#if anyone wants to PLEASE feel free. i would kill to read it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 10 months

Note

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.

You pretended to be dead.

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly.

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.”

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.”

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it.

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?”

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.

Missions were rarely a failure.

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.”

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?”

“None. Just us.”

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.”

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it.

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation.

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.”

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in.

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight.

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why.

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden.

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions.

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them.

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch.

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you.

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.

This couldn’t continue.

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.”

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met.

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?”

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?”

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.”

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.

On the second week, it got easier.

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up...

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!”

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp.

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.”

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?”

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.”

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.”

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it.

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos.

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint.

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat.

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages.

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.”

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?”

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.”

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.”

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney.

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.”

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it.

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already.

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…”

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be.

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.”

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able.

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second.

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?”

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.”

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.”

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep.

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.”

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though.

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.”

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

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alisonwritesimagines · 7 months

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Please Don't Be In Love With Someone Else ~LA!Shanks x Reader x LA!Mihawk Imagine~

Summary: You keep waiting for Shanks. But someone new comes along and suddenly, you're not so lonely.

Author’s Note: You read the title correctly. I'm evilly laughing right now as you read this in pain. Also, this is technically a rewrite of the angst ending cause the one I wrote and in my drafts is more fluff than angst.

Angst Ending to I Was Enchanted to Meet You

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: angst, fluff, but angst to all you Shanks lovers

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

It had been years since you last saw Shanks. And it's been a year since you last saw Luffy. Ever since he was old enough to sail off in the world to find the One Piece to become King of the Pirates, you had been by yourself since. Of course you did a lot for your small village to keep you occupied but you still missed your boys.

You were tending to your garden as it was time for you to harvest before it became spoiled and over grown. That was until you heard someone say something behind you.

“You don’t seem like someone who can harm a fly."

You turned around to see the warlord Dracule Mihawk standing before you. You stood up straight to seemed less intimidated.

“I can hurt a fly. Don’t think I’m good at harming anyone else,” you tell him as you crossed your arms.

“I see.”

“I know who you are so what do you want?” You asked.

“I was sent to kill you but in all honesty, I don’t think I can kill you. You’re too beautiful to be killed,” he tells you.

“Who sent you to kill me?” You asked, now worried. You’ve stayed in the island since you were born. Not only that, you stayed even when Luffy left.

“Not to worry now. I don't have any intentions to kill you," he tells you.

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"I'm curious to see why someone would send me to go after you."

"Feel free to stay. Just to tell you, it's going to be quite boring," you tell him.

Mihawk stayed around the next day to watch over you. He didn't understand why Vice Admiral Garp would want a warlord like him to kill a sweet little thing like yourself. You did nothing of the sort that would be considered dangerous or even pirate bounty level dangerous.

"Ow!" You yelled as you accidently burnt yourself with the pan.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Mihawk asked you as he rushed inside your home.

"Just burned myself," you tell him.

Mihawk quickly grabbed your bucket of water before gently putting your finger in the cool liquid.

"Thanks," you tell him.

"Of course."

"I made extras if you'd like. I got used to cooking for two," you tell him.

"Was it for you and your past lover?" Mihawk asked you.

"Not really surprisingly. I used to take care of a little boy who used to live with me who had a bottomless stomach. He wanted to become a pirate so he set sail a year ago," you tell him.

"I see."

"So, dinner?"

"Why not."

—

Mihawk stayed for a couple more weeks before he needed to back out to sea. You stood on the deck as you watched Mihawk get ready to leave.

"So I guess this is farewell?" You asked him.

"For now. I will be back in a month at most," he tells you.

"To finish me off and claim your berry?" You asked.

"No. To come see you again," Mihawk said before sailing off. You shook your head at him before walking back to your home.

You assumed Mihawk was lying or joking when he said he was coming back to see you. But to your surprise, you opened your door to see him standing before you.

"Brought you some new seeds for you to grow in your garden," Mihawk tells you.

"I'm guessing you're staying for dinner?" You asked with a small smile.

"If you'd have me," Mihawk said. You nodded before letting him inside your house.

As much as you didn't want to admit, you fell for Mihawk. Even though part of you hoped for Shanks to come back, you appreciated the fact that no matter how long Mihawk was gone for or even if he was wounded badly, he came back to you. Even though Shanks would come back to you, he hasn't for years.

"Will you be mine?" Mihawk asked you one night. After a midnight stroll, you both headed back to your home. Mihawk stopped you from walking inside by holding your hand.

"What?" You asked in shock.

"Be mine. I've fallen for you Y/n. And I swear to you, I would never let anything happen to you," Mihawk tells you.

"Alright. I'll be yours," you tell him. Mihawk gave you a small smile before pulling you towards him.

"May I kiss you?" Mihawk asked you.

"Yes."

Mihawk cupped your cheek with his hand before leaning in to kiss you.

Shanks rushed over to your home after being away for so many years. He was excited to tell you his adventures and was looking forward to seeing you once again. He knocked on your door, his heart pounding in excitement.

Instead of seeing you, he saw someone else open the door. His smile faltered as he stared at the stranger in front of him.

"May I help you?" The stranger asked him.

"My apologies. I was hoping to find Y/n L/n? The woman who lived here?" Shanks asked.

"Oh. I'm sorry. She's been gone for quite sometime. She left the village I want to say two years ago? Her and her husband moved to another island."

"Her husband?"

"Yes. I'm surprised she married a warlord but he had been kind to the village whenever he was here," the stranger pointed out.

"Do you happened to know her husband's name?"

"I believe it was Dracule Mihawk."

—

Shanks made it to Mihawk's castle where he knew you would be at. After demanding to see you, Mihawk came out to talk to him.

"You should know my wife is resting," Mihawk tells him.

"You took her from me," Shanks angrily tell him.

"I didn't take her from anyone. When I met her, she was alone," Mihawk informs him.

"She never told you about me?" Shanks asked.

"No she has. I just never told her that I knew you."

"Please. Let me see her!" Shanks asked.

"Let me see if she's well enough to move," Mihawk said.

"Is she sick?" Shanks asked.

"Not entirely."

Shanks waited anxiously for you to come down. His eyes widen when he saw Mihawk helping you down. Your stomach was large but he knew that it was because you were pregnant. And what's worse was that it wasn't Shanks's child you were carrying. It was Mihawk's child.

"Shanks?" You asked in shock.

"Hi, Y/n."

You sat in the garden with Shanks alone so you two could talk. Shanks stared at you, admiring your beauty once more. While you thought you were alone, Shanks knew that Mihawk was watching nearby.

“Are you happy my love?” Shanks asked you as he held your hand.

“I am. Hawk Eye makes me happy,” you tell him with a small smile.

“I’m happy that you’re happy.”

“I did wait for you Shanks. I really did. But I feared that if I waited any longer, I’d be too old for you,” you tell him with a frown.

“You could never be too old for me. You could have white hair and many wrinkles and I’d still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” Shanks tells you. You smiled at him before tearing up.

“I loved you Shanks. And I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you longer."

“Don’t apologize my love. I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you sooner,” Shanks said. You nodded before taking off your makeshift necklace that held the ring Shanks gave to you. You handed it over to Shanks before kissing his cheek.

“I hope life treats you well and I hope you find a woman who will love you endlessly as much as I did,” you tell him.

“And if Hawk Eyes dares to lay a hand on you, come find me. I’ll protect you.”

“I know you will."

"So this is goodbye then huh?" Shanks asked you.

"If you find Luffy, tell him I miss him and love him dearly. And that, he's more than welcome to visit me or find me whenever he wants," you tell him. After all, Luffy was yours and Shanks's unofficial son and you two were his unofficial parents.

"Goodbye, Shanks,” you tell him before giving him a kiss on the cheek once more.

“Goodbye, my love.”

—

You sat on the couch in your lounge room waiting for your son to arrive with his new fiancée. Twenty five years had gone by and you had lived your life. Dracule sat next to you as you both waited for your son to come home. Now that your husband has retired from being a pirate, he had spent his time with you while your children explored the world.

“I wonder what she’ll be like,” you tell your husband.

“I trust his judgement. After all, I chose well didn’t I?” Dracule joked.

“You most certainly did,” you smiled.

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” You heard your son say.

“Over here!” You called from where you were.

You smiled at your son the moment he walked in but your eyes widen from the sight of the woman next to him. Not only did she have the exact same hair as Shanks, but she also had the same eyes as him. It was no doubt that she was Shanks's daughter.

“Mother. Father. This is my fiancée, May,” your son said proudly. You smiled at the woman before getting up from your chair to greet her.

“It’s nice to meet you, May,” you tell her.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mrs. Mihawk.”

“Please call me Y/n,” you tell her as you shook her hand. You noticed her necklace with a ring on it. It looked exactly like the one Shanks gave to you from years before.

“I like your necklace,” you say.

“Oh thank you. My father gave it to me. Said it was his prize possession,” she tells you. You felt your heart break a little from what she said.

“Will we be able to meet your parents soon?” You asked.

“Unfortunately no. My mother passed away from childbirth and my father passed away not too long ago,” she tells you. You frown from hearing that.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m really glad to have met your son,” May tells you. You smiled at her before giving her a hug.

“Well, I know my son will treat you well. And if he doesn’t, you tell me,” you tell her. May smiled at you before looking at your son.

At the end of the night, you stood outside on your balcony as you stared up at the stars.

Maybe this was the universe telling you that in another life, you and Shanks end up together. But you did wish he didn’t have to be gone so soon. You wished that he would’ve came back to you sooner and maybe you two could've had the future you two wanted together.

#shanks x reader #live action shanks #live action shanks x reader #red hair shanks #red hair shanks x reader #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #live action mihawk x reader #live action mihawk #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #peter gadiot #steven john ward #enchanted universe #alisonwritesimagines

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auspicious-poppy · 2 years

Text

Ace moments before I realised I was ace

Thinking celebrity crushes was just an exaggerated way to say X is aesthetically pleasing and that people weren't actually serious. Making up celebrity crushes just to fit in.

Being able to acknowledge that someone is conventionally attractive by beauty standards but not feeling attracted towards them. Friend: "Aren't they hot?? I'm dying over those abs!!!". Me: "I mean sure, they look fit and healthy. shrug".

Making grossed out faces when asked who I would frick during the 'fuck, marry, kill' games. "Look here, the guys in our group are cool and all but even if the opportunity to be intimate with them came, I still wouldn't do it."

Thinking demisexuality was how attraction worked for the vast majority.

Being VERY confused on why the girls in my high school year thirsted over the young male student teacher.

Being genuinely surprised when peers in my high school year got into sexual relationships ("Huh?? Aren't we too young for this?")

Not understanding what people mean by "the butterflies". Never experienced the physical symptoms commonly associated with a crush.

Not understanding why thirst traps are used and thinking 'sex sells' is an obvious lie.

Not understanding the appeal behind hookup culture.

Reading smut fics and thinking the hyperfixations on a character's physical appearance was so "grown up".

Not understanding why abstinence is difficult. ("What do you mean you couldn't resist... just don't do it???")

Not understanding why couples broke up over sex. Not understanding why lack of sex is a deal breaker in relationships. Thinking that I would be perfectly fine if my partner didn't want to be intimate.

Happy ace week everyone. 💜🤍🖤

EDIT: To anyone that's questioning: if you do relate to some of these, there is a possibility you could be on ace spectrum. However, don't take this as THE guide, this is just a recount of my own personal experiences. Instead, I highly encourage you to read up more on asexuality and other ace people's experiences - asexuality is a wide spectrum, and I just happen to fall in the "no attraction whatsoever" side. I'm also happy to answer any questions, feel free to hit me up.

#asexual #asexuality #ace week #asexual awareness week #poppy rambles #stay tuned for the aro edition #more memes there #I realised this sounds most applicable to demisexuality #truth is there is actually a lot more cause I have dated #but leaving those out for personal reasons lol

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aterimber · 3 months

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Just a little PSA: I'm deleting every reblog I have talking about Israel and Palestine.

I knew I didn't know very much about what was going on, but seeing the horrors of what was happening, I felt compelled to try and help. One way I thought I was helping was by reblogging things I thought seemed important/worth sharing as a way to spread the word.

It's since been pointed out to me that this wasn't actually helpful and was actually quite the opposite. What was actually happening, unfortunately is that I was spreading misinformation and hate. That was definitely not my intention and I want to sincerely apologize for doing so.

Until I've completed the much needed research I need to do on the subject, I'll remain quiet and on the sidelines. Reading posts by Jewish people and learning real ways to be helpful.

I am so genuinely sorry for my ignorance, and I cannot believe my actions may have contributed to getting people killed. That's not my intention and it never will be. ❤

If anyone would like to chat privately - whether to vent or whatever - please feel free! I want Jewish people (and other minorities) to feel nothing but safe talking to me/on my blog. I'm here to listen, if needed.

#israel #palestine #jews #jewish #antisemitism #apology #ignorance #trying to be helpful #good intentions bad outcome #psa #learn before you speak #research

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mournings-stars · 3 months

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Hello hello! I’d like to request some platonic into romantic headcannons on an Alastor x fallen ex-exorcist/exterminator reader please :>

Small background: Reader fell for whatever reason and maybe a few days to a week (or even months-) afterward they end up striking a deal with Alastor, where they’ll be under his protection (because as skilled as they are it wouldn’t matter much with the entirety of hell on their ass) but he gets a pretty good portion of their power in return or maybe something else that you think Alastor would take.

Gender neutral reader pls

I’ve only read one fic or two with this concept and I am on my hands and knees for more lol

If you prefer a different writing format or feel this is too specific or OC-ish please please please feel free to change anything! I’m not very picky ^^

Thank you for your time and have a good day/night!

okay i LOVE this concept — i think it be the slowest fucking burn in the world tho like

you were never one of adam’s favorites, as you had the tendency to spare demons who seem harmless, but covered it nearly everytime

during this last extermination, however, he was trying to catch you fucking up the plan, so the minute you skipped over someone, he had lute launch her weapon at you

i doubt he’d let her kill you or anything, but he definitely just left you there for the demons to finish off, probably pinned to the ground with lute’s spear in your wing or something before he called all the other exorcists back (and he made sure to leave your halo so even if you did change clothes people knew what you were)

luckily (not really) you’d be in cannibal town, so before anyone could get to you, alastor’s probably just walking around like nothings happening (LMAO) and sees you

i doubt he’d make it known he saw you, like he’d definitely keep humming merrily down the street until he saw you struggling to get away from him as quickly as possible and tearing your wing even more

“my, my, let’s calm down, shall we?” he’d laugh and take the spear out of your wing. “isn’t that better, little bird?” but he’d say that while literally pointing the spear at you so don’t feel too safe

you’d definitely get defensive and shoot into the air with your weapon, ready to kill, and i think after seeing you still attempting to fly with that damaged of a wing (like its fucked up), he’d be impressed enough to drop the spear he had with a very big grin

“you’d better hide, little bird”

and you’d take his warning to fly off, quickly snatching lute’s weapon with yours in case you needed to defend yourself

he would literally just smile and watch you leave before continuing to hum and walk down the street

it’d probably be like a solid three days of hiding and having to fight for your life before the damage to your wing really messed with you and you had to force yourself to find a good hiding place

maybe you see charlie on the news and notice that no one seems to want to go to her hotel, so you force yourself to fly all the way there like a week after her horrible interview (ep 1) and practically collapse at the front door

of course you recognize vaggie and of course you practically run over and hug her despite the spear pointed at you… and of course that means vaggie either may or may not have to confess depending on if you pick up that no one knows or not (off the concept but im sparing chaggie heartbreak)

“who the fuck is this?” would be the first thing you hear from a spider demon and you’d have to explain what you were and hope they didn’t kill you — which, duh, charlie wouldn’t that let happen

“hello again, little bird,” would make everyone shut up because… how does alastor know you??? of course, he doesn’t answer their questions, just says hello and moves on like it’s all normal

your first day would totally be catching up with vaggie, probably breaking down because you needed to get back to heaven and had no way there

i think exorcists probably have a little bit of angelic power, but they probably can’t create portals without that power being given to them or something which means you have no way home and no where to go

vaggie and charlie of course tell you to stay, but once anyone shows up they’ll know you’re here and all of hell would be coming to the hotel to try and get to you — and you didn’t want to ruin what they had going (even if it was small you thought it was a great idea) so they probably give you a change of clothes, something more hellish, and tell you to stay until you have somewhere else to go

that would probably give alastor the perfect opportunity to talk to you privately and offer his protection

you wouldn’t take his offer at first, but once pentious shows up and the overlords somehow find out that charlie is hiding an angel in her hotel (vox and his stupid drones) you dont really have a choice

i dont think he’d ask for any power in return, but i do think you’d owe him a favor each time he has to protect you

vox would probably give subtle hints in all the programs he runs, so alastor would have to protect you very often

that meant if he ordered you to get rid of someone, you did it — whether that meant by the snap of your fingers with holy light (which they could potentially survive or respawn from) or killing them with your exorcist weapon was totally up to him sometimes, he just asked that you create a bouquet of flowers for his room

usually the people he had you “take care of” were repulsive enough, and you never minded creating things with your abilities, so you agreed to what he asked with ease

it’d be a little time before who he instructed you to “take care of” slowly shifted to anyone who wronged you

of course, he’d still protect you, but if he didn’t own their soul and he didnt have an angelic weapon, he couldn’t ensure that they wouldn’t come back, so he asked you, “do you think they’ll come back for you, little bird?” if you were unsure, or knew it was likely they’d come back for the person that ended up being the reason they had to go through the painful process of respawning, he’d tell you to just kill them

it’d probably come to a point where he stopped asking for favors, made sure you were alright, and told you to focus on what you needed to do while he “did his job”

i think eventually you’d find a place you think could be safe and once your wing is totally healed up and alright you’d say your goodbyes even though you weren’t that close with anyone but vaggie (also i feel like niffty would be down to talk to u about her bug battles or some shit)

anyway, when you go to say bye to alastor, he definitely cashes in his favor with a simple “hmm, no” cus he sees no reason for you to leave??? like so what everyone else’s lives are in danger by you being here… you’re safer here

so you’d stay, and it’d definitely make charlie happy because if she can get an angel back to heaven that’d prove she could actually do this

you’d be pissed at alastor for a while, but slowly, it seemed like demons understood that by coming for you, they were fucking with the radio demon (and we all know how that goes) so after a few months you were finally left alone

in that time you’d totally help spruce up the hotel while slowly forgetting why you wanted to go back

but every once in a while you’d have a very prolonged sadness about the situation… heaven was your home after all, and even if you liked the hotel, you could never leave because the minute you stepped outside, there was a line for your head — you were trapped there (like a bird in a cage — hence the nickname)

i think even though everyone likes having you there, vaggie would eventually bring up lucifer (like he can literally open a portal…)

but immediately alastor is not fucking having it and he cashes in another one of his pent up favors, saying that getting back to heaven through a fallen angel was the dumbest thing you could do if you wanted it to look like you were the one wronged in this situation (he has a point i fear)

i think this is where you kind of accept that you’re not going home and maybe just give up because 1. you can’t go to the heaven embassy since you’d just be met with adam and 2. the only person that could get you contact wasn’t a good option

i think now would be when alastor recognizes how much you want to go home and finds himself feeling bad?? for keeping you, but he just wants you to get home safely and surely

still, once he sees that you literally wont leave your room and have contemplated taking your own halo he compromises to let you try going to the heaven embassy to see if you could get a meeting with anyone but adam

you said it wasn’t possible, but he insisted “i can’t have you looking so upset all the time, birdie” he’d say while using his hand to squish your cheeks into a smile just to make you laugh

so you’d go — i think you’d totally get there safely but once demons see an exorcist angel coming out of the heaven embassy, you have to fight the minute you step out of the building

you can 100% see holy light from the hotel, so the minute alastor sees a golden beam he’s out the door

you can handle your own, so you fought them off, but i’d imagine you get injured and that’s what really makes alastor realize he’s falling for you cus he’s seething

even just a minuscule amount of golden blood on you had him tearing apart any demon who even looked like they’d been near you

i hate to say it but i don’t think this would be a happy ending — reader loves heaven even though they hate being an exorcist and alastor knows that so he’d definitely keep his feelings hidden and if you showed any signs of feelings for him he’d be terrified because an angel falling, literally falling because thats what would happen to you, for someone like him would never get you back home

obviously it’d come to a point where he doesn’t want you to leave, but at the same time, he’d never keep you

if i did end up writing an actual fic of this it’d probably end on a bit of a cliffhanger ex. reader getting accepted back and being hesitant with alastor’s last favor just him saying, “if you want to stay for anyone, don’t,” and letting you decide whether or not to go back

OR reader being accepted back but still having to be an exorcist, so the next time they see alastor is the finale where adam would 100% put them against him

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #charlie hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vaggie #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel heaven #hazbin lute

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homocrafting · 1 year

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ok so, so far, if anyone's curious, this is what the Greater Brazillian Polycule has got going on lore-wise (at least from what I've seen). by lore-wise, I mean I've taken every single word they've said way too seriously and you can't stoo me. also, every name mentioned below will be referring to the character, and if I do mean the cc instead, that'll be clarified.

Keep in mind I have only watched Felps's POV so far. with that being said!

The reason they crashed onto the island is that Felps didn't have a ship licence, thought piloting it would be just like riding a bike, and quite predictably failed

the ship was also a ghost??? I didn't get that part right

For Cellbit, Felps, Pac and Mike, qsmp is happening very near, if not right after, their last Esconde Esconde video

(Esconde Esconde [Hide And Seek in english] was a series those 4 used to do, along with a few other people. It ended years ago)

Cellbit has a history of killing people

Pac and Mike have Herobrine related trauma (Probably due to Herobrina: A lenda, a book cc!tazercraft wrote, but I never got around to reading it so I can't say for sure)

Philza Minecraft is Forever's sugar daddy

Cellbit dated Mariana for a day. who knows how long a day lasts

Forever and Cellbit are absent parents

They want to take over the smp with their favela and what I can only describe as unorganized crime

Forever didn't care for Richarlyson until his first death

A saga da casinha is real (this doesn't have to mean anything to you if you're not brazillian dw)

Please feel free to add on!

#qsmp #Philza minecraft #ElMariana #cellbit #Felps #tazercraft #forever #quackity #brazil world domination #richarlyson the egg #richarlyson #forever player #and if you saw me add the wrong tag for forever NO YOU DIDN'T

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secretly-dum · 1 year

Text

Joel Miller Headcanons

(please read warning/contents before reading)

pairing: joel miller x reader

request: none

summary: nothing, just some ‘regular’ headcanons

warning/contents: romantic SFW and NSFW hcs (part 1?)

additional notes: here you guys go <3 I’m so sorry for being demotivated but fortunately not enough to not do this!! Thank you all for being patient with me <3

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

In a relationship with Joel (SFW):

-Would be so possessive around you in public, his hands would HAVE to be somewhere on you, to having your hand hold his to having his shoulder touching his.

-He’s soft in private, this man is TIRED of life and just wants you to be his cuddle buddy.

-Talking about cuddles, he LOVES to cuddle, especially when it’s cold and he needs to “warm up”(an excuse to sleep with you)

-But of course since this is Joel we are talking about, he acts ignorant and pretends that he doesn’t like cuddling(mostly because he doesn’t like showing his soft side to you, so reassure him that you won’t make fun of him for that)

-One time he needed to “warm up” so he slept beside you not touching you at all and when you woke up his leg was over yours and his arm was wrapped around you(he also refused that it was himself doing this and said that he ‘moves’ in his sleep).

-His love language is definitely words of affirmation and physical touch.

-He is SO deprived of both, if you even show an inch of both his heart literally just melts.

-PLEASE play with his hair, seeing his face hide his cute smile is so heartwarming.

-Uses so many pet names to refer to you, you can’t even count anymore, and some of them don’t even make sense(he called you ‘honeysuckle’ once).

-Will do anything in his way to protect, heal, and love you. This one guy is bothering you? All of a sudden he’s gone. You have a horrible wound? He’s stocked up with medicine immediately. You like figurines/toys? Will kill anyone and anything to get you a single figure/toy.

-Is more of a listener than a talker, he loves listening to you talk about your day and interests.

-Goes to you or Ellie every time he has free time, you guys are LITERALLY his world.

-Forces himself to understand confusing concepts of your interests if it means interacting with you.

-Hates it when you’re sad since he’s really not the best comforter, doesn’t know what exactly to do when you cry so he just holds you while you cry into him, it somehow works making you feel better every time.

-Goes to you and tests out his 4 dad jokes before telling them to Ellie, you always have to hold in your giggle when he’s trying to tell the jokes to Ellie.

-You and Ellie’s needs are in front of his, he could be on the brink of death but still do anything in his way to make sure you both are healthy and safe.

-Secretly thinks of you as Ellie’s parent, and sometimes makes up cute scenarios that make you all three look like a small family in his head (this hc makes me sob)

-At the start of the relationship he was hesitant to showing/expressing his feelings, but now since boundaries are set and he’s more comfortable, he will always tell you whether or not he’s feeling negative.

-Watches you as you sleep but not in a creepy way, he always have thoughts that make him think you’ll die in your sleep so he’ll stay up an extra few minutes to make sure your safe. He loves how comfortable and dreamy you look.

-If you make something for him, whether it be a joke or not, he’ll always keep it on him. You gave him a nut and made some stupid joke? It’s on top of his dresser with other things you and Ellie have gave him.

-Definitely gives you something back, if you keep it and he sees it somewhere he smiles so hard his cheeks hurt.

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

In a relationship with Joel (NSFW):

-I don’t care what ANYONE says this man is a switch who prefers to be a bottom.

-Despite him being strong physically and emotionally, he’s always so vulnerable and obedient to you.

-Won’t do any slapping, choking, and hitting to you unless you ask/tell him to, but nevertheless he will lightly hit you, feels weird to hit his lover.

-Will be quiet if you guys are in a slightly unsafe area, but will scream your name if you guys are in either his or your home.

-Did I mention how he won’t slap, choke, or hit you unless you ask? You can do all three to him and he’ll still say thank you (one time you asked him why he won’t do the same hitting to you and he said “It’s not the same” 😭)

-Whimpers and whines like a bitch, it’s incredibly pornographic and I’m wondering to this day who taught him to make such angelic noises.

-Begs and obeys, can’t be brat unless you catch him on a real bad day or he just wants a punishment from you.

-Doesn’t do any risky stuff like getting you pregnant or hurt but will gladly let you fuck him in a spot that could get you guys caught.

-If he’s being dominant, he will be a soft dominant, Joel once said “he loves you too much to be doing such ‘harsh’ things to you” (unless you ask him to!)

-Pussy AND cock drunk, he’s addicted to you and your pussy/dick. Would be licking/sucking you for hours if he could (bisexual!joel is real).

-Overstimulation kink, which goes for both ways if you want. He loves it when he says he can’t take it anymore and you say he can.

-Your touch lingering over his body has him so turned on, the anticipation of how you’ll touch him turns him on so bad.

-Loves it when you mark him, bites, hickeys and etc. If you mark him on somewhere visible, he’ll show it off like a trophy.

-Likes bondage, seeing you all tied up and the curves of your body being more visible to him has him in a chokehold.

-He tells you that you taste so sweet and good, even if you haven’t showered that day(let’s be honest barely anyone showers in TLOU anymore)

-For some weird reason, seeing you sweat or have someone else’s blood on you turns him on a lot. Something about seeing you like that makes him want to fuck you right then and there.

«──────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

#joel miller #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x male reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #sub joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year

Text

Last Hope // Mafia!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Chapter 2

Summary: Before dating Steve and Bucky, your life felt like a steel cage that you couldn't escape from because of your family business. There was no happiness or hope but, what happens when the infamously heartless mafia leader, Steve Rogers, finds you alone?

Tags: 18+ readers only, angst, fluff, abusive brother, emotional manipulation/abuse, murder/violence, blood/injury, depression, enemies to lovers, possessive, protective steve rogers, hurt/comfort idiots in love

A/N: ahh it’s finally here! I contemplated posting the two parts in one but its oner 19k words long so probably easier to read as two separate parts. Please enjoy!

Words: 11.2k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

To an outsider looking through the glass walls of your life, it would look to be filled with excitement, thrillful, and definitely desirable. But to you, those walls were a cage, entrapping you in danger and gut-wrenching sadness and on occasions, those feelings had nearly destroyed you but now, you welcomed them, finally being able to feel something.

From the moment you were born, you’d been surrounded by criminals. The kind of people that only cared for themselves and would kill even their best friend if it meant they could increase in the hierarchy chain. This lifestyle was the way of your family, almost like it was instinct, the only way to survive in a world full of darkness and terror.

In reality, this was simply the lie that your brother had been feeding you from childhood. As if it was completely normal for parents to mysteriously disappear one evening, leaving their entire business in the hands of their greedy son, your brother Enzo who boasted that this was the only way to survive.

Enzo was as corrupt as gangsters come, his ease with murdering coming as easy to him as breathing, it wasn’t a surprise to anyone as he gained control of the underground criminal workings in Staten Island. He prided himself on his reputation, as a dangerous man with a business to run. There were multiple companies that he had close ties to but the majority of his finances were in robberies but not the kind that had banks held at gunpoint. No, Enzo had a vast team of experts that had connections with jewellery, cars, paintings - anything that could be sold through the black market and it made him untouchable and untraceable.

Where did you come into all this? You didn’t, not in the grand scheme of the business. Enzo often liked to taunt you that you didn’t have the heart to be at his esteemed level of ruthless and you were more than happy to watch from the sidelines, even though the violence was something you’d become accustomed to, it didn’t mean that you were wanting to do it.

Instead, you were used in other ways, Enzo mostly using you as a bargaining chip for his clients, you’d have to flirt and sweet talk your way into their lives, a couple of dates and kisses to convince them to work with your brother as if you were nothing more then a piece of pretty meat for the worthless people to use. Every single interaction made you feel sick and dirty but luckily he had not asked you to fuck anyone yet however, your brother always liked to threaten that he would sell your virginity if you ever stepped out of line.

This was the life that you survived, the belittling, the threats and feeling hardly like a person at all. To you, Enzo was hardly even your brother with the way he talked about and treated you, reminding you on a daily basis that you lived under his roof so you must live by his rules or be thrown to the streets with not even a shirt to cover your back.

So you stayed and played by his rules because this was the only life that you knew, there were no other friends or family, no money stored away in a hidden box to one day set yourself free. There was only waking up and going to sleep, and everything in between to fuel your nightmares.

The only instruction you’d been given this morning was to dress up, which meant wearing as little as possible to lure people in. This wasn’t something you particularly want to be doing any day of the week but especially as the autumnal winds were beginning to brisk.

Tonight was an important event that was both well known and yet incredibly secret, most guests having to travel for hours to arrive at the underground venue. It was known as the ‘Pick-Me-Up’ event, weapons were banned upon entry and it gave goers the opportunity to meet other criminals, mafia members etc and hold business meetings, all under the disguise of a party. The concept alone caused a thick lump to lodge in your throat upon every swallow as silent nerves teetered your emotions, being around that many powerful people, it was your idea of hell.

Not for your brother though, in fact, he had been extremely nonchalant about the situation, stating: “It should be me that they’re scared of”. This was one thing you could not fault Enzo on, was his egotistical self-confidence, the man thought and believed he was untouchable. At least for this once, you weren’t instructed to flirt or speak to any of the attendees, you were only going to look pretty and draw attention to the gang.

The bass of the music vibrated deep into your bones before you even stepped into the main room of the venue, the air thick due to the number of people, sweat already gathering across your skimpily dressed body. You’d tried to stay close to Enzo and his bodyguards but with the busy crowd, your brother was able to slip away to the meeting rooms without a care for your safety, leaving you to the hungry wolves.

Not risking stopping your stride, you kept walking and pushing your way past the men and women, too frightened to look up. An empty spot at the bar caught your eye and with rushed steps, you allowed yourself a moment to catch your breath and held your body close to the counter. The space you were in was small and everyone seemed to tower over you, especially the guy sitting to your right at the bar, but you didn’t pay him or anybody any attention as you leaned further over the bar, catching the barman's attention.

“Glass of tap water, please”. You contemplated having a glass of whatever was their cheapest alcohol but realised that Enzo had rushed off without giving you any money so free tap water it was. Maybe it was a good idea to have a clear mind when surrounded by so many people.

There was a commotion next to your left side, a couple of boisterous men talking so loudly that you could easily identify what they were saying over the music. As the barman handed over your glass filled with water, one of the arguing men bashed into your arm, causing you to squeeze into the large body to your right, some of your drink spilling from the abrupt movement.

“Hey asshole, watch the lady!” the tall man stood and shoved the guy over your shoulder, instantly giving you some space as you tried to fix your posture.

“Who the fuck do you think-”, the guy who had caused all of the commotion had turned to shout at whoever had pushed him but seeing who it was, the words died in his throat. “Sor…sorry”, he mumbled an apology before the group moved away, giving you even more freedom to move.

Your heart seemed to stop however, even the music seemed quieter as fear pulsed through your body, seeing who had been standing next to you and who had just pushed someone away from you, now understanding the scared reaction.

Steve Rogers didn’t need any introductions, everyone on the East Side knew of the Rogers Mafia leader.

The gang were renowned for being ferocious, heartless and vicious and ruled over the entire Brooklyn area. You’d never even been in the same room as him before, only noticing him from files that Enzo had shown you on who to look out for when attending these events, who not to piss off and who to sweet talk, Steve Rogers was definitely someone not to piss off.

He was breathtakingly handsome, something that only made him more dangerous, his blonde hair that curled around his ears, piercing ocean-blue eyes that darkened around the iris and his hulking form that screamed power and strength.

Steve Rogers was formidable and he was staring down at you, saying something that you couldn’t hear over the panicked buzzing in your ears—a couple of seconds passed as you held the glass of water tighter to your chest, finally relaxing enough to hear what he was asking.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes… thank you”. Without wasting any further time, you rushed off in a different direction, pushing harder against the throng of people, wanting to get away as fast as you could, not caring where you ended up. The entire time, you could feel him watching you, even risking a glance over your shoulder to see that he had fully turned his body in your direction and was watching you leave with a curious expression.

Your feet stumbled quicker in your haste to find somewhere else to be, but every room seemed to be busy and locked. Eventually, there were some stairs hidden behind a gate that no one seemed to be trespassing which meant: calm and peace. Climbing the stairs, the music quietening with each step upwards, the only sound is your heavy breathing, heels clicking against the floor and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

The stairs led up to the roof and you sighed happily at the fresh, crisp air that cooled your heated skin. Relief flooded your emotions as you walked further onto the empty rooftop, stopping when you reached the ledge that was tall enough that you could lean on it. Placing your glass onto the ridge, you admired the beautiful sight of the city and night sky.

Moments like these were the ones you craved every day, the dreams that you could imagine looking up towards the sparkling stars, dreaming that you were anywhere else with a different family and a better life. It was your crutch, these moments of escape, the small spark of hope that you wished one day would blossom into reality.

You were never sure how much time slipped away when you had these daydreams but as the fire escape door opened, you knew a significant amount had passed by the chill sweeping over your body now.

Your spine straightened as you turned to see who had found your hidden corner of the party and the dread that had encompassed you downstairs returned full force as Steve Rogers stepped outside, hands in his pockets, closing his eyes and savouring the cool air, much like you had.

He hadn’t noticed your presence at first and for a moment you hoped that he would move to the other side of the roof so that you could escape the way that you came but you were never that lucky as his blue eyes snapped to yours, shock evident on his face finding someone else up here. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone else was up here”.

“That’s ok... I can go”, your voice didn’t sound anywhere near as confident as his. Quickly picking up your glass, you began to leave but he held out a hand, a small smile on his handsome face.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to go. You were here first anyway but there’s plenty of space up for the two of us”.

Now you felt inclined to stay, not wanting to look rude, especially to the most powerful man in the state so you nodded your head once and returned to looking out over the city. From the corner of your eye, you could see Steve approaching closer, stopping a few feet away and resting his forearms against the ledge. You were hyperaware of everything, the way you couldn’t slow your breathing rate down and the slight tremble in your hands, it was hard to remain calm.

Steve glanced over, eyes flicking over your form as you pretended like you weren’t watching from the corner of your eye. “I’m Steve”, he introduced himself, voice deep and yet oddly calming, matching the serene setting.

“I know”, your automatic response caused your to wince at the rudeness and brash tone you hadn’t meant to use. You’d been in rooms with dangerous men your entire life and had to flirt with many of them to get what your brother wanted, you needed to try and regain some sort of control. “Sorry, I mean… I think everyone knows who you are. I’m Y/N.” For a second you contemplated mentioning who your brother was so that he knew who you’d arrived with but for some reason, couldn’t admit to it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N”, Steve responded, sounding surprisingly genuine before looking back over the city. “Beautiful view, I much prefer being up here than being locked in a tight room full of bozos”.

The seriousness in his voice had a laugh bubbling in your chest at realising you weren’t the only one to feel like this party was utter hell. Looking up towards the night sky, admiring the twinkles you agreed, “It is beautiful”.

Feeling eyes on your face, you looked towards Steve, seeing that he was watching you with an interested expression before it turned to one of confusion, eyebrows frowning slightly as his head tilted, asking, “Have we met before?”

Now it was your turn to be confused, “No I don’t think so. I think I would remember your face”. Your cheeks immediately burned at your unfiltered response, not meaning for it to sound like you were flirting but with the smirk that formed on his face, you knew that was exactly how it sounded to him. It wasn’t like what you said was wrong, he was handsome.

Steve thankfully brushed over the comment much to your embarrassment, “I definitely feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before”. Clicking his tongue against his teeth, his eyes continued to asses your face which only made you feel more self-conscious under his watchful gaze and then his eyes brightened to match the grin spreading across his face, “Cake Bakes, right? You order cinnamon buns?”

Your jaw slackened with shock as he spoke the name of your local bakery that you visited like clockwork every Thursday. Was he following you? Was all of this an elaborate plan to get you by yourself and take you, hostage?

Steve realised how bizarre his comment must have sounded and held up his hands, showing his empty palms in defence, “Oh shit, sorry that sounded weirder than it was supposed to. I promise I’m not stalking you, quite the opposite actually I uh… I’m in there most days to refresh our bakery stocks at the office and see you quite a lot”.

The blonde Mafia leader was of course downplaying the way in which he saw you at the bakery so as to not freak you out any further than you already were. You’d been the mysterious cinnamon bun girl that he had soon become addicted to seeing even just a glimpse of your pretty face, and if he was lucky then a smile as you accepted the baked goods. Even going as far as to volunteer himself to collect the food every week so that he might see you, even though he could easily find someone else to do the job for him. He was also highly aware of how much of a creep it would seem if he approached you one day so always admired from afar and with his job, it wasn’t like he could walk up to random women and ask them on dates when he was the most prolific mobster in Brooklyn. But seeing you here now, he couldn’t help but say something, almost like his body took over before he could think any of it through and seeing you all dressed up, it took him a good while to realise the scantily-dressed woman standing before him was his precious cinnamon bun girl.

You were frowning, trying to think about all the times you’d been into Cake Bakes, surely you would notice if a dangerous man was in there enough times to recognise you? Think, think think….

A clear image popped into your mind, a smile slipping over your features as you looked up at him, “black baseball hat, and sunglasses right?”, referring to the man that was always waiting for orders in the corner of the shop.

“Guilty”, Steve grinned sheepishly, stepping closer and angling his body more towards yours from where he still leaned his weight casually against the side.

Now you were unable to hold back that laugh that shook your body, hand resting on your stomach as it ached with how much you laughed, a sight that Steve became instantly addicted to. Finally, you were able to find some composure to say, “Good disguise, I’ve never clocked on to the fact that the infamous Steve Rogers had a sweet tooth”.

“Well, can’t have my reputation ruined now, could I?”

You genuinely smiled at him, wondering if you should reveal this next piece of information but unable to hold your tongue, “You do know that they call you the Muffin Man in there after you leave? They never understand how one person can carry so many baked goods”.

Steve’s cheeks actually bloomed with a tint of rose as he attempted to hide a smile, looking at his feet in a rare show of embarrassment, “should have guessed that the Muffin Man written on the receipt wasn’t the name of the baker”.

You laughed again before picking up your water and taking a sip, finally calming enough by hiding your face behind the glass. You couldn’t believe it as it dawned on you that… you were actually laughing with Steve fucking Rogers and his presence didn’t make you want to rip your skin off from feeling dirty, it was actually quite nice even though there were still warning bells alarming at the back of your consciousness.

The two of you remained in natural silence, still admiring the view which Steve admitted to himself was definitely you but he tried not to look for too long, knowing he could be addicted to trying to mesmerise your face to memory.

His curiosity got the better of him though as he asked subtly, “Isn’t there someone looking for you downstairs?”

You tried and failed to not choke on your drink, coughing a few times before shaking your head, “No, I’m here with my brother but he’s in some meetings”.

A frown crossed over Steve’s face, “meetings? So he’s got to be pretty important to be invited to those”.

You shrugged, looking down at your feet, “Enzo’s a busy guy I guess”.

“Enzo… as in Staten Island Enzo?” Steve asked, shocked when you were nodding to his question. “Hmm”, Steve pondered, glancing over his shoulder at the empty rooftop before looking back down at you, “where are your bodyguards? Enzo’s a pretty big deal from what I’ve heard, I’m sure there's a big target on his back with people looking for him, which by association means they are looking for you too”.

You didn’t dare look up, every word that Steve spoke was true and you had to try and think hard for a professional way of answering, instead of simply revealing that Enzo just didn’t care for your safety. “I managed to sneak away from security in the crowd, needed a moment of peace to myself”, the lie dripped from your tongue relatively easily and you made sure to look up at him even though looking into his eyes made your heart beat quicken.

Steve didn’t believe your excuse, noting the fact that you were always by yourself when visiting Cake Bakes and if he noticed you then he was sure others would. “They must be some shitty guards if you’re able to sneak away from them. I think you’d have some good competition if you tried to sneak away from my guards Bucky or Sam”.

Those two names you’d also heard of before, but it seemed that everyone involved within the Rogers Mafia were highly trained and feared individuals.

A shiver shook through your body as another blast of ice-cold wind stroked over your exposed body parts, causing goosebumps to lay over your skin. Steve noticed your chill, “do you want to head back inside before you catch your death out here?”

You didn’t miss the way in which he leaned his body closer to yours so that his arm gently pressed against you and impulsively you inclined into his warmth. Shaking your head, you answered honestly, “I’d much rather prefer to be a bit cold out here than in that hell hole downstairs”.

Steve agreed with a slow nod of the head and didn’t waste another second before shrugging off his navy jacket and placing it gently over your shoulders. Before you could decline, your body instantly felt relieved at the unnaturally warm material, and when his aftershave that stained the jacket wafted into your senses, your mouth watered.

Your heart was pounding for another reason now as you accepted the jacket, pulling it close around your frame, softly thanking him with a smile that reached your eyes. What was going on?, you thought as you assessed the situation. Of course, it could all be an act on Steve’s part but he hadn’t even known you were related to Enzo when he found you so wasn’t being nice for the sake of getting into the gang but then, why were the rumours about Steve so volatile and nasty because the man standing next to you now, willing to bare the cold and genuinely asking you questions was not the man you thought he would be.

Now it was your turn to be curious, facing your body fully towards him now, “Why are you up here? I would have thought that the most sought-after leader would be in meetings all night?”

“Ah, Buck’s taking one for the team and doing them for me. I’ve been in enough bullshit meetings for a lifetime and would it be cheesy to say I preferred the company up here and in no rush to return?”

You giggled, actually giggled as your cheeks warmed, “Yes I would say that was a little cheesy you smooth talker”.

The conversation came easy for the two of you, it felt like with each word he spoke, you were desperate to ask more, see the genuine reactions on his face as you held the joinings of his jacket together, it felt like a comforting cocoon, a safe space.

Those words seemed to taunt your conscious thoughts. A safe space. You’d never felt that way before, never had someone ask questions and be interested in your life. You’d never even had someone offer a jacket before to save you from the chill, it was all building that small spark of hope that you had been wishing for.

Once more the time seemed to pass without a care in the world, even as your feet began to ache from standing in the heels you’d picked, you still wanted to stay with Steve. But reality had to ruin the little sanctuary as Steve’s phone began to buzz with a text that he read quickly and his joy seeped away before your very eyes.

“All the meetings are over”.

“Shit”, you whispered in disdain, realising that you needed to go back downstairs to find your brother. Steve offered his hand out in front of you to allow you to lead the way and you both moved in the direction that you’d arrived and down the stairs.

The music thumped louder with each descent of the stairs as the party was still in full force and most likely to continue into the early hours of the morning. As you pushed your way through the crowds with Steve behind you, his hand on your lower back to help your way through but all you could think about was how big and hot it felt, even through the clothes.

Finally, you spotted Enzo and his gang members, lounging in a booth next to the speakers, drinking beer and definitely not looking for you.

Steve leaned down so you could hear but once again, with the close proximity, all you were able to concentrate on was seeing his face this close-up and trying to take in every detail that you could, “If you get into any trouble and those shitty guards can’t look after you, you can always come and find me, sweetheart”.

Usually, you loathed pet names but coming from his full lips, you couldn’t help but smile up at him, watching as he turned and left to find his own people, not before checking over his shoulder a few times to see you still watching, a smirk playing on his lips at this thought.

As Steve disappeared into the crowd, you finally felt your feet become unglued from the floor and moved to join your brother who was watching with a fire lit in his eyes that you’d never seen before.

It was only as you sat next to him did you realise that you were still wearing Steve’s jacket and you couldn’t deny that you probably still had time to run and find him to give it back, but instead wanted to be selfish and keep this comforting material for a little while longer, deciding you could find him at the end of the party.

“What?”, you finally asked as Enzo still hadn’t looked away.

A devilish grin stretched across his face as he nodded in the direction that Steve left, “he’s your next target”, he casually revealed.

“Wh-what?” you stuttered, feeling like ice had been doused over you.

“I need a meeting with him and he’s notorious for not accepting them, but I’ve got some dealings in his area, something that he's inserted himself in so you are going to use your assets like you have been with him all night, and get me my meeting”.

There was no use arguing as Enzo turned away from you, effectively cutting off your conversation with a dismissal. You felt deflated and sick at the mission given to you. Steve had been kind and clearly hated these sorts of functions and now you were expected to betray the little trust that you’d both formed, flirt with him more just to ask for a meeting with Enzo? You hated this, hated that this was your life and even more, detested your brother more than anyone for ruining the hopeful spark that had formed.

Over the next few days, you’d been going out of your way to ignore Enzo and his dreadful request however eventually his patience ran out as he forced you to sit in a chair and swear that you’d continue with the plan. You agreed but only due to the little threatening of the gleaming knife pressed against your throat.

Enzo had increasingly become more aggressive with his threats the older you were and the more reluctant you were to go through with the orders. So with no other option, you began to make a plan, cursing yourself for not asking for Steve’s phone number on the rooftop but at least there was one place that knew he would be, on Thursday, like clockwork.

The smell of the baked goods wafted down the street and had your stomach growling in anticipation for your treat, momentarily distracting you from the plan you were reluctantly going through with. Opening the door and hearing the tinny bell ring upon entry, even if you hadn’t wanted to, your eyes searched the seating area and straight away spotted the hulking form, with his hat and glasses, sitting up straighter in his chair as he also looked you over.

Biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning, you approached the cake display, casually chatting with the store owners who prepared your order without asking what you’d like. At one point, you risked a glance over your shoulder and saw that Steve was very much still watching you, his head tilted in wonder.

“Thank you”, you accepted your order and finally moved towards Steve who was sitting at a table for two, a different spot as he was usually in the corner leaning against the shop window. He must have been hoping that you would be joining too. “Hi”, you spoke softly, suddenly full of nerves but not because of the plan, but because you were actually excited to see him which was a foreign sensation for you.

“I still can’t believe that your brother lets you walk around without a bodyguard”, Steve spoke lowly so no one could overhear, a teasing smile seen beneath his shades.

“And I still can’t believe your disguise has worked for so long”, was your sassed response as you sat in the spare seat, resting your hands on the table.

Steve subtly adjusted his hat, pulling it lower over his face to hide his grin which only made yours widen, a bubbling feeling in your stomach due to making him smile, knowing that you wanted to make him do it again.

“How was the rest of the party?”, Steve changed the subject, clasping his hands together and leaning across the table until he was only inches away from touching where your hands lay and you had to refrain from reaching for him. Even from beneath his shades, you could see his eyes searching across your face.

“I tried to find you again to return your jacket to you, but you were gone”.

Steve sat back in his chair, contemplating your words but then his posture showed slight hints of arrogance as his legs spread and his arm rested on the back of the chair, “looked better on you anyway, sweetheart”.

There he goes with the pet names again that had your pulse fluttering with excitement. And was he actually flirting with you?

“Are you flirting with me?”, you asked with a coy smile.

“Yes, is it working?” he answered confidently.

“Maybe”, you had to turn your face towards the Cakes Bakes staff to try and hide your smile and warmed face, you noticed that they were all watching the two of you with excitement, pretending to go back to work after being caught. You guessed it must have been weird that two of their most popular customers, who were always there but never spoke were now sitting at a table and chatting like close friends.

Steve continued speaking referring to the jacket, snapping your attention back to him, “It’s fine, you can always give it back to me tonight”.

The excitement you’d been experiencing instantly ceased to exist due to having to give the jacket back. In all honesty, maybe it was slightly odd but you had found some weird comfort in his jacket, particularly the aftershave that lingered in the material. Frequently you found yourself breathing deeply from it, savouring the scents and letting the memories of the one night of happiness you’d seemed to experience.

“Oh right, yeah, of course, I can get someone to drop it off or-”

Steve quickly cut you off, leaning close once more as his voice lowered, “You’ve misunderstood me, Baby, you can give it back to me when I take you out to dinner tonight”.

“Ah…right”, you say in shock, letting his words tumble through your mind before not bothering to hide your smile, “there you go with the smooth-talking again Steve”.

His Adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed harshly, huskily saying, “I like it when you say my name”.

Your eyes snapped to his lips, feeling yourself becoming more heated as you stared, your imagination getting the better of you with where those lips could touch and tease and…

“Your orders ready!”, one of the workers shouted to Steve, breaking the thickening tension between the two of you.

Both of you stood as he collected his stack of boxes from the counter, thanking the workers and you politely held the door open for you. “You never answered my question by the way”, Steve stated as you both stood in the middle of the bath, looking to leave in different directions.

“Well, it hardly seemed like a question and more a statement but regardless, yes I would love to go to dinner with you”.

Steve grinned now, showing off his perfectly white teeth, “Thank god. Do you know the new restaurant three blocks over? How about I book us a table for 7? I’d offer to pick you up but I’m assuming your brother wouldn’t like me knowing his home address with our line of jobs”.

This made sense and you couldn’t help but bounce on your toes a little bit with excitement, holding the bag with your cinnamon bun tightly in your grip, “That sounds great! See you at 7 Steve”.

You turned to walk away, mostly to hide your over-the-top grin, realising it was probably too much but after a few steps, you heard Steve shout to you, “I’ll be counting down the seconds!”

You faced back towards him to see him grinning and walking backwards, before stopping next to a large black SUV that you hadn’t noticed was parked there with Bucky in the driving seat. Steve climbed into the car and you couldn’t hear what was said but by the shit-eating grin on Bucky’s face, whatever he had said was a tease as he was harshly shoved against the driver’s door.

Holy shit. You were actually going for a dinner date with Steve. But then… wasn’t this supposed to be your plan all along, to get him in a romantic setting and sweet talk your way into getting your brother a meeting? However, every second you were with Steve, the gang, your job, and your brother never once came to your mind, it was like your vision only zoned in on the Rogers leader and couldn’t see or think about anything else.

You were definitely becoming way too attracted and attached to him, that much was for sure but for once, you didn’t let these emotions scare you off, even though you knew everything would crash and burn one day, you were enjoying the here and now too much to even care. If this ended up destroying you then so be it.

Enzo was ecstatic when you revealed that you had a date with Steve, and even offered to have someone drive you there before you needed to ask. Naturally, he still had something to complain about as he saw the beautifully flowing dress that you were wearing, not satisfied that you weren’t showing enough skin but thankfully he didn’t make you change.

Staring at yourself in the mirror for far too long, you had decided to go for this look rather than your usual skin-exposed to sell your assets dress because you actually wanted to make a nice first impression. Also, the restaurant that was booked looked fancy so didn’t need more attention drawn to you when you arrived looking like a woman of the night.

Reluctantly, you bought his jacket, it wasn’t your property but the comfort you found in it, you didn’t want to return it, even though the scent on it was starting the fade to the smell of your own natural body scent instead.

You couldn’t deny your nerves, hands clammy and stomach twisting and turning with anticipation of seeing him again but that was soon replaced with excitement and almost…content, at seeing Steve outside of the restaurant, waiting for you.

“Do you need picking up?” your driver asked and you instantly said no, knowing that if he picked you up, this meant you had a limit as to how late you could be with Steve. Exiting the car, and shutting the door behind you, Steve’s eyes lit up and sparkled as he approached you, but he failed to hide the disapproved look he gave the car as it began to drive away.

“They don’t open the door for you either?” he asked, referring to your gang member driver. You shook your head, thinking ‘Were they supposed to?’ but didn’t vocalise this as you took in Steve’s appearance. He looked good, so fucking good in fact that your core clenched with arousal at seeing his obviously expensive white suit that had buttons lacing the front, a striped brown tie to match his leather shoes. “You look breathtaking”, Steve’s compliment snapped you out of your appreciative stare.

Looking up at his handsome face, you realised he was doing his own oggle at what you were wearing, your skin burned with excitement, feeling giddy as Steve finally offered his elbow for you to take. The way he looked at you, it was like he was in awe of you, rather than the usual hungry look that would make you cower from the other people you had to go on dates with.

Holding his jacket in one hand and placing your hand in the crook of his arm and letting him lead the way in. You’d never been treated this well, having doors held open for you, allowing you to lead the way through the tables to your seat which was then pushed in by Steve, it felt like you were in a movie even though in reality, these gentlemanly acts were the bare minimum in perspective.

The restaurant was stunning, it wasn’t overly full of other customers, and everything had an air of money, expensive decorations, and friendly staff, it was perfect. Your table was near the back of the restaurant, in the most quiet area giving some sort of privacy from prying eyes that all seemed to notice Steve as he walked through.

You were beaming and had to take a large drink of water to try and hide your expression, forcing yourself to calm down before Steve ran away from your overexaggerate happiness. However, as you looked over at him, watching as he undid the few buttons of his jacket, his own expression may have been calm, trying to uphold his tough exterior but, as he rested his hands on the table, you noticed that he was wringing his hands together slightly, the only sign that he was nervous which only made you smile more.

“You are looking very handsome, did you get Bucky to comb your hair?”, you joked, trying to ease the tension in your shoulders by not filtering what you wanted to say.

Steve looked to the side and chuckled, shaking his head, “Just because he’s my second-in-command, doesn’t mean that we spend every second together”.

“Are you sure about that? You guys work together, you’re best friends, he drives you everywhere you go, and I’m sure he’s waiting outside for you right now”. Steve’s eyes locked onto yours as he genuinely smiled, the gleam reaching his eyes.

“Firstly, he’s only waiting outside because he’s doing his job as my bodyguard and secondly… you may have a point but no he didn’t comb my hair”. You bite your lip, holding back the giggle with the thought of two gangsters combing each other's hair in their spare time.

The waiter then approached and took both of your orders, returning with some fancy wine you’d never even heard of before but the alcohol helped to ease the initial nerves.

You and Steve stayed until closing and the night quickly replaced the rooftop as your favourite night of your life. Both of you didn’t even seem to blink as you held eye contact like you were scared that if you looked away, the other would disappear.

You had also never spoken so much about your life, ever before. Steve continuously asked questions and was genuinely interested, even if there weren’t many exciting things to tell him. He would continuously compliment you and at one point, after the empty plates were taken away, your hands accidentally touched on top of the table as you both simultaneously reached for your drinks but then they just stayed there, holding hands. His palms and fingertips were rough from training and there were small scars littering his knuckles but the sheer size of them dwarfed your own.

It was an odd sensation to feel so at ease with someone, especially someone so dangerous. Sure, the rumours were there for a reason, he had to be the top gangster by doing dangerous and violent acts but the way he was looking at you like you were the only one to make him smile before.

Not only this but you were surprised by just how willing he was to open up about his life when you were wanting to find out everything you could. Steve talked about his childhood, how he was quite an unwell kid, meeting Bucky and they both joined the army in their early adulthood, much to Bucky’s dismay with how ill Steve was. Then the most surprising information was when Steve’s voice quieted, glanced around so no one would overhear.

Steve and Bucky had been a part of experiments that seemed to change their DNA which caused them to be the bulky forms that they were now, with enhanced stamina, strength, and vision, everything seemed to be to an exaggerated level. It was almost unbelievable to listen to, but then he showed you a picture of him as a 20-year old and he was tiny, scrawny and ill-looking, nothing like the towering, healthy, muscular man that was sitting across the table from you now.

Steve was open and honest about everything, even though he didn’t know why he was so willing to tell the sister of his potential enemy about facts regarding his gang, but once he started he couldn’t stop. Like he wanted to share more of himself to be closer to you in some way and break down the Mafia leader wall that he automatically had around himself at all times.

“I think the servers are waiting for us to leave”, Steve whispered as he peaked over your shoulder. Turning in your chair, you saw that all the other tables were empty and the waiters were sitting together having completed all the other work. How long had it even been? You could talk to Steve all night if you could.

Steve paid with a significant tip for everyone and placed a steady hand on your lower back as you both walked towards the exit. He had offered to have Bucky take you home but you decided that maybe a taxi would be better, still needing to keep some anonymity at your brother's home.

“You don’t have to wait with me”, you stared up at Steve as he stood close enough that you could feel his warmth, much like on the rooftop, maybe his heat was a side effect of the experiments he’d gone through. Steve didn’t answer your question, instead giving a deadpan look before looking at what you still held in your arms - his jacket.

The pit in your stomach returned as you reluctantly began to hand over his jacket but Steve held up a finger to wait as he began to pull off his white blazer. He noticed how much you found comfort in the navy jacket so gave you his white one, took the navy one from your grip and shrugged it on. “Gives me an excuse to see you again”, Steve commented as you held his white blazer close, he had to refrain from groaning as the navy jacket smelt like you, his cock twitching in his pants with how much he wanted to wake up to that smell every morning.

“Is it weird to say I wish this night wouldn’t end?” your voice was timid as you asked him, becoming slightly nervous as you stared at your shoes. Steve’s brown leather shoes moved closer to yours, the tips just brushing together with how close he now stood. One of his fingers slid underneath your jaw, tilting your face up to look at him.

You gazed at him, seeing his cheeks were slightly flushed again, lips parted and shining from where he had recently run his tongue along them, his captivating eyes half-lidded and for a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you and what scared you a little was that you desperately wanted him to.

Steve wanted to kiss you, he had since before he knew who you truly were but for now, he instead tilted your head to the side and gently kissed your cheek, his finger slipping ever so slightly over your jaw as you seemed to forget how to breathe.

“Thank you for today, for showing me that there’s more to this world than just work, that there is some hope”, Steve admitted, his breath tickling your ear.

Now you definitely didn’t want the night to end and wished that you could reciprocate his words of affection but you panicked as the taxi pulled up next to you both. “Can I have your number?”

“I thought I was going to have to beg”, he was joking but the thought seemed to unlock something in your lonely, virgin brain and instantly had to rub your thighs together as tension built. Luckily Steve didn’t notice as he pulled out his phone from his back pocket, handing it to you to type your number into and then text it, your phone vibrating a second later with a text reading: ‘Tell me you’re mine”.

Your eyes were ablaze as you snapped your attention up to him but he was leaning over to open your taxi door, offering a hand to help you into the back seat. He even helped you to do your seatbelt, making sure you were safe before leaning into the car, “when can I see you again?” you asked, hopefully.

“I’ll cancel any plans if it means I get to see you, text me when you miss me and I’ll come running”, Steve inched forward and kissed your temple slowly, breathing in your smell one last time before standing back and shutting the door. The taxi began driving as you numbly said your address, eyes not leaving Steve’s as the car began to roll away until you could no longer see the blonde man anymore.

You felt overwhelmingly sad, an exaggerated feeling for someone who had only been on one date with the man but his attentiveness, made you feel like you were the only person in the room. Never in your life had you experienced someone caring for you or showing any sort of affection that didn’t leave you feeling used.

Your life was lonely and Steve was reminding you that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be so without losing your courage that suddenly flooded your heart, you pulled up Steve’s last text, reading the word ‘mine’ over and over again and decided to send him one make.

‘I’m yours’.

Arriving into the driveway of Enzo’s home, did it then click that you hadn’t in fact asked for the meeting. The one thing you actually had gone to do, you hadn’t done, Enzo not even crossing your mind throughout the entire night. You’d hoped that maybe he was asleep and then you could text Steve maybe, even though you weren’t sure what you’d say.

Your luck seemed to run out however as Enzo was waiting with anticipation for your return, not even giving you a second to take your shoes off before gripping your arm and dragging you to his office.

You couldn’t lie, not when there was so much expected from this meeting and if you said that Steve said yes and when you eventually were able to meet with him and he said no, Enzo’s reaction would be devastating.

When your brother lost his temper, he usually liked to take his anger out on objects around you, his office walls having to be replastered multiple times from where his fist had left holes. But recently, like the day before, he began to let his anger out on you by resting his knife against your throat with the threat to press harder.

However today, he didn’t remove his knife from its sheath and instead slammed your body into the wall with his hand around your neck, cutting off your airways. A loud buzzing filled your ears as you struggled to escape, you couldn’t even hear his words of anger, not until he threw you to the floor where you desperately gasped for air which was difficult as you tried not to hyperventilate.

“So what are you going to do, huh? TELL ME!” Enzo screamed and you cringed away from where he stood over you.

“I’ll- I’ll text him to meet tomorrow and I can ask him then, it’ll be better to ask in person”, your voice shook as the tears began flowing down your cheeks.

“Well go on then!”

Reaching into your pocket, your fingers trembled violently as you tried to type to Steve, heart pounding with anxiety. ‘Could we meet tomorrow? I’m not sure if I’m sounding too eager but I’d love to replay the favour and buy you lunch if you’re free?’

As you were waiting for a response, you massaged the skin of your neck as Enzo poured himself a heft glass of whiskey, drinking it all in a few gulps before pouring another one. As he was halfway through his second glass, Steve responded.

‘I meant what I said, I’m always free if it means I get to see you. I was just about to ask you for brunch tomorrow so great minds think alike and you aren’t repaying any favours, I want to treat you. Let me know where to pick you up, baby girl’.

You would have sheepishly grinned at his text but the realisation of actually having to portray his trust set in and you instead felt numb. After informing Enzo, he stormed off to god-knows-where, leaving you to crawl back to your bedroom and cry enough that your eyes were sore and swollen.

You didn’t want Steve to feel like you were just using him to get a meeting for your brother, but it was inevitable that as soon as you asked, the whirlwind of excitement and hope would soon extinguish.

You’d arranged to have Steve pick you up outside of Cakes Bakes at 11:30 the next day. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, you had only slept for an hour and that was only because you had cried for so long that you’d passed out. Your body and emotions felt drained, scared of Enzo, and worried about seeing Steve, it was a complete difference to how you were feeling 24 hours ago.

As you were only going for a late lunch, you decided to wear a simple dress that ended mid-thigh, the fabric was soft giving you space to breathe and not feel restricted. You also made sure to style your make-up so that it wasn’t obvious that your under eyes were swollen, even if the whites of your eyes were slightly red, you could always put that off to the cool weather making your eyes water.

You stared at his white jacket for far too long, thinking whether or not to bring it, but a selfish part of your mind decided to leave it on your bed, if Steve never wanted to see you again after today, then at least you could have this as a memory.

Taking a deep breath as you saw Steve’s SUV pull up to the curb, you allowed yourself to feel somewhat excited as he grinned at you, climbing out of the car to sweetly kiss your cheek. “God, you look amazing”.

“Thank you, so do you, are you always this dressed up?” You asked, surprised that your voice sounded so confident with how awful you felt inside but you did want to know the answer to your question. Steve was dressed in a crisp white shirt, the top two buttons undone and black pants that shaped perfectly over his sculptured ass… ok wait you needed to not be so quick to stare as he held the car door open for you.

“I need to keep up appearances, don’t I?” he cockily responded with a smirk that made you flush with excitement. As Steve closed your door and began walking around the car to get back into the driver's side, another voice from behind you made you scream.

“Hey, I’m Bucky, it’s nice to finally meet you!” Turning in your chair, fast enough to make you dizzy you were greeted with a gloved hand, extended for you to shake and the owner of that hand grinning hard enough to show the dimples in his cheeks.

With one hand, you grabbed your chest feeling your pounding heart beneath, not having expected anyone else to be in the car, and with the other hand, accept Bucky’s handshake, the hand within the glove feeling solid but Steve had already explained that he had a metal arm due to an incident in the army. “Hi, I’m Y/N”.

“Sorry”, Steve apologised as he shut his door, “I should have warned you he was here. I told him I was going to grab some food and he insisted that needed to come with me”, Steve growled the last part in annoyance.

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, “I’m just doing my job Boss”, but you could tell by the hint of mischief in his eyes that he came to snoop. “Anyway, I’m like a shadow, you won’t even know I’m here”, he readjusted in his seat, getting comfortable as he looked between you and Steve.

“It’s fine, I know you both come as a pair, you were all Steve could talk about yesterday”, you teased Steve.

“Oh really? And it’s Steve is it? Already on a first-name basis I see”, Bucky eyed you with contemplation and his comment sparked your interest. He’d introduced himself as Steve, was it unusual for him to do so? You looked towards the blonde for answers but he looked ready to punch Bucky in the face for saying too much but he quickly changed the subject.

“So what do you want to eat?” Steve asked, turning on the car.

You all decided on Subway and rather than eating in the car, the boys suggested going back to the office to eat in the comfort of Steve’s office. You agreed, happy to go wherever they wanted but with the realisation that they felt comfortable enough to show the location of Steve’s office and welcomed as a friend rather than a sister of an enemy gang, you suddenly felt nauseous.

There were lots of people everywhere who all smiled and waved at Steve and Bucky, but also remained respectful towards their boss, it was a much nicer dynamic to have than the one you grew up around. The three of you rode up the escalator to Steve’s office, it seemed Bucky was going to be eating with you too but you didn’t mind, he was easy to be around and just as gentlemanly as Steve, holding doors open and carrying your food for you.

Steve sat behind his giant oakwood desk, as you and Bucky sat in two guest chairs facing him, food wrappers in laps as you all ate and casually chatted. But even with how at ease Steve and Bucky made you feel as you forced the food into your mouth, you couldn’t help but feel sick, and empty.

“Everything ok?” Steve asked as he noticed your eyes hadn’t wandered away from the spot on the floor and since the run-in at Cakes Bakes two days ago, you never seemed to look away from his face, he missed your eyes.

Looking up, swallowing far too quickly, you plastered a fake smile on your face, hoping it reached your eyes, “Yeah I’m fine! Sorry my mind is a little all over the place”.

Steve frowned slightly, placing his half-eaten sandwich on the desk, “I haven’t made you uncomfortable coming here, have I?”

“No, you haven't, I promise, in fact, this is making me feel a little better, even with your shadow over here blatantly gate-crashing our date”, you joked, pointing your thumb at Bucky who grinned with a mouthful of food that made you giggle again.

Steve didn’t seem convinced by your excuse though, as he questioned, “So there is something wrong for you to feel better now we are here?”

You couldn’t hold his intense stare anymore and glanced at your lap, willing your mind to work and think of an excuse, ANY excuse, “I’m just tired, I’m fine, it’s nothing”.

Steve watched you try and suppress your emotions and contemplated a few facts. Over the few days that he had been getting to know you and allowing his own obsession to play out with wanting to be with you like you were his own personal drug. There was one topic, one person that had yet to be discussed so reluctantly he asked, “Is this about your brother?”

Steve assumed that maybe Enzo had found out about Steve taking his sister on a few dates and was being an overprotective sibling and maybe the two of you had a disagreement but as he saw tears pooling in your eyes and your bottom lip beginning to wobble, he didn’t care what had caused it, there was absolutely no way he was going to let someone upset you.

You were overwhelmingly stressed, realising it was now or never and nodded your head to answer Steve’s question. Both men seemed to gravitate towards you as your emotions began to spiral, Steve kneeling directly in front of you and Bucky to your left, removing your sandwich from your lap to give Steve room to reach for your hands.

“You’re going to hate me”, you admitted to him, sighing sadly as he stroked his thumb against your cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, you aren’t capable of doing anything severe enough to make me hate you”, Steve tried to comfort.

“You’ve only known me for a few days”, you pointed out quietly.

Steve tilted your face up to his so you could see the sincerity in his eyes, “Yes, but I’d like to think I’m able to read people well and sweetheart, you don’t have a malicious bone in your body”.

“You won’t be saying that after this, you don’t know what I’ve done”.

Taking a deep breath that did next to nothing to settle your nerves, your hands remained in Steve’s as you began to explain what was happening. How for years you had been used as a bargaining chip for Enzo, flirting with customers of his to get what he wanted and after meeting on the rooftop, Enzo had demanded that you do the same with Steve to try and get a meeting for him.

“But then every time we’ve been together, I forgot about Enzo, about his mission for me and every time I go home, he’s there, expecting me to have arranged things for him but then I haven’t and he’s mad. But then, every time we are together and the closer we get, I realise how much I don’t want to lose whatever it is that’s between us but that only makes it worse when I inevitably have to ask if you could please meet with Enzo?”

Steve’s eyes harden the longer you talked, and for a moment you expected the anger to be directed at you but his thumb continued to draw idle circles on the back of your hand as he questioned, “Does Enzo have anger issues?”

“Doesn’t everyone in this job?” you answered honestly, finding his thumb movements relaxing as you looked down at where they lay in your lap.

“Not for people you love”, Steve’s voice was calm as he spoke, sounding sincere but you could hear the rage behind his words and by the way his jaw clenched.

“Did he hurt you?” Bucky asked with icy rage. The tension in the room seemed to shift as both men waited with bated breath for your answer and for a minute you contemplated telling them the truth but if something happened to Enzo, what would happen to you? Where would you go?

So you shook your head, no. Hoping that they believed you as more tears flowed. “I didn’t want you to think I was like everyone else, that I was just using you to benefit the gang”.

Steve’s eyebrows unfurrowed as he shifted closer on his knees, “Don’t cry baby,”, he quickly wiped away your tears again, “your reaction is proof enough that you held no malicious intent behind our meetings, and that you are nothing like your brother. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to ask for this bullshit meeting and only when pushed into a corner have you asked”.

You took a few steading breaths, full of unbelieveable relief that caused the tension to ease in your chest. “I hate seeing you sad and knowing that someone’s made you feel this way. You should feel safe, I mean, are you even safe living at home with him?” There was hesitation in Steve’s voice like the answer would change everything.

“I think I’m safe, he needs me too much”, your answer wasn’t necessarily a lie as such, but the increasing violence didn’t need to be discussed.

“If you’re ever not safe, you know you can always come to me, don’t you? No one would be able to get within 2 feet of you with me around, I promise you”.

You stared deep into his eyes, seeing them full of honesty and genuine care, and it wasn’t something you wanted to run towards, that safety net that he was offering to you.

The atmosphere in the room seemed to shift as you couldn’t blink or even force air into your lungs as Steve’s eyes captivated you. At some point, Bucky took this moment to step away, understanding that you both needed some time alone and as the office door clicked closed, the restraint both you and Steve had been holding onto shattered.

The two of you met in the middle, your body flying out of the chair, arms going around his neck as he cradled your hips, pulling you to the floor, knees pressed against him and his mouth lowered to yours. The kiss was bruising and full of desperation on both parts, wanting to be as close as possible, head tilting one way to the other, lips moving frantically needing to taste each other.

As your tongue teased his bottom lip, Steve seemed to lose some restraint as his whole body shivered, a deep groan coming from the back of his throat as his large arms wrapped around your body and he easily swapped your positions so that he now sat in the chair and you were straddling his lap. Your dress rose higher up your thighs as they burned from the stretch over his muscular thighs, your hips wanting to grind down against him however, this was unknown territory for you, but you could definitely feel the hardening lump that brushed against your thighs with his peaking arousal. Even though this wasn’t your first kiss, that was as far as your experience went.

Steve’s hands stroked up your back as he sighed with content, his tongue daring to dip into your mouth and both of your groaned as yours touched his. Your fingers were doing their own exploring, from the hard muscles of his shoulders, up to the surprisingly soft whisps of hair behind his ears, a strong contrast to the rough facial hair that was rubbing against your cheeks.

You wanted more, needed more of him and for a moment, you were ready to give it to him, but as Steve’s mouth began to kiss along your jaw, you had the sudden urge to tell him, “I’m a virgin”.

Steve pulled back immediately, hands moving to rest on your hips as his glazed-over eyes searched your face, “sorry, we don’t have to do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable-”

You swiftly cut off his chivalrous speech by attaching your mouth back to his in a longing kiss, taking your time to pull back and rest your forehead against his. “That’s not what I meant, I want to do this with you more than you could ever know but I also don’t want the first time to be in a small leather chair”.

Steve grinned, pecking your lips one more time before nuzzling into your neck, “I don’t want that for you either, sweetheart. I just want you to be happy”. Your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest as you held him tighter.

“I’m happy when I’m with you, I’ve never felt like this with anyone before, like I’m actually safe when you’re around.”

“That’s because you are safe, I’ll always keep you safe”. Steve pulled back so that he could look into your eyes, stroking a hand across your cheek, “I don’t want you going back to where he is, without me there, what if something happens”.

“Nothing will happen, and I’ll always come back to you”.

“Will you call me if anything does happen? Or if I give you a call, if you don’t answer by the second ring, I’ll know something is wrong and I’ll come to find you.”

Nodding your head you agreed to his terms, you were always by your phone so was pretty simple to answer unless something was wrong. “What do you want me to tell him about this meeting?”

“Tell him I can do it today, I need to see that coward's face.” Your nerves began to surface again and so Steve tenderly kissed your cheek, as your lips were slightly swollen from the make-out session. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to your brother if you don’t want me to, you’re my priority through all of this”.

Your stomach bubbled with an unknown feeling as you admitted, “I’ve never been someone's priority before”.

Steve’s eyes saddened, “I hate that it’s taken you this long to feel justified and that you matter”. Your fingers stroked across his cheek, following the direction of his hair in soft motions and you could tell he was nervous for his next statement. “During the meeting, you’re going to see a side of me that you might not recognise but, I need to be the boss if it's the boss he wants to see so bad that he’s willing to use you to get to me”.

“I know”, you say, leaning your head on his shoulders, and relaxing into his embrace and you realised that this was probably the first intimate hug you’d ever received and it felt so good and right.

“I just need you to remember this version of me, the one that wants to protect you and keep you safe”.

“I’m not scared of any version of you Steve. The boss or the one that I’m seeing now.”

He kissed your temple, “I really want to fucking kill your brother for making you cry”, he admitted, his words full of aggression, not matching the soft touches that he was providing.

“To be honest, I hardly even see him as my brother, I haven’t for a while so let’s call him Enzo and pretend that he’s not”.

Steve nodded his head and continued to hold you for a little while longer but then eventually shifted, “Go and call Enzo, I think it’s time I meet him properly”.

#mafia steve rogers #mafia au #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #mafia stucky #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #mafia bucky barnes #mine*

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

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pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: attack description, clicker attack, nightmares, anxiety, wound description, angst, denial of feelings, alcohol mentioned, swearing, mentions and descriptions of gun use, near death experience (if u can’t handle the game don’t read)

HAPPY LAST OF US DAY!!!

a/n ive played tlou 3x and tlou2 2x (going through my second round rn) so shut up pls i dont want any of the ‘you only like joel bc hes pedro’ fr come on ive been playing this game since i was 12. (i’m not like other girls 🥵) jackson joel just does something to me mmmm. wrote this nov 18 ‘22 saved for today

Don’t forget 9PM EST on HBO Max

summary Y/N gets attacked by a clicker during an intense time with Joel

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read time: 12 mins 28 seconds

You could feel the air escaping your lungs at a dangerous rate. The rifle at your side slammed against your thigh as you kept running. The thick forest was just as you remembered it; wet, cold, and dark.

You were outnumbered. Mostly runners, but you spotted a few clickers. The brush on the forest floor wasn’t helping. Your heavy breathing and the sloshing of your boots against the snowy ground were making too much noise.

Where the fuck was Ellie?

3 bullets. Rifle was empty, spent that on some sharp shooting up the hill on some runners you and Ellie found in the town. How stupid were you? Those were an easy kill with a knife. But your childish games on who could get the best headshot left you empty.

Your heart dropped as the rock formation appeared. It was too high. It covered the forest like the earth split into two. That is when you came to terms, and you had to come to it quickly.

You were going to die.

Soon enough, the first runner appeared. Easy kill. One down, maybe 7 to go?

Where the fuck was Ellie?

The next one came. Two down. Three at a time now? A fucking clicker followed them? You wished the brush was tall enough to hide in.

It was useless fighting off three runners at a time with a clicker on their heels. This was it. Death.

The stone wall was cool against your backside. You hugged your knees to your chest as you pulled out your handgun.

At least the clicker would have a good meal.

Shot- one down. Shot- another. The clicker sped up. Shot, wounded but not dead. Quick slice with the knife. Dead.

The shrieking screams of the clicker engulfed your senses as the monster came running at you. It’s flailing arms we’re the last thing you were prepared to see.

You felt the hands on your shoulder. Dead hands of a monster, unspeakable to most. The hands grabbed your shoulders, but no bite came.

Just blinding white noise and a splatter on your face.

You had convinced yourself you were dead. You would never see anyone again. You had died the same death as your father years prior. The death that left you alone.

“Dad?” you managed to mutter out.

The white noise turned into ringing as two hands held your shoulder and shook you.

“Y/N? Y/N please, are you okay?”

Ellie.

“Maria I found her! Here!”

Cloth material wiped over your eyes and they opened. Ellie, splattered with blood stood in front of you with the most panicked look you had ever seen on the girls face.

“Your okay!” she yelled at you, wrapping her arms around you.

Sitting besides you two was the headless clicker that should have killed you.

***

You should be dead. Get this horrible life over with. Dead with your father, with the mother you never knew. Living a life without this disease, these creatures. Free of pain.

When you woke up in the medical wing you were pretty sure almost the whole town was there. You felt like an item on display at a museum. Looking over all the eyes, you most definitely were not searching for his. The whole reason you volunteered to go out with Ellie that day instead of Dina. And of course, he was not there. Why would he be?

“She’s awake!” someone yelled from the crowd. Every eye in the room seemed to fall on you at once. The nurse pushed past the group of people and went to your side.

“For heavens sake! Get out!” the nurse yelled to the group of onlookers. “Give her some goddamn space.” you heard from the crowd as people started to walk towards the exit.

Everyone wanted a look at the girl who survived a clicker attack.

“Hey,” she said, slowly approaching you and sitting on the chair next to your bed. “Ellie!” you exclaimed, embracing the girl tightly. “What happened?” you asked Ellie, releasing your grip on her and settling back into the bed.

The bond had been there since the day you met her. You always remember the look of the scared little girl on the back of Joel’s horse when they first entered Jackson. The bond you two had helped her grow into the person she is now. Ellie had always described you as an older sister. But Ellie was always there for you, and you for her. She was your best friend, platonic soulmate. And a damn good shot.

“I killed it,” she said bluntly. “I-I came at the right time it was about to bite you and- you should have seen it Y/N my shotgun did a number on that thing.”

“A-am I infected?” you asked, looking down at your body for the first time. Your tank top was still on, your jacket was missing. Your jeans were covered in dry blood and smelt of pine needles.

“It’s been three days. You got some pretty nasty scratches though. Sick looking if you ask me. Scars of a warrior.” she added, referring to her tattoo.

And that’s when you saw them. The claw marks were sewn shut on your left shoulder. Your eyes widened as you began to panic. You began to squirm and the pain set in.

“Hey, hey calm down. She took care of you. Best nurse in town, I made sure.” Ellie said, grabbing your good shoulder and stroking your arm to calm you down.

“The doctors said if your vitals stay stable for the next few hours you can go home. Dina and I cleaned up the place for you,” Ellie smiled, stroking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What have people been saying?” you asked, holding her hand tightly in yours. “That your a hero. You cleared out that building and we found a stash of food that’s going to last for… well, probably a good year. That’s amazing Y/N! They found baby formula for JJ- tons of it. You were right it was the old warehouse.”

A small smile rose to your lips but Ellie could tell what you really wanted to hear about.

What Joel had been saying.

And Joel hasn’t said much. Tommy had told him a brief description in passing of what happened when it was happening. He figured you were dead when they sent out a rescue wagon for you. He even watched as Maria’s horse lead in your body. Ellie was sitting with you in her arms screaming for a nurse, your whole left arm was covered in blood. What was visible of your face was white as a sheet and you weren’t moving. Joel had to silently give up the inkling of what could have been. Hell, you were the first girl who he even considered after his divorce over thirty years ago. It had to end one day and he had to silently agree with it.

“I don’t…” Ellie began, following with a sigh. “Y/N, don’t get yourself worked up over it. It’s not worth it.” Ellie began, knowing her friend too well. “Did he even come and see me?” you asked, looking to Ellie’s eyes. She couldn’t look into yours. She closed her eyes for a quick moment and shook her head. “No,” she whispered.

“Am I a fool?” you asked her. “I’m not sure,” she replied, weary.

The whole reason you went with her instead of Dina was because of Joel. You most definitely could not face him that day after the previous night.

He had knocked on your door a little after nine. He noticed a change in your demeanor today when he came in the room while teaching the some of the kids how to shoot. He wanted to make sure you were okay. Joel felt like he had some responsibility over you to make sure you were always okay because of what happened.

Joel was the one who was with your father when he died.

Sure, he was older than you. You weren’t sure exactly, but he was younger than your father by many years. The attraction from your end started when you saw him drunk off his ass during a celebration dancing with Tommy in the bar. It was the most unconventionally attractive thing, but it flipped some switch in you. When your dad died he taught you how to perfect your aim and kill efficiently. Never crossing any line because you were his dead friend’s daughter. And you were so close to Ellie. Ellie wasn’t too fond of your crush that you confided in her, but she grew to love the idea. Her family.

He came and visited you a little after nine. You were about to slip into bed before you heard the knock on your door. The night was cold and your pajama pants and thin tank top was not cutting it. You invited him inside. He had brought you a tiny gift to lift your mood; a bottle of gin. Your favorite. And you two drank at least half of that bottle of gin. You talked about everything from your father’s death to the time Tommy accidentally washed his clothes with Maria’s pink bra and still has an abundance of pink clothing to this day. The gin was most definitely speaking when you told him how you felt.

And he left.

“Let it go for now- okay? We’re gonna get you out of here and back home.” Ellie reassured you. Nodding your head, you fell back into the cold bed and closed your eyes just wishing it could all go away.

Home was empty as it could be. The bottle of gin sat on your coffee table. Your bed was made for the first time in years. Your work station was organized and all of your pens and art supplies were cleaned. You had remembered when Joel gave you those pens, he found them one day and thought of you. Your rifles now hung on your wall. Definitely was Dina’s idea, but you liked it. A tiny gift wrapped in a beige paper with a tiny bit of twine around it sat under your newly mounted rifles.

“Woo hoo. Christmas.” you said to yourself sarcastically. Kneeling down, you opened the package.

Bullets.

For safe keeping, ~Maria

Of course it was from Maria. She always played the mother you never had when she wanted to.

The immense feeling of sleep hit you like a brick wall. I guess being attacked by a clicker and living was a strenuous activity. All you wanted now to do was sleep. Unmaking the nicely folded sheets, you melted back into your bed. The sun was setting in your window and the horses were coming in for the day. You could hear them trotting past your window. You wondered if Joel was just feet away. It was what now… Thursday? You couldn’t remember if he still did the Thursday shift or if he switched with someone else. Who cares, sleep was creeping up slowly and the thought of Joel set you out cold.

The forest was blacker than usual. Without a doubt, you recognized where you were. Running again. All you seemed to do was run now these days. Taking a brief look back while you ran through the forest, you stopped as you realized a whole hoard of clickers were just at your heels. You didn’t have time to react. They were on you ripping your flesh off your body. The dream never seemed to end. You felt each bite and tear of your flesh until-

“Y/N!” Maria screamed, shaking you awake and still being mindful of your wound. “Fuck!” you screamed, sobbing into her arms. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” you continued, squirming in bed as she held you.

Your door was wide open and it was now pitch black out. The screams alerted security, and they called for a search of the town. Tommy quickly found the source of the screams and sent Maria in.

Standing outside your door was Tommy, peering in on the sight of his wife with you.

“Gather people. She needs to be watched.” Maria commanded Tommy as she held your shaking body. Too many people had left their homes now to look at the scene and disrupted the peaceful night.

Ellie sat with your head in her lap, slowly stroking your hair trying to get you to fall asleep. “Don’t worry. Nobody in this town will let anything happen to you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The whole previous night you didn’t sleep. You stared at your wall and just thought. And that whole day you delved yourself in drawings you hadn’t finished or poems you had the inspiration for. Took a shower. You looked through your closet and picked out a fresh outfit. You tried all the little things that usually worked on your old self, but your old self was gone.

That bottle of gin sat on your coffee table and haunted you throughout the day as well. You didn’t have the heart to throw it away, or the mindset to drink it. So there it sat. Pitiful.

You were at a loss for words. No words could describe the immense amount of pain re living that memory caused last night.

Ellie began to hum a tune. It was sweet and reminded you of something innocent. Your eyes began to get heavy. “You ready?” she asked, fluffing up your pillow. Reluctantly, you shook your head yes.

The absolute end was there and tiredness finally seeped in. Distraught sleep left and peaceful sleep took its place.

Ellie dimmed your lamp and smoothed the covers on your bed. It reminded you of the time you took care of Ellie years ago when she was sick. “Sweet dreams,” she said, giving your forehead a brief kiss.

Mumbling was heard outside your door, but you didn’t care.

The field was beautiful. Finally, peace. The flowers stemmed beautifully and the sun shown down on your face. Your hands ran through the fresh green grass. Laying in the rays, you suddenly felt the field get smaller. Sitting up, you realized the sun had disappeared and the field was getting smaller and smaller by the second. The sudden edge of a forest was getting closer and closer. And then with one blink you were back. The forest erected around you. You were back.

“No, no…” he heard from your house. Joel’s interest peaked from the grounds left in his coffee mug to the silent struggles in your bedroom. He lifted himself off your porch chair and looked through your window. You were writhing in bed.

“Ellie!” you let out the first yell. It was so loud that it startled Joel to his core and began a flight of panic. Joel didn’t hesitate to burst your door open. “Ellie don’t leave!” you yelled again.

“Hey,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. A loud groan of pain came from your lips. Joel’s heart sank as the feelings on guilt he felt for letting you go on patrol that day set in once again.

“Y/N!” he whisper yelled, yanking your body over to face him. Your eyes shot open. Ripped from the dream into another one.

You looked him up and down. This wasn’t real. It was another dream. Tears welled up in your eyes as you shut them tight, praying you would wake up somewhere else.

“It was a bad dream,” he whispered, resting his hand on your thigh. His thumb patiently rubbed your thigh as your breathing sped up. Your legs matched up perfectly, knees facing him. Your face was buried in your hands that were now grasping at your eyes.

“Stop it,” Joel hissed, grabbing your manic hands tightly. “This isn’t real,” you cried out, sobs following it.

His heart seemed to break into a million pieces when you started to full on cry. The last time he dealt with a crying girl it was Ellie. Wait- no, maybe it was Sarah. He honestly wasn’t sure, but it was most definitely years ago.

“Everything is alright. I know how it is. I-I didn’t sleep for a few days after my first clicker encounter. Those things are nasty fuckers.” he said, his hand returning to your thigh trying to soothe you. He was clueless on what he was supposed to do.

At this point, you realized you weren’t dreaming. He was here. His hand was on your thigh. He was sitting on your bed. You were in a tank top that cut a little too low for your liking.

Your teary eyes looked up and met his. He hadn’t moved his gaze off of your face. He gave you a soft reassuring smile.

Joel cursed himself for letting his feelings creep back in. This was wrong anyways, he felt sick any time he thought about you. The pit of his stomach couldn’t handle it much more, he had pretty much forgotten about you (as much as he would like to admit). But when Tommy assigned him second watch of you that night, he just knew it had trouble written all over it.

“Go back to sleep now. Pretty girls need their beauty sleep.” he said, instantly regretting it.

That line worked on Sarah, but in a whole different way with a much different meaning. He wanted to suck back in the words as fast as he said them.

Letting a tense breathe go, he steadied himself on your bed frame and made his way to the door.

He had made his way to the door as you spoke.

“Joel?”

His hand stopped his motion as it rested on the top of your door frame.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around.

“W-will you stay? Just for a little bit.” you said, stuttering as you realized how large his body was compared to your door.

He paused. “I suppose.”

You moved your legs so he would have enough room to sit next to you. You heard his knee crack as he sat down on the low rise bed. His legs sat upward as he leant a hand behind your legs to steady himself.

“I’m sorry.” you said. It had to be said, what better time than now? “I don’t want to hear your apologies.” he huffed. “It was inappropriate.” you spit out again. “No- Y/N, stop. Please.” he asked. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. Every time I sleep I go… back there. I can’t.” you whimpered. He sighed, groaning and wiping his brow.

“What would you like me to do about it? I can’t do anything.”

“Stay.”

Joel was left confused on how your calmness met his angry tone. He knew you well, he was surprised you weren’t screaming in his face. You didn’t take shit. You were being patient for once in your life.

Oh, how you’ve changed since the attack.

“I’m here. What more do you want from me?” he asked. His tone had extra edge of anger to it that was fueled with a faint passion.

In the darkness, you reached for his hand. It was coarse and dry, with many various scars and callouses you could feel just with a slight touch. He instinctively pulled back a bit, but gave in within the second. Wrapping your fingers with his, you places his hand back on your thigh.

“Y/N I-”

“The thing you were doing before on my leg. It was nice.”

“Oh,” he said, defeating the original thought from his head. His thumb began slowly moving in circles once again.

You were showing him what you needed.

He watched as your sad face closed your eyes and sighed. You felt safe for the first time in days.

Joel felt the pit in his stomach widen and fully consume him. The girl who practically raised Ellie from when she arrived; his dead friend’s daughter; one of the best damn killers in all of Jackson; Y/N. God, he was in so much trouble with his morals.

“I’m too far deep in this shit,” he muttered to himself, rubbing his forehead with his free hand.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him. “What?” you asked.

“I can’t…” he said, beginning to shake his knee up and down. “What?” repeated yourself in a confused tone.

His strong body swept over yours. He grabbed your shoulder ever so softly and perched you in his arms. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

No initiative had to be made besides the movement of your lips against his. Your hand wrapped itself in his hair, playing softly as he held your back strongly. A slight moan came from his lips that he instantly regretted when you accidentally tugged ever so slightly on his graying strands of hair. For the split second that you two separated gasping for air, he pulled you tighter.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been fighting this,” he whispered on your lips. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you sighed, staring back at his scruffy face.

Joel came back to his senses. He felt different. He could never go back to the same person he was a minute ago. His world revolved around something new. No more obsessing over patrol and how to appease Tommy. No more worrying over how Ellie could handle herself. No more worrying about his aching joints and the fear of getting older. Something new became the center of his universe. He had folded.

The girl laying in his arms who now rested her head against his chest.

“You really need sleep darlin’,” he sighed. You sighed in resistance.

“You want me to stay?” he asked, looking down at your exhausted face.

“Please.”

You moved over in your bed as he made himself comfortable. Joel never realized how much larger he was than you until he slept with you in his arms.

You layed on his chest as one arm wrapped around your shoulders. His hand rested comfortably on your shoulder.

“Thank you.” you whispered. He placed a small kiss on your head. Your arms wrapped around your stomach, making yourself more comfortable in his embrace. The only sound in the room was your soft breathing.

“Go to sleep now. Your safe with me, my sweet girl.”

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @jmillerswife

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too-much-tma-stuff · 11 months

Text

Neither Gone Nor Forgotten

sequel to No Body to Bury. This isn’t edited, if you find any errors feel free to let me nice, just be nice about it.

------

Planning a funeral for Danny turned out both easier, and harder, then Batman had anticipated. Easier because he wasn’t deep in grief the way he had been when planning previous funerals, and harder because, well, the person the funeral was for was still around to have opinions. Not that Danny was hard to please, he seemed happy with just about everything, but he was struggling with whether he should tell his human family and friends. He really wanted to, but he was scared.

“I don’t think they’ll understand,” Danny said, his legs dangling over the edge of the tall building he and Batman were currently sitting on, holding a milkshake Bruce had bought for him. “Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all supported me while I was still only half dead and knew. I haven’t kept entirely out of the news since starting to work with you guys and I know they’re upset I abandoned them, I’ve seen it when I check on them. There’s no way they can understand how much changes when you die, I watch over them, but Ic an never go back.

“I can’t be what they want me to be, I’m not really Danny anymore at all, and they’d want me to be what I was. They’d want me to be human, and I’m just not anymore. I would want them to think I was completely dead and gone, but they’ve seen me in the news so there’s no chance of that.”

“Hm,” Batman said helpfully. “Write them a letter, I’ll make sure it’s delivered and then they can come on your terms, or not,” He suggested, he’d found writing letters to be a lot easier. “Like a will?”

Danny cocked his head to the side as he thought about that and then nodded slowly. “That’s a good idea, thanks Batman. You’re not nearly as bad at emotions as everyone says,” The young ghost said, bumping his shoulder against Bruce’s. It made the older hero smile. He wasn’t surprised to find that Phantom was gone when he turned back towards where the boy was sitting, his small smile remained as he threw out the abandoned milkshake and went on with his patrol.

It was two days later when the letter appeared on his desk, not yet folded or in an envelope which Bruce knew was permission to read it. He appreciated that because he would have had a hard time resisting the curiosity even if it was already sealed.

Dear Sam, Jazz, and Tucker

First of all, I want to say I’m sorry. I loved you all and I didn’t run away, I didn’t want to leave you. It was the GIW, remember when I said I was a ‘who’s who of who can’t catch ghosts’? I guess I underestimated at least one of them because they finally got me. Of course it was Phantom they were trying to kill, but is anyone surprised that they failed? It was Danny who they ended up killing, and now I can’t go back.

I didn’t realize what a big difference there would be between being half dead and all dead, a little humanity goes a long way I guess. Don’t worry I’m not going to become Dan, but I can’t be Danny anymore either, just Phantom left now and while I still love you and watch over you as I am, it’s not like I can just ‘live my life’ anymore. It hurts too much to try and pretend to be alive now, and ghosts are creatures of instinct, I can’t go against the natural order of life and death and come back to you, no matter how much I love you or how much you miss me.

Batman and some of the other heroes have offered to arrange a funeral for Danny, this time there’s actually a corpse to bury after all. I won’t be there, but it’s important for both the living and the dead that the dead have a grave, a place to grieve lost life. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, if it’s too hard or you’re too mad at me still. But if you do come or ever visit I’ll feel you there and it’ll make me happy, and maybe it’ll be some closure for you? I never meant to hurt you.

I’ll still be around to protect you, I’ll protect everyone I can. That’s been my obsession since the start hasn’t it? And Jazz don’t you start, ghost’s obsessions are what keeps us here and in one piece, I don’t need therapy. And I guess that’s the heart of it isn’t it? I’m not human anymore, and I can’t pretend to be, and we wouldn’t understand each other anymore. Not really. Ghosts don’t change much though so I’ll always love you and when you die maybe we can be friends again, if you can forgive me for this.

Forever young and yours,

Phantom

Batman read the letter and sat quietly with it for a few long minutes, thinking about it and also questioning some parts, like who Dan was. It was sad of course, but it was sweet too, and he didn’t think that Phantom’s friends would be nearly as upset with him as he thought they would be. Finally he sighed and folded it up, finding a envelope and address it to Danny’s sister since she seemed like the best one to make sure they were all there when it was opened and read. He put it in the folder to be sent out and then leaned against his desk.

“Are you really not going to come?” He asked the empty room, and after waiting for a moment wasn’t surprised when Danny stepped out from nowhere. He’d started to get a sense of when Phantom was there, untouchable and unseen.

“No, I’ll be there, but only the way spirits usually are. I won’t be there physically, just in spirit,” He said, smiling at his own pun. Batman chuckled a little and nodded.

“I understand why you don’t want them to know that, I won’t let on,” He assured. “I think you’ve done the right thing letting them know.”

Danny nodded and then vanished again, this time out through the window, properly leaving the office and Batman alone again.

Batman had the discussion with the rest of the Justice League without Phantom present so they could avoid accidental offense. Not everyone would come, not everyone could come, Batman banned a few of the more literal heroes who would not understand why they were having a funeral when Phantom was still here, even though he had actually died. But a decent amount did come, and Batman had a feeling that the ones Phantom would care about most was Bruce himself, and Diana, who was coming.

-----

When the day of the funeral came Batman and Diana stood outside the little chapel to welcome people. They weren’t technically family of course, apparently Diana was distantly through an ancestor of hers and adoption, and Bruce thought of himself as a paternal figure to Danny, besides they’d been here early setting everything up. The nice coffin was already at the front of the room, closed since it was empty with while lilies placed on top and decorating the little building along with some roses and candles.

He wasn’t particularly surprised when the first person who showed up was Danny’s big sister Jasmine Fenton driving Danny’s two friends. His parents weren’t there but Phantom had mentioned it might not be a good idea for them to come because they would probably be disruptive. Both Jazz and Tucker’s eyes were rimmed red like they’d been crying and Sam’s jaw had a stubborn set to it like clenching it was the only thing keeping her lips from trembling.

They reached the steps, Batman nodded to them and Diana gave them a sad smile. Jazz looked through the open doors, her breath hitching. “Is he in there?” She asked, pointing to the coffin.

Batman shook his head, voice soft and rough as he responded. “Phantom said he’d bring the body later, Less chance for something to go wrong and… I don’t know if it would hurt him, but I think it’s easy to see why he’d be protective of it.”

Jazz’s lip trembled and she took a deep breath, behind her Sam had wrapped an arm around Tucker who had started to cry again, turning to hide against her shoulder. “When you see him again tell him we’re not mad at him, please?” Sam said, her voice hard with repressed emotions, it almost sounded angry but there was a subtle difference.

“He’s right that we can’t understand everything,” Jazz said, biting her lip for a moment before continuing. “But after something like this he needs space, and we won’t rush him. If he needs to start a new life, we get it, everything must remind him of trauma right now, but if he ever wants to get back in touch with us. Well, I’ll love him forever too. But also tell him that he should have been more careful in that letter he wrote if any of us had been feeling suicidal his comment about being friends again after death might have been the last push we needed over the metaphorical edge-”

She was taking a deep breath to continue her lecture when Sam wrapped her other arm around Jazz’ shoulder and pulled her away. “Well we’re not, it’s fine, let’s go sit down before Tucker collapses from dehydration from all these tears.”

“I’m not going to collapse! I’m not even crying that much!” Tucker insisted, his voice audibly wet.

Batman and Diane kept their faces straight while Sam dragged them all into the little building and to seats in the front row. Then Batman’s lips twitched up in a slight smile and Diana gave a weak laugh. “I knew they wouldn’t be as angry with Phantom as he feared,” Batman said, trying to keep his amusement under control.

“What a precocious girl, a big sister through and through,” Diana agreed and sniffled a little, it seemed their grief had gotten to her a little. He understood.

Slowly more people filtered in, just other heroes now, and one young woman called Val. Sam said to let her in even though there was clearly tension there, the heroes didn’t ask.

The scheduled time of the funeral Diana and Batman went inside, closing the door after them and, since Danny hadn’t wanted a priest so Batman started to make his way to the front to start things off.

“We’re here today in remembrance of Danny Phantom, a brave young man lost to soon in the line of duty. He never should have had to join the fight so young,” Batman stumbled a little when he saw Jason slip in at the back of the chapel. He had sort of though Jason wasn’t coming, but there he was, dressed in his Red Hood get up, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Batman could tell that he was on edge, but he was here, and it would make Danny happy. He took a deep breath and carried on with his planned remarks.

When he was done he stepped down off the little podium and Jazz stepped up, pulling some queue cards out of her pocket, taking a deep breath and launching into a planned speech. She was a good public speaker, she managed to keep it together through her speech but her words were clearly very heartfelt.

It went well, a few more people spoke, by the end Batman was actually having a hard time keeping his feeling under control, he maybe should have came as Bruce Wayne so he could have cried. He kept it under control though and eventually it was time to bring the coffin out to the prepared grave. They hadn’t fully planned who would carry it because they hadn’t known if Danny’s friends and sister were going to come, but now that they were here of course they were invited to help carry the coffin.

Batman and Diana took the majority of the weight of course, but all three of them took the offer to help carry the coffin the prepared grave. They lowered it in and Superman placed the specially made vault over top that would protect Danny’s body from, well, the usual stuff super heroes had to deal with, bodies being stolen for experimentation, attempted cloning’s, resurrection but wrong, all that jazz.

Jasmin through in the first handful of dirt, then Sam, then Tucker and then the heroes joined in. When the grave started to be filled properly a lot of the heroes started to wander away, Batman approached Jason who was hanging back.

“Please stay,” He murmured to his estranged son, seeing Jason’s shoulders tense, his arms were still crossed defensively. “Phantom will be bringing his body one most of the people clear out and he’d really like to meet you. If you don’t mind, he just died, and it’s been hard on him, I think meeting you would be a comfort.” He watched with bated breath as Jason’s fingers twitched and tightened on his own arms before he nodded. Bruce breathed a subtle sigh of relief and nodded, turning back towards the grave.

Once the grave was filled and basically everyone else had either left or gone back to the little chapel to socialize, Danny finally arrived. He faded into view, seemingly almost shy, watching them both closely for their reaction. Bruce understood why, he had to carefully school his expression when he saw the state that Danny’s body was in. It wasn’t that he was dead obviously, ashen and limp, passed the stage of rigger it seemed, it was the visible injuries. He was littered with cuts and bruises, there were stull cuffs around his ankles and wrists which had clearly burned into his skin. The wound that had killed him was, well, it looked like an autopsy had been done, his chest was fully open, but Batman knew it had been done while he was still alive. It was horrific.

Batman managed to keep himself under control though his breathing sped up, Hood’s mask completely hid his face but he rocked back like he’d been struck. Danny hesitated, licked his lips a little and stepped forward.

“I can’t touch the cuffs, but I don’t want too bury him with them still on. Will you take them off for me? They shouldn’t burn you,” Danny asked Bruce.

He was about to say yes when Jason cut in, “I’m better at picking locks then him, I’ll do it.” He practically growled, stalking forward and pulling his lock picking kit out of one of the pockets on his suit. “Who did this to him,- You?” He asked softly as Danny knelt, cradling his own corps close to his chest, letting Jason kneel in front of him and take one of the limp arms to start on the cuffs. Jason hissed when he touched it, it burned a little but he breathed through it and started to pick the lock.

“It was the GIW, the ghost investigation ward. I killed the ones who did it, and the justice league helped me disband the rest of the organization and overturn the laws that enabled it,” Danny responded, his green eyes locked unblinkingly on Jason, watching him as he watched Jason work on the locks.

“Good, I’m glad their dead. That must have felt good,” He chuckled vindictively.

“I am too, but I’m more glad they won’t get to hurt anyone else. They might have gone for you if they were still able.”

“Me? Why?” Jason asked, his fingers twitching, he cursed softly when the lock pick slipped, he grumbled and started again.

“Because you died before didn’t you? The cuffs burn you because you’re not… completely alive anymore I won’t ask anything about it, I know that’s private but if you ever want to talk about it, or if you need help with the… side affects, I’d be happy to help you,” Phantom offered softly. Jason only hummed in response, he needed to process and consider that.

When the final cuff fell to the ground Danny took a deep breath and curled around himself, resting his forehead against his body’s hair. From the way his shoulders were shaking they could tell he was crying, Jason rested a hand on Danny’s shoulder, just being there for him until Phantom was ready and finally sunk into the ground. He was down there for a long time before he surfaced again, flying over to hug batman, burrowing against his chest a little while Batman patted his back gently, Jason standing by awkwardly.

“Thank you so much for doing this, and thank you both so much for coming. This really means so much to me.”

“Of course kid,” Jason said, reaching out to ruffle the boy’s soft white hair.

Batman nodded, giving Danny a gentle squeeze, “No one deserves to be forgotten.”

Tag list: @kikkobara @phlebocuffs @spikethecrazycat @spookytragedyshark @thatonegaybitch68 @stargazer-luna @fangirlnerd001 @seraphinedemort @yjfk @rosieparker1856 @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun and thank you too @your-local-idiot-savant for giving me feedback on some parts

#Danny Phantom #Jason todd #batman #wonderwoman #jazz fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #Danny 'crashes his own funeral' fenton #full dead AU #dc x dp #dc #Danny gets a funeral #I have an extra little bit of the doctors Fenton crashing the funeral that I cut out #I'll probably post it separately #danny fenton #Danny got vivisected

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batsarebetterthanpeople · 6 months

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why do so many people keep calling ed izzy's abuser? I thought it was kind of funny how wrong they were at first because I love being right but at this point I feel like, if you really believe that why do you even like this show? where the main love interest is a violently abusive indigenous man? that sounds boring as shit. what would possess the writers of the show for them to make such an awful decision?

but then I think, if this many people believe it does that mean I'm the one who's wrong? or is it that the creators fumbled that storyline when they should have been clearer about it? or maybe it's just that most people on here have had their reading comprehension scorched away by Sherlock Holmes conspiracy theories and Steven Universe discourse. I can't tell. sometimes I think the internet may have been a mistake.

No they're wrong here's what's going on. People all read this shitty fic called Hell or High Water where Ed was everything the Izzy stans say he was and then instead of realizing that Ed is sad everyone regressed into thinking that the Kraken Era TM was going to be incredibly violent, like serial killing blond men because they look like Stede levels of violence. Even if you didn't read HoHW you saw art or read fic from people who had engaged with this fic and succumbed to it's premise. So there's been this background radiation of misunderstanding what the Kraken is on the fandom for several months. So inevitably when Ed did some mild violence and then attempted suicide by threatening murder until the crew took matters into their own hands, which is not abuse or torture by any stretch, btw, it's a murder-suicide at worst (I say at worst because I consider it fuckery-suicide I don't think Ed was trying to kill people I think he was trying to force them into a situation where they thought it was kill or be killed so that they would choose to kill him, but that is my interpretation and you are free to think it's a botched murder-suicide I have no problem with that), which, murder is something the show has never condemned and if it did it would be horribly inconsistent. So anyway, Ed's whole Kraken Era was categorized in the show by him being sad and doing so many drugs and begging someone please god anyone to kill him and trying to break Ned Low's record out of the evil boredom, but because it had a murder-suicide element to it and Izzy's toes were getting removed and he waved a gun around at everyone once (in a way that felt to me like he was trying and failing to work up the nerve to blow his own brains out but I digress) people who liked HoHW and were mad that people had called it out were like "see hes being violent HoHW author vindicated" as if anything Ed did rose to the level of that fic

And you want to know how I know this read is bullshit? Because when I watch the show with people who don't read fic or interact with the fandom and then I gauge their reactions without showing my hand they all implicitly understand that Ed is reacting to Izzy in a way appropriate to how pirate captains react to threats from subordinates. The spectrum of reactions has been from "hey isn't it weird how Ed was the Kraken because his dad was abusive and now he's the kraken because of Izzy? Maybe there's something there but idk" to "I don't think you can apply the logic of domestic abuse to a pirate captain and first mate but also Izzy had it coming" to "I cannot feel bad for Izzy after last season, I'm sorry." To "lmao Izcel" and I've showed this show to roughly everyone I know. The only thing I can conclude from the fact that people who don't engage with OFMD fic almost unilaterally thinking that Izzy is in the wrong and then coming online to see people thinking the opposite is that Izzy as victim and Ed as abuser is pure fanon, like how Stede is a cinnamon roll who talks like Azeriphael.

But anyway yeah you're completely right about the fact that this would be a bad show if they decided to make Ed into a domestic abuser. I don't want to watch a rom com about a domestic abuser falling in love and I don't want a show that decided to make it's indigenous lead abusive when the stereotype of indigenous men as abusers is still to this day used as an excuse to separate indigenous children from their families and put them with white Christians in order to erase their culture. Good thing OFMD didn't make Ed abusive, so I still like the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death

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neteyamsyawntu · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 24

R o u g h

Werewolf Neteyam x Na’vi!Reader

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, Smut, P in V, Prey v Predator dynamic, brief mentions of gore, biting, dom!Nete, infected!Nete.

Tonight had seemed like any regular night. You had finally convinced your mate to put aside his duties to accompany you on a hunt for some very much needed alone time. The two of you had been following the tracks of a yerik for some time now, but the more you followed, the more sporadic and frantic it’s feet seemed to have moved, that is until you finally found it’s corpse. The sight was awful, the poor creature had been completely torn up as if someone had put in through a meat grinder, completely shredded, it was hardly even recognizable as a yerik. “Great mother…” Neteyam whispered in hushed horror as he cautiously analyzed the corpse from a safe distance. “It’s awful… I’ve never seen anything like this. What do you think killed it?” You ask, voice slightly trembling as the air around you suddenly seemed heavy and hard to breathe. An uncomfortable turning in your stomach was screaming at you to flee, not to look, but it was too horrible to look away from. “We should go, it isn’t safe out here. Whatever did this can’t be far-“, “Neteyam…” your eyes had wandered to a far off tree where a whimpering viperwolf laid on its side. Something… something was off about it. Something you couldn’t quite place, but it looked injured. Perhaps the creature that mutilated the yerik had hurt this poor wolf too.

Although you found it odd, that the viperwolf’s pack was nowhere in sight, you slowly crept up toward the animal, who had its right paw yanked up to its chest, as if it had been hurt, “Y/N don’t!” You heard Neteyam called, but it was too late, the rabid animal quickly shifted to its horrifying persona and leaped forward at you, pushing your chest with such force that you fell to the ground, holding the beast at arm's length as it swung its claws at you viciously. In a matter of seconds, Neteyam was rushing over to you, his hunting knife drawn as he tackled the creature down next to you. Gasping for air, you watched as the creature struggled greatly in his grasp, wriggling so much that it managed to swipe a deep gash across Neteyam’s chest, causing your mate to stumble back allowing the animal a second opportunity of attack, biting into his arm.

This wasn’t how this evening was supposed to go. If you had known any better you never would’ve suggested a solo hunt with your mate. You never would’ve been put in the path of a rabid viperwolf that Neteyam would consequently end up protecting you from. It’s claws slicing a deep gash in a diagonal pattern across his chest. A single cry, “Neteyam!” Followed his scream of agony. The mark burned like molten lava as Neteyam writhed in pain. Your hands frantically searched the grass for your lost bow and arrows, hurriedly grabbing them and in a blur of movements, stopped the beast in its tracks with an arrow through its skull. A brief relief melted through your body before the strangled wheezing of your mate drew your attention back to your main priority. “Nete!” You exclaim quickly falling to his side, attempting to put pressure on his wound to stop the bleeding, yet the minute your fingers grazed it, Neteyam jolted in pain instinctively using whatever strength he had to push you off. Your heart tinged in pain as you watched him.

Suddenly a loud CRACK was heard, as if someone had snapped a thick branch or a bone, and Neteyam’s body jolted, and squirmed. Your eyes frantically wandered his body trying to find a solution to the problem… and then you noticed it; his body was changing, morphing, mutating. It had started with his fangs, his mouth opening wide in an agonized snarl as his fangs grew two times their normal size. Then the skin from the middle of his forearms to his hands became dyed in a black tone blacker than night itself, his fingernails growing into sharp pointed claws. His forehead seemed to mimic the same discoloration so that the blue stripes on his head were barely visible before spreading down the center of his back, along his spine. The fur on the tip of his tail seemed to grow in length as well, even trailing up the center of his tail a bit. Your heart clenched feeling helpless only being able to watch as your mate’s body transfigured into a horrifying monster, his eyes looking to you the exact moment his pupils turned into thin slits, mimicking that of a viperwolf’s, and then it stopped. There was silence, only the sound of Neteyam’s strangled breathing as he lay on the forest floor. You felt frozen in place, your body refusing to move, only able to stare at your mate as he slowly raised himself to his hands and knees, shifting into a crouched position. “Neteyam?” You whisper in a shaky voice, thinking maybe you had been mistaken. That all of this was just a play of the light to toy with your mind, yet when his eyes met yours again, a single sniff of the air had his lips pulling back to reveal his enlarged fangs to you in a low and menacing growl, your instincts to flee immediately kicked in, scrambling to your feet the minute Neteyam lunged directly at you, just barely missing your form.

You couldn’t bare to look back as you ran, your feet carrying your body faster than it ever had, tears threatening to overflow down your cheeks at any minute. This had to have been a dream, it couldn’t be real. There was no way you could accept that your mate was now a mindless monster, yet the loud stomping of his feet and the loud reverbed growls you heard from behind you pushed your adrenaline higher, forcing your body to its limits as you sprint faster through the thick trees. Your lungs and throat burned the further and further you pushed yourself, your body nearly felt numb from the blood rushing throughout your body. It was too much, so badly did you want to slow down and throw yourself on the ground in defeat, yet your body refused to let you, not when you felt your life was so threatened as it was. There was no destination, no safe haven to where you could escape, he just kept racing after you. If you went back to hometree you would only endanger the other members of the clan and you refused to put anymore lives at danger.

One miscalculated step was all it took to send you flying into the rough floor of the forest, littering your body in small cuts and bruises. Just as you turned onto your back, your hands shielded your face as you came face to face with the deformed Neteyam. In a matter of seconds you were pinned beneath him, his hot breath fanning against your face in the form of heavy growls. Staring up into his face, you longed to reach out for him, to comfort him as guilt completely consumed your mind. It was your fault that this happened, everything led back to that decision to go out for a hunt this late at night. That thought alone was all it took for your tears to fall freely, as you hiccuped pathetically beneath this predator, lips quivering as your body trembled in the most primal form of fear you had ever experienced in your life. A life that you were sure was only seconds away from ending, only being able to watch as he leaned his head down to your neck, his jaws opening with another vicious snarl. Images of him tearing out your throat with his teeth entered your mind and you knew that this was exactly the moment where you would take your last breath.

“T-Teyam I’m so sorry” you plead, not even certain that he was still able to understand you, tears streaming down your cheeks as the man you knew as your mate now glowered down at you with intense aggression, the soft passion you loved so fondly behind his eyes were no more, as this monster fully set in to the forefront of your mind. “Muntxa…” he growls, his voice deep and graveling like heavy rolling thunder. Your breath caught in your throat, holding back a sob as he leans down slowly, his large muscled frame completely blocking the moonlight above. You shut your eyes tight, fearing the worst, the end. That you would surely die by the hand of your own mate tonight. Then you feel it; the long wet drag of his tongue leaving a warm trail of saliva from your collarbone, over your neck, and all the way to your ear. A strong shiver arose through your body at the feeling. You wanted to call to him, but your voice seemed to fail you, caught in your own fright, a small almost inaudible yelp is all you can muster, as his tongue runs over your pulse a second time, a low rumbling in his chest as your scent fills and numbs his mind.

“My muntxa…” he growls again, yet his tone now seems less aggressive. More… longing than anger, yet a deep unfamiliar rasp still lingers in his voice. A sudden grasp and yank of your top has the beads of your garment breaking and dispersing along the forest floor around you, your breasts now open to the chilling air of the night, forming your nipples into sensitive peaks. A rough and clawed hand, eagerly grasps onto your left breast hungrily, squeezing and kneading it roughly, while his lips attached themselves to your neck, the tips of his abnormally large fangs poking at your skin with each suck and lick. “Neteyam?” You whimper, cautiously moving your hands to his chest in attempts to push him back, only to be met with a warning hiss, his free hand grasping both of your wrists in one swift movement, pinning them above your head, simultaneously pushing his pelvis against your own. His throbbing erection pressed eagerly against your clothed intimates causing you to gasp at the feeling. Was he… bigger than before?

A secure push against your intimates was all you needed to affirm your theory. He even felt heavier as he began sloppily grinding his cock against you, huffing out loud growls trying desperately to feel some sort of relief. Suddenly reeling back Neteyam bared his fangs in frustration, your heart nearly stopping as you froze in your spot on the ground, fearfully watching for his next move. His jaw continuously flexed and unflexed as he snarled, his gaze casted down to wear his cock with practically trying to break out of his tewng, before deciding he had finally had enough of his restraints and ripping the garment from his body. A shriek of fear escapes from you when his hand raced toward you, shutting your eyes tight as not to witness the horror you assumed on yourself, only to find your own loincloth torn from your body.

The gold of his nearly pupil-less eyes gleams at the sight of your revealed cunt, a low rumbling almost like a purr sounding from his chest, while his tails sways enticingly behind him. “Muntxa…” he murmurs again, taking another whiff of your scent with his nose back at its place on your neck, his muscles visibly relaxing for a moment until they tense up again quickly after with the stroke of his shaft against your bare folds. You shiver beneath him, yet this time not in fear having finally realized that he had no intention of harming you… at least intentionally. You may survive this night after all. A soft whimper leaves your lips, exciting the possessed Na’vi above you, dragging his shaft more firmly through your pussy lips, coating the underside of his cock in your arousal, releasing a rough groan himself.

Finally you feel your body starting to relax beneath him, allowing the pleasuring and longing in your core to numb your senses and heighten your suspension of disbelief for the time being. Then you feel it, the growing pressure of Neteyam’s thick cock head pressing at the entrance of your cunt, the sensation of a stretch that seemed long forgotten, as if you were an unplucked flower in the wind, your senses now rushing back to you in full as a hot white sting manifested between your thighs, “Ack! N-Neteyam wait!” You plead, fighting against the hold on your wrists to at least wrap your arms around him and feel the comfort of his body, gasping loudly as his tip forces its way inside of you with a fleshy ‘pop’. Your back arches immensely, crushing your breasts against his chest as you were slowly filled to the brim with more than you had ever taken in your life.

A satisfied growl vibrates through you from your connected intimates and for a moment there seemed to be a peace. A blissful quiet, as Neteyam’s jaw continued to flex and unflex, his eyes shut, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clinging to him. Then a hushed exhale is breathed into your neck, your heart fluttering as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, giving it small comforting kitten licks. You hum contently, finally allowing your body to adjust to his massive size, reciprocating his nuzzling with your own, against the side of his head. In the midsts of your sweet cuddling, Neteyam releases your wrists from his grasp, bringing them to your hips, slowly pulling out of your stretched cunt. Confusion paints your face as he pulls away, with a hint of relief as you look into his eyes, however that relief slowly dissipates as you watch as the snarl returns to his face. In an instant you are flipped onto your stomach, breasts scratching around the rough forest floor beneath you while your hips are being pulled up and back toward the beast as he settles behind you, holding your sides securely.

With a hasty pull of your hips and a thrusting of Neteyam’s, his cock slams into you almost as abruptly as you were flipped over. Your eyes nearly cross at the pressure at the top of your stomach, an overcome squeal bursting forth from your lungs as you are forced to take him in his entirety. You feel the ache in your core when he is stilled once more, breathing heavily into the back of your neck, again the smallest of licks are felt on your skin as he attempts to soothe you even in this consciously rigid state. Scrunching your brows and whimpering soft complaints of your discomfort, Neteyam nuzzles into the serene caress of your hair, sounding out the same purr like sound that rumbled his chest against your back and to your surprise it was in fact comforting.

As hard as Neteyam tried to fight it, a burning fire raged in his stomach, one that provoked him enough to pull back his hips if only for a second- then with the same force he had previously entered you with, Neteyam forced his cock right back into you, bucking you forward in your position on the ground. Your feeble hands clung to the forest floor below you for stability as he repeated his aggressive thrusts over and over again, nearly knocking your legs out from under you with each assertive plunge. Your eyes watered helplessly, basking in the overindulgence of being completely filled.

“Ahh fuck!!” A suddenly shrieking cry burst from your throat. To say your already loud moans had changed in octave would be an understatement, having now morphed into a crescendo of pleasured wailing, pairing with the squelching noises that manifested from each passionate thrust into your sopping pussy. From behind you could hear Neteyam’s harsh panting, his claws indenting into your skin, effortlessly drawing blood as he pulls you back to meet his pelvis, skin smacking against skin on echoing slaps across the trees. As his grunts and groans became more hoarse and breathless, the fire in his loins grew hotter by the second. Neteyam’s eyes locked on the back of your neck, mentally retaliating against the carnal desire that screamed at him to go further, to mark you as his.

The idea of the two of you already being mates wasn’t enough. He needed everyone to know. He needed something fresh. The scale in his mind tipped drastically, his self control fleeting as he went from nuzzling into your hair to sinking his teeth into your shoulder, holding you down as he greedily fucked your throbbing cunt. A searing pain spread through your shoulder, a boiling heat taking over any other feelings, dulling your senses. You wanted to scream, the fight him off, but your throat felt clogged, your own body betraying your very clear instinct to fight- to survive. Closing your eyes tightly you grit your teeth, body trembling as you pushed your voice out of your throat.

Sitting up in your hammock, your hand clutching your shoulder, you let fourth the most gut wrenching scream. Frantic hands moved to grasp you and pull you, a muffled voice calling to you, but you couldn’t hear it through your own anguish. “Y/N!” The voice finally becomes clear as firm arms circle around you from behind, pulling you into a familiar toned chest. Your voice finally died down, throat burning from the strain as you turn to see Neteyam sitting behind you, holding you tightly and securely to both stop yourself from possible injury as well as give your some sort of comfort. Your eyes blow wide as you take in his features; he looked completely normal, no black skin, no abnormally large fangs, and soft loving eyes staring back at you full on concern, “Y/N, what is wrong? Talk to me, yawne.” Neteyam urges, gently stroking your arm with his thumb. Your wide eyes drift to the spot on your arm where you sworn your mate had just bitten you, only to find nothing, not even a sting of pain. There was just nothing. “Was it a bad dream?”.

Scrunching your brows as you come down from your delusions, you stare off into the distance trying to recollect the quickly fleeting memory “I… we were on a hunt and found a rabid viperwolf… it attacked you and…” a sniffle breaks through your trembling voice, feeling your eyes begin to sting with tears as you remember the terrifying monster the love of your life had turned into in such vivid detail, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. In a matter of seconds, your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, your body shaking like a leaf in a storm against him now sitting sideways in his lap. “Shhh it is alright, yawne… I’m here, I am not hurt. We are okay..” Neteyam coos lovingly into your ear, gently rubbing circles into your back, peppering small kisses on your hairline, continuing to shush and rock you to calm you down. “I think maybe you should take a break from watching scary movies with Spider and Lo’ak at the lab.” Neteyam hums in a slightly playful tone, shifting his hand to hold your face, making sure you were in a sound enough state to press a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose.

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