force a smile as you feel Bob’s gaze on the side of your face. That jealous feeling crawls back up your throat again as you look at the mother-daughter duo. “I thought you would have left already though?” Your brows furrow, breaking you out of your trance.

“Left? For what?”

“Rooster stopped by earlier to grab something for your dad, he was heading out to his hangar earlier today. I assumed you were going with him.” You clear your throat and stare at your hands, twiddling with your thumbs to distract yourself. Your heart drops as you realize, once again, you’ve been left out.

“Um, no. I wasn’t invited.” Screw Rooster, and you know what, screw your dad, too.

“Oh, well. You are always welcome to come over if you ever need or want to.” She seems surprised at the actions of her boyfriend. You make yourself look up at her, plastering on a small smile.

“I know, thanks Penny.”

“We’ll leave you two be. Good to see you both!”

“You, too.” Bob waves at them as you look at your plate, suddenly feeling nauseous again. Your throat starts to tense up as you reach for your water. You are almost 30 for heaven's sake, you should not be jealous of Rooster and your dad. And you sure as hell aren’t going to cry over it.

“Hey-”, Bob starts but is interrupted by the waitress dropping by with the check. You pick it up immediately before Bob can reach for it. “Hey no, let me get that.” You place the check on the seat next to you as you rifle through your purse to grab your card.

“Nope, after everything you did for me last night and today I am not letting you pay.” He goes to open his mouth and you stare directly at him, “Don’t even try Bob.” Sensing the determination in your eyes and voice, he reluctantly allows you to pay.

“That’s alright, I’ll just grab the next one.” You look away as the waitress grabs the bill from you, and surprise coats your features.

“You wanna hang out again? Even after everything that happened in the past 24 hours?”

“Especially after everything. I can’t go back to being just your co-worker after seeing you vomit.” A nervous smile makes its way to his face as a more real one replaces yours.

“You’re right, we’re friends now. And I can promise you there will be less vomit next time.”

“Can’t wait.”

After getting your card back, you and Bob make your way back to his truck and head off to the Hard Deck. You spot your lone car in the back, only a couple employee cars litter the front row. Bob pulls up right next to your car, hopping out and making sure you have everything before you leave. He even goes so far as to open your door for you as you roll your window down to say goodbye.

“Well, I guess this is me.”

“I guess it is.” He rests his hands on the open window as you grab one final look at him. You rest your elbow in between his hands, admiring his veins. Trying not to imagine tracing over them with your fingers.

“You better not ghost me at work on Monday.” You scold him. He laughs through his nose and looks down.

“I promise I won’t.”

“I’m holding you to that, Floyd. And thanks again, for everything.” He taps his fingers a couple times before leaning away.

“I trust you will, Mitchell. Drive safe.” You bid him goodbye, taking a deep breath, trying no to process everything that happened today while driving. Saving all your feelings for when you’re home alone, in the privacy of your room. The only four walls you feel safe to cry in.

Bob watches you slowly drive to the edge of the parking lot. He would have never guessed so many things that he learned about you today. The way you looked at Penny and Amelia deeply saddened him. The fact that Rooster is still being an asshole after he didn’t speak to you for 16 years angered him. After you shared that with him, he wanted to do everything in his power to make you happy. It’s obvious you’re good at putting on a mask, but Bob is good at noticing the little things. How great you are at faking happiness being one of them. And then there’s the fact that after today you’re going home to an empty house because your dad and Rooster made plans without you, yet again.

Before he fully knows what he’s doing, his feet start moving toward your car, hoping to catch you before you leave the parking lot. It must have been the fastest he’s ever run, possibly even faster than when his older brother, Tom, chased him with a handful of cow poop. You must notice him in your rear view, as you stop and poke your head out the window.

“Is everything ok?”, you ask, concern lacing your features. Bob’s out of breath as he gets to your window, once again resting his hands in your car. And he’s still out of breath as he asks his question.

“Do you wanna get brunch tomorrow?”

Taglist:

@lemmons1998

#bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #mavdad #robert bob floyd x female reader #top gun fandom #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #mitchell!reader #bob x mantis

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twilightmalachite · 10 days

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Animage June 2024 Issue: Interviews with the New Face Idols!

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofreader: 310mc

Esu Sagiri

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. "Resilient!" perhaps? No matter the adversity, I keep moving straight towards my goal! A skill acquired from my adventures around the world, maybe? Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Definitely has to be "The adventure begins", isn't that riiiiight! I gotta say it else the adventure won’t begin! ☆ Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. My favorite motto is “There’s no time like the present”! You feel way more alive when you actually do the thing rather than think, right!? Yeah, I’m sure of it! Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Lately, I’ve been super into making my own mixes of drinks at the drink bar to make new exciting flavors!!! Well, it fails more often than not, though! Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. Ah~, that he has somewhat of a dazzling aura, like an idol? Something like that? Maybe? But well, when I talked to him, I feel like he was much more like a normal person than I thought! Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Ease of movement comes first! I keep up on social media to see the latest trends too, but I’d like to ask everyone to see what kind of clothes you think look good on me! Tell me what you think! Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. Ah~, well, I was kinda on a vacation for a very long time already? But, I wanna go on BIG adventures like sailing a grand voyage on a yacht, conquering the five continents, or exploring the depths of the ocean in a submarine! Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. 4piece begins at last! I don’t have a clue what will happen in the slightest, but I, the symbol of energy Sagiri Esu, will do my very best! I hope for your support I am a man able to show his true spirit when the time calls for it…! Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. This was my first time being interviewed as an idol! Did you get to learn about me a little bit? Hehe, I’m looking forward to seeing you all on stage soon! I’d be happy if you could support me loads!!!

Ibuki Taki

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. Hmmm, I’m often told that I‘m “easygoing” and do things at my own pace”~? ‘Cause I don’t worry about the details and just do what I want~ Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Nyahaha, nothing really comes to mind~? I feel maybe I’m often saying “I’ll sue you~” a lot, but that might just come from my American upbringing~? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. “Tomorrow will take care of itself”~.[1] Rather than worrying about the future, I let what happens happen and deal with things as they come~♪ Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. I’ve started studying composition lately~. I started out with making a simple song that I can sing while playing the guitar, and I’d like to be able to show it off it somewhere eventually~♪ Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. When he first came up to me, I thought he was someone suspicious and nearly fought him off~. Nyahahaha, well, he’s a lively and bright person~? Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Hmm… Well I choose based off of intuition~? I’m not all that interested in fashion, so honestly, I don’t really care ‘bout what I wear~, yeah~? Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. I’d like to spend my time taking it slow and easy, wandering around town, relaxing by the seaside, and such~♪ Soak up some sunlight, enjoy a nice steak... Nyahaha, now I feel like taking some time off~! Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. Well, 4piece is an audition shrouded in mystery~? I was invited all the way here from America, though, so now that I’m here, I’m gonna make sure to leave my claw marks in the soil~! Don’t underestimate my ability, m’kay~? Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. My name is Taki Ibuki! Born in Okinawa, raised in America~♪ I’ll prove you my worth, so keep your eyes on me, okay~! Nyahaha, if you support me, something good might happen, you know~?

Kanna Natsu

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. Hmm, perhaps it would be “bother-free”.[2] I can typically resolve things if I use my head, but it gets bothersome to spend effort on things of negligible importance. Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. “What a bother”. —Ahh, I’m not saying that this is a bothersome question to answer, just that it is likely something I often say. Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. “Be self-reliant”… Maybe. It is troublesome to rely on others. I wish to think for myself and act accordingly to my own beliefs. Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. There’s been a craze for developing new community tools recently. Set phrases like “So true” and “You know it”... They are fixed phrases anyone can use to communicate with each other. Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. In one word, it would be “flashy”, perhaps. I was a little surprised when we first met, since he kept on talking without any consideration of me. Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. I select them based on functionality and fabric durability. And for the design as simple and unobtrusive as possible, so as to avoid attracting any attention. Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. I would like to immerse myself in research. I have an idea that I have been building for quite a long time, so I would like to give it a form and create a new invention. The nature of this invention is still a secret. Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. I am still an ignorant, inexperienced child. I hope that through 4piece, I will be able to thoroughly determine the path I am to take as an idol, and achieve results that exceed expectations. Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. Nice to meet you, my name is Natsu Kanna. Some of you might already know of me, but do please watch over me and see what kind of idol I will become in the future. I promise that you will not be disappointed; I am up to this challenge.

Fuyume Hanamura

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. Yume’s personality is difficult to express in one word. “Cute”, “devoted”, “kind”, “dedicated”… No matter how hard Yume thinks, Yume can’t pick just one…♪ Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Yume doesn’t particularly have any catchphrases. If anyone notices Yume has a catchphrase, could you please let Yume know? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. Yume’s favorite motto is “have both the looks and the substance”… Yume wishes to become someone who not only appears outstanding, but is outstanding on the inside too. There are still things that are difficult for Yume, but Yume is doing Yume’s best♪ Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Yume’s been super into the anime that is dominating this season. The heroine’s outfit is so cute, so Yume’s currently going around lots of craft stores so Yume can make a cosplay that recreates it perfectly. Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. That he was tall and cool, but not Yume’s type. But, he’s a good person, isn’t he? Yume can introduce you to him…♪ Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Yume uses trial and error to find a match for Yume’s personal style and body type. All the clothes Yume wears were made by Yume, so they are custom made and the only to exist in the world! Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. Yume would like to spend Yume’s time with Esu♪ Go to a new cafe and eat cake, or go watch a movie... Yume hasn't had much of a chance to go together with him lately, so Yume’s a little lonely. Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. Ahh, 4piece, huh… Yume decided to participate so Yume could spend more time with Esu, but Yume still doesn’t really know what the program is about. But, Yume would like to show everyone Yume’s world of dreams…♪ Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. Was everyone able to learn more about Yume now? Yume would be happy if you could take Yume to a sparkling world, like a princess in a fairy tale. Everyone’s cooperation will be needed in order to achieve that, right? Thank you, for all your support...♪

Raika Hojo

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. My personality? Hmm, I’m often called “innocent”! I can’t really figure out what about me is so “innocent”, though…? Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. I’m told a lot that the stuff I say, or more like, the way I speak is a lil’ strange... But, but, I’ve always thought it was normal, huh~ huuuh~...? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. What my favorite motto is? Hmmm, I’ll go with “stealin’ is bad”! ‘Cuz I was told off about it a lot at the facility, and was told to memorize it by writin’ it over on paper. Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Eheehee, I’ve been real into “pizza-manjuu”, which I learned about recently! The fluffy dough and the gooey cheese that comes out from the bun makes me feel happy...♪ Q5. What was your first impression of Nice? A5. Hmmm, my first impression… I’m sorry, I’m a birdbrain so I don’t remember much of anythin’…! I’ll let you know if I remember anythin’, but, he’s a kind guy who will talk to me! Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Anythin’ that’s easy to move in and feels good against the skin...♪ Maybe I should be more conscious of my clothes ‘cuz I’m gonna become an idol, but I dunno what I gotta do...! Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. I came from the countryside, but there’s someone I’ve always looked up to. And I’ve heard of somewhere where I could meet them. That’s where I’d like to go! Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. For someone like me who likes singin’, 4piece is a big event! The thought that this is my first step in becomin’ an idol is real exciting to me…♪ I’ll be makin’ every effort not to be outdone by the other competitors! Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. I never thought there'd be a day where I get to be interviewed like this! I’ll become an idol that will be recognized by everyone, and deliver many songs to you all! Please look forward to them…♪

Nice Arneb Thunder

Q1. In one word, how would you describe your personality? A1. “Sociable”, I’d say. I feel the dialogue you have with someone in conversation is important; it allows for the possibility to get an idea of what their personality is and what it is they keep to themselves. Q2. What’s something you often say? A2. Of course, it would have to be “Nice”! Hehe, quite a nice catchphrase, isn’t it? Q3. Tell me your favorite motto! A3. “Never lose infinite hope”.[3] No matter what hardship you may face, if you give up there, nothing will remain. I wish to cherish the “hope” that is within me. Q4. What's your latest craze? A4. Hm, lately, or rather for the past couple years, my craze has been rice curry! A balance of spices, with a little secret ingredient… Just a little ingenuity reveals the chef’s thinking. Sometimes I cook it for myself, too♪ Q5. What do you expect from these five idols? A5. These are promising new faces I’ve encountered in all sorts of places! I invited them to participate in 4piece because of something nice and sparkly I saw within them, and I greatly look forward to seeing what kind of brilliance they will show us! Q6. What do you keep in mind when choosing personal clothing? A6. Oh yes, I make sure to consider time, place, and occasion to dress appropriately for work and my private life. My suit for the program? Ahh, very nice, isn’t it? I aimed to make an impact with it. Q7. How would you like to spend long vacations (like summer vacation)? A7. Unfortunately, I haven’t taken a long vacation for quite a while… I suppose it would be nice to watch a live as an ordinary fan once in a while. Do you have any recommendations for live shows to go to? Q8. What are you enthusiastic about for 4piece? A8. This unprecedented audition is being held at long last! As the chief executive, I vow to draw out the brilliance of these idols and show you a world you have never seen before! Q9. Any message for our readers? A9. Hehe, nice to meet you. This is Nice Arneb Thunder! I’m sure many of you kids are anticipating what kind of program 4piece will be! Let us follow the lives of these idols and witness their brilliance, together! I look forward to spending time with you all!

Translation Notes:

This saying in Japanese is "明日()は明日()の風()が吹()く", "tomorrow, the winds of tomorrow will blow", which includes a kanji from his first name, 維吹 (Ibuki).

The word he uses here is 面倒くさがり, which more accurately means "someone who tends to find things bothersome", but I tried to make it into a single word to fit with the question prompt.

This is actually part of a quote by Martin Luther King Jr., "We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."

#4piece #magazine #interview #character interview #raika hojo #esu sagiri #nice arneb thunder #ibuki taki #fuyume hanamura #kanna natsu

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imaginesbymk · 1 year

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— THE PACIFIC PREFERENCE

WHEN THEY FIND OUT YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON THEM

Characters: Eugene Sledge, Snafu Shelton, Bob Leckie, Sidney Phillips, Hoosier Smith, Hillbilly Jones + Captain “Ack-Ack” Haldane

Tags: —

A/N: *sighs* men. let me know if you guys want a part 2 with other characters from the pacific (e.g. john basilone, burgin, jay de l’eau, bill leyden, runner, chuckler etc)!!! pls enjoy and leave a like/reblog/feedback <33 ^.^ // [ko-fi] [commissions] / this was inspired by my love @littlemissvincentvega from this post <3

EUGENE SLEDGE “SLEDGEHAMMER” —

He’s flustered, but he doesn’t do anything about it. Eugene’s frail and bookish, so he’s too shy to pursue you.

Whenever you walk past him, he has to get a good look of you, maybe just a crumb of your face, before keeping his head down.

Sid would tease him and never let it go.

“Give me a break, you ol’ greaser—”

“Hey, I’m just sayin’. The missus needs a friend!”

and Snafu would just make remarks about you, much to Eugene’s annoyance and a sense of motivation to make a move before someone else does.

Eugene is confident that he would get to ask you out some day, because he was raised to be kind and a gentleman. Time will tell.

MERRIELL “SNAFU” SHELTON —

Learning about your crush on him boosts his ego and is way too cocky about it.

“What did I tell ya? Getting to the likes of Y/N is like discovering a goldmine. I’m gonna reel them in.”

Snafu obviously bothers you during the day by flirting with you, trying to get your attention because he likes getting attention.

He doesn’t leave pleasant remarks at first, but he goes straight down to business.

“So, doll. Dinner? Movie? Picnic under the stars? How ‘bout I take you to the back of the train and you can show me your caboose? ;)”

Snafu will eventually learn to be more respectful. But at least he’s polite when he tries to talk and hang out with you more.

ROBERT “BOB” LECKIE —

This man is charming. He managed to win over Stella’s family over dinner, so he could do the same with you.

He won’t stop thinking about you. But he’ll get a bit insecure and overthink about other irrelevant things.

“I wonder what you don’t like about me?”

His friends from How Company make fun of him, reading out loud the letters you wrote to him.

He shows up to your house unexpectedly, all fresh and clean, in uniform, and he asks you out for dinner.

Deep down, he’s nervous af - he’s overthinking if it doesn’t work out if you two ever start dating.

When he takes you out you can tell he’s a nervous wreck and he doesn’t know where else to go from there, but you assure him he’s doing fine.

SIDNEY “SID” PHILLIPS —

Sid is already getting along with you, so nothing really changes when he finds out you have a crush on him. If anything, it brings the two of you closer.

He likes to talk to you about anything, and he’ll eventually bring up taking you out for dinner or a picnic under the stars.

Sid will tell you all about Eugene, life in Mobile, baseball, the rotting coconuts in Pavuvu, anything to keep you around.

“Here, y/n. How about I drop you home? I can squeeze you in on my bike!”

He’s surprised that he’s not as nervous when you two become more than friends.

Sid realizes he’s falling for you hard and it’s gonna kill him once he’s sent off to fight again.

BILL “HOOSIER” SMITH —

This cocky little shit

When Hoosier confronts you about it, he has a big smirk on his face.

“A lil’ bird told me you got your eyes on me.” (The lil’ bird in question was Chuckler.......)

He wastes NO time asking you out. And of course, you accept.

If you smoke, he offers you a cigarette from his pack.

Hoosier is a goofball and he never fails to make you laugh when you two are bonding together.

He’ll stuff cigarettes up his nostrils and once he finally takes you out, let’s say at a fancy restaurant, he’ll stuff the chopsticks up his nostrils. Anything to hear that laugh of yours.

1ST LT. EDDIE “HILLBILLY” JONES —

He’s flattered, all right.

Even from the dungarees and dirt, he’s known for having a clean, fresh and handsome appearance, according to Sledge’s book.

Hillbilly’s a gentleman. If he were to take you out sometime, he’d make you feel like there’s no other person in his life but you.

Ack-Ack pushes him to make a move. He assures him that it wouldn’t hurt to leave some room for a little bit of bonding.

“I know I’m serious when I need to be serious, but I’m a helpless disciple saved by Christ when I found out about you.”

So of course, he’s gonna come in with his guitar and play you a song to win you over.

CAPTAIN ANDREW “ACK-ACK” HALDANE —

Of course, of all people, you develop feelings for the skipper.

Since he’s a good leader who pulls everyone together during the war, you could understand why you like him. He’s also a very sweet guy.

The thing is, he already knows. You’re too shy to even confess your feelings to him in person or in letters, anonymously or not. In fact, no one even told the skipper about it and nobody needed to. He just knows. A good captain is always observant.

You two are alone for a moment, and his casual, calm and friendly tone manages to help you feel more comfortable and less nervous.

He gives you one of the blankets his dad made for everyone. He wraps it around you at night when you’re feeling cold or afraid.

#the pacific preference #the pacific x reader #hbo the pacific #the pacific #eugene sledge x reader #snafu shelton x reader #bob leckie x reader #sid phillips x reader #hoosier smith x reader #hillbilly jones x reader #ack ack x reader #reader insert #preference

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sugar-omi · 6 months

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as a black girlie i wanna ramble ab how cove would be w a black s/o

he don't know nothing bout no 2 step ‼️‼️ tried ONCE and literally fell over (don't worry baby i can't do it either)

we ardy know he loves to eat, but i think he really hankers down on some soul food. put bro in front of some collard greens, baked mac n cheese and chicken and he's SET. you seen that one tiktok of the guy on thanksgiving w his black gf and his face was all in the plate? that's cove

OMG OMG HELPS YOU DO YOUR HAIR AND DECIDE YOUR NEXT STYLE IF YOU'RE INDECISIVE LIKE ME

i could ramble more but idk if you'll relate or like... enjoy it so imma stop here ;-;

OMG YES PLEASE IVE BEEN THINKING ABT THIS TOO

I do relate on the hair front (we eat like basic trash americans over here I'm ngl 💀💀💀) but like put down anything in front of cove?? he's devouring it, he won't even ask what it is he just knows it smells good n tastes even better

IVE SEEN RHAT VIDEO YOURE TALKING ABT AGES AGO N I MEANT TO SHARE IT if I find it ill add the link

I SAW ANOTHER ONE TOO the guy had sauce all over his face n he was just eating w his hands (he had like a thing of ribs or smth w a bone so that made sense lmao)

but lkke he abandoned all civilty, man's was gonna eat n he was gonna do it EFFICIENTLY it was so sweet, he even thanked her mom like 😭😭😭

I couldn't help laughing it was too funny n so cute man's was actually in heaven

but ykw every video I've seen of someone eating soul food, they devour it omfg

i saw one woman cooking for her Korean in laws n the parents had a little bit of everything n were in awe watching her cook n they. threw. DOWN

I just know they went back home a couple pounds heavier bc that food did look good af

BUT I CONSTANTLY THINK ABT COVE DOING YOUR HAIR

now I don't have very course hair, my hair is 3B but reallyyyy thick. like my classmate even said I have more edges than people have hair, which is rlly funny

but before I cut my hair it was like down to my butt, and now that I've been able to take care of it its gotten thicker

so imagine making cove detangle and wash your hair n put in product n braid it for you.

like especially when my hair was long, I wished someone would just come do my hair bc it's such a strain on my arms

so imagine cove sitting in the bathroom or in the tub w you to help with your routine, and he's so gentle that depending on your hair type you gotta tell him to be a bit rougher bc he's not getting the job done

he's just so afraid of ruining your hair or smth pls hes very paranoid rn💀😭

better to start with him putting in your products and letting him comb out your hair once you're done w detangling n stuff like that

omg he does help take your braids out

I braided my hair into micro braids n please.... I was ready to cut at the root bc that was irritating to take out. I was combing my hair n almost snatching my head off my shoulders bc I missed a braid 🪦🪦🪦

his braids are so bad omfg.... there's definitely pieces of hair sticking out

eventually though I think he becomes so good at it and before you know it he's a braid master !!

also yeah there isn't a dancing bone in his body but ykw he's gonna learn at least one move!!!!

imma have to find it but there's this old dude that rlly buckled down on one move n that's so cove I think

yout family definitely keeps pulling him in to dance and he just cant keep up.... that's the white in him /j

#olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #black reader

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princesscolumbia · 2 months

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Ānzhuōniichuan - Chapter 2

Insomnia has been making a total mess of my ability to do things, including doing the stuff necessary to get rid of the insomnia. On the plus side, I've managed to get enough sleep this last week to recover enough to finished a chapter, so please enjoy:

Summary:

Ranma and Ryoga's journey, now with their new Chinese friend Xian Pu, takes them to a dojo in Japan.

Notes:

Been dealing with insomnia that's played merry hell on my ability to get, like, ANY writing done 'cause I'm just out of spoons before the morning is half over. Finally managed to grab a few time slices as I've been forcing myself to recover to get this written. Lost Little Wolf - The Minor Key Ch. 14, Double Isekai Ch. 10, Return to Recipient Ch. 6, And at This Point I'm Afraid to Ask Ch. 5, Deviation Ch. 9, Lost in the Dark Pt. 1 Ch. 2, Fission Ch. 10 Pt 2, and a few unpublished works are still on deck and work will continue...even if a bit slowly.

Preview below the cut:

Akane sat on her heels in the way that her friend Sayuri had marveled at since they were in elementary school together, feet flat on the ground, her knees up against her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, and chin resting on the little nook between her kneecaps. She was watching Ranma as the (currently) girl sat cross-legged in front of the family shrine. Ranma's eyes seemed to drift back to the largest picture on the shrine quite regularly; Akane's mother. Tears formed a track down the redhead's cheeks, and Akane had to admit that this part-time girl looked very cute and (dare she say it?) huggable. Akane was doing everything she could to fight the impulse to wrap her arms around Ranma and just hold her until the crying stopped.

"...stupid pops..." Ranma sniffled for probably the twentieth time since they'd come out here.

"Ranma..." Akane ventured, "Why did you turn yourself into a girl?"

Ranma blinked the most recent tears out of her eyes and turned to Akane, seeming like she was waking up from a daydream. "Huh? Oh..." she wiped the tracks off her face and said, "Didn't wanna cry as a guy. Aint manly."

Akane snorted, "'Manly'? What's being a man got to do with it?"

Ranma took a deep breath, "Nothin' really, just..." she wiped at her eyes again, "...pops just always kept hammerin' on me 'bout bein' 'manly,' and I thought that's just how guys'r'supposed to learn how to be guys. 'A real man does this,' 'a real man acts like that'... 'course, half'a that was the same as the bullshit 'bout bein' honorable, an' he never was."

Akane settled herself into a proper sitting position, opting for cross-legged like Ranma was doing instead of the seiza that 'proper girls' were 'supposed' to do. Yeah, she could sit seiza, but sometimes cross-legged was more comfortable. "Seems like your father was a jerk," she said, trying to keep Ranma talking.

The redhead sighed, "Yeah, Ryoga and Xian are helpin' me see that and tryin' to teach me how to be, I dunno, the kinda person I want to be. Still gotta long way to go, though. Like, I still don't know what I said wrong earlier."

Akane scrunched her brow in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"When I asked if you were a glass cannon," she sighed, "I just...a glass cannon is somethin' that can pack a hell of a punch but breaks real easy. Sometimes that's just how some martial artists are, I'm just tryin' to ask a question but something I said is wrong..." Ranma went from a little bit sad to teeth-grittingly frustrated in the space of a few words, her hands suddenly bunched into fists.

Akane found herself momentarily at a loss for words, "...but...being called a 'glass cannon' is a bad thing. Like you're trying to make fun of someone for having a weak defense."

Ranma turned to look at Akane, her jaw slightly slack, "But...I'm not trying to...I just...what?!" Her bunched fists were suddenly up and scrubbing at her eyes as a stuttering sob escaped her again, "F-fucking pops!" she stammered out, "R...Ryoga thought I h-hated him 'cause I just used the same things pops did to get me to spar with him! And since w-we started travelin' t-together with Xian they..." she heaved a couple of sobbing hiccups, "They've been t-tryin' t'teach me not to be mean 'r' cruel, an' it's like everything I say is mean! I thought that's just h-how you knew someone c-cared! And...and pops taught me that!"

Akane couldn't hold back any longer. She practically threw her arms around the smaller girl, muttering the little calming phrases and making the noises that Kasumi did whenever she couldn't handle the stress of life any longer or the Hentai Horde was particularly aggressive and nobody else would listen.

The two of them sat for a while, Ranma safely curled up in Akane's arms, the taller girl gently rubbing Ranma's back to comfort her. After the tears finally petered out, Akane realized that she was feeling something she hadn't expected for someone who'd revealed they were born a boy under the fabric of the silk shirt. She paused in her up and down motion, fingertips gently probing back and forth. Before Ranma's back could tense up any further, she asked, "Ranma...is that a bra?"

The redhead let out a nervous chuckle, "Y-yeah, got it a couple days after we got back to Japan. I had...no idea that there was such a thing as a sports bra, but...it works for me an' Ryoga 'cause of the curse." They disengaged enough for Ranma to look down at her own chest, as though the shirt wasn't there, "Pull 'em on like a shirt, the band stretches when we get hit with hot water and nothin' in the cups to really stick out or be obvious when we're in guy forms." She sighed, mostly seeming to need the breath to recover from the emotional outburst, "Didn't know...pops always made it seem like women wore bras 'cause they were weak or somethin'. Xian got kinda sick o' me fightin' without wearing one an' challenged me t'wear one during a spar an'...well, I don't think I wanna go without one ever again while I'm practicin' the Art, and since everything's practice..." she shrugged.

Akane could say quite well she didn't know any boys that didn't want to do martial arts without a bra. Now that Ranma seemed to have regained some of her emotional equilibrium, they separated, both now sitting cross-legged and facing each other. "Ranma...do...um..."

Ranma, for her part, just sat and waited for Akane to get her thoughts in order.

Akane took a deep breath, "I...my sister was right, I've been...every morning I have to fight a horde of boys just to get into school. And they made it clear they're intention is to overpower me and..." she swallowed, the fear she used to fuel her anger every day welling up inside her, "...take advantage of me."

"What?!" snapped Ranma as she started from her seated position. To her credit, she seemed to come to her senses and sit back down, "...sorry," she muttered.

Akane smiled, her expression pinched from the anxiety of the morning brawls bubbling inside but grateful that she seemed to have stumbled onto someone who was just as indignant about it as she was, "Thank you, Ranma. But," she took another deep breath, "I guess I've been letting them twist how I see boys up..."

Ranma nodded, "An' if yer enemy gets inta your head, then they're the ones pickin' the battlefield."

Akane mirrored Ranma's nod, "So because I need to...overcome this weakness, I need to ask you a question and hope it's not, like, the rudest question I could possibly ask."

Ranma tilted her head in a motion that reminded Akane of nothing less than a kitten encountering an ice cube for the first time, like she had no idea what was going to happen next but curiosity was driving her to learn no matter what and damn the consequences.

Taking that as encouragement, Akane plowed ahead, "Are you a boy or a girl?" She bit her lip, suppressing her embarrassment at having even had to ask.

Ranma's gaze seemed to turn inward, "...you know, I guess I'm a little of both?" she said after a while. "I mean, before the curse, I'd've told you I was a guy, 100 percent, but a lotta that was based on what my pops said, and we both know how much of a dumbass he was. But...I mean, I like bein' a guy sometimes. I want to be taller and more muscular and have longer reach an' all that. And sometimes I just like seein'..." she blushed, "Um...what I was born with between my legs." Akane blushed at that as well, which Ranma clearly picked up on because she said her next sentence in a tumble of words, "Not, like, in a hentai way or nuthin', but just 'cause it's, you know, what I 'spect t'see. But since I got the curse, I'm...I dunno, kinda seein' lots of stuff different. Like, chocolate is different!"

"It is?!" blurted Akane.

Ranma nodded enthusiastically, "And ice cream with chocolate? Gods! No comparison! I mean, I never got the 'guys don't eat sweets' thing before, but when I'm in girl mode it's like my tongue was made for sweets! And..." she blushed, "I...kinda like lookin' cute and...pretty. And I'd kinda like t'wear a dress an' just...be a girl for a bit."

Akane found herself smiling, easily imagining taking the redhead on a shopping trip with her friends Yuka and Sayuri.

Ranma grimaced, "Aint a fan of the cramps, though."

Akane thought her eyes would pop out of her head, "...cramps...?! Like, you have a period?!"

The redhead tossed her head back and let out a melodramatic groan that lasted nearly thirty seconds before slumping down (clearly exaggeratedly) and grumping, "Apparently I'm an 'early developer,' 'cording to Xian's granny. They weren't expectin' Ryoga or me to have our periods for, like, two months or somethin' so didn't say nothin' at first 'cause Xian was already fixin' to give me an' Ryoga 'the talk.' Then 'bout a week after we got back to Japan I woke up hurtin' like crazy and Xian had t'call home 'cause she thought it was somethin' else and Elder Ku Lon just laughed her wrinkly ass off so loud I could hear it over the phone an' across the room." She straightened, "Aint..." she turned green, "Bleedin' yet, but I gotta carry a pad around just in case now."

"But...you change back and forth, right? Can't you just, I don't know, stay a guy as much as possible during it?"

Ranma curled her lips and stuck out her tongue in irritation, "That's what I asked first thing. The magic of the curse aint, like, givin' me a new body every time. It's just flippin' me back an' forth between bein' a guy and bein' a girl like I'd been one the whole time. I can stop the period with hot water, but the second I flip back to girl-mode the period picks up right where it left off. Now I gotta wear either panties or briefs no matter what 'cause boxers sure as hell don't hold a pad."

Akane paled slightly, "Oh, um, are you...? Is it...?"

Ranma shrugged, "Nah, that was last week and was short 'cause I guess it was my body's first time an' all. But it was two days and tryin' to hide that your pad's slipping fucking sucks, let me tell you."

Akane turned as scarlet as her name for a bit as she imagined being in a similar situation. Frantically trying to drown out her scattered thoughts, she asked, "So when should I think of you as a boy?"

Ranma shrugged again, "Any time I am one, I guess. Xian and Ryoga've been tellin' me to use hot or cold water whenever I'm feelin' more 'boy' or 'girl.' That's why I got the water in there," she pointed to the house, "When I was feelin' like I needed to cry. I just...don't feel much like a boy, so I changed."

"Huh...I guess you're kind of lucky like that."

The smaller girl's face scrunched in confusion, "What are you talking about? It's a curse!"

Akane held up a hand placatingly, "Yes, and it's awful that it happened to anyone, but there've been times I kinda wished I could turn into a boy to take on the horde. Not really any other time, but if I could just once take 'em on as a man I bet they'd think twice about trying again the next day."

Ranma's smile was strained but sympathetic, "I guess I can see that."

"So do you...I guess... 'switch' mentally, too?"

Ranma shook her head, but then seemed to think about it and tentatively bobbed her head in a single nod, "I didn't think I did at first, but lately if someone says 'he' or 'him' about me when I'm in girl-mode, I start lookin' around for who they're talkin' about. And a few days ago I had a cop tryin' to look me up...long story, but we'd had more'n a few times the cops tried t'put me in jail 'cause my pops used my name for his bullshit, an' I was just...tired of it and already in girl mode, so I made up the name 'Ranko,' kinda on the spot, and yesterday I was in girl-mode and Ryoga said my name...er, she said 'Ranma' three times before I realized she was talkin' to me 'cause I just kinda started thinkin' of my girl-mode as 'Ranko.'"

They were quiet for a bit, the sound of the rain muting the rest of the outside, making them feel like their entire world was just the dojo.

He...she has periods, wears a bra, thinks of herself as a girl... Akane could almost feel her worldview shifting around in her head, I mean, sure, sometimes he is a boy, but even as a boy he was treating me better than any of the boys at school...ESPECIALLY Kuno! She had no idea what this meant for her in the larger context of her life, but her family's school was all about learning and adapting and growing in spite of everything thrown at you and becoming better than everyone else because of what was thrown at you.

She came to a decision, though exactly what the conclusion was or the path to get there she couldn't say. Smiling warmly, she reached out and offered her hand to Ran...ko. "Well, then hello Ranko, I'm Akane. Would you like to be friends?"

Akane didn't really understand the phrase 'lighting up the room with a smile' until that moment when Ranma practically glowed in response to Akane's offer.

Read the whole thing on AO3

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silvfyre-writings · 4 months

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Rest well, my love (BSD Fanfic)

Hello, I bring more bramran because you will have to pry this ship from my cold dead hands. This time, a sickfic, because what pairing doesn't have at least one sickfic?

This time, we have something that's short and sweet, so I hope you all enjoy!!!

It isn’t the sun that wakes Bram, nor is it an alarm clock, but instead it is a series of sneezes that come from right beside him that drag him out of slumber and into the world of the living. He keeps his eyes closed, in hope of being able to go back to sleep, but it proves hopeless when a groan sounds, followed by a ragged cough that truly sounds retched, and that’s when Bram opens his eyes, blinking slowly. Another cough echoes throughout the room.

As his eyes adjust to the morning light, Bram shifts to look at the one making these noises, the much smaller form of Edogawa Ranpo tucked against his chest, sniffling miserably. His love’s eyes are crusted with sleep and dried tears, and Bram raises a hand to gently brush his thumb over them, wiping away the gunk without another thought. Ranpo’s nose is also bright red and runny, which explains the near constant sniffling he’s been hearing since he woke up. And accompanied by the occasional cough, it’s clear that Ranpo is very much sick.

How unfortunate.

Bram frowns. It’s not often that Ranpo falls ill—when he does, it’s usually because he was neglecting to take care of himself, or, he was caught in a storm—but whenever he does, it’s never a fun time. Whatever illness that his love contracts always seems to go out of its way to make his life a living hell, and it usually falls to Bram to take care and make sure that he doesn’t get any worse. Not that Bram minds, because when he’s ill, Ranpo becomes extremely affectionate, wanting to cling and cuddle far more than he normally does, and honestly, Bram loves it.

He loves to be relied on, to be appreciated and praised for his efforts when he spent so many years prior being used by those around him.

“Ranpo.” Bram smooths his hand down Ranpo’s cheek, watching as the other mans eyes scrunch before flicking open. It doesn’t take long for Ranpo to squeeze them shut again.

“Nngh.”

Bram continues his gentle touches. “My love, you need to let go of me.”

The response comes quick, Ranpo tightening his grip and muttering a quiet no.

“I promise to return.” Bram says, shifting his focus to Ranpo’s hair, running his fingers through, over and over, until finally, Ranpo loosens his grip and he’s able to pull away. “Thank you.”

“Come back quick, I’m cold.” Ranpo whines, sniffling pitifully as he buries himself under the blankets, disappearing from view.

Bram watches fondly for a moment before he sets off to complete his self-given task. Because of Ranpo’s frequent run-ins with sickness, Bram had to learn very quick how to handle each illness as it came—even though he rarely dealt with more than a summer cold—and now, he considers himself quite adept at it. Seldom does Ranpo complain about the way he’s tended to, and even Ranpo’s colleagues resort to calling him whenever the younger tries to power his way through the workday, and subsequently fails.

First comes the basics; a glass of water, some medicine that will take every bone in his body to convince Ranpo to take the innocent pills, and a washcloth. As he walks around the kitchen, gathering what he needs, he thinks. He’s pretty sure that whatever illness Ranpo has contracted is still in the early stages, which means that with plenty of rest and a little bit of doting, it’ll pass by in the blink of an eye. At least, that’s what Bram hopes, because seldom do these bouts go the way he hopes.

But he pushes that worry away, knowing that if he lingers on it, it’s more likely to happen.

Once he has everything he needs, Bram heads back to the bedroom, stopping by the bathroom quick to wet the cloth. He crawls back into bed, juggling everything in his hands so that he can try and coax Ranpo into revealing his face. “I have some medicine for you. And water.”

The whine is followed by a harsh cough. “’m fine.”

Bram raises an eyebrow, and tugs at the covers again. “You absolutely are not fine.”

“Am to.” Ranpo pokes his head free, looking just a little worse than when Bram had left him earlier. He doesn’t say anything though, as he coaxes Ranpo into sitting up to lean against him. Ranpo complains, as he does, and Bram shushes him quietly, wiping the sweat from his face with the damp cloth.

Ranpo leans into his touch, a content hum escapes him, and his eyes slip shut. “Feels nice…”

“That’s because you have a fever.” Bram says, give Ranpo’s face another clean before he discards the cloth. He offers up the water and the medicine. “Take these.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Ranpo.”

For a moment they stare each other down, but if there’s one thing that Bram has perfected over the time that he and Ranpo have been dating, it’s how to out-stubborn the younger, and sure enough, Ranpo looks away with a sigh, a hand rising up to take the medicine and water. It only takes him a second to down the medicine, and a few more to finish the water, and once that’s done, Bram finds himself being dragged back down.

He allows it, shifting onto his side so that he can draw Ranpo into his arms, smiling to himself when his love snuggles closer to him, tucking his head underneath his chin. Bram can feel Ranpo’s feverish forehead against his skin, an uncomfortable warmth that promises to cause problems lest he get it under control early, and soft puffs of air against his neck as Ranpo breathes softly, careening back into the sleep he was awoken from.

Which is good, because rest will help Ranpo to heal faster.

Bram helps the process along by tightening his grip, entangling one hand into Ranpo’s hair, and smoothing the other along Ranpo’s spine. Not only is it soothing to Ranpo and will help him sleep better, it’s calming to Bram as well, and already he feels ready to sleep again.

Before he does though, he makes a mental note to wake in a couple of hours and check on Ranpo’s condition.

Rest well, my love, I will take care of you.

#bungo stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bramran #bram stoker #edogawa ranpo #comfort #fluff #sickfic #writing #fanfic

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bubbleecloud · 1 year

Text

Hello! I'm here with my squealing Santa fic for @absolute-lee-12! This was a blast to write, I hope you enjoy!! Happy holidays 🌟

Stay humble

Fluffy bird! Could be either platonic or romantic!

Lee!Duck Ler!Red

~He means well, really he does. But sometimes our little feathered friend can get a little too cocky for his own good. Luckily Red knows just the thing to knock him down a few pegs~

"What are you doing? "

Red fought back an irritated sigh as he heard a familiar, rather loud voice emerge from behind him. He turned around and, as expected, he saw the delightful ray of sunshine that was his good ol' duck friend standing in the kitchen doorway. He had a rather disapproving look on his face as he observed what Red was doing at the kitchen sink.

"Well I'm just- doing the dishes-" He was cut off as Duck marched over to where he stood and shoo'd him out of the way. "Well, your doing it wrong. The plates should be stacked in colour order, not just thrown around in shambles! " With an arrogant little scoff, he began to pull the dishes out of their cabinet to sort them. Red didn't really much mind, he didn't give a monkeys uncle how the dishes were "ordered." If Duck wanted to do the chore for him, why not let him have his way.

Oh, sorry. I didn't realize-"

"No, no, it's my fault. As the man of the house, it's my job to make sure things get done right. I don't want the house to fall to ruins because of you two ruffians. I should have been paying more attention. "

Wooo. Breathe Red, breathe. Don't let it get to you so early in the morning, just let it go. Duck was always like this, anyway.

"Now, why don't you go start the television? I need to fix this mess-"

"Right. That's it, then. "

Red could not, as it seemed, just let it go. Before Duck had the chance to question what he meant, Red had wrapped his arms around him and lifted him into the air. Due to his small size, this was extremely easy for him. Although, Duck's instant thrashing and screaming did make it a tad bit challenging.

"PUT ME DOWN, THIS INSTANT, YOU HEATHEN!!! "

Not at all deterred by ducks threats in the slightest, Red started towards their living room, narrowly dodging a feathery fist aimed towards his head. "Throwing a tantrum isn't really the best way to go about this, at this point. " His voice was completely flat as he brought Duck to the couch and dropped him there.

"EXCUSE ME?! I am not throwing a-!"

He cut himself off with a rather undignified squawk as Red shot out a hand and squeezed the others side lightly. The glare Duck shot him would have sent any sane person running for the hills, but oh no, not red. He just stared right back. "You won't do this! I forbid you to touch me! I have a very good lawyer! "

"Yea yea, we all know your all talk. Bout time someone's shut you up. " Red retorted, and this time used both hands to start squeezing and scribbling at his ribs in quite the effective way. The reaction was immediate.

"NO NO NO YOU LET ME GOHO RIGHT NOHOHOW! "

Red only let out a low hum in response as he drilled his thumbs into the birds topmost ribs, fighting back a laugh at his Indignant shriek, keeping his voice monotone. "Yea, see, I don't know about that. I don't think you've learned your lesson quite yet. " There was a... Almost teasy quality to his voice. Duck growled through his laughter, although it wasn't very intimidating.

STOP IT STOHOHOHOHOP! YOHOU ARE SO DEHEHEAD! "

Red made a clicking noise with his tounge and shook his head down at the thrashing figure beneath him. "Still being like that, then? Suit yourself. " He brought his wriggling fingers down his sides and to his hip bones, where he simply rested them there in threat. "Are you going to keep being a sourpuss? Or do you wanna lighten up for a change? "

Duck crossed his arms and glared at him, albeit he looked a bit.... ruffled, now. Maybe perhaps a bit nervous. But, alas, he persisted. "I will not change my superior system of running this household at the mercy of your silly children's games. And that is final." He met reds eyes with a smug look, and red..... chuckled.

"Right, I see. Almost like you want this. Your funeral, I suppose. "

And thus, he dug in. He drilled his thumbs deep into Ducks hip bones and used his remaining fingers to scratch at his lower back. It was a killer combination that was bound to make our stubborn feathery friend crumble!

"AHAHHAH- NO! DAHAHAMN YOU!! "

"You give? "

"NEHEHEHEHEVER!"

"Okey dokey, then. "

This went on for a little longer, with ducks protests waning and his resolve slowly getting weaker. Perhaps it wouldn't kill him to, ah, be a bit more agreeable for a day at least.

"UHUHUHG! FINE! IHIHI'LL BE NICER OHOR WHATEVER! JUST- STOHOHOHOP! "

Triumphantly, Red had mercy and crossed his arms. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? " Duck took a couple deep breaths and shot him a half-hearted dirty look. "Ah, whatever. I'll get you for that later." But the mean look desolved entirely as he saw Reds outstretched hand in his line of vision. With a Huff, he took it, and Red pulled him to his feet. "Sure. Now, why don't we go do those, dishes. As a team. We can get it done faster that way. " His tone was- quite friendly. Duck raised and eyebrow and, just for a moment, a hint of a smile flashed on his beak.

"Yea... Yea, alright. "

So, yea, maybe Duck could be a hardhead. But at the end of the day, they were a family, weren't they? Yes, they we're. Just the three of them.

And really, was there anything a little laughter couldn't fix?

WOOOOOOO IT'S DONE! My @squealing-santa fic has arrived! I hope you enjoy!!

#dhmis #tickles!#dreamywrites #fluffybird #ss2k22

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ohabigailhowcouldyou · 10 months

Text

Written in The Stars(igns)... ~pt 4~

~Author's note: this one got away from me a bit, so this is just chapter 1. The second chapter is linked below.~

♡♡♡

Here's the thing, Chris could be downright charming when he wanted to, they all knew that, counted on it for the many interviews and meet & greets they did. People wanted to hear him talk, and it gave everyone else a chance to take the backseat and not feel that overwhelming pressure to say the right thing and not embarrass themselves.

So it shouldn't have come as a surprise that the same charm that won over so many interviewers could also be employed to win over hearts. In fact, it wasn't a surprise because Ricky had been watching it happen for years. An attractive woman would catch Chris' eye, he would smile, make her laugh, seduce her with witty remarks and measured glances without laying a hand on her, then let her lead him to some private location for a few hours.

The difference now was that Ricky was watching it happen for the first time since... well, since the breakup of his relationship.

He wondered if enough time had passed now, that he was starting to think about dating again and that was why he'd become so aware of the way Chris interacted with people. After all, if anyone in the band could be considered a ladies' man, it was Chris. So it stood to reason, as Ricky became aware of his loneliness, that through observation he might learn something that would come in handy if he decided to take that step and approach someone. After half a decade, his flirting skills were pretty rusty to say the least.

"You know what I hate most about Europe?" Vinny threw himself down on the seat across from Ricky, jostling the tiny table and drawing the attention of the restaurant patrons closest to them. Ryan and Justin snickered from their own table several feet away.

"The fact that everyone keeps assuming you speak Italian?" Ricky didn't look up from fiddling with his camera, toggling the settings on the little Fuji without any real purpose in mind. Across the restaurant, Chris was getting a tour of the vegan pastries on offer from a stunning, dark-skinned waitress. From her body language, it was obvious she was on offer, too.

"No," Vinny intoned, reaching across to Ricky's barely-touched plate for an olive. "I hate that it's not America."

"Uh huh," Ricky mumbled, lifting the camera to snap a quick photo of Chris, eyes crinkled as he smiled at the woman in front of him.

"I also hate the flesh-eating bacteria that's chowing down on my nuts as we speak," Vinny was saying.

Ricky nodded. "Yeah, sounds good, Vin." He had lowered the camera again, to change more settings, to keep his eyes away from Chris.

A sharp stab of pain finally shifted his focus to Vinny, who had pinched the sensitive skin inside his elbow.

"Ow! What the fuck, Vin?"

"You weren't paying attention to what I was saying," Vin said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. Sorry. What were you saying? I'll listen now." He put the camera down, turning toward his friend to prove that he meant it.

"How 'bout you tell me what's up with you, instead. You've been broody and distracted for weeks." There was a sincere worry in Vin's eyes now.

"Guess I'm just tired?" Ricky didn't have a better reason to give Vinny. "All the travel this year. We haven't toured like this since before the pandemic. Maybe it's just catching up to me. I'm not getting any younger, you know."

The expression on Vinny's face indicated that he could read the more complex story behind Ricky's careful words. He nodded. "If you need to talk about it, you know I'm here. We all are, dude."

"Thanks." Rick reached out to pat Vin's shoulder, before turning to his plate and taking a bite of food he could barely taste.

They had that night off, and opted to spend the evening walking around the city instead of piled into the crowded bus. Even Chris went against his introverted nature to enjoy the summer heat with them.

They found an outdoor market in a city square none of them could pronounce the name of, spreading out to look at the fruit and cheese, trinkets and artwork on display.

Ricky found himself taking in most of it through the lens of his camera, snapping picture after picture, until he lowered the device and found himself next to Chris, who was talking to the young man at a stall selling fruit. He was purchasing a tray of strawberries and cherries, laughing at something the guy said as he handed over the money. The man smiled as he passed Chris the fruit.

"Please enjoy!" The musical lilt of his accent imbued the words with warmth.

"Oh, I will," Chris replied, then winked at the guy, whose cheeks flushed crimson.

The little interaction, seeing Chris charm a guy, left Ricky feeling strangely winded, and it took him a second to realize that Chris was talking to him now.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Ricky looked away from the man who had moved on to the next customer, to see Chris looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I asked if you wanted some," Chris said, holding out the fruit.

"Thanks," Ricky said, picking out a strawberry.

"You okay? You've been a little... distracted, lately."

"I'm fine," Ricky said, flashing a quick smile. He bit into the strawberry, chasing a drop of its sweet juice with the tip of his tongue before it could stain his chin.

Chris' dark eyes followed the movement, then darted away, a sideways glance toward the fruit merchant for a split second, then down to the camera in Ricky's hand.

"Get any good shots?"

It wasn't what he expected Chris to say. He didn't really know what he had expected either, and he hated the feeling of being off balance like this.

"Maybe, I think. I'll go through them later, pick out some to post."

Chris nodded. They had started walking again, falling into step beside each other.

"Be sure to include none of me, so you can get a hundred comments asking "where's Chris?". Drive up the engagement."

Ricky laughed, and Chris joined in. In the failing sunlight, with the sweetness of the strawberry lingering on his tongue, and Chris' shoulder bumping into his with each chuckle, Ricky took a moment to commit the scene to memory, instead of film.

Later, he posted his favorite photos from the day to Instagram. In the corner of one, barely visible, was Chris' tattooed fingers holding a cherry by its stem.

A couple of days later, Ricky found himself walking next to Chris through the streets of a Spanish town he didn't remember the name of, on the hunt for vegan ice-cream.

The sunshine was hot to the point of discomfort, and Ricky now understood why no one else had wanted to venture away from the air-conditioned bus. No one except Chris, who was grinning, clearly relishing the heat as he poked fun at Ricky.

He should be annoyed, thought Ricky. They had passed several places that sold ice-cream, but none of them were vegan, and if it weren't for that he would be back in his blessedly cool bunk with his craving satisfied, instead of melting onto the sidewalk. And yet he wasn't annoyed. Joking around with Chris felt nice, in a way he'd used to be familiar with when they were younger and their lives were less complicated.

"Oh hey!" Chris pointed across the street to a café. The signage indicated that they were fully vegan, and had ice-cream. "I think the search is over."

"Thank fuck," Ricky grumbled, playing up the suffering. "One more minute and I would have been vaporized like a vampire."

"Your own fault for insisting on an all-black wardrobe, pal."

Ricky didn't have much of a retort to that, especially considering that Chris himself was wearing a Knocked Loose shirt in white instead of black. Instead he led the way across the street and into the café, which had AC and an impressive variety of frozen desserts. There weren't many patrons, and the server behind the counter -tall, pretty, tanned skin and dark eyes, a little badge on their apron to say their pronouns- greeted them with a friendly smile, that Ricky returned before going to look at the display cases to see if any flavors catch his eye.

Chris greeted the server, asking if they spoke English, and joking about American ignorance at their affirmative.

Somehow, the annoyance that Ricky hadn't felt outside crashed through him now, as he saw from the corner of his eye the way the server reacted to Chris' damned charm.

The ice-cream had lost most of its appeal, but Ricky hadn't made the trek here for nothing, and he stepped up next to Chris to give the server his order. They were friendly about it, but their disappointment in having the conversation with Chris cut short was evident, and Ricky's irritation flared hotter. Chris ordered too, then paid for both of them.

"You don't have to," Ricky protested, frowning.

"I want to." Chris gave a shrug.

"This isn't a date, y'know." The words were meant to be lighthearted, for the benefit of the server's hopes, but they came out harsh and biting.

Chris gave the flustered server an apologetic smile and thanks, then frowned at Ricky as they took their desserts and moved toward a vacant little table.

"What was that about?" He demanded. "I paid to make up for dragging you through the heat for my sake."

Ricky pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know that. Sorry."

There was a beat of silence, and Ricky took a small bite of ice-cream, not looking at Chris.

"Rick."

With his eyes still locked on his spoon, Ricky had a hard time deciphering the reason for the hesitation in Chris' voice.

"Is there," Chris paused, took a breath, then went on, "is there something you want to talk about?"

"No," Ricky stated flatly. He took another bite, not tasting anything but cold.

"I think, maybe, there is."

"Oh? Enlighten me, then." Ricky finally looked up at Chris, eyes narrowed. "What do I want to talk about?"

Chris looked uncomfortable, cheeks pink.

"It's just..." Chris breathed in deep through his nose, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "I thought that maybe you were questioning your sexuality or something and I don't wanna pressure you if you're not ready to talk about it, but if you are, I want you to know I'm here for you."

"I... what?!"

Chris looked like someone who had just discovered a spider's nest under their bed. He had an expression of abject terror on his expressive face.

"You seemed to get a little... uhm... jealous... when the server flirted with me, I think? And the other night, with the guy selling strawberries? You waited until he was looking at you to take a bite and do the tongue-thing and -"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ricky cut Chris' rambling off, eyebrows raised in utter bewilderment. "What tongue-thing?" He had no idea why that was the thing his mind had chosen to latch onto, but everything Chris was saying seemed nonsensical, so it didn't seem to matter which bit he questioned first.

Chris' cheeks had gone from pink to crimson, and he wasn't meeting Ricky's eyes anymore, one hand fidgeting nervously with his spoon.

"Y'know," he mumbled. "You licked the strawberry juice off your lips like-, like... anyway, that's beside the point, the guy clearly noticed it, but then you just turned away."

Like what? Ricky wondered for a second, but didn't ask out loud. He hadn't even been paying attention to the guy, really, his focus had been on...

"What do you mean I seemed jealous at the server flirting with you?" Ricky demanded instead.

It didn't seem possible that Chris could blush even more, but he did. "I meant that when we came in you smiled at them, but then you got all annoyed when they paid more attention to me."

Ricky blinked at Chris. "I smiled at... Since when does smiling at a person equate to being interested in them?"

"It's not just the smile," Chris said, a little exasperated. "Your whole... what's the word? Demeanor! Your whole demeanor."

"You mean the immense relief of being out of the sun, under AC, with a variety of ice-cream to enjoy? Did it occur to you that that might make me smile? Alter my demeanor?"

"Then why get annoyed at me then? If you weren't jealous of them flirting with me instead of you?"

"I wasn't jealous. And I'm not having a sexuality crisis. I am leaving, though." He got up from the table, ignoring Chris calling after him, and clenched his jaw as he emerged into the brutally bright sunlight.

There was a heavy weight pressing against his chest, guilt at the fact that he had just lied through his teeth.

He was jealous. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but it was true. And as for the sexuality crisis... well, for most of his life he'd been able to pretend to himself that he was straight, because he was attracted to women too. It wasn't so much a crisis as indecision over whether to continue the pretense or not. Either way, he still wouldn't be getting what, or rather who, he really wanted. So what did it matter anyway?

Chapter 2

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