#ooc i do NOT see you it’s meant to be in a comforting way in character | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

temis-de-leon · 3 months

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Pick me girls and Dateables - Part 3

Characters: Diavolo, Barbatos, Solomon and Simeon (x reader, separately)

Part 1 - Lucifer, Mammon and Levi (x reader, separately)

Part 2 - Satan, Asmo, Beel and Belphie (x reader, separately)

Masterlist

CW: pick me girl behavior, suggestive, mentions of sex, mentions of violence and threats, mentions of concubines (no concubines, tho), implied marriage (??), jealous mc, some fluff, some hurt, some comfort, the most ooc out of every part of the series, Barbatos's part is based on one of his chats (A patissier's suffering?)

A/N at the end.

Diavolo

So the Devildom had concubines, what about it? It's not like Diavolo had any concubines. You were his only partner and, apparently, the first one in a long while. You had nothing to worry about.

Still, it was impossible not to feel so dejected when every single one of the demons in his court buttered him up so blatantly, not caring that you were next to him, arms linked and fingers intertwined.

And he smiled. Of course, what else could he do but smile? He had a duty to fulfill and that probably meant keeping certain people happy, right?

At least, that was the mantra in your head. Your heart kept hurting itself, but having a reason made it manageable.

"Well? Have you thought about it?"

You turned to your side and stared at the demoness beside you. She was mesmerizing and looking at her directly made you lose focus.

Have I thought about it? I haven't stop thinking about it.

"Remember that I'm acting on behalf of his wellbeing" she said sweetly, caressing your wrist like she wanted to flirt with you "And I guess I could make you happy too"

That made you laugh without an ounce of humor. Both of you knew she wasn't being serious about that one and you wondered why she said it in the first place. Making her Diavolo's concubine would make her his wife in everything but paper. Did she expect giving you orgasms would make you happier about it?

"Leave me alone" you whispered against your drink, not trusting your voice to act decently.

"How can you be so selfish?" she spat, leaving you speechless "This is for his own good. How long will you live, human? Do you expect him to be alone after your death? My only wish is to keep him company once you're gone and starting now would make the transition easier. He'll still love you, sure, but this way he could be happier. How can you not understand something so simple?"

A demon she was, you remembered. Had you been a regular human, you would've believed her concerned face, but to you it was obvious how impatient she was and how much she wanted to leave you there, alone and breaking, so she could finally speak to Diavolo.

"MC"

Both of you jumped, turning around just to see Barbatos's unfazed smile.

"Lord Diavolo asks for you" he informed when you didn't answer, too surprised to react. "Follow me if you please"

"If I may" intervened your companion, close to giving you a heart attack "I must speak to Prince Diavolo. It's an urgent matter"

The butler looked at you, asking for your permission, but you didn't know how to react. It seemed your throat decided to stop working at that exact moment.

"Very well, then"

The demoness eagerly jumped at his words, not wasting a second in leaving the corner you were occupying to look for the prince, who had finally stopped talking to his subjects and was sitting alone in his throne.

Barbatos stared at her before offering you his arm.

"You have nothing to worry about"

He seemed confident, so you believed him. However, the distance you walked towards the throne felt longer than ever.

Your boyfriend looked unnaturally serious at your arrival, an expression his face was not made for. It softened when he saw you, but, still, he didn't fully smile.

"My love, come here" he palmed his thigh and not in a million years would you reject that offer.

Diavolo smiled at the speed you moved, barely restraining himself from kissing you. Instead, he turned to the demoness and presented her to you.

"I believe you've met her already, MC. Did you know about her offer? Did you know she wishes to serve me?"

He patiently waited for your answer, holding you against his chest and caressing your hip bones with the pad of his fingers and the tip of his nails, making you shiver.

Serve? That's the word she decided to use? She wasn't lying, sure, but it was far from the intention she actually had.

"We talked about it" you said in the end.

There was silence for a few seconds, broken only by the sounds of people still drinking and dancing. Diavolo and Barbatos looked at each other, having a conversation no one else could hear.

"I take it you rejected her proposition?"

Obviously.

You nodded and he cupped your face with a sad frown. Your heart skipped a beat.

"That's a pity, my love"

For a moment you moved away from him, too lost in your incredulity to answer or even acknowledge the crazy smile on the demoness's face, but, not even a second later, Diavolo brought you back to him and continued.

"She would've make a wonderful lady in waiting"

Huh?

"Wait, what?"

Both of you ignored the woman, who looked like she'd been slapped in the face with something rotten, which, in her mind, was probably accurate.

"I asked to serve you, my Lord, not the human..."

"Beware your words" interrupted Barbatos, his tail swishing behind him like a whip.

She stopped talking then, very obviously swallowing her opinions. Diavolo speaked again.

"By serving you, she'll serve me. Give her an opportunity to make you happy and, if she fails, we'll get rid of her"

What did he mean, get rid of her? You opened your mouth to ask, but he jerked his leg, making you jump. His smile was wide, but his eyes held a warning.

You decided to let it go.

"Okay"

Diavolo laughed as loud as he usually did, finally hugging you and ignoring both Barbatos's reprimanding glance and the demoness's sour expression.

But wait.

Wait.

He said 'lady in waiting'. Like... Uh...

Were you getting married?

Barbatos

'I'll be waiting in the classroom'

That's what his last message said.

And you'd never be dumb enough to reject that invitation. ¿Spending time with your boyfriend and eating his homemade cookies? Hell yeah!

You just had to be careful not to catch Beel's attention, avoiding the main hallways and hiding between the taller students, which were almost everyone.

By the time you finally arrived to the classroom (you got lost, but you'd never admit that to anyone), you were fairly sure all of your classmates had already gone home.

Alas, you were wrong.

Barbatos's figure was as composed as ever, but you knew him just enough to know how irritated he actually was. Were you this late? It was never your intention!

But no, no, that wasn't the root of the problem.

You knew her, kinda. Not personally, but you'd seen her a lot of times in the castle, cleaning plates in the kitchen or clearing up the table after one of Diavolo's dinner parties. She looked weird in the school's uniform instead of the one the maids used, but you guessed they too had to go to RAD, just like the brothers did.

So why did Barbatos look so uncomfortable?

Both of them stared at you when you entered, walking towards him while staring at her in search of an explanation.

"MC! You're finally here"

He smiled at you with candid eyes, discreetly holding your hand and restraining himself from kissing you in front of the girl, who cleared her throat to break the moment and grinned at Barbatos like you weren't there at all.

Foolish mistake if you'd ever seen one.

Your boyfriend frowned before turning in her direction, clearly giving her one last oportunity before kicking her out of there and reclaiming his alone time with you.

The girl purposely made herself meek, lowering her gaze as if making visual contact with him was too much, something you could totally understand.

"Master Barbatos, please, I'm begging you. I just wish to learn"

You raised your eyebrows and waited for his answer. Instead, she kept talking.

"I'll follow every one of your orders, sir, I promise" arms behind her back and body slightly swaying, you now understood why he was in the edge of snapping "The others don't appreciate you as much as I do. I'll be your best student"

He stared at her, you stared at her, she stared at him, batting her lashes with a weirdly fake innocent smile.

Her demeanor vanished when the Royal Butler spoke.

"I recomend you stop this nonsense at once" he finally said, breaking the uncomfortable silence "You're embarrassing yourself and Lord Diavolo's service's good reputation"

The poor maid gaped like a fish, although you weren't feeling bad for her.

You stayed behind him, closing the distance as much as possible while staring at her over his shoulder. If you ate a cookie now, would it be too much? He'd probably forgive you, but you'd rather not risk your chances.

"You will stay on cleaning duty as long as I say and you will stop the rumors that I know have been traveling all around the castle"

She lowered her gaze again, this time in submission and humiliation. His voice sounded venomous and you could swear the room's temperature dropped a few degrees. The air was still and smelled damped and rottening.

"If the gossip hasn't disappear by midnight, rest assured, I will make sure you keep your mouth fully shut"

The threat was clear in his words, something that shouldn't, but still surprised you. The maid trembled in response before bowing and running out the classroom.

You stared at the door in surprise, not turning around until he talked again.

"Do forgive me, my dear, but you know how much I dispise rats"

He sounded scarier than ever, letting his forked tongue slip between his teeth before he searched around the room, like he was trying to find more pests.

Then, he turned to you and smiled like nothing happened, holding a cookie to your mouth as the tips of his gloved fingers caressed your jaw.

"Let's forget about this ordeal, MC. After all, I saved these just for you"

Solomon

If there was something worse than feeling jealous, it was Solomon knowing you were jealous.

You thought you could catch a break, uh? Well, you couldn't be more wrong: your boyfriend knew the moment he saw you staring at that witch.

She was cute, you guessed? Nothing exceptional, but not hideous either. You wouldn't mind at all if not for the fact that she used her appearance like a nuclear weapon.

"Oh, you're so cute!" she'd told you once "I wish I was as cute as you!"

And at first you thought nothing of it. She was just being nice! A little weird about it, sure, but who wasn't weird in RAD?

Except, she wasn't looking at you when she said that, but, instead, at your boyfriend.

Of course, Solomon, unbothered as ever, was too engrossed in the cooking book he'd borrowed from the library to pay attention.

(Later that night you had to order takeout, but you were already counting on that).

The point was: she was trying too hard. You couldn't blame her, really, you dated Solomon for a reason; but still. She was getting on your nerves.

"I'm so dumb... I'll never get it! Solomon, can you help me with this?"

Opening a door with magic? Difficult? Yeah, right.

"I've never dated a human before... How is it, MC? I bet Solomon is a great boyfriend"

He has his moments.

"Solomon! Sit with me, I saved you a seat! Why? Oh, I concentrate better when you're here!"

Shit, could she concentrate at all?

"You're so powerful! You'll have to let me have him for a night, MC! He could teach me a couple of things..."

You closed your fist, staring at her with a frown while talking yourself out of mauling her across the table. You didn't need Lucifer's rants about impropriety and self restraint on top of all of this.

"MC and I have a lesson tonight" the sorcerer said with a polite smile, unusually kind eyes and an unreadable expression "Would you like to tag along?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, lowering her gaze in embarrassment, although you weren't sure if she was really embarrassed.

"Could we hang out alone, tho? I don't want MC to see how dumb I am. They're so much better than me! I bet I need you more than they do!"

Well, you didn't need to study with her to know she was dumb as bricks.

You looked at Solomon, opening your eyes so much in bewilderment that even the insides of your cornea were getting dry. Not a second later he turned to you, smiling with mischief, and then you remembered who were you actually dating.

"It's either this or nothing. Be in Purgatory Hall at 6, we won't be waiting for you"

The witch quickly looked at you, frustrated at his words. It wasn't ideal, you knew, thirdwheeling your crush and his partner in a study date, but what else did she expect? Every other option was plain stupid.

"Okay"

She snorted, trying to hide the disgust and disappoinment without much success. Once she left you alone, swaying her hips and her ponytail, you punched Solomon in the arm and reveled in his pain.

"MC!! Relax!"

"Don't tell me to relax!"

You tried to choke him, but he hid his neck under his shoulders before you could lift yourself to reach him better. He knew you too well.

"MC, I have an idea! You'll like it, believe me!"

"Oh, really?"

"I swear!"

Once free from your attacks, Solomon avoided your eyes and stared at his hands. It took him a couple of seconds before he could look at you again, cheeks red, while he spoke from his heart.

"I couldn't care less about her attempts, MC, but she's obviously making you uncomfortable. I won't let this keep going if I can do something about it"

"But why did you invite her to our lesson, then?"

He laughed in a carefree manner, still blushing while he took your hands in his, looking at you like he was about to uncover a precious secret.

"As your teacher, I want you to explore your potential to the maximum"

His voice lowered to a whisper and you got closer to him, letting your body shiver when his breath caressed the skin of your neck.

"Say, MC, wouldn't you like to have your very own training dummy?"

Simeon

Oh, the privileges of being friends with the most powerful demons in the Devildom.

All you had to do was pout a little and act like you were miserable, missing the warmth of the sun and the familiar scenery of the human world. Of course, all of them knew you were exaggerating, but none would take the risk of actually making you sad.

So there you were, waiting for your drinks while Simeon sunbathed outside, sitting in one of those ornate metal chairs and writing some loose ideas for his next book in a napkin. After all, you'd be crazy if you ever went to the human realm without using the opportunity to have a date with your sweetheart of a boyfriend.

If not for the brightness of his suit, he would look like a college student from an old movie, all dreamy and focused in his own world.

And, apparently, you weren't the only one thinking that.

There were a group of girls outside the cafe, all of them young, maybe even fresh out of high school, staring at Simeon like he was some kind of celebrity. Maybe it was his angelic charisma? Maybe it was just his good looks? Whatever the reason, the girls seemed ready enough to conquer the world and they wanted to start with your boyfriend.

You studied your surroundings, realizing with an uncomfortable weigh in your chest just how busy the place was. There was no way you were getting your order in less than five minutes, even being the first in line, so the only thing you could do was wait and hope the girls wouldn't bother Simeon too much.

They stayed in a closed circle for a few moments until one of them finally dared to go and talk to him. She tried to sit in the second chair, but Simeon stopped her with a quick movement of his hand, probably saying he was saving it for you.

That made you laugh, but you were starting to get second hand embarrassment. You could tell she was trying hard to catch his attention, twirling her hair around her finger and hugging her waist to make her breasts look bigger.

You couldn't see Simeon's face, but, by the way he was scratching the paper, it was obvious he was losing focus on whatever he was previously writing, which would only make him irritated.

Fortunately, and rather rudely, the waitress finally gave you the styrofoam cups and immediately ignored you again, but you couldn't care less. The girl returned to her friends just as you stepped out of the cafe, letting you know part of what happened.

"He said he didn't know what part of him made him look interested in me" she snarled with a hint of hurt in her voice, trying to hide it with offense "That I should find someone that actually finds me entertaining"

Her friends gasped and you had to stop yourself from laughing. He wasn't usually that snappy, but she did interrupt his daydreaming.

"I don't even care what he thinks, he's just some dude! I can catch anyone I want, you know?"

Anyone but him, apparently, but the only thing her friends could do was agree.

Shaking your head and holding one drink in each hand, you stopped the eavesdropping and hurried towards him, leaning over his shoulder to kiss his cheek and smiling softly when he raised his hands to stroke your hair. He was warm from the sun, but he still curled close to you even after letting you sit next to him.

The girls audibly gasped at your actions, clearly offended by your presence as if Simeon would change his mind if they waited enough.

You couldn't bring yourself to pay them attention. Not when he was caressing your knuckles with such love in his touch and a feeling so deep in his eyes that it made your heart violently stop.

"So what were you writing?"

He smiled and eagerly showed you the napkin. By the time you turned around, the girls were already gone.

Tagging the party: @hello-gloomy @the-sassiest-toaster @hero-nii-blog @yourlocalyin @elaemae @eliciria @darkflowerav

Author's note:

Simeon's part sucked the soul out of me (not in the good way), but at least it's well-written. Also, this will be the last part for now: I don't know Mephisto, Raphael or Thirteen enough, so they won't be in any of my posts (for now)

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xo-cod · 6 months

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forgive the inaccuracies, idk much about babies <3 ooc/rushed :)

simon w his baby but she has a preference for one parent and it's not him

simon finally coming back to his safe place, his sanctuary, his home, all but eager to spend some needed time with his family. be had been off to a mission, the last one for a while to make sure that everything was okay. he had already been incredibly reluctant to leave you but now that you both had a baby, it was hard. not a second was spent on the field where images of the pair of you blazed through his mind, almost nearly costing his arm and leg in the process of being too distracted. it had been hell to say the least

but the day finally came, there he was finally on his way back after an intense gruelling month. simon saw you first, bundling you up close in his built arms enjoying your little chuckles that fell from your lips. removing his balaclava as he peppers tender kisses across your cheeks before your lips, his soft smile growing at how happy he was to be back. before he set you back down, eyes scouring about for his bundle of pure joy

"where is she, lovie?? i missed her so much, i got her a little trinket from the place we were deployed in, hope she likes it" he chuckled softly, opening one of his pockets to reveal the gift as he catches his baby on the carpet playing with toys babbling away. his heart was practically bursting at its seams, shedding away his utility vest and his gear to make sure nothing could hurt her before he gently padded his way over. he had different ways the evening would pan out but he hadn't expected this.

he didn't ever expect to be met with a blank stare in return

his heart dropped when he picked his little girl up, she was too busy playing with her favourite toys to even react to him. he hadn't anticipated her looking at him like a stranger. he could've cried with the way she wriggled out of his grasp and wanting to be let down as if he was some enemy. as if instead of being the protector he was now the very thing he swore to keep away from his child, a stranger.

his face like a kicked puppy when he looked at you with pure shock and pain, looking back at the baby who was eagerly crawling back to you having wanting nothing to do with him despite him trying to come closer. you could see all the happiness he previously had practically disappeared from his body, his shoulders deflating with sadness and pain

she couldn't recognise him, she was no longer a daddy's girl

"honey.... sweetheart, it's me, dad. daddy's here. c'mon, c'mere munchkin" he tried to chuckle, kneeling down opening his muscular arms only for her to blink at him and then look back at her toys again

"lovie.... what's going on?" his voice is so soft with hurt and shock looking back to you with huge shining eyes as if he had encountered the worst loss till date. suddenly the mission he had just been on was nothing, the weight of his child preferring you over him was crushing his heart into pieces he didn't think he would come back from. how he'd do any mission 10x over if it meant his child, his treasure would love him again

•••

and it remained that way for the next week, he tried his utmost best but it never seemed to be good enough for her. you tried to console him but he remained dejected, she was always wanting to run back to you. to be comforted by you and to be held by you. every time he tried to tuck her in, his efforts simply proved fruitless. she would cry and cry until you came back in and he watched from the side never feeling like he had failed so hard before in his life.

it hurt more than any of the superficial wounds he ever managed to get in battle, it hurt more than him being on his literal deathbed all those times he was caught in the cross fire. and it only propelled him further into despair when he made the mistake of googling it and realising that this phase may very well last years.

you could see him break with everyday, doubting himself as a father and as a husband. blaming himself and letting the doubt plague his heart and mind. it seemed nothing could comfort him apart from his baby that wanted nothing to do with him. he hadn't managed to hug her at all, he missed being able to snuggle her soft skin for hours. lounging around the home with her cuddled up in one arm as the other gently rubbed on the back of her head soothingly holding her close to his heart. and the thought of never being able to cuddle her without the cries that accompanied it was more than he could bear, it hurt more than anything he had gone through

that was until one night, he was tiredly going to the bathroom and pausing over the nursery. he hadn't meant to but he peeked in and saw her laying in her crib half asleep. her eyes big and brown exactly like his, blinking up slowly at the lieutenant. she was quiet apart from the small sounds she made sucking on the pacifier, a soft bunny in her hand as she peeked back at her father.

"hey baby...." he whispered so softly, he didn't even think she had heard. but her head tilted in curiosity and he chuckled, his hands coming to rest on the walls of the crib. desperately aching to feel her soft skin but too nervous to agitate her

"it's me honey, your dad. i really.... really miss you" he broke off, his heart feeling so heavy as the guilt came barreling in once more. it was his fault that he left her for a month, he shouldn't have been so surprised when he came back and preferred you. you had been there when he couldn't, she developed an attachment with you, not with him

"i'm so sorry to have left you for a month, honey. if i had known- if i thought for a second you'd hate me-" he didn't have the heart to finish the words, the guilt overriding his senses. with a soft sigh, his forehead leaned against his palm for a moment. his own baby didn't like him, he hadn't felt this low in a long time.

he promised he would never raise her in a volatile environment like he had grown up but already he hadn't been any better. he left her knowing for a month, coming back to see her favouring you. and it wasn't easy on both of you, he knew that. he knew he was being irrational but it stung more than any cut, the fact that if he hadn't made the choice to go on the mission that his baby wouldn't be acting so strangely around him.

simon didn't expect anything more tonight, too scared to touch her in case she started crying so he settled for placing the blanket back over her and heading off to bed with a heavy heart. what he didn't expect was the small coo coming from her lips, her tiny fist wrapping up over his index finger. his heart was in his throat, eyes wide at the sight as he looked back to her sweet innocent face again

"me?? you want me?" his voice was so gentle, too scared to speak loud as if this was all a beautiful dream he would wake up from. hesitantly he had reached down, his breath held as his large hands wrapped around his baby so delicately as if she'd shatter beneath his fingertips. slowly sitting down on the rocking chair, the moonlight pouting through the window illuminating her features.

how everyone around claimed she was a carbon copy, how proud he was to call her his daughter. all the moments that they shared running through his mind like a montage and she tilted her small head up at him, a gentle giggle falling from her lips before she rested her weary head against his warm chest. he could've cried and he did, gently but firmly holding her body between his hands. thanking whatever goodness he had done in his life that she was back, his baby was back. and she loved him just like before. she recognised him, she wanted him willingly. it was enough to break him out of whatever funk he had been in, trying desperately not to sob happy tears after a long gruelling two weeks.

you woke up the next morning to see simon laying on the rocking chair, one hand protectively over her small back while the other locked around her little legs as they both slept peacefully. his cheek leaning against her forehead as they cuddled up close on the rocking chair, both making the exact same sleeping face causing you to hide your growing smile and snap a little picture of the tender moment.

she truly was his little mini.

#simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!simon riley #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley x reader

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sorrowedpickle · 9 months

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Of the fittest

Wednesday Addams x g!p!reader

A/N: I was eating ham while making this

Warning: g!p, p in v, ooc!wednesday, bottom to top reader, top to bottom Wednesday

The clicking sounds of her type writer were the only things you could hear besides your heartbeat in your ears, your breath catching in your throat at every little movement one of you would do due to your sensitivity.

Your breathing shallow as you stare at the back of your girlfriend, it was slightly hunched over but straight up as her fingers moved elegantly across her type writer you gave up on focusing on long ago.

How could you focus with her pussy wrapped around your cock like something perfectly molded just for you, she had made sure it would fit her perfectly. Many times she had took her time to make sure you fit just right and were able to slip in with no worries.

Your hips buck up toward her, desperate to be deeper only to feel her quickly pinch your thigh with her well manicured nails. It was a sharp pain, though not too painful to the point it had you wanting to pull away.

“Hold still,” Wednesday snaps, her type writer sounds pausing and her sharp glare looking back down at you. You whine softly, grip on her hips tightening before shifting to get a little more comfortable.

Her walls warm around your shaft as she returns to writing, purposely squeezing herself around you as a way to torture you while she casually went back to doing what she was.

It was somewhat of a punishment for bothering her all day with your neediness, wanting her to bring you away from prying eyes and fuck you until you saw stars. She had made you wait all day and now she was going to make you wait a little longer while you were inside of her.

She had told you to wait an hour. Just an hour and you could do what you wanted, even then you knew you’d have to go at her pace but you didn’t care as long as you got some kind of release.

But it was starting to get hard, the way she had been moving around and squeezing her pussy to tease you for what felt like a lifetime was really getting to you as your hands as her tightly, most likely creating dark shapes onto her pale skin in the process but she didn’t seem to mind.

Your head throws itself back against the railing of her chair, groaning quietly as she continued to work on her novel while you dick was oh so casually buried deep inside of her. It was both intoxicated how she’d ignore your pleas while also frustrated when she’d force you to stay still and get mad when you wouldn’t.

Wednesday herself was regretting her decision of having you inside of her while she worked. It was meant to be a punishment for you but it seemed to tables were turning onto her as your cock twitched inside of her with your occasional bucking of your hips.

“Weds,” you whine, trying to pull her further onto your hard cock. “Please.” Your whine gets a little louder when you see she doesn’t react and you seem to get even more desperate as you shift.

She ignores that as well, knowing you just wanted the attention she refused to give you. “Wednesday, please, just fuck me already.” You whine even louder, as you stare down at the skirt that covers your view of her ass.

She ignores your plea and making you whine even more as you pull her further up onto your lap and pulling her down more forcing the cock into an angle that was deeper and had her seeing stars, she flinches slightly and her typing stops as she holds back a moan, gripping the edge of the table.

She quickly recovers and her head snaps back to look at you, a glare on her face as her eyes lock onto your desperate ones.

It was a warning, that much you knew but you didn’t care. She had been torturing you for half an hour and you couldn’t take it much longer.

Your hand reaches up and you grab her shoulder tightly, making sure she can’t resist as you quickly stand up. The sound of the chair hits the floor with a clattering noise as you push Wednesday into the table, shoving your cock further into her throbbing pussy.

Her body tenses and she claws at the table, eyes wide as she stares forward while her pussy squeezed tightly around you. You breathing was rigid as your front presses up against her back, hand keeping her waist pressed up against yours.

She shivers slightly at feeling your hot breath against her flushed ear. You were going to regret this later, she’d make sure of it. But first, she wanted you to finish what you had started.

You sit up slightly, hand pressing into the small of her back to keep her pressed into the table while your other hand gripped her hip tighter, pulling her closer to your pelvis if it were even possible.

“Fuck,” you whisper, voice shaky as your hips start to move. You start soft, allowing her to adjust to the feeling before taking it up a notch when the sound of her breathing increased as well.

You’d pull out to the point she thought you’d actually leave before slamming back into her making her gasp quietly, hands gripping her table tighter as small breaths leave her at your continued actions.

She felt so good, especially after being inside of her for so long and not being able to move at all. It shocked you, really, you thought it couldn’t get any better after getting used to the feeling of her. But no, every movement gave you a new feeling that shot through your body like electric bolts.

It was tantalizing, addicting even and you wondered why you hadn’t thought about what it’d feel like when you first met her. You couldn’t get enough.

Your head is down, pressed against her shoulder blades with your mouth agape with your hands roaming under her shirt to feel the warm skin buried underneath, hands playing with the hem of her bra before a sound you had never expected to leave Wednesday leaves her.

A whimper. The sound quiet and barely noticeable but you noticed it. Before you could even process it more leave her, nails digging into the wood as her ass pushes back against you for more.

And more you give her, pushing her further up onto the table only to have things knock all over the place while she pushes her type writer to the side with a kind of strength you or herself didn’t know she had to be able to push the heavy thing.

It’s not questioned though, you were too busy fucking yourself into her to really care at the moment as you scratched down her back under her checked shirt with face buried deep into the fabric as you listened to her soft noises.

You didn’t want it to end. The feeling of her wet pussy gushing against your cock, the sounds leaving her mouth getting slightly louder the rougher you get, the sight of her back arching under you or her hair starting to get a little frizzy as you fuck into her. It took everything in you not to cum instantly, not so quickly anyway.

You wanted to savor it all, keep it in your memory for later when you weren’t together or just to have there for when you were bored in class. You just wanted it.

And that you would do, having her fuck back against you with the same amount of neediness as you as you bit down onto her clothes shoulder to muffle your moans as her pussy engulfed you.

Her sounds got louder, whimpers and soft moans making you shudder and the feeling in your belly starts to grow bigger as your teeth bite down harder onto her, wanting more noises of pleasure to leave her.

Her legs begin to shake, forcing you keep her up by hips while one hand reached down and began rubbing her clit in fluid motions that had her body jolting as a loud moan left and her grip on the table tightened.

The feeling of her cumming onto your cock was insatiable. Her warm velvet walls getting even more warmer around you as your thrusting became more sloppy while you moaned loudly into her shirt, face burying itself deeper into her as you finally came into her, hot liquids filling her up as your hips twitched slightly.

Both of your breathing was heavy as you laid there against the table, your body pressed firmly against her as your cock stays buried deep inside of her. Not exactly caring about the sensitivity but wanted to keep the warmth of her around you there for a bit longer before pulling out into the cold and dark world.

You wanted to stay like that for a bit, out of it. One, because you were out of it and needed a moment to collect yourself and two, because you knew you were in for one hell of a punishment after. So, it was best to enjoy the feeling and moment while it lasted before being denied and in pain for the rest of the night.

—

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#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #x reader #x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #lorraine day x reader #tara carpenter #vada cavell x reader #wednesday series #pickle

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cheqorb · 16 days

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OFF-SCRIPT ROMANCE ft. reo, sae, kaiser

you’re both just in a fake relationship for both of your own benefits, nothing more is going on behind the scenes! and it’s definitely not actual love!

NOTES: made in mind with characters aged up to maybe around 20+ ish? i’ll continue working on mer-love requests. im even thinking of opening bnha requests since i’ve gotten back into it recently. can’t tell if kaiser is ooc or not, but i’m sure you guys are sick of my apologies so i’ll try to stop LMAOO

edit: wrote this before kaiser’s backstory and goddamn it.

as the heir to the illustrious mikage corporation, REO knew, deep down, that the time would come when he'd have to step into his parents' shoes and take control of the company. and speaking of which, his parents seem to be growing increasingly more eager to see him settle down, constantly badgering him about finding a suitable partner whenever he visited them. however, his career of being a professional soccer player meant that he would probably only be able to see them if he played games in japan itself, which rarely happened anyway.

he wasn’t an idiot; maintaining a relationship with his schedule would be practically impossible, his s/o would certainly get tired of it after a few months, and he wasn’t keen on the idea of forcing them to travel with him to every single match.

the thought of starting a relationship under false pretenses, merely to appease his parents, left a bitter taste in his mouth. he wasn’t exactly the type of guy who wanted to break someone’s heart over this. reo was stuck wondering how on earth he could pull this off, until by some stroke of genius, you came into his mind.

though not close friends, your paths had crossed enough times for him to recognise your presence. considering your own status as the heir to your own family’s fortune, his parents would also approve of you. plus, you’re already familiar with the expectations such wealth brings, surely, the lifestyle of being his significant other wouldn’t be too different from the one you already had?

as reo stumbled over his words, his usually confident demeanor giving way to a palpable sense of unease, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of empathy. despite his attempts to mask his nerves, it was clear that this request weighed heavily on him, even more so than his typical bravado could conceal.

“so, i was hoping you could consider—“

his tentative smile faltered as you swiftly interjected, a curt “yes” escaping your mouth before he could even finish his carefully rehearsed proposal. the relief in his eyes was unmistakable, though tinged with a hint of disbelief at your response. his expression softened, a mixture of surprise and relief evident in his features. “you…you don’t need to make your decision so quickly,” he stammered, clearly taken aback by your immediate acceptance. “i understand it’s a difficult thing to ask of you…”

reo couldn't help but feel nervous, in hindsight, the arrangement had fallen a little too seamlessly into place. your willingness to dive headfirst into a relationship without a moment's hesitation freaked him out slightly, but it did ultimately solve his problem! with you by his side, he could continue his career while still making his parents happy.

of course, he still had his doubts but you seemed perfectly happy to spend your days in comfort and go on luxurious vacations with your friends if he had matches coming up.

and as if his luck couldn’t get any better, you’re quite the lovely person yourself. even in the absence of his parents, you always go above and beyond to maintain appearances (he thinks that’s what your trying to do anyway?) and ensure he’s happy. whether it was a home-cooked meal awaiting him after a long day or your presence in the stands, cheering him on during matches, your seemingly genuine care for him truly warmed reo's heart.

in return, reo finds himself taking extra care of you, making sure you’ve got nice clothes to wear, randomly calling you in the middle of the night, a slip of the tongue petname here and there…

nagi could only only sigh (internally in his head, it’s too much work to actually sigh) as reo picked up his phone for the umpteenth time this hour. “maybe they’re just sleeping..?” he offers, though it doesn’t seem to help very much.

“they haven’t responded to any texts, they won’t even pick up the phone…” the man laments, sulking in the corner of the room, “my dear (name) could be in danger and i’m not there to help them-“

a quick ding from his phone soon shoots him upright from his misery, a hopeful look now on his face. he only seems more cheerful once he notices it’s a voice message too, he just loves listening to you speak! your voice is always so— ‘reo, please go to sleep, it’s late in (country) right now, isn’t it? call me back in the morning, don’t you dare think of staying up to text me.’

huh? does he really do that?

SAE’s attitude and abrasive personality is definitely one of his manager’s least favourite qualities about him. the midfielder's dislike for interviews and meet-and-greets, coupled with his unabashed insults towards those he found irritating, posed a significant challenge for his public image. while some die-hard fans may have been drawn to his aloofness in the first place, it was hardly the ideal image for sponsorship deals or modeling contracts.

his manager entertained the idea of sae entering into a relationship. perhaps, he mused, the presence of a significant other could soften his rough edges and make him more approachable to the public. though he doubted sae would ever agree to such a scheme, he was a bit desperate now. can’t hurt to try, right?

as you sat outside the room, the tension hung heavy in the air. each candidate that emerged only served to heighten your nerves, leaving you questioning your decision to agree to this dumb offer in the first place. the obvious heartbroken expressions of the people leaving the room, along with the unmistakable voice of itoshi sae uttering the word "rejected," did little to ease the growing pit in your stomach.

finally, your name was called, and you entered the room with as little flair/flamboyance as you could, no need to embarrass yourself more than you already will. his bored expression did little to boost your confidence and you found yourself avoiding direct eye contact as you introduced yourself in a sheepish manner. “hello, uhm, it’s nice to meet you. i’m (l/n) (name).”

despite sae’s initial perception of you, there was something about your genuine yet unassuming nature that intrigued him. you spoke about yourself with an honesty that bordered on indifference, almost as if you had resigned yourself to an inevitable rejection so you didn’t care how genuinely insane the things you were saying were. (seriously, wdym in college you went to a skate park and came home with a horse…)

the words escape his mouth before he can even think of what he’s saying, “look up at me.”

his request caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but stammer out an apology before reluctantly meeting his gaze. under the intensity of his teal eyes, you felt a pang of self-consciousness but thankfully maintained your composure until the end. “but, uh. that’s all I can really say about myself. thanks for listening to me.”

you flash him a smile, before swiftly getting up and exiting through the door without even letting him get a word in. ‘finally, that’s over with…’ you do feel a little bad for sae though, hopefully he would take an interest in at least one of the candidates that came in after you.

you truly believed you had created a lasting impression of someone who was most definitely not a good fit for a prodigy like him (as well as a bit of a weirdo), so imagine your shock at the email sent to you the very next day by his manager. to make a long paragraph short, you got the position! well done..?

and now, his manager arranged for you and sae to meet together for a first date to truly make sure this relationship would, at the bare minimum, allow you to be cordial with one another. well, that’s what he was hoping for anyway. if you’ve got a person like sae on your hands, you learn to not expect things to turn positive.

his blunt remarks and stoic demeanor could’ve easily derailed the evening, but to your credit, you held your own with decent resilience considering how timid you seemed upon your first meeting. in spite of the occasional falter at his words, you continued to only show kindness towards him.

he’d never, ever, admit it out loud but he does feel a little guilty at how you just take his words without complaint. he had expected some form of resistance or annoyance from you, yet you only met his words with a laugh or simply ignoring it, leaving him feeling unexpectedly unsettled. also slightly questioning your self esteem.

just as he was contemplating bringing the date to a close, you suddenly bow your head with a smile on your face. one that really captivated sae because of the actual, sheer sincerity in it.

“thank-you, sae, i mean it. you’ve been very nice to me considering i’ve just been talking your ear off this whole time, so thanks for that. i liked today a lot.”

with your words hanging in the air, sae was at a loss for how to respond. what was he supposed to do after hearing that? not decide right there and then that he wanted to give you the entire world and more? (I’M SO SORRY I CANNOT FOR THE LIFE OF ME WRITE SAE WITHOUT HIM BEING EXTREMELY OOC)

unlike the other two, KAISER’s situation can vary a little more. as in, his reasons for needing a pretend relationship can differ depending on anything. it could stem from dissatisfaction from his management, a desire to maintain his image, or simply on a whim. regardless of the reason, you’re stuck with him one way or another.

his overconfident demeanor can be jarring at times, even though you thought you had steeled yourself for it beforehand. it doesn’t seem to disappear even when the two of you are alone together; which by common sense, should be when you’re most comfortable with each other, no? yet, there are also instances when his bravado feels forced, the occasional slip in his facade.

for better or for worse, you hesitated to say anything; not wanting to overstep any boundaries. you weren’t his actual s/o, you were getting paid like the relationship was a career. besides, would someone as arrogant as to call themselves ’emperor’ even want help from you? if you’re the more compassionate type, you may just immediately cave in and try to help. well, even if you aren’t, you’ll find it increasingly difficult to ignore him, ultimately realising he is unlikely to seek help himself.

initially, he adamantly opposed any attempts from you, making it clear he preferred to deal with his troubles alone or that he didn’t need your help. your persistence is slightly alarming to kaiser, whose probably wondering if you’re trying to increase your allowance or something, but he still doesn’t give in (yet).

suppressing a sigh, you turn on your heel after placing a cup of water and a modest plate of food on the coffee table. staying where you're evidently not wanted seems pointless. "try to eat something before heading to bed, kaiser. and if you need anything, just tell me, kay?" the words spill from your lips almost automatically, uttered countless times before.

as you take a step forward, a sudden tug on your arm sends you tumbling to the floor. "ow-"

kaiser remains silent, clutching your hand as if it were his lifeline. awkwardly, you place your hand on his shoulder, engaging him in small talk. though he doesn’t respond, he doesn't push you away either. it's progress of sorts, you suppose?

after that, there’s a gradual improvement in your relationship! kaiser appears to be coping better, even seeming happier than before. good for him, you think to yourself.

even so, you figured that your dynamic with each other still wouldn’t change all that much. you’d help him out whenever he needed you to, you’d both continue with your lives as usual. however, fate clearly had other plans.

for starters, he’s much more affectionate in private moments rather than it simply being for the public eye. gone are the days when displays of affection were reserved solely for public appearances. now, it’s like there isn't a day that passes without his presence: resting his head on your shoulder, intertwining fingers, or wrapping his arms around your waist. and then there’s also the random pet names he bestows upon you.

another change would be that kaiser genuinely cares if you’re around or not. attending his matches had become routine to you, necessary to maintain the image of being his supportive significant other but nothing more.

while you had no intention of not going, you couldn't help but notice kaiser's new habit of personally inviting you to his matches. with a smug grin, he would insist on you showing up, emphasising how he wanted you in the crowd, cheering him on. instead of receiving tickets through the usual channels (his manager, mostly), he even took it upon himself to hand-deliver them to you!

with the crowd roaring with excitement, signalling the start of the match was close by, kaiser's gaze finds its way to you. he takes a stride in your direction, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin to face him.

you meet his eyes, a questioning expression flickering across your features, as he lets out a dramatic sigh. "not even going to give me a bit of luck before i step onto the field? i mean, a supportive partner would offer a kiss for good luck, wouldn't they?" he murmurs, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

he’s ever so slightly more unbearable like this though. how awful!!

#[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — from the heart !#[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — writing #[ 𐙚 ] CHEQ. — bllk #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader

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chaedomi · 10 months

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THEIR DELICATE FLOWER

SUMMARY . flowers come in assorted colors and produce sweet nectar. as a result, flowers attract various kinds of butterflies, even the so-called deadly ones. pt. 2

CHARACTERS . THE BLACK AGRICHE (minus Fontaine)

WARNINGS . YANDERE, female child reader, platonic, ooc, violence, death, unhealthy relationships, everyone somehow finding a way to terrorize reader, the agriche family as a whole (if i missed any, kindly alert me)

WORDCOUNT . 5.8k+ / MASTERLIST.

YOUR MOTHER was already a laughing stock and a huge disgrace to The Black Agriche. Due to this, she was confined to her room, away from the disgusted eyes that followed her form with every step she took. Her reputation further decreased when word spread in the household that she gave birth to a baby girl… a sickly one at that. Was she trying to ruin the image The Black Agriche carefully built for years!?

When LANTE found out, he was beyond livid. The disdain he held for your mother was very evident as the slightest hint of her has him in a sour mood and heads rolling. Still, he gave her a chance to redeem herself; birth a worthy child was all he commanded. However, the ending result only proved that she was indeed a useless woman.

Nobody could have stopped him from what he did next, not even the wails and desperate pleas of his other wife that knelt helplessly on the ground. Unleashing his bloodlust, your mother was brutally killed. The only ones spared were his other wife and you, as he deemed it foolish to judge you as a newborn. Perhaps your state was only temporary and as you grew older, you would impress him.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Although you weren’t sick, you grew to be a rather fragile individual. The littlest pressure has you crumpling in pain, wheezing breathlessly. A disappointment, really. Nevertheless, he kept giving you another chance to prove yourself. When you fail, he gives another and another, and another, and another-

It was then he realized how lenient he has been with you out of all people. Why he hasn’t diced you into a pile of meat as he claimed each time was beyond him. Every time you made a fault, he found himself scrambling for a reason to excuse your deplorable actions. It was unlikely of him and bothered him to a large extent.

Having enough of the confusing emotions you struck within him, an order was sent out, requesting your presence. Understandably, you were petrified as it was not common for the Head of The Agriche Family to express interest in seeing anyone out of the blue. And with an amused smirk, he watched as you nervously eat the desserts brought by the servants before dismissing you from his private room.

He continued doing this, either inviting you to the room or seeking you outside, the extreme feelings he experienced deepening with every interaction he held with you. Eventually, it escalated to a point where he didn’t want you to leave his side. He soon concluded that he will never understand what aspect of yours drew this uncharacteristic side out of him. And oddly enough… he was at peace with it. Maybe your mother was capable of doing good. Hmm…

Effortlessly, the killer of your mother lifted you from your seat. A touch meant to be comforting caused shockwaves of discomfort and fear to travel up your spine. His expression was unreadable, scrutinizing gaze never leaving your form. Eyes resembling the crimson red of blood, the picture was forever burned into your memory.

“...How strange.”

Unsurprisingly to most, SIERRA was the best friend of your mother. Looking past the horrible rumors that lingered inside the household about your mother, she decided to befriend her. And boy, was she relieved, discovering that your mother was nothing like the rumors had stated, no, your mother was just a sweet, harmless woman. The moments spent were very wholesome and a change of pace from the insanity that lingered in the household.

Though… everything went crashing down when your mother became pregnant with you. Don’t misunderstand Sierra… she was overjoyed over the announcement of you. What frightened her so much was that your mother fell terribly ill and without much reason. When your mother expressed her concerns about your health, Sierra also felt dread, wanting nothing horrible to happen to you. While it’s not related to health, Sierra knew what it’s like to be worried about your child’s well-being; she knew it all too well. Bless her kind-hearted soul, she hoped your mother would never experience the pain she was put through.

But, it appeared as though her prayers and hopes were all for naught as you were born sickly and frail. And aware of the monstrosity that will arise afterward, her heart shattered into a million pieces. Still, her knowledge of this evil pattern will never emotionally nor mentally prepare her for the disastrous event. Oh, she hated how powerless she was. Her screams, wails, and pleas were futile, having to witness the execution of her beloved friend at the hands of her husband. Why must the people she loves suffer so much?

She was left alone in the room, sobbing into her palm. Had it not been for the soft wails of your newborn self, she would have remained there on the ground, allowing the coolness of the tiles to seep onto her skin as she wept to her heart’s content. Frantically leaping to her feet and momentarily pushing her grief aside, she scooped your bundled self in her arms, listening to you calm down as a woeful frown etched itself onto her lips. Blinking away the stray tears in the corner of her eyes, she hugged you closer to her chest, rocking you slowly. She might as well enjoy what was left of her beloved friend.

History surely had its cruel way of repeating itself. As you aged, you developed a lovely personality; innocent and pure, contrasting the sadistic and aggressive personas the rest of your family members owned. Why it destroyed her the way it did was because your traits were on par with her deceased son, Ashil. Just what did she do to relive such a nightmare?

By some miracle, Lante seemed to favor you tremendously. The stress that was lifted from her shoulders was refreshing. …It was especially difficult to ignore how extremely clingy Sierra was toward you. Every hour of the day, every second, Sierra insisted to be by your side, never allowing you a moment of isolation. Even so, her clinginess will never compare to how overprotective she was. God forbid if you got injured in her sight, or somehow managed to sneak away from her watchful eyes for too long. She will fall into hysterics, holding onto the little thread of sanity she possessed as she smothers you with overbearing attention.

You almost screamed in terror at the figure looming above you. Thankfully, your brain reacted quicker as you identified the figure as your stepmother. What mostly unnerved you was not the fact that she most likely might have been watching you sleep, but how… lifeless she looked. You didn’t know she was able to make such a face. Quietly, you called out to her which successfully snapped her out of her trance. Wordlessly, the woman sunk to her knees and wrapped her arms around your small body, stuffing her face in your torso. Regardless of your utter confusion as to why she visited you in the dead of night, you returned the gesture, spurring her to tears. Doesn’t look like she’ll be leaving anytime soon…

“...It could have been you as well…”

When Sierra says she’s going to stay with you, she means that she is staying with you. She does a good job of it as well, much to your dismay. But her whimpers every time you tried to run away always filled you with guilt, grounding you next to her. And thus, due to Sierra’s stubbornness to leave you alone, this is how MARIA met you.

It was a bright and sunny day, the flowers were in season, and birds were chirping merrily… it was the perfect condition to host a tea party! What better way to relax under this glorious weather than to enjoy tea and desserts with her favorite guests? So excitedly, Maria sent invitations.

Sierra was one of the last few to arrive. When Maria went to greet her, what she wasn’t expecting was two instead of one. Honestly speaking… Maria did not care for both you and your mother. Yes, she has heard of the gossip of your mother circulating among the Agriche Wives, and yes, she has heard the talk of your birth. But for someone who has never seen you or your mother before, there was only so much fuel she could add to the fire.

Her eyebrows were raised as Sierra timidly states that she brought someone along. Since Sierra was mostly alone, it was a surprise to her. Though all questions died down in her throat when she caught a glimpse of you.

The umbrella that was tightly grasped in her hand fell to the ground, her jaw slackening as she stared at you with blown eyes. …Was it even possible to be more beautiful than Sierra and her daughter combined!? You were just as pretty as a flower!

Not much explanation was needed, she immediately fell head over heels for you. Forget the fact you came uninvited, come relax and have some tea! Squealing with a skip in her step, she snatched you from Sierra's side, ushering you to a comfortable seat where she and all the ladies present fussed over you. …You left with a stomach bursting from sweets that day…

Unfortunately, gaining Maria's affection means you're subjected to her bizarre actions. If you had Sierra visiting your room in the dead of night, you had Maria visiting your room at the crack of dawn. You've woken up to her beaming face far too many times to count…

Braiding your hair, dressing up, and playing pretend are Maria's favorite activities with you and they always end with her pinching your cheeks and kissing them before she leaves. She really wanted to lock you up for herself, a cute little doll all for her to admire, pamper and cherish.

Maria was very cheerful and a bit eccentric, so you mostly felt at peace in her presence. …But that all changed when you stayed at a party longer than you should have. What you saw was like a wake-up call for you, unless they were Sierra, no matter how sweet they make themselves appear, they were still an Agriche, dehumanized, and evil.

You suddenly felt the dessert you ate creep up your throat as you stared at the servant's corpse... what was left of it, at least. The spoon you used to eat the treat slipped from your fingers, falling onto the table with a loud rattle. Your second stepmother, the murderer, was unbothered by it all, a devilish smile occupying her doll-like features, calming dishing out orders for the servant’s body to be fed to the beastly creatures that resided inside the mansion. At the sight of you, her sadistic smile morphed into one filled with pure adoration. She made her way to you giddily and squeezed you into a hug, uncaring of the evidence of her killing smearing all over your body. Frozen, you just stood there as she lovingly pressed a sweet kiss on your cheek.

"My! Aren't you such a Cutie Pie!"

The first time she saw you, she only gave you a glance… before she almost stumbled over as she did a double take. Once she regained her composure, in quick, long strides, ROXANA closed the distance between you both, firmly placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. You flinched, nearly shooting off the ground. The hallways were pretty much empty, so where the hell did she randomly emerge from?

Her stare intimidated you as her eyes were practically glaring holes into your body. It remained that way for a while, her hand on your shoulder as she stared, you, too scared out of your mind to even breathe properly. Soon, her hard stare turned soft, her reddened lips curling into her iconic smile.

Do you know how long she has waited to see you? The answer, she’s been waiting for years. The Abysmal Flower is a book that was offered to her by a school friend in her previous life… to which she initially detested reading because of the triggering contents the novel entailed… but she got past that. Because of all the dark themes, your character was an abnormality in the novel so to speak, especially when you were a member of The Black Agriche. The Black Agriche was known for its criminal activities… Fraud, Theft, Drugs & Poison, and most importantly murder, taking away lives without batting an eyelid.

You didn't belong with that, choosing peace as a method rather than violence. You were just a poor unfortunate soul inside a den filled with savages. It was a custom tradition in the household to eliminate those who stood outside their reputation as it displayed signs of weakness. But you remained unharmed by their gruesome acts. You see, the book portrayed you as possessing this indescribable charm where people feel more inclined to protect you than to harm you. Clearly, The Black Agriche was under this so-called charm of yours. It also extended to the novel’s heroine, Sylvia, who despite hating The Black Agriche, fell in love with you because of your angelic nature, viewing you as a younger sibling. Sadly, blinded by her rage and sorrow over the news of her brother’s killing, she wiped you out with the rest… falling into deeper despair after realizing she destroyed you as well.

Admittingly, Roxana held a grudge over Sylvia and the authors for that stunt. You were her favorite character by far and had so much potential. So even though the alarms blared loudly as her mind registered that she reincarnated as an Agriche and the trials that come along with the name, she was buzzing from glee now that she had a chance to see you… years after.

But after that ‘incident’ and the daily nuisances, she ought to handle for survival, the thought of you slowly slipped from her mind… until now. While no one will stupidly lay a finger on you inside the household, the same cannot be said for some outside the household. The Black Agriche has made quite the amount of enemies, after all. You being the favored one, including your predicament will make you a big target of these enemies. Thus, Roxana does her best to add extra security to your life.

Whenever she gets the chance, she will constantly check on you. If not, she will simply send one of her butterflies to always be updated about your whereabouts. Don’t you see? Whatever she does, it’s done in your favor… So, please enlighten her as to why you appear to be so antsy around her. She hasn’t done anything wrong, has she? She didn’t know you had a dramatic side… but, oh well, that’s endearing too.

She was nice to you, very very nice. For some reason though, it scared you more than it flattered you. You were unsure of why, but your instincts always screamed at you to avoid the blonde. She hasn’t done anything for you to fear her, only spoiling you with exquisite gifts and jewelry. But after what happened with your second stepmother… you didn’t want to take chances. A gloved thumb distracted you from your thoughts, gently caressing your cheek. Lifting your gaze, you peered into reddened hues, an emotion you were unable to decipher swirling in them. She smiled at you fondly, cooing even. Placing your hands on your lap, you smiled back, ignoring the nauseating churn in your stomach.

“Did I perhaps do something wrong? No? Then you don’t mind staying longer with your Big Sister, right~?”

Roxana’s extreme adoration for you had JEREMY torn between anxiety and anger. It’s already bad enough that he had to share his sister’s attention with the god-forsaken Blue Pedelian but now a whiny baby has come to steal the remainder of his spotlight!? He’s NOT happy. I mean, he was there longer than both you AND him. Though, it seems that his sister favors you more than the horny dog… Not that it makes it any better. It’s still annoying.

Jeremy has mentioned this several times to his sister, mostly about you. It was obvious he was jealous, but his complaints stemmed deeper than jealousy, it was fear that his sister will leave him if she attaches herself to others. Growing up in a loveless household was beyond excruciating and his sister, being the first one to treat him like a human and not a weapon, he continuously yearned for her affection. He didn’t want to return to what it was before, and if denying his sister interactions with others stopped that, he’s all in for it. Reassuring words from his sister, however, washed away the little panic inside him.

Still, it lingered on his mind, you. His sister doesn’t mention anyone just like that; if she does, it certainly isn’t to that extent. She’s always smiling, her eyes glitter in excitement, and she rambles on and on, very unusual for her. At least you make her happy… Nevermind. He’s still bitter about the whole thing.

In time, he finally asks his sister if he can meet the person that caught her eye. It could be anyone, considering the ungodly amount of siblings he had and since she was heading to where you were located, he might as well tag along too. His sister’s hesitation didn’t escape his eye, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Looks like you held more value to her than he first presumed…

After contemplating her answer for a while, she gave in, beckoning him closer with a finger. As they walked together, she told him you were the shy type, and it's highly advised that he doesn't do something to overwhelm you. He wasn't sure if it was his imagination or not… but he felt as though there was a subtle threat underlying her words… Soon enough, they arrived at your bedroom doors.

What did you look like? What kind of person truly are you? His sister paints you a good light, going so far saying you were an angel descended from the heavens. But what if there was a dark side you skillfully concealed? That you were just another savage under the disguise of an innocent? It’s not like he doubted his sister’s judgment… just simply concerned for her well-being.

Well, he'll be damned. And slightly ashamed too. Look at you… you were so frail… and gentle too. The way you touched Roxana and spoke with her, (god, your VOICE!) was so soft, musical, and pleasing to the ears. He kind of flinched when the conversation held between you and his sister switched to him, his sister gesturing to him with a hand. His heart warmed, seeing how your big-doe eyes looked at him, the beautiful hue of them twinkling with curiosity.

Most recoil from his touch but, you reached out to him, interlacing your tiny fingers with his. He noticed how your hand trembled, looks like Roxana was correct, you were the shy type. Even so, you overcame your anxiety to greet him! Him! The final blow was the sweet giggle that escaped your lips, swinging your hand in his. Forget Angel, you were Heaven Sent.

It was very silly how easily he fell under your control, but can you blame him? When was the last time someone treated him with genuine kindness and affection other than his sister? He visited you a lot after that, to your surprise. You thought it was a one-time thing, but here he is, bringing spoils and stuffed animals every day. At that point, you had to ask for another room to store your gifts from him… Jokes and banter are common between you two, him doing most of the interaction, pinching your cheeks, and tickling your sides. Jeremy… turns out to be more childish than you, who is a child, and that said something. It amazed you when he’s on the verge of falling onto the ground and crying out whenever you declined his time with you.

Then there were instances that he was similar to a cat, cute and loving to the people he cherishes, pissy and hostile to others when they come near his cherished. What you hated about him was his ugly jealousy streak and the damage he brings with it. It can annoying when someone you like doesn’t spend much time with you as you’d like, but was it really worth bashing their head into the floor?

You walked hand-in-hand with your brother who hummed merrily. As for you, you were in a state of shock, silent as your mind tried to process what had happened prior earlier. Why did he… kill the servant? They were being nice to you were they not? It was just a lovely fresh-picked flower they wanted to gift out of the goodness of their heart. To you, you thought it was the prettiest one you’ve ever seen so far, the vibrant color palette reminding you of yourself. Mesmerized you were very close to taking the pretty thing, your chubby hands reaching to clasp at the plant. In the BLINK of an eye, the servant was no longer in their spot, the flower soaking in a puddle of blood on the ground, and your hands outstretched. The liquid was also splattered on your face, little droplets spluttered on your dress. In front of you was your brother, an enraged face overtaking his features. And underneath his boot was… the servant that offered the flower to you. What just happened…? Shrugging off how your irises dilated as he came closer, he knelt to the ground, scooping the flower from its puddle. And with a beaming smile, he patted your head, giving the bloodied flower to you instead.

“They’re out of their fuckin’ minds if they think I’d allow them to taint you.”

After your encounter with Roxana, she basically took over the role of bodyguard away from Sierra. Then you appreciated Sierra more, for mingling in Roxana’s presence had you stiffer than a board. The evening was a stormy one, the raindrops harshly beating against the roof, the low rumbles of thunder, and the faint flashes of lightning. For some odd reason, Roxana wanted to take a walk with you in this weather. You didn’t want to, but one word of hers led to another, and now you’re here. Too bad you were too scared to speak up.

Suddenly, she told you she had to run a small errand. It won’t take long, she insisted, and just like that, you were left “unsupervised” in the middle of the hallway. When you wanted to be left alone, you didn’t mean it like this. The hallways were eerily vacant and your room was nowhere nearby. The setting didn’t ease your growing anxiety; it was straight out of a horror novel where anything was capable of jumping you at any given moment. So… imagine how your soul left your body when you glanced over your shoulder, only to make eye contact with a face.

Gasping loudly, you spun around and stumbled backward, your small hands clutching at your clothes. Hair dark as the night sky, eyes red as blood… How did your father manage to silence his footsteps…? And most importantly, what could he possibly want from you…? The deep frown he wore is a bad sign… Did you finally manage to push your father over the edge!?

The distant sound of heels hastily clacking against the floor trickled into your ears. Shortly after Roxana came into view, panting heavily as she shot a firey glare at the figure in front of you followed by a trail of threats. How did she have the courage to do that!? Did she not fear your father’s wrath? More so, why was he not responding? And who is this DION!? Too confused to study your fear of your sister when she lifted you into her arms, you wrapped your arms around her neck staring at a smirk creeping on who you assumed to be your father’s face.

The days continued smoothly (as the routine with Lante, Sierra, Maria, Roxana, and Jeremy occurred too often to be considered strange) and you lived your life as best as possible. But that was just the calm before the storm…

Jumping from your seat, the porcelain cup slipped from your hands, shattering on the ground and spilling the milk. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your skin grew ice cold. Maria, Sierra, and the women present at the tea party also freaked out, the former rushing to both of your sides as they attempted to soothe your panicking self.

But that was a mistake for as soon as Maria touched you, you broke down into a fit of tears. They were confused, you were fine seconds ago! Was it perhaps the milk you drank with your biscuits that caused this!? Well, that certainly wouldn't slip by!

However, was that the answer to your panic? No. Someone was… watching you. It wasn't a normal glance… but rather one that instilled apprehensiveness in the hearts of numerous, and unfortunately, it was geared toward you. Left, right, and back, you frantically looked around, trying to identify who it was the person that had you so distraught. But, you couldn't, which made you cry harder and flail your arms about.

You knew the situation was very bad that the noise caught the attention of Lante, summoning him inside the greenhouse where the tea party was hosted. He was disgruntled, unsure of what to do. He didn't train himself to be a proper parent, so how should he know how to tame a crying child no less?

The best option he thought of was to carry you to your bed quarters and your stepmothers quickly complied, Maria whispering sweet nothings into your ears as she carried you, and Sierra lurking not too far behind.

There was some fun in isolation, you thought, as you found solace in the confinement of your room. Whenever you tried to stay outside in the company of others, so did the feeling of being watched return, the dread worsening the smaller the crowd gets. The feeling always disappeared when you were alone in your room, or by yourself… hold on, did you just hear your bedroom door lock?

This man was not your father. It made sense now why your sister treated him with disrespect. If he was not your father, could he possibly be one of your siblings? Though he looks like him, a carbon copy you think, he was sure far worse than your father in personality. Dull, apathetic, and very sadistic. He had no regard for life either as he shamelessly killed the maid assigned to you in front of your eyes. Even when the blood splattered on his face, he showed no emotion, maintaining eye contact with you. Could he be the one that was watching you all this time? Why did he wait to approach you when you were alone? Have you upset him in some way? Was he going to slaughter you next? All these questions ran through your head, unknowingly letting the tears gathered in your eyes run down your cheeks. This caught his attention, the smirk you remembered him having on your first encounter spreading on his lips. Kneeling in front of your bed, uncaring of how you trembled in his company, he reached out a hand, rubbing his finger tenderly against your cheek. It was sick how he found satisfaction that he evoked such a reaction from you. A teardrop fell onto his finger and he brought it to his lips, tasting it. What was meant to be salty, the flavor burst with sweetness in his mouth.

“I wonder what other reactions I can get from you.”

Weak… Fragile… Gentle… Pure… Innocent… How are you surviving in this god-forsaken household? It’s even more amusing to witness the same man, her father, protect what he firmly strived to kill. And that’s how GRISELDA formed a great interest in you, the youngest of The Black Agriche. She remembers clearly, a conversation she held with one of her younger half-sisters years ago, the person responsible for knocking her out of her top three rankings. Smiling happily with her fingers interlaced underneath her chin, she promised to show her something that will greatly humor her.

You may not have been the ‘thing’ her sister was referring to, nevertheless, it was not an unwelcomed one. Ah, she wonders, how long has it been since she has had that spark of interest? The day her sibling died in front of her eyes, feelings such as love became foreign to her. But, you? You restored these lost feelings of hers from first sight. She was stupefied when it happened, her body overflowing with spontaneous bursts of energy.

Truth be told, she had an eye on you for the longest while now, aching to meet you in person at least once. But, curse her hectic schedule to hell, leaving her no choice but to satisfy her curiosity about you from the little stories told by her other half-siblings. For the first time, she had felt a sense of ugly envy… Will they know of it though? No.

Fate was cruel to her, she thinks. First, to take away her sibling she loved, and second, to present, oh, such an ethereal gift, just to keep it away from her arm's length having to watch down on you from the villa’s balcony, scurrying about with her other siblings. For now, she’ll keep it that way, looking at you with a sober expression from afar, but still offering you exquisite gifts to make you aware of her existence.

It was another gift that seemed to spawn alive onto your dressing table, probably from your anonymous gift-giver. You had asked your siblings, including your stepmother who would occasionally step inside if they were the ones responsible, to which they all responded with a ‘no.’ You wondered if it were a servant that did it, but after what transpired with the previous one, you doubted anyone outside your family will be willing to take such a risk. This time, the gift was sitting in a glass vase, filled with water. In the vase were the flowers you adored with the lovely aroma. Happily, you whiffed the scent. Picking up the note that came with the gift, it read, ‘These flowers reminded me of you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do… Sincerely, Griselda.’

“Don’t die on me, Little Sister. I won’t allow it~”

You were very confused to see a red-headed girl on her hands and knees, panting heavily for air. She was shaken too, a sickly color to her pale skin and the cold sweat that ran down the exposed parts of her body. But as you caught the dim red glow in the corner of your eye, as well as the faint sound of wings flapping, you were able to put two-and-two together; the girl was most likely tormented by Roxana’s infamous killer butterflies.

You pitied her, knowing what those butterflies were capable of, one almost biting your finger clean off your hand in one instance. But, that was just a sole butterfly you dealt with, she must have encountered several. And from one victim to another, you approached her shaking form in the hopes of comforting her.

Though… it seems she didn’t appreciate the sentiment… the fiery stare she gave you in response shut you up quickly and almost made you lose your bowels right there. Screaming insults and curses, she sprang to her feet and shoved past you, storming off to where she wanted to go. You just stood there in your spot, wide-eyed with your hands on your chest. Well, that’s what you get for roping yourself into situations that didn’t concern you…

From her outburst, you didn’t anticipate seeing her again, nor do you think she would want to see you. So her interrupting the tea party with yourself in the garden the next day startled you. Overcoming your shock, you smiled at her and invited her to join you and enjoy a couple of biscuits. She stuck her nose into the air and gawked at you as though you’d grown two heads… but still agreed. You did most of the talking, shortly learning her name, CHARLOTTE, and her exchanging haughty remarks here and then. It was a decent event…

If only you knew what exactly your brief display of kindness unconsciously resigned yourself to. Charlotte… was awfully demanding. After the tea party, Charlotte appeared by you very frequently, ordering that you drop whatever it was you were doing, and spend time with her. It could be one of the most important things you had to handle and she would not care. You could be with one of your siblings and she would not care. You could be sick and worn out, she will NOT care. If she wants to be with you, it will be now, no time for discussion. Just TRY to say no, it won’t do you any good. You said yes a lot, mostly because of your fear of what she will do if you deprive her of what she desired. She already made you petrified with a glare, how much worse will it be once she reaches her limit and lashes out? You have no ability to defend yourself when the time comes, so why should you cause trouble? Give in and avoid the unnecessary problem.

She was shaking with fury, hands angrily pulling at her puffy pigtails. How dare they…? HOW DARE THEY!? Are they stupid!? What do you mean you can’t spend time with her!? YOU BOTH ALWAYS SPEND TIME TOGETHER AT THIS TIME! WHY was she and him getting in her way of being with YOU!? They have to be stupid! While she went through an internal crisis, you clutched at your clothes, tears pricking at your eyes. Her green eyes were practically glowing with wrath from the hatred she harbored for your older sister and brother! She was also on the verge of snapping, that you can tell. She was losing all of her morality the longer they denied her what she wanted. You would have excused yourself long ago, but when she’s like this, that’s not the ideal option, for she may do something regrettable to you. Stepping behind your sister, your ears twitched at the sound of a whip cracking, inclusive of a butterflies’ wings, indicating the start of a full-on brawl.

“GO AWAY! Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something!?”

And finally… YOU! How do you feel about your family's attention to you? You never saw how other families interact with their kin… but you knew that what your family was doing was wrong. It was dangerous and obsessive. Would you tell them that? No. Unless you wish to suffer a fate worse than death by confronting them, you will keep your silence until all the odds are in your favor.

They were the butterflies, your mannerisms and kindness as the sweet nectar and color that attracted them, and you, their delicate flower.

©chaedomi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of the works published.

#🥛━ 𝓒𝐇𝐀𝐄 #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #twtptflob #twtptflob x reader #manhwa x reader #manhwa x you #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #child reader #female reader

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impactedfates · 4 months

Note

Hi hi I'm feeling so cruel right now >:]

So uuuh HCs for DH[IL], Jingyuan, Blade and Welt reacts how does their child [reader] dies... Like imagine how reader dies is like how the Genshin Playable characters die [they dusted away]

Please feed me a n gst

—🫶🏻 Anon

★ A/N: The way the reader dies reminds me of how one of my ocs species dies lmao. Hopefully this is up your ally :))

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Familial + Angst

★ Format: Bullet Pointed HeadCannons (It kinda turned into a mini story I think-)

☆ Warnings: Mentions of Death (Readers)

★ Extra: Adopted reader in all // Reader is under 12 for Dan Fengs, and in their teens for the rest // Giving Jing Yuan more of a sad life/hj // Wrote this in WellBeing class lmao // Characters may be OOC

Dan Feng as a High Elder doesn’t always have the time to really see you. Sure when he first adopted you he did spend a good chunk of his time with you but eventually his duties caught up.

He appointed someone to look after you. Someone that you knew and that he knew. Someone trustworthy.

So when he came back to his home early one day, the house dead silent. He grew worried. He called out to the person, to you. But there was no response.

He walked to your room, perhaps the both of you fell asleep. Wouldn’t be the first time.

But all he could witness was dust covering your room. And the man no where to be seen.

He knew instantly where that dust came from, he was quick to search for him. Found him hiding thinking he could get away, unaware that Dan Feng would be home early, unaware Dan Feng would catch him.

The man he had trusted to protect you, was the same man who ended the life you should’ve continued to have.

Dan Feng was quick to throw the man in the Shackling Prison, praying to whatever Aeon that can hear him that he gets what he deserves.

He collected as much of the dust that was still in his house, the last thing that he had of you. And carefully placed them in a jar.

Many question the High Elder why he holds a jar of dust so dearly to him, and all those times he refuses to answer. Not wanting to break down in front of the other Vidyadharas.

It was only a mission, a mission he sent you and Yanqing on. He had thought there were only a few Mara struck soldiers that had to be defeated.

He had wondered why Yanqing slowly entered the Seat of Divine Foresight without you. He had wondered why Yanqing was breathing rapidly and on the verge of tears.

Jing Yuan comforted Yanqing before asking about your whereabouts. Perhaps you were getting snacks after a successful mission? Yanqing could only try to explain in a shaky voice, clearly startled and upset.

But why would he be upset? You were his adopted sibling and was usually so kind to him. You wouldn’t have done anything to hurt him?

Yanqing tried his best to explain, stuttering over his words and needing to take a few deep breaths, the General listened carefully.

…Ambush? Well…Jing Yuan supposed he made an error in that. He only thought there were a few. Wow, if you and Yanqing didn’t know about that then you could’ve been caught off guard and…

Oh!

Oh…

Jing Yuan quickly connected the dots, he slowly held Yanqing closer, witnessing his own sibling fall to the hands of the Mara struck then be faced with dealing with the remaining enemies…he couldn’t imagine the stress.

A ceremony was held in your honour. Your dust already gone away like the wind so your memories will follow as he sends multiple starsciff at with gifts.

But he’ll always remember, he’ll remember the regret he felt that he couldn’t do anything nor could he have seen that an ambush would occur.

He wished he could’ve done something.

Are you dumb or something??

Blade could’ve taken that hit. Why’d you have to take it!?

He would’ve been fine. He wouldn’t been okay, a relief would’ve washed over him even though he knew he’d survive.

So then why did you have to take the hit that was meant for him, and leave him in a state of rage?

He quickly disposed of the pests that caused your demise, before trying to check on you. But all he could do was watch as your body dusts away.

He tried his best to grab any dust he could but most went with the wind. All he could do was stand there questioning why you would do that.

He said he’d protect you. Everyone else in the Stellaron Hunters were busy so he had to take you with him when he did his part. Yet it ended with you gone.

There was a small ceremony for your disappearance from the earth. Elio as much as he may not want too, he continued sending people on missions however allowed Blade to opt out of them he could properly mourn.

Blade still wonders why you decided to save him when he would’ve been fine, he wonders if he’d be able to save you if he noticed the enemy creepy behind him.

It was just a small argument. Welt felt bad but allowed you to storm off. You’d return eventually anyways. You’d return once dinner was ready back at the express, you knew what time that was.

But you never did return did you? Welt had thought long and hard and was ready to apologise for his words yet you weren’t back yet? Did you get dinner then go to your room?

He went to check, your room was the exact same you left it.

Did…anyone see you come back? He questioned the members of the express. None have seen you.

Finally he grabbed his coat and cane and went to look for you. Went in the direction you went and searched. As he walked his foot stepped in something. Looking down confused, his eyes widened.

Golden Dust. Dust that he knew belonged to you. Dust that told him you were gone.

And he wasn’t able to tell you he was sorry.

Welt is silent as he walks back, he let the wind take your dust elsewhere. A place he hopes you’d be happy in.

He was quiet but able to tell the express what happened. Each of them holding a small funeral for you. They kept your room intact, filled with things you loved before locking it. That room will no longer be filled with warmth but will soon grow cold.

Welt drew a picture of you, keeping it safe with him. And despite how it may seem that eventually he was over your death. He could never be.

Not until he was able to apologise for the argument.

But that won’t happen anytime soon now will it?

This was actually rlly fun to write!! Especially in well-being haha. This was meant to be posted yesterday but something came up so here it is now haha.

Might've missed some warnings, so as always. Please inform me if I did.

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shemaycry · 5 months

Text

❛Stuck to the screen, your words repeating. ❜ ⸺ Kamo Choso

【⠀♱⠀】 SYNOPSIS. after a long night of gaming, choso helps you fall asleep with his.. soothing voice.

【⠀♱⠀】 AUTHOR’S NOTE. it’s the way i’m thinking about other things except piv sex, which is very exciting cause the shit got repetitive on my other acc. PLEASE EXCUSE ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES.

People that claimed gaming was a perfect past time were either naive or just plain stupid. How could one find the competitive, and nerve wracking hobby peaceful? There was always something going wrong. Whether having an awful teammate,a a bad day, or even— something as silly as bad luck.

Personally you didn’t love video games. You had no plans of getting shouted at by grown men over a digital creation, which stats didn’t affect you in real life. But.. as your friends usually did, they lured you into gaming.

Quickly too, giving you tips and tricks to assure you didn’t drag the rest of them down. And as much as you hated to admit it, you actually enjoyed it. Clicking with the rest of your friends, especially a man around your age named Kamo Choso.

During group meet ups you and him spoke pleasantly on just about everything. Life, his siblings, shared music interest.. you two clicked deeper then you have with anyone else.

An innocent connection you felt were developing into feelings..

Manicured fingers slammed into the keyboard rested on the desk, whilst soft swears escaped your lips. You blinked at the bright screen, sighing heavily the moment defeat in bold red letters flashed across it.

“This is our fifth loss in a row..” You moaned in annoyance, leaning back in your chair; adjusting the black headset you wore carefully. A soft chuckle came from the other line, taking you away from your annoyed thoughts.

“You suck when you’re tired..”

“I’m not tired, Choso.” You countered quickly, rolling your eyes the moment another chuckle came from the man. You breathed softly, clicking off the game screen and switching over to discord. Your eyes traced the computer for a moment.

Choso and you were the only ones currently awake or rather currently in the voice chat, and have been for the past hour and thirty-minutes. You hadn’t meant to play this long, however you sometimes got carried away.

You heard shuffling on the other side of the headset, causing you to gently grab your mic. “Are you going to sleep?”

“Are you?” Choso asked in a soft hum.

Your lips twisted in uncertainty, thinking over your options. The two of you could play another round and risk losing for the sixth time— or maybe try another game.. and still lose. Either one didn’t seem like good choices, but, you didn’t want to get off the chat with Choso; just yet.

So, with a soft hum you shook your head before replying with a quick “No,” when you realized he couldn’t see.

The man gave a curt sound, one that was surely of confusion. “Then.. do you want to go another round?”

“No..” You sighed, rising from your chair to waltz over to your bed. You landed upon the cushiony mattress harshly, rolling onto your back and laying in a starfish position. “You should read me a bedtime story or something.”

“I thought you weren’t tired?”

You could practically hear the smirk in his words, causing your lips to twitch— attempting to force down a smile. You rolled to your side, closing your eyes. “I’m not,” You said defensively, adjusting yourself into a comfortable position on the bed. “—but I do need to go to sleep, and you have a soothing voice.”

For a moment you couldn’t hear a thing, only your own breathing— making you worry the voice chat had lagged out. But as quickly as those thoughts came they left even quicker, given the man was replying with a simple;

“Yeah?”

You smiled slowly, smoothing your cheek into the soft pillow. “Yeah..”

Choso paused for a moment before uttering, “Hm.. I’m sure you just have a voice kink.”

Your eyes opened wide at his statement, eyebrows pinched close as a warmth spread across you. Did.. did he just read you like a book? Was the single thought in your mind, causing you to slowly sit up to think it over.

And yet, he didn’t give you that moment, interjecting before you could even think to reply; “What, did I hit it right on the mark? I was only joking..”

You’ve talked to Choso many times to know when he was joking or not— plus you weren’t an idiot, he was being dead serious.

So, you slowly cleared your throat, scooting back to rest against your headboard. “No, what even makes you think that?” You questioned, lying straight through your teeth. You bit back a grin the moment you heard an airy chuckle, ignoring how such a sound caused shivers to dance down your spine.

“It’s obvious. Every single time I talk to you, you have this same look in your eyes.” He hummed into your ear, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “Always listening, far too intently.. Eyes focused completely on my voice rather then my words. No wonder you always say huh, whenever we speak.”

Read after read— Choso wasn’t giving you air to breathe with these completely correct accusations. It wasn’t enough you were physically attracted to the man, no; you had to be head over heels for his voice too.

You opened your mouth to speak, only for Choso to cut in;

“Deny it, and I won’t help you fall asleep tonight..”

Your eyebrows rose, teeth biting the inside of your cheek as you fiddled with your pajamas. “What, you’re gonna read me a story after all?”

“Nah, I was thinking of something else,” His breath was airy, and you swore you could hear the rustling of fabric.

Such a thought caused the heat to pool down to your belly, thighs pushing together as excitement began to sprout. “..Thinking of what?”

Instead of answering you the man gave a soft, “Lie on your back.”

That same heat swept over you, almost daring to question him again but deciding against it. Instead, you were quickly sliding to you lay on your back; hand spreading across the sliver of stomach exposed from your rising shirt.

“I’m.. on my back.” You spoke, nibbling on lip your as your fingers absentmindly traced patterns upon your skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, head rolling back onto the pillow as anticipation welled in your stomach.

“Take your pants off,” Choso spoke again, before quickly adding, “—just your pants.”

You didn’t know whether to continue to be excited or annoyed he was dragging the obvious out— yet, you obeyed, again. Your thumbs hooked onto the elastic of your bottoms, tugging them down your body and kicking them to the edge of your bed. You laid there half-bare, waiting so impatiently for his next request.

“Now.. touch yourself.”

Your eyebrows pinched close for a moment, adjusting your position as your legs rose. “Won’t I need to take my panties off?” You asked playfully, fingers sliding under the fabric for a moment before his curt response caused your hand to retract;

“I never said to take them off. I only said to touch yourself.”

You hissed softly, fiddling with the waistband of your undergarments for a split second. You could just push them down now.. there was no way he could tell, right? It was only voice chat.

But, for some stupid reason.. You decided to listen, hand slithering between your legs to slowly stroke your covered folds through the thin fabric. The motions continued as the pleasure set in, your legs widening and soft breaths escaping.

From the other side you could hear Choso’s breathing become shallow with even more rustling following. You could just imagine it; him on his back, hair a mess from laying down and the headset, whilst his strong hand was slowly stroking himself through his boxers.

You wondered if he was leaking already; how there might be a wet spot slowly forming, darkening the fabric. Such a thought had your thighs clenching, finger delicately finding your bud below your panties.

The action caused your head to tilt back, lips parting as an audible gasp escaped.

“Oh, you sound so pretty, princess. So, so pretty..”

You whined softly at his words, feeling far more aroused despite the covered pleasure. Your other hand rose to slink under your shirt, grabbing ahold of your breast to roll your thumb on your slowly erecting nipple. The pleasure was increasing by now, yet still not enough— causing your frustration to build.

“Choso, please..”

“What, what’s wrong?” His voice was taunting and low, clearly aware of what you were practically begging for. “Don’t tell me you wanna take your panties off already?.. So impatient, sweetheart.”

Choso’s words were going straight to your pussy, wetting up the lacey fabric even more. Your hips rose to meet your hand, “Choso, fuck.. Just please, I need to take them off.”

He thought it over for far too long, even humming just to irritate you further. Though, you also heard more rustling and his bed.

Fuck.. how you wished you could see what was happening right now.

“Take ‘em off.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, practically shoving off the garment as if they had personally offended you. You then wasted no time in spreading your legs wide, hand falling between them to slowly separate your damp folds. There, your middle finger reached out; swiping across your swelling bud for a split moment— before beginning small, tight circles on it.

With nothing left to restraint you, your sounds were more vocal now — airy and sweet— driving right into Choso’s awaiting ears. This caused the man to breathe heavily right into the mic, followed by the sounds of wetness.

A flush of warmth escaped as the pleasure continued, moans waning as your combined actions dawned on you suddenly. Here you were, having voice chat sex with a friend, in a chat where just about anyone else could join— at any time. Sure, it was currently three in the morning but the threat still loomed over your head.

It seemed the man had sensed your nervousness given his sudden; “It’s only us on here, mama.. use that pretty voice, let me hear you while you fuck yourself.”

Just from his voice and the vulgarity you were keening, back arching as a finger slowly pushed into your awaiting entrance. The moment you adjusted you were curling the digit, moaning out as your stomach stirred with pleasure.

Choso was praising you at this point, “That’s it, good girl.. Keep playing with yourself,” He spoke, breath rushed with soft groans interrupting. His hand was tight around his throbbing length, thumb swiping at the slit and smoothing his pre-cum across his dick. “Bet your pretending your fingers are mine, huh?” A soft chuckle escaped him— “Or maybe my tongue?.. Or maybe even my dick?”

You swore at his words, a second finger pushing in as your thumb began to rub harsh circles on your clit. “Ch—Choso, fuck..!” You pinched your nipple between your fingers, legs threatening to close as your throat nearly became raw from your voice.

You were close, pussy throbbing around your fingers as arousal leaked down them. Your pace quickened, soft sounds surrounding the room and serving as background noise to the sweetest moans escaping your wet lips.

If only you could see Choso; his eyes rolling back, hips rising into his hand and pretending it was you. His groans were deep, bordering on whimpers each time his hand slipped up to his sensitive tip. He was close too, hissing as his eyelids fluttered shut.

“Come with me, mama.. wanna hear you, fu-fuck.. lemme hear you.” Choso spoke on shaky breath, tensing as his orgasm drew.

You whimpered into the mic, eyebrows pinched close as your fingers never stopped it’s thrusts. Far too quickly you were creaming, staining your skin with your essence which trickled down your taint to your soft blankets. During this you heard a sharp gasp, warmth covering your body and enjoying the soft sounds that followed.

You simply laid there, heavy breathing coinciding with Choso’s own. Your fingers slowly withdrew from between your legs, slick smoothing across your thighs.

“You sleepy now?”

You bit your cheek, “No. No I’m not.”

“Good, I’m coming over in te— five minutes.” Choso spoke rather quickly, before the familiar sound of the voice chat ending entered your ears.

COMMENTS & REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED <3

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yorsgirl · 1 month

Text

A Fairytale Wedding(2)

Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After his wife finds out about his little side rendezvous, he needs to let you know about his true place in this setting. Leaving you with two realizations which you already knew.

Trope: Drama, Angst, Smut

Warnings: Cheating/infidelity, explicit smut - cunnilingus, fingering, overall toxic relationship dynamics, toxic friendship dynamics, mild manipulation, OOC, hateable characters. No curse AU, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n, not proofread.

Word Count: 6.2k

The day Kazumi learnt the truth, she had witnessed a lunar eclipse.

Not that she knew what a lunar eclipse meant, only that it was intriguing. Strangely intriguing. Yet, her heart felt heavy when she saw the moon veiling the sun. Darkness befell over the city, only the periphery of the sun glowed aside the shadow of the moon.

Photography would have been in her mind if the sight didn't have her frowning and strolling back to the comfort of her room.

Maybe, that should have given her a hint.

It was late night, close to midnight and Kazumi was just following her skincare routine before bed. That's when she heard Satoru's phone go off, She could hear the faint sound of water hitting the bathroom floor; he wouldn't be out soon enough.

The ringtone subdued after a couple of rings. Taking a mental note to inform him about a call, she went back to apply the moisturizer on her face. The phone rang again.

She sighed, getting up and walked up to the nightstand. Her main motive to just answer it herself and inform whoever was on the other side that her husband is busy and to call back later. Her movements came to a standstill when she saw your picture (which she hadn't seen) flashing on the screen accompanied with your name.

Her eyebrows furrowed, lips curling down but before she could receive the call - it was cut off on its own. Still, questions lingered in her mind.

Why were you calling him? That too so late in the night? What's so troubling that you straight called him instead of her? What did you want from him?

His phone buzzed with three notifications. The messages were from you, considering she saw - star, written over it. Curiosity gnawed at her, urging her to take a look. He wouldn't be out until ten minutes or more. He wouldn't even know that she went through his phone without his knowledge.

But she restrained herself.

No, this is a bad idea.

Its invasion of privacy.

Kazumi didn't want to suspect her husband only for him to come across as innocent The guilt would eat her raw and her moral compass made her hesitate. Yet, her gut was twisting in unimaginable ways.

No, no, she shouldn't be doing this. It will make her a bad wife. She trusted him completely. He would never do something like that. He loves her, now and always. He says that everyday before leaving for work. Besides, its you - you, her best friend. You were on her side, so happy for her on her wedding and everyday later. You called him, maybe you couldn't reach out to her and decided it would be better calling her husband. Yeah, yeah, that… that must be it…

That is it.

Just one look. That'd be enough. Just one look. That's what it will take. Just one look. Nothing more. Just one look. She'd never touch his phone ever again.

She wished she never taken that look.

[Today]

You're coming over next week right? (20:17)

plan's that (20:18)

if any changes i will let u know (20:18)

Don't back out last minute (20:18)

geez, not my problem if my boss topples me with work at the last minute (20:19)

You sure he doesn't hate you? (20:19)

From the looks of it, I wouldn't be surprised if he did (20:19)

hah! tell me about it (20:20)

from what i know u hate him more (20:20)

It's more like I enjoy getting on his nerves (20:20)

Imagine him finding out that his employee is sleeping with me (20:20)

honestly can see him seething (20:20)

n e ways lets leave him out of it (20:21)

As you say princess (20:21)

Be here next week without fail (20:21)

aren't u quite a dare devil? (20:21)

wanting to fuck me on your wife's birthday (20:22)

here i thought u loved her (20:22)

You are trying your luck star (20:22)

Keep that attitude in check (20:23)

oh really? And what if I don't? (20:23)

I might just need to punish you (20:23)

oh my can't wait for it (20:24) Liked message

2 missed calls (23:49)

Satoru (23:50)

Call me back later (23:50)

its important (23:50)

[yesterday]

[Image attachment] (13:08)

Enter Password to view image

_____________

Chats scheduled for deletion

Enter Password to view or reschedule.

_____________

[20 Wednesday]

Chats scheduled for deletion

Enter Password to view or reschedule.

_____________

[19 Tuesday]

Chats scheduled for deletion

Enter Password to view or reschedule.

_____________

[16 Friday]

No chat history

[13 Wednesday]

No chat history

The next thing Kazumi knew was that she was standing before her family mansion.

The metal gates opened once the guards saw their young madam on the doorstep. Usually, she'd look and greet them but not tonight. She made a beeline towards the main entrance of her home, almost tripping and scraping her knee on the cold, hard concrete.

The doors opened to reveal her mother who had rushed downstairs once she the maids informed her about her daughter's arrival.

"Dear, why have you-" Her words fell short when Kazumi wrapped her hands around her mother, burying her face in the crook on her neck.

She cried.

She cried. She screamed. No sobbing. No silence. She was crying.

Unending tears rolled down her cheeks, she couldn't make out anything over the blur that plagued her eyes. The cracked barriers had shattered once she saw her mother. Her self-control reached its limit once she heard her soothing voice. The voice she had heard since her childhood.

"Zumi," Her mother wrapped her hands around her trembling body. She carresed her head in her wrinkled, warm, motherly hand. Concern etched her visage. Stomach churned with fear - resulting from her daughter's cries and tears.

"Zumi," She called again, in a much softer tone now. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

Her screams echoed through the silent corners of the mansion. She shook her head, she couldn't give an answer.

What would she even tell?

"Tell me, dear. What happened? Tell me, please."

What did she want to hear? Something she couldn't even believe herself? How can she talk about it to her mother? How can she explain it to her mother? How can she explain something which she couldn't understand? How could she explain something which she refused to utter on her own?

"Mom," she let out a choked sob, trying to contain her voice - failed.

"Kazumi, dear- you're scaring me, now." She held her daughter in her arms tightly. Her tears drenching her shirt but that was the least of her concern. All she needed to know was the reason for her daughter's tears.

She cupped her daughter's face, wiping away the tears. "Tell me. I am your mother, right? What happened?" Kazumi shook her head, her lips trembled as she held her mother for the much needed support. "Did Satoru say something to you? Did both of you get into another argument? What happened?"

Arguments? Insults? Oh, how much she wished that was all it was. She'd have been so glad if it were just them. If only it were another mere argument. If only he'd called her one or two many derogatory terms. Hell, she'd be even fine if he would have hit her in the moment of anger.

Maybe then there'd be pain; but not this pain. This searing pain like someone just ripped out her heart and chewed on it before her eyes.

Still, it would have been fine.

And here, her mother was questioning her.

She needed to give her an answer. But the truth was too difficult to utter. She needed to lie.

"Zumi,"

That old, lovely nickname again.

"Tell me."

That concerned tone.

"What happened?"

Motherly instincts on rise again.

"You are scaring me."

Her homely fragrance.

"Please."

How could she ever lie to her mother? How could she ever lie in her home? How could she ignore these sentiments?

Is it even possible to brush off this tone, this visage, this embrace, this fragrance, this woman?

"Mom, scold me, hit me, do whatever you want just- just don't ask me what happened."

===

Few Years Ago

"She'll be here, soon."

Chestnut brown eyes glowed under the neon lights falling on them. Searching for a familiar figure among the hoard of people in the club. The wait was killing her and her boyfriend.

"Mhm," A groan erupted from the man beside her.

"Star said just five more minutes." The woman offered a tight-lipped smile. Wishing silently on her mind for you to arrive soon. "She must be stuck in traffic."

"You've been saying that for the last thirty minutes."

"This time's for–"

"If she doesn't get here in the next five minutes, we are leaving." He rolled his eyes, his tone was tinged with a layer of seriousness.

Satoru indulged in sipping the tequila shot by resting his face on his knuckles and elbow perched on the tabletop. Stronger than most drinks but not a problem for him, he had a high alcohol tolerance. Besides, this was the only one which could keep him from dozing off while waiting for this friend of his girlfriend.

He was bored out of his mind, on top of that everything was irritating him out of his mind. Like why didn't his drink have more ice? Why was the music so loud? Why was it so humid inside this club? Why did they decide to meet in a club? Why did he even agree to meet this friend? Why couldn't he just get Kikifuku sweets? Why–

"Am I late?"

All of a sudden, the noise from earlier faded into background as the sound of your reached him.

Cerulean blue eyes met yours under the neon lights, shimmering with a mysterious allure. Making a silent promise through gaze alone.

He held your form before his eyes, sculpting the masterpiece in his mind. Minding each detail with precision. A wild flower, perhaps even an untamed spirit.

That's what you were.

A coy smile played on your lips as you watched the ivory-haired man starstruck, captivated by your essence. You took a look at him from bottom to up, humming to yourself.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting."

Your best friend stepped up to you, engulfing you in a hug before her partner could even muster up any words. You returned her embrace, mind to not touch her skin.

"Thank God you came." She beamed, letting go of the hug.

"I don't go back on my words, you know." You quirked an eyebrow as she nodded.

"I know, it was just... he was getting impatient." She answered truthfully, motioning to her boyfriend. "And convincing him to come here to meet you was damn difficult."

"Was it now?" You questioned, following her gaze.

Satoru's mouth curved into a smirk as he stepped down from the barstool. His height towering over both of you.

"I was," He admitted. "But I can now tell all that convincing was worth it."

Your eyes sparkled with amusement. Momentarily take a glance at your friend before darting your eyes back on him.

"Gojo Satoru," He said, offering his hand which you accepted gratefully. Followed by your pleasantries, you rolled out your name.

His eyebrows furrowed, he said your name. Once. Twice. Testing it on his lips. And for some reason, he liked how the syllables fit his mouth.

"I thought your name was star."

You pursed your lips, sighing. God, that annoying nickname again. It's all that damn bitch's fault. She must have addressed you that way in front of him.

"Star isn't my name, more so a name which she–" You motioned to his girlfriend who chuckled softly. "–has given me."

"Nickname?"

"Nickname."

Curiosity plagued him. He furrowed his eyebrows and he questioned. "I see... but why star?"

"She saw me looking at the stars once–"

"It's more times than I can count."

You nodded with a fake smile. Each second was getting worse. You stifled the urge to roll your eyes. For even if you wanted to curse at her, you couldn't. You have an image to keep.

"Just what she said." You continued, "From there that nickname originated."

He leaned a bit down towards you, running his tongue over his teeth. He raised an eyebrow, dropping the tone of voice to one of seduction. "Then I am sure, you wouldn't mind me calling you star either."

Great. Just another person to address you in ways you didn't want to be addressed. Still, you couldn't miss the tinge of suggestion in his voice. You glanced at the woman(she didn't have a reaction) before moving your irises back to him.

You shrugged, "I don't see why not? I mean, your girlfriend already calls me that even if I told her not–"

"And I am never going to stop," She declared, placing her hand on her hips. Smirking at you.

"You know..." You sighed, biting on your inner cheek. "Sometimes you should listen to me."

"And if I don't?"

You stayed silent. Waiting for the tension to rise in the air before you admitted.

"I'll make you regret your choices."

Damn, that's hot.

That's what Satoru thought when you made that threat. For even if you played it off later with the eye roll and the smile, the evidence of your seriousness wasn't missed. It had him captivated to you. Restrained by shackles of not only your allure but your carriage and comportment.

You are an intriguing one.

"If I may interrupt," His deep tone broke you and Kazumi out of your silly back-and-forth banter. All of his focus was on you. He ignored his girlfriend for the second when she called his name.

"You like the stars?" He asked.

You hummed, shaking your head. "The stars are beautiful, surely but... what I love the most is," You paused, fixing your gaze on him then without breaking the eye contact, "The moon."

"The moon?"

"The moon."

He snickered, straightening up. This was better than he imagined.

And he needed more. He will have more.

He was sure of it.

"Oh god, can we not talk about the sun, moon, and stars at this time? Thank you," Kazumi interrupted in between. "I will get us some drinks, bill's on me."

She walked away before any of you could even make a noise of protest. Silence befell over both of you. Gratefully, the music playing in the background didn't make it awkward.

You could feel Satoru's eyes on you. Checking you out. Still, you made no move to stop him.

Well, if he wants to appreciate your beauty then he can. Who were you to stop him?

From the moment he first spoke– nay, flirted, you could see a hint of his intentions. To flirt with other women in front of their partner and your friend didn't seem to stop him.

You wondered if she was just too secure in her relationship or if he was just using her due to her obliviousness.

The latter seemed more believable. What would a good friend do in this situation? Probably, warn her friend of her partner's intentions. Or maybe, have her create boundaries with her boyfriend.

Hmm, seemed like a lot of work. Good lord, you weren't the good, supportive friend.

"I must say,"

You were pulled out from the reverie of your thoughts. Satoru's velvety voice fell on your parched ears. You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow with a silent question marked over your mien.

He delicately took your hand, holding your fingers. He brought it up and brushed his lips over your knuckles.

"Your name suits you, star."

This was madness.

Satoru Gojo was kissing you.

Nay, he wasn't kissing you. He was devouring you.

Almost like a lost, starving traveler who had been offered food after being found.

It was a shared desire when both of your lips moved in perfect sync, bursting with flames and passion.

Months had passed since your first meeting and the intentions you deciphered on that encounter hadn't seized. Perhaps, they had increased. Lust-induced touch gliding over your skin akin to fire burning you.

With stolen glances, accidental touches and coincidental meetings, you supposed. But the desire had grown, on both sides. Almost overflowing the barrier, luring you to give in to temptation.

And before you knew it. You were giving into this temptation.

His warm lips pressed against yours in a fiery, fervent kiss. His tongue lapped inside your mouth, exploring each corner. He held you via your nape, back pressed against the wall of his bedroom. The support was needed cause you could feel your knees growing weak.

No, you shouldn't be doing this. He is your friend's boyfriend. You should stop it. Stop it now. Stop it before it escalates into something worse.

This is wrong.

For even if you disliked Kazumi, had been bitching about her behind her back, still you shouldn't do this. Sleeping with her partner without her knowledge is a step over your boundary.

Stop him. You should stop him.

But you can't.

Not when he has his long, calloused fingers brushing over the fabric of your panties. The slick flowed out of your entrance, dampening the garment. You moaned in his mouth, causing him to smirk against your lips.

Fuck, no. This was getting worse with every second. Well, not worse in the sense that he was doing a bad job. You'd be lying if you admitted that cause he knew what he was doing. And God, wasn't it good?

You had been single for too long and pleasuring yourself alone could only get you that far. Hence, when his sinful hand played cruel ministrations over your folds, pushing the garment aside, you couldn't do anything but bite your lip and throw your head back; hitting your head against the wall.

You heard him snicker, the hand on your nape moved to your head. Gripping on the roots of your hair, his knuckles shielded your head from the wall. "Easy there, princess. I don't want you getting hurt."

You breathed out heavily, your nails dug into his bicep, leaving crescent moon shapes behind. You found your voice, even through your whimpers. "Ngh... w-we shouldn't be do‐ nhh- doing th-this."

He looked down on you, inadvertently slowing the pace of his finger inside you. A smirk spread on his lips when you cursed under your breath, involuntarily pushing your hips forward.

You wanted this as much as him.

"Are you sure, star? You want me to stop?"

Yes.

You groaned, "Fuck you, Satoru." Shifting on your legs and clenching your thighs, you tried to push his digit inside which moved in an agonizingly low pace.

"Your wish is my command, princess." He lowered himself on his knees before you. "Just after I get a taste of you."

And before you know it, your panties are ripped off and thrown to some corner of the room. You don't have the time to react when Satoru puts your right leg over his left shoulder - giving him a clear view of the reddened, juicy skin that dripped with honey. The smell of your arousal hit him, he exhaled a sharp breath which hit your folds. You groaned, tugging on his hair.

The desire was palpable.

Whether it was the growing bond between the both of you or simply the sexual tension... whatever it was, it brought you here. And damn, looking down on him now, when he had a shit-eating grin on his perfectly gorgeous face; all you wanted to do was ride his tongue.

You were sure millions of girls would pay him just to be in this position.

Still, your morality clashed with your desires. For one side begged you to stop this and the other had no intention of stopping.

"Oh c'mon, star. Just one taste." Satoru whined, he had made himself comfortable between your soft thighs. Groping and fondling the soft flesh as he salivated at the sight of your sweet cunt.

You can't miss the expression on his face, your mind going blank as your rationality almost drowned in this game of desires. Even if you were screaming at yourself to stop it, a louder, firmer tone in the back of your mind was screaming to let him continue.

"What are you even scared of? That she will find out about this?" He hummed to himself, "Mhm, nah... that can't be, you don't even care about her."

"Don't assu–"

"You can't fool me. I can see right through you, princess." He snorted, the low rumble hit your nerves.

Damn it, you needed the release, you needed his fingers, his tongue or whatever.

You needed him.

"But," He stretched on the word. "Isn't it thrilling to do it with me behind her back?"

You hate how correct he is.

The thrill of it all was all the more arousing. To share such a sinful affair with your best friend's boyfriend of all people. Morality, logic, boundaries? For tonight (and many more nights) they can go to hell. Though you can say that all you feel is indifference for her, the temptation of giving in to your desires skyrocketed at the moment. And if he wanted the same thing as you, who were you to deny him?

The thrill of this peril had you buckle your hips towards his face - You nodded.

Satoru didn't wait for a second before opening his mouth to latch on your folds. His tongue moved over the muscle tissues like it was meant to be there.

He spit on your clit, rolling his tongue over it like a French kiss. A satisfied hum left his lips when he tasted your sweet nectar.

You tugged on his white locks, pushing his face deeper into your folds. Your loud moans and whimpers rejuvenated in the room, cutting through the sexual tension that burnt the room.

He pushed a finger in your tight hole, his cock bulging in his boxers at the view of your cunt sucking him in, just right. You are shivering with the unbridled pressure, maximized when the pad of his thumb presses over your clit.

Satoru cursed under his breath, pushing his tongue inside your slick folds, lapping on the honey-filled moisture of your arousal. His cock was raging, waiting for release.

All he wanted was to be inside you.

But no, not now. He needed to taste you first. He needed to know what your release tasted like. He needed to savor the flavour in his mouth. He needed to see how you looked, what you did, when you'd climax on his face. He needed to know if you tasted just as good as you smelt.

His licked and sucked on the bundle of nerves, pushing two of his fingers in and out.

You were nearing your release and you could feel it, tugging onto his hair. Your shortened breath and loud moans were enough evidence.

"Keep your eyes on me when you cum." He ordered and instinctively, you complied.

Your eyes met his lust-filled blue irises, darkened with passion and temptation. Your hips jerked and the fluids flew out.

Satoru licked up the liquid with his tongue, gulping it down and almost moaning in delight at the taste.

He was right, you tasted just as sweet as your fragrance.

===

You were awoken from your slumber with loud banging on your door.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, causing you to wake up wide due to the noise. The assault on your door left you in a state of panic. Hurriedly, you had pushed yourself off your bed, tip-toeing to the door and peeking at your midnight guest from the spyhole - Satoru, a breath of relief left your lips. But the unease settled in again when he strolled inside as soon as you opened the door.

Locking the door behind your back, you followed him to your living area. His shoulders shook, blue eyes observed each and every corner of your residence; he was looking for something to distract himself A habit of his you picked up on over the years, looking for distraction whenever he'd be distressed.

What could have been worrying him so much?

You placed a hand over his shoulder, "Sato-"

"She knows."

It was like a punch to the gut.

The air knocked off your lungs with mere words that left his lips. Disbelief imprinted all over your face, eyes widening significantly at the news. Your fingertips trembled with apprehension, hand falling off his shoulder as if it weighed ton.

"What?" You asked, tone lowered to a whisper.

Satoru's eyes didn't meet yours, he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Running his hand through his unruly hair, he tugged at the locks. A quietude prevailed, broken by the ticking of the wall clock - 1:40 AM.

He clicked his tongue, turning on his heels towards you. "She found out." He confessed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

No, this couldn't be. No, you refused to believe. How could she ever find out? It had been so many years and there was no fall through in this little rendezvous of yours. The lengths and methods both of you had treaded to keep this affair a secret was almost flawless.

"Tell me you are joking." His silence was enough of an answer but you were in denial. This couldn't be.

He groaned, shaking his head. "I wish, I was."

You breathed in through your mouth heavily. Sitting down on the couch. You were sure you'd have fallen otherwise. Legs too weak after and mind blank after the bombshell Satoru just dropped on you.

This couldn't have happened. But it did. And in this mind numbing news, only one question rang through your mind.

"How?" You asked.

He sighed, glancing up at the ceiling tiredly. Recounting the events that had gone just an hour ago.

"You called," He began. "My phone was in the room… so was Zumi. She must have gone through it while I was showering. She saw the texts and-"

"Texts?" You abruptly interrupted him. "What the fuck do you mean by texts? Didn't you delete them?"

"I did but-"

"But what? That means you didn't."

It was ridiculous. After all this time if she were to find out through some texts he forgot to delete, then its blatant irresponsibility on his part. Countless times you had reminded him to erase them. Leaving no clue, whatsoever for anyone to know. One of the reasons, this affair could stretch on for so long. Cause there was nothing to catch on. The simple rule both of you followed to remove the other's notes, voice recordings, pictures anything from your devices. Even if anyone were to go through them without your knowledge, they wouldn't be able to catch on.

"You're such a irresponsible idiot," You continued, cleching your fists, you stood up and took a few towards him. Jabbing at his chest, you pressed on, "What do you even have to say for yourself now, huh? Your recklessness cost us this."

He stared down on you, azure eyes darkening into a glare. "For fuck's sake, would you even let me speak."

You responded with equal fury, shooting a similar scowl at him. "Well then, speak. Explain yourself. Why didn't you fucking delete those texts?"

"Only today's," He said with conviction, his jaw ticked with annoyance. "Rest were deleted."

Fuck it being only today's message or the ones from a year ago. The fact remained that he didn't delete it.

"Today or not it should have been deleted." You scoffed, darting your eyes away from him. You walked over to your center table, chugging down loads of water from the bottle. You muttered, "Its all your damn fault."

He strolled up to you. Grabbing your jaw, he forced you to meet his eyes. "So we are playing the blame game now?" He spat out, cursing under his breath.

"You deserve to be blamed."

"You fucking bitch," His grip tightened, causing you to wince in pain.

Clutching his wrist and mustering all your strength, you jerked his hand away. "You need to do better in the curse game, Gojo Satoru."

And if he wasn't furious before, he was now. Each second with you was fuelling his rage. "Blamed? I deserve to be blamed? Who the fuck do you think you are, huh?"

"Not the reckless idiot who got us exposed."

The syllables of your name rolled off his lips in a warning. Anymore provoking wouldn't do you any good. You knew that. But your sense of rationality had drowned under the flood of anger.

"Oh please, it's all your damn fault. If only you had listened and deleted everything then we wouldn't have been here."

He scoffed, "All my fault? If we are going on advices then let's go to the base level" He paused, eyebrows scrunched up. "Who the fuck told you to call me?"

You paused, clicking your tongue. The call that time had been a matter of urgency, "It was impor-"

"What's so god damn important that you couldn't wait another fucking day?"

You didn't throw back a response. For all you knew, this wasn't the correct situation to inform him of that news. The predicament both of you were stuck in was more concerning than that.

You groaned, exhaling out the air. "Leave it, we can talk about that another time."

"No, we fucking can't." He exclaimed. "Go on, say it. Why the hell did you even call me?"

"Not now" You pushed back a strand of your hair. "Later, we have other things to worry-"

"Spit it out," His voice lowered to a dangerously cold tone. His blue eyes fixated on your visage like he were a predator.

Unknowingly, a shiver ran down your spine with the look you evoked from him. You had seen him like this previously too, but the occasions had been rare and you weren't ever in the receiving end of it; until now.

Taking in a sharp breath, you confessed. "I received a transfer letter."

You remained silent for a few seconds, expecting him to speak or something. But he remained stoic, his face void of any emotions. You decided to continue, "In a month I am supposed to leav-"

"That's it?" He cut you off. The plain tone of voice catching you off guard.

What? You were getting transferred, supposed to leave almost in a month and he asked you that. The least you had expected was some concern, not nonchalance.

"Out of Japan."

"And?"

And? And what? Was that not enough? You were leaving for god's sake and this was how he reacted.

You couldn't wrap your head around this reaction but before you could speak of anything more, he chuckled A terrifying chuckle, if you may add. Far from jovial, it almost sounded sinister and humourless.

This was no joking matter. Why was he laughing?

"Wh-"

"That was it, huh? Just some stupid transfer letter and you thought it'd be a good idea to call me, huh?" The corners of his lips quirked up. The mockery evident in his voice.

You swallowed a lump at this bizarre reaction. You didn't expect pleads or heartfelt sweet (empty) words. Perhaps, acknowledgement or an ire of care, that'd been enough. These taunts were jabbing at your heart.

"It's not stupid. I am leaving."

"And what do you expect me to do? " He narrowed his eyes. "You are leaving then fucking leave."

It's funny how words can hurt more than hits.

"Satoru, why are-"

"This was your important thing? The urgent information you couldn't just rest for a day or a week?" He paused, letting out another chuckle. "For this thing, she found out and you were blaming me when you are the one at fault.

That hit the wrong place.

"You aren't innocent either," You retorted back. Rolling your eyes, you stated firmly, "Besides, it doesn't matter anyways. That plastic bitch was supposed to find out about it one day or the other."

Momentarily, you saw how his eyes flickered with wrath, "Careful of how you address my wife."

His wife? Like he ever fulfilled his vows to his so called wife. He was never the beloved partner, let alone a husband which he always projected himself to be. And now he comes for her defence when you called her a plastic bitch. Like she wasn't one in the first place.

You scoffed," Your wife? Don't go around a devoted husband now that your shit got revealed."

"She's still my wif-"

"Wife for namesake." You declared, daring him to defy you. "A wife you don't care about, let alone love. A wife you had to wed cause she's the society's perfect girl."

He took a step towards you, face etched with nothing but unaltered hatred. He looked down on you like you were a bug. A bug he can crush under his shoes. "You are testing my patience, star. Don't go around assuming my feelings for her. You don't know a damn thing about me."

"I know more about you than she'll ever know," You yelled, clenching your fists tightly.

Hell, how could he even accuse you of that? After the years you spent together, from the secret meetings to the confessions in the dark. He told you secrets about himself which you doubt he'd ever utter before his own wife. He let you in parts of himself he never showed anyone else.

"And I know that you have no feelings for her."

This man before you had spent his wedding night with you instead of his wife. Any sane man who admitted to have genuine feelings for their spouse would never do such a thing. And Satoru Gojo was insane to assume that he still loved her after lying with you day after day. To hell, with every bullshit spat by the podcasters that men could sleep with other women without losing an inch of feeling for their main one.

He remained silent, his visage rendered expressionless. The tension in the room was high, enough that if it were to take a physical form then you'd be able to slice it with a knife. You didn't know what was going on in his mind but you wished you could have been a mind reader to just take a glimpse in it. Anticipation gnawed at you, the silence overwhelming.

Come on. Speak. Say something. Anything, please.

"And you think I have feelings for you?"

It would had been better if he stayed silent.

As soon as he uttered those words, the brave façade you had put on until then fell down. It shattered, crumbling to pieces. Deep down you knew, he harboured no feelings for you still this stab of indifference pierced through you. Deeper than any blade would ever.

"Don't be delusional, star."

It was a mistake. You should have known your limits. You should have stayed silent. You should have kept your emotions in check. You should have never provoked him.

"If you think so…"

No, you don't think so. You know what you are in this situation. Howsoever humiliating it is to address yourself with such a name. But it’s the truth.

"Then let me remind you.."

You don't need any reminder. You are well aware of your place. He doesn't need to speak. Stop speaking.

"Of who you are…"

You have already made it clear. Stop.

"You were always a game."

The door to your apartment slammed shut as Satoru walked away.

Leaving you standing alone in this quandary. You couldn't speak. Nor could you move. You were a statue. All you could do was stare. Stare at the path he took to leave.

Your senses returned when the cold wind hit your face.

And then… you laughed.

Your laughter echoed through the desolate corners of your house. It was so damn funny, near to the joke even the most famous comedians couldn't make.

The punch line was the cherry on top.

You were always a game.

So funny. So, so damn funny. You don't think you have ever laughed like this in years.

How foolish of you to even believe you could have been anything more. How foolish of you to even expect anything. How foolish of you to even dream.

The chortles were endless. Filled with mockery, despair, taunts, shame. Still, they were your cackles.

To live is to laugh. To laugh is to live.

You sunk down to your knees, something wet gliding down your cheeks. You found water on your fingertips when you wiped it away.

Water? Why was there water on your face? You weren't showering neither was there any leak in the ceiling then why this water?

The laughs echoing in your ears soon turned to a sound you didn't quite like. Your chest burnt and your eyes stung. What was this? What was happening?

You are laughing then why does this ache follow. For all you remember, only your stomach is supposed to hurt and your jaw for laughing so much. You must gasp for breath and you were but it wasn't the same.

A second later, two realizations dawned on you.

First - you weren't laughing. You were sobbing.

Hysteric sobs erupted from you with no trail of ending. You pulled on your hair, shutting your mouth with a palm. Biting on your lips just to stop these wretched tears and sobs.

You were always a game.

More sobs. More tears. They just don't stop. They are just so annoying.

Then the second realization hit,

You were always the other woman.

Note: lol its the longest word fic which I wrote till date and it isn't even the end. This will have a part 3 then climax. Anyways! Thanks for reading. Likes and comments are appreciated <3

Taglist: @sadmonke

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redisafreak · 1 month

Text

Boothill x Reader Headcanons ➸

- These are >gender neutral< Boothill X Reader Headcanons !

- OOC as we don’t know much about him yet !

- The hyperfixation simply got so bad that I felt inclined to write these to blow off some steam, so these headcanons are just for fun and not meant to be taken seriously !

WARNING: There is a NSFW portion! So if you are a minor or uncomfortable with sexual topics, do not read the labeled NSFW section.

+ some SFW headcanons have more mature themes.

𓄒 ✸ →→→⛤←←← ✸ 𓄒

✪ * He’s such an ass about his sharp teeth, he will >playfully< threaten to bite you when he’s feeling bored. He’d snap at you for fun, or lean in close and open his mouth as if he’s going to bite you. You’re allowed to lightly whack him for it, he thinks it’s funny.

✪ * If he does manage to get his teeth on your skin he’d nibble you lightly and quickly/consistently in one spot. He’d make cliche gnawing noises while doing it too, he’s a fucking DORK.

✪ * His mouth tastes like metal from his insistent bullet consumption ☹️ do not tongue kiss him for too long (or at all) bc it WILL suck! Unless if you're into it of course (have fun with the shrapnel).

✪ * If you were to hold his face with both of your hands it would soft-lock him at first. He wouldn’t be able to move from his position at all, but he can certainly make facial expressions and speak to you. After a minute or two he’d be able to move fully and decide if he wants you to continue holding him like that (he typically does). Also, it’s a good way to calm him down!!

✪ * Oh you KNOW he’d be real handsy with you if you’re comfortable with it. He respects your boundaries of course, if you tell him not to he won’t, but if you ARE okay with him heavily touching you then expect his hands to be everywhere. Your head, face, shoulders, hips, waist, back and thighs are not safe from his grasp. You get “Boothill bonus points” if you initiate the touching by making him put his hands on you.

✪ * Also, once you’re in his arms he is not letting you go. You’re either hugging/cuddling him back or you’re stuck there in Boothill arm jail for a while.

✪ * Running his fingers through your hair or giving you head rubs is his passion, he likes when you play with his hair as well! In a private setting will let you style it however you want.

✪ * He is a big ol’ sucker for kisses and face nuzzling, giving and receiving. Kissing on the lips is definitely saved for more intimate ordeals, but he will kiss your cheeks, neck and shoulder a million times in one sitting. And you best believe he will rub every surface of his face against yours (or other parts of your body). It’s the only part of him where he’s made of flesh after all!

✪ * You cannot escape his plethora of pet names/nicknames that he has for you, especially ones that will get big reactions out of you. For example, if “darlin” makes you blush or get all shy, he’ll call you that all the time! Or if you find “cutie” to be cringeworthy, he WILL embarrass you with it as much as he can! As long as you’re comfortable with it ofc.

✪ * ^^ He’ll love any nickname you give him, even if it’s incredibly stupid or annoying. He’ll just be happy that you’re willing to play along with him. He’ll definitely appreciate more serious and affectionate nicknames though.

✪ * Expect him to put his cowboy hat on you, he thinks you look SO cute in it. He’ll also joke that it suits you so much that he’s willing to buy you your own cowboy hat, but it’s unlikely that he would! He much prefers seeing HIS hat on you.

✪ * You could probably charge your electronic devices through the different ports of his body, but you can’t do it for free. You owe him a kiss or a cuddle AT LEAST!!! Perhaps he’ll let you charge your devices while cuddling, he just has to be careful so he doesn’t accidentally crush your electronics.

✪ * If you are 21 and older and you enjoy drinking, expect going on dates that involve casually drinking together. He’d take you out to bars or keep alcohol at home that you guys can crack it open whenever you feel like it.

𓄒 ✸ →→→⛤←←← ✸ 𓄒

NSFW HEADCANONS

Content involves - Boothill using faux genitalia, Boothill being a switch, reader riding, reader giving/receiving head, reader being marked, reader receiving body kisses, reader being groped and having Boothills hands and fingers on or inside the readers genitals, reader and Boothill being restrained/tied up, Scenarios where Boothill does and doesn’t feel pleasure, light mentions of body worship and aftercare, light mentions of reader possibly being a masochist and into degradation.

Some of these headcanons have scenarios that follow patterns like this.

- Boothill is into X, but if you’re not into X then he will do Y.

- If you let him/if you’re into it, Boothill will do X. Boothill will let you do X to him as well.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

✪ * He has swappable genital attachments/inserts. For example; an attachable penis or an insertable vaginal/anal canal (the robopenis and robussy is real).

✪ * He wants you to ride him SO BAD. He’ll do all the work if he has to, he just needs you to be straddling him. He also gets a TON satisfaction from giving you head, it’s his favorite form of foreplay.

✪ * ^^ However, if you’re not into riding he will certainly be a bottom for you or top you in whatever way you desire. And if you’re not into receiving head from him, he’ll do whatever you want. He just wants to make sure you’re happy!

✪ * ^^^^ He LOVES to please you, as he most likely doesn’t feel much pleasure or ANY pleasure at all. He’ll certainly let you give him head if it gets you off, even if he can’t feel it.

✪ * If you let him, he is most definitely going to mark you up. If you don’t have at least ONE bite mark or ONE hickey after sex then there’s something wrong with him. Check his temperature.

✪ * He’d probably tease your neck and shoulders the most when it comes to biting/marking. Not only does he want them to be visible, he also wants to be marking areas that are sensitive! If you’re feeling bold he’ll mark up your thighs too, outer and inner. He’ll take any excuse to have his head in between your legs.

✪ * Like I said before, he’s a big ol’ sucker for kisses! Any exposed skin of yours will be kissed. He WILL plant kisses down your entire naked body.

✪ * His insistent handsiness gets WORSE during sex, he loves exploring your body with his hands and groping your thighs, breasts, ass, hips and waist. The sight of his robotic hands/fingers on or inside your genitals makes him go nuts.

✪ * He probably has nicknames for you that are explicitly stated during sex, or they’d be used outside of sex to rile you up.

✪ * if you’re into it, he’d love to restrain you. His favorite medium of restraint is rope, your wrists are the ropes main victim. He will also use his hands to restrain you, expect being held by your wrists and shoulders, or being kept still by him gripping your hair and having his hand around your neck. He doesn’t mind being restrained by you via similar methods.

✪ * Now if you want to imagine him being able to feel pleasure, he’d lean HEAVILY towards being dominant. Even if he’s a bottom in some of these scenarios, he would want to have control of what happens to him. Obviously he’d let you have your way once in a while, but he’d be a little selfish about the fact that he can ACTUALLY FEEL SOMETHING below his neck. Cut him some slack!

✪ * I’d imagine he’s quite vocal, regardless if he can or can’t feel pleasure. I don’t think he’d be whiny per se, but he’ll certainly let out huffs, groans or moans.

✪ * He’d worship your body to the max during sex, or he’d give you plenty of aftercare if you’re into being handled roughly or degraded.

✪ * You’d have to be patient with him if you’re into him REALLY hurting you or being mean to you during sex, he’d worry too much and be extremely cautious at first.

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

#ugh I’ve never done this before !! hope it doesn’t suck #I am just soooo normal about him #boothill #honkai star rail #hsr #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader #boothill headcanons #boothill hcs #boothill x reader headcanons #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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rainybubbles · 12 days

Text

Unrequited love and 141

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written or if they're OOC.)

Suggestive theme for Soap's one /!/

SIMON : you were his second choice.

You gazed into his eyes, and within their depths, the truth unfurled. His lips remained sealed, yet their silence spoke volumes, delivering a verdict you dreaded.

"I'm sorry, I don't like you that way," he said, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

-Such has been the pattern of your existence.

-You were never anyone's first pick—neither for your family, nor your friends, nor your school.

- You were always the second choice. And for a brief moment, you thought maybe things were different with Simon.

-Maybe his kindness towards you meant something more, maybe his tough exterior was just a front.

-But no, it wasn't like that at all. You felt foolish, like you were living in a dream.

-"Let's just forget about this, it was dumb," you whispered, trying to brush it off.

-"Yeah," he agreed quickly. Too quickly. And you knew why. He never saw you in that way.

-"You'll find someone better," he said, trying to be comforting.

-You fought the urge to scream, to rail against the clichéd reassurance.

-"Less emo, maybe?" you joked, but it didn't ease the pain.

-He chuckled, a sound you used to love, but now it only reminded you of what you couldn't have.

-"You'll find someone," he repeated, but you knew it wasn't true. All your crushes ended the same way, and Simon was your last hope.

-"I should go home. You have stuff to do, right?" you said, feeling the awkwardness between you both.

-"Yeah," he confirmed, not asking you to stay like he usually did. You knew you messed up.

-You forced a smile, hiding the tears, and left.

-Walking back to your apartment, the rain mixed with your tears, and it all felt like one big mess. You wanted to forget about Simon, but at the same time, you wanted more of him. It was torture.

-Back at your place, you picked up your phone and saw a message from Johnny. Simon has been seeing someone. It hit you hard.

-"When?" you replied quickly.

-"This week. He wasn't sure, but it's been going on for months," came the response.

-And then you realized.

-Those moments you shared with Simon—they weren't meaningless.

-They weren’t figments of your imagination.

-Him without his mask, the flirt jokes, the stay-in at his flat…

- They were moments stolen in the absence of his true desire, placeholders for another.

-You were nothing more than a substitute, a convenient distraction until his heart's desire was available.

-You were just a stand-in until his real crush was available.

-You were a second choice.

-"What a coward," you muttered to yourself, feeling angry and hurt.

__________________________________________

SOAP : hookup who wishes more

His lips brushed against your neck, the sizzle of breakfast in the pan, and you allowed yourself to drift into reverie.

A life entwined with his seemed within reach.

Yet, the harsh reality pierced through when he reached for his phone to answer another call from another one night-stand.

In his bed, you were just another person, another quick fuck, maybe the one he was most comfortable with, like an old pair of socks.

But not the only one. Just someone he could rely on when he needed.

It was silly to have feelings for him.

But sometimes, when he stayed in the morning, asking about your family or giving you birthday gifts, you couldn't help but hope.

Maybe he was trying to tell you something. Until he left again. Until he talked about others. Until he was with someone else.

You lived close to his place, always there when he wanted you. Even though you knew your place, you couldn't bring yourself to cut him off, to tell him to stop.

Your heart craved his attention, even if it was only for a moment.

"Could ye pass me the salt, Nox?" he asked casually.

That wasn't your name, nor a moniker he bestowed upon you. Your body tensed, gripped by a sudden realization. He had mistaken you for one of his fuck buddies.

The agony engulfed you, clouding your thoughts.

"It's not my name," you whispered, barely audible.

"Sorry, Ah wasn't payin’ attention," he apologized, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Focused. The word echoed in your mind as you struggled to find your voice. "Leave," you whispered.

"Whit?" he asked, confused.

"I said, leave."

“Wait, if somethin’ happened, I can help-”

“That's the problem, John. You can't help. You can’t have it both ways. You can't treat me like your lover one moment, only to discard me for someone else the next. You can't oscillate between warmth and coldness. I'm tired of being strung along by your attachment issues. I know your family, John. I've met them all. Yet you introduced me as a friend. After each deployment, you sought solace in my arms, whispering promises you never intended to keep. I've had enough."

"I can change, just give me a chance—" he pleaded.

"No," you said firmly. "You want fun, I want commitment.I won't demand something you're incapable of giving. But I refuse to be ensnared in this farce any longer. Leave my home, and never return”

"It's a misunderstanding, please, just listen—" he begged.

"You called me by the wrong name," you said, your voice breaking. "While I made breakfast, you were texting someone else. You even made plans with them while we were supposed to watch a movie together. It's clear to me now."

John left, leaving behind a mess of emotions. You cried, but you also felt a sense of relief. Next time, you promised yourself, you would ask for honesty from the start, before getting caught up in another tangled web of confusion.

__________________________

GAZ : waiting for someone who doesn’t wait for you.

You stood there, shivering in the biting cold, lips pallid, hands tingling crimson from the chill, yet refusing to let a single tear betray your anguish.

As each shop shuttered its windows, the empty streets echoed with the hollow sound of your hopes crumbling, brick by brick.

You clung to the belief that Gaz would never abandon you, not after everything. So you lingered, a lone figure in the twilight, yearning for his arrival.

But when he finally materialized, it was a dagger to your heart. His arms wrapped around another, their laughter slicing through the silence like shards of glass.

Together they sauntered into the very restaurant where he had promised to take you, where they shared a meal that should have been yours.

Fingers trembling, you reached for your phone, desperate to bridge the chasm between you and him.

Yet he flicked his device off with callous disregard, leaving you to drown in a sea of unanswered questions.

Why? Why would he toy with your emotions like this, dangling the prospect of reconciliation before your weary eyes only to snatch it away?

He had been the one to reach out, resurrecting memories of a bygone era when you were each other's world in high school, planting seeds of hope for a future together.

And foolishly, you had clung to those promises, waiting with bated breath for his return, even as the minutes stretched into hours.

You had always been waiting for him.

You had always been the one chasing after Gaz, in school, in matters of the heart, in the delicate dance of friendship.

But now, as you trudged towards the desolate bus station, the bitter irony of it all weighed heavily upon your shoulders.

The clock struck midnight, and a message flashed across your screen, belated apologies dripping with insincerity from him.

In that moment, the truth became painfully clear: you had always made time for him, carving out precious moments in your hectic existence, while he couldn't spare a single second to offer a genuine excuse, a shred of explanation.

And so, as the bus rumbled towards an uncertain destination, you vowed to reclaim the pieces of yourself that you had willingly sacrificed at the altar of his indifference.

For in the end, you realized, the only person worth waiting for was the one who would never keep you waiting in the first place.

__________________________

Price : he loved you. You love him.

You watch as his fiancée weeps, tears staining your own cheeks. It's not the same for you. It's not joy, it's sorrow.

Yet, despite the ache in your heart, your eyes betray you as they linger on how handsome John looks in his pristine white suit. Your heart, it seems, has impeccable taste.

You hear him uttering his vows, the crowd erupting in cheers.

But your mind is fixated solely on the fading of his smile. You know it's just your own jealousy speaking, suggesting that perhaps he harbors a secret desire to halt this union.

You despise it, yet you can't silence the relentless overthinking that observes how he subtly recoils when their hands touch, how his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes, like a fleeting shadow of itself.

But now is the time for speeches, or forever hold your peace, isn't it?

And your decision has been made, etched into the stars since the day he shared his dreams of them, seeking your approval.

The festivities commence, and you remain composed, aloof, deliberately distant from him, from them. You're afraid—afraid of divulging everything, afraid of shattering it all.

"You've been keeping to yourself," he remarks.

"Is that an inquiry, Captain?" you retort, a hint of sarcasm lacing your words.

"You're not in the military, don't call me that, dear."

You manage a wry smile.

"I don't fare well in crowds," you confess.

"I know," he acknowledges softly. "I just wanted a moment to talk."

"About what?" you inquire cautiously.

"You seem distant, from everyone," he observes.

"I... I just need time to recuperate from something, nothing significant," you deflect.

"Is it... physical?" he probes.

"No," you reply curtly.

"Emotional?"

"John."

"I just want to understand," he persists.

"Ignorance is bliss," you murmur, a trace of bitterness tainting your words.

"Yes, but not when it comes to you," he counters.

"John, please don't push," you plead.

"I will.You can't just shut me out like this," he insists, his brows furrowing in exasperation.

"Watch me," you retort, your jaw set stubbornly.

"Why are you like this?" he demands, his voice rising slightly with pent-up frustration.

"Like what?" you counter, your own patience wearing thin.

"Closed off. Distant. It's like you've built a wall between us," he argues, his words laced with hurt.

"Maybe I have," you admit, your voice softening just a fraction.

"Why?" he implores, his eyes searching yours for answers.

Irritation flares within you, fatigue settling in. You've had your fill of this celebration, of the clamor, of the happiness that seems so out of reach.

And then, it slips out.

"I love you. Satisfied now?" you snap.

His expression morphs, a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"You can't just drop that bombshell on me," he whispers, his voice tinged with betrayal.

"I warned you, John. Don't try to shift the blame onto me," you retort, your tone strained.

"Why... Why didn't you say anything before?" he implores, his frustration evident.

"Because you paraded around with people who bore no resemblance to me? Because our friendship means everything to me, and I couldn't risk it," you confess, your voice trembling with emotion.

His anger simmers beneath the surface.

"Listen, I'm sorry. Let's forget this, you have your fiancée and—"

"I loved you too," he interjects, his admission cutting through the air like a knife.

"What?" you gasp, stunned.

"Before my fiancée, I... I was utterly in love with you. I... damn it, we could have... Why didn't you say anything?" he laments, his voice thick with regret.

"John, no," you murmur, your heart breaking all over again.

"I love her now," he adds hastily, as if trying to extinguish the flicker of hope that ignited within you.

"You can't drop this bombshell now. It's cruel," you whisper, your voice choked with emotion.

"I know," he admits, his gaze dropping in shame.

"You're a coward. You've moved on, and now you leave me with this 'what if,'" you accuse, the words bitter on your tongue.

"It'll fade," he offers weakly.

-"Fuck you, John," you hiss, the finality of your words hanging heavy in the air.

-You never see him again after the wedding. You couldn't bear to, not to his fiancée, not to him, not to yourself. Perhaps, you muse bitterly, ignorance truly is bliss.

if you want more : my masterlist

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #call of duty x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #ghost simon riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader #price x reader #kyle garrick x reader

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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gay-dorito-dust · 8 months

Note

HIII can I request Mk1 Bihan hurt/comfort where you’re REALLY upset with him/worried for him after he’s been gone for days with no communication with these prompts i got from your list 😼. “where have you been? do you know what time it is?” and “you said you’d only be two hours. two!” and then maybe ending it with fluff like i just want him to hold me when i’m sleeping lowkey (even though he doesn’t seem like an affectionate person i feel like he would show it with actions rather than words yk) (i hope that’s not too specific 😭

I’m honestly glad to see someone actually use that prompt list, so thank you anon. 🦦 ooc Bi-Han? Or did I make him too mean?

You knew Bi-Han could handle himself and you knew that if he could see you as you were now, fitfully sleeping, biting your nails, worrying yourself sick over his well-being and whereabouts, he’d scoff and remind you that he wasn’t a child to be worried over. You’ve had your past frustrations with Bi-Han when it came to you and your overreactions -as he would put it- in regards to him going on long missions but at least during those other missions didn’t include the loss of communications.

Kuai Liang and Tomas both tried to quell your worries by reaffirming what you already knew about Bi-Han but after some time you began to grow more and more frustrated at how this ice cold bastard, who would often regard you in cold stares and long solemn silences, whilst continuously invalidating your thoughts and feelings, had made you feel so helpless and so fearful on his behalf; despite fully knowing that he wouldn’t have spared you a single thought if your positions were switched. So when Bi-Han finally decided to return later in the darkest of night, needless to say you weren’t even in the slightest bit pleased to see him with the emotional turmoil he put you through.

‘Where have you been?’ You began, annoyance lacing your tone that only grew more evident when you noticed how unperturbed by all this Bi-Han was, as though it was something that he’d expect you to accept as the norm whether you liked it or not. ‘Do you know what time it is?’ You rhetorically added as you crossed your arms over your chest.

‘I don’t ever remember asking you to wait for me.’ Bi-Han puts bluntly as he brushed pasted you as though you weren’t even there, which caused a tightness to form in your throat at how easy it was for him to disregard you. Whilst his attitude towards you made you question your worth to him, It also made you mad at how he thought he could treat you with such little respect, it was an insult that stung you deeply and felt like a spit in the face to the way you were stressing yourself over this unfeeling man for two fucking days!

‘Trust me. I’m not at all pleased about loosing sleep over you either.’ You retorted bitterly, not wanting to look at him for the fact that you were both relieved and irritated of his seemingly safe return. You were relieved to see him safe and with minimal injuries as it silenced the anxious and ominous ideals of him possibly never coming home, which neither were based upon any solid evidence that that was going to be the case. And you were irritated about this because it only meant that your sleepless nights, frequent bouts of anxiety and stress were for nothing. Your worrying was for nothing and you truly hated the conflicting emotions that only Bi-Han could withdraw from you.

‘You said that you’d be gone for two hours. TWO! Not two fucking days with absolutely zero chance of communication to let us know, to let me know that you were alright! That you were safe and that you were coming home!’ You chuckled humourlessly at how stupid and pathetic your words must sound to him but this was how you felt, and to you your feelings were anything but stupid or pathetic. ‘But i guess that’s too much to fucking ask from the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.’ You finished getting everything off of your chest that you’ve been concealing for the past two days, only for them to be regarded with the indignant scoff of an annoyed Bi-Han.

‘I do not need nor want to hear tales of your concern and how worried you were and in regards to the loss of communication that had you so distraught, it was merely a minor hindrance. There was no need to inform anyone of anything, the only thing that mattered was accomplishing the mission, no matter what, even if that meant on the fly improvisation or even in the off chance of never coming back.’ Bi-Han said with a voice so cold you swore you could feel the goosebumps on your arms staring to rise. ‘I shouldn’t be held responsible for the emotions that you feel. You should’ve put more faith in your Grandmaster instead of allowing your own emotions to cloud your judgment, for they only serve to become your undoing during the vital moments.’ He finished and all without sparing a single glance your way as to gauge your reaction, not when he could practically feel it trying to suffocate him with how thick the tension became.

You didn’t have any words, even if you did you wouldn’t know how to articulate them without it come across as disjointed ramblings of things you’ve already said aloud. You felt humiliated and you felt ashamed for standing by and letting it happen but what else could you say to combat that? It was obvious that Bi-Han didn’t care and so after spending two days on the trot, you had truly exhausted yourself both physically and emotionally. You were too tired to keep fighting with a man who might as well have been an ice wall, so instead of continuing your attempt to make Bi-Han see how his actions affected you, you walked out of the room but just before closing the door behind you, you stopped to say; ‘At least I get to say that I am blessed to possess thoughts and feelings. Goodnight Grandmaster.’ Before leaving Bi-Han with his thoughts.

By the time Bi-Han came to bed you were fast asleep. In fact the moment your head hit the pillow you were already deep into the realm of dreams to properly tuck yourself beneath the covers. He welcomed the sight, content that you hadn’t left him yet despite everything that had been said prior, he didn’t have an valid excuse on hand to justify his actions as Bi-Han had become aware that how he spoke to you wasn’t a tone that one should take when speaking to someone they love, nor was the way he disregarded your thoughts and feelings were anywhere near acceptable either.

However Bi-Han found it impartial to vocalise his regret for the way he had acted but fount that he could express that better through other means. So he journeyed to your side of the bed to pull the covers over the top of you, making sure to cover you completely, knowing how you get when the nights grow colder as he quickly pressed a featherlight kiss to your forehand, lingering there for a minute to savour the moment. Bi-Han then moved over towards his side of the bed and tucking himself under the covers before moving himself closer to you until his front was practically pressed up against your back and his arms were caging you against him as to protect you from the dangers that would bring you harm. Yet under Bi-Han’s watchful eye, that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. He wouldn’t allow that to ever come to pass for how could he call himself your love if he couldn’t protect you?

#mk1 #mk x reader #mk x y/n #mk imagine #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat imagine #mortal kombat x y/n #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat x reader #sub zero x reader #bi han x you #bi han x reader #bi han imagines #bi han imagine

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Note

Hi!

I just wanted to say that I absolutely love all of your COD fics! Your Price fics made me fall in love with him (I saw a recommendation for See No Evil on TikTok and just went down the rabbit hole from there (it’s also my comfort fic)) and Laughing Poets made me buy Ghosts for Keegan. Your writing is so beautiful and poetic and has inspired me to start writing again after a really bad writing’s block!

I also did want to put in a request for Ghost (because I love him so much) but given his hype, I understand if you don’t want to write for him or if it may be hard. But I was hoping that this hasn’t been done before (much) and that I could read it in your words since you are so amazing!

I was thinking of the reader being a CIA agent that was working undercover to get classified information and 141 was sent in to extract her after she was compromised. And her and Ghost don’t really get along at first, like they don’t hate each other but they could just care less about one another. But then they get separated and one of them is injured and the other fights tooth and nail to get to them, realizing how much they care. I was thinking that her callsign could be ‘Reaper’ but it can be anything else if it fits better. It can be angsty (because that’s the absolute best genre), fluffy, nsfw, whatever you want to do with it.

I know this is asking a bit much and I’m sorry for that. Feel free to change it as you see fit and do whatever you want with it, if you want to do it. I really appreciate and love your work!! Thank you!!

'Til it Hurts

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

Synopsis: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Word Count: 12.5k

Warnings: This duology will be 18+ and contain the following: intense gore, blood, violence, vulgar language, angst, fluff, suggestive content, (smut, p in v sex, virgin!reader (relevant to plot) all in part 2), abuse of power in the past, toxic working environment in the past, copious flashbacks, soft!simon because I love him like that (I guess considered ooc), banter, etc...

A/N: Part 2 will be posted tomorrow after I edit it and the link will be added to this part as well for ease of access. But, anna, that's wild that people post about my work on tiktok, lmfao. I'm so glad I helped you out of that writer's block, though! Enjoy part 1, Love (I did change it around a bit)!

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

You often think of the friends you had when you were six. The neighborhood you grew up in was full of other kids your age, and there was practically a horde of young boys and girls outside at any given moment. Early mornings were ripe for adventures – ears perking up from your pillows at the sound of bird songs and lawnmowers like an instinctual call to cause mischief. Days would run long and nights would end late with games of tag.

It was inevitable, at this point in your life, to not think about where your friends would be now. Were they happy? Starting families and getting married on island resorts; white sand underfoot and a gentle lapping of ocean water? You’d lost contact a long, long, time ago – never bothered to get back in touch, though you know things might be better if you had.

God, you’d never have friends like that again.

Selfless. Genuine. Without competition or a need to stab each other in the back. Friendships built on a childlike innocence that was never meant to stay or grow with the brutal stretch of years. People mature. They harden, sharpen.

They break themselves to fit a mold of what they want to be without even realizing…Or maybe that was just how you grew up.

Your feet pound against the cobblestone streets of Bergamo, Italy, as you make your way through the packed road of the Upper Old District. Under your chin, your fingers go up to grasp the scarf around your neck and pull the thick navy fabric up farther. Fast eyes flicker over faces as a fake plastered smile splays over your lips, and your jaw holds a tension that seeps into your shoulders.

Keep the act up, you have to remind yourself, fingers heavy at your hips, don’t let the facade slip, or else it’s over before it begins.

At your sides, past the unending sea of loudly speaking humans and loyal animals alike, the broad expanse of ancient architecture calls to the history of this city; red-terracotta roofing, extravagant greenery, and pillars as tall as the buildings themselves. A picturesque land filled with mysteries lost to time, stories never told beyond the scratch of a pen and moth-eaten parchment.

A city now filled with killers.

“Sitrep,” you grunt into the open channel, the earpiece fizzling as it sits in the clutch of your canal. No one answers and, slipping past a family of tourists, you glare at the ground; heart going so fast you feel like it could jump-start a car. “Damnit!”

The seconds draw on and as you pick up the pace, now shoving your way through the crowd, you feel eyes on you. Slithering over your skin like oil.

Not good.

Shit. Karver, where did you go!?

Karver ‘Rigs’ Massarini was an informant – someone who’d been giving you everything that you needed to know about the cell in this area; along with a grouping of eyewitnesses to a stash of ICBMs. A stash that could do some serious damage if they stayed here with the wrong people. Intel suggests that those very missiles were going to be shipped off to Mexico in only a few days, smuggled across the border into United States territory with the intent of doing some pretty awful stuff and framing the US.

If you and Rigs weren’t quick with this, so many innocents would suffer.

You’d already gotten into contact with Mexican Special Forces yourself, warning Alejandro Vargas and Rodolfo Parra of a possible breach and to watch for any unregistered shipments on the docks or coming in from the air.

But now Rigs was missing, and you had a funny feeling you were being trailed.

Back alley. You take a quick right, boots slamming to the ground and heart hammering. Get away from the civvies in case someone decides to go trigger-happy.

This cell was known for being deadly, Mr. Massarini had sent the file over to CIA headquarters before you were shipped out; Laswell had set you on it right away without even taking the time to read it entirely.

“Extremely high Kinetic; I’m giving you full Execute Authority on this, Reaper. We’re running out of time. Find those missiles.”

Torture, kidnappings, mutilations, the list went on for this group and how far they would go to keep secrets. No one had gotten any clear insight as to what their motives were – just that they needed to be put down in exactly the ways they had been doing to others. Ruthlessly, before they grew bigger or spread their influence beyond borders, and created a group that could rival what Al-Qatala had been.

So that was where you came in.

God, you wished Farah and Alex were here with you – at the very least you could rely on them to help, even if you sectioned yourself off from others more than a dying cat. There was a reason you preferred being sent in alone with only your wits.

Mostly because of situations like this.

“Rigs, sitrep. Where are you,” you try again, the close walls shrouding in your shadows. Throwing looks over your shoulders, you take down deep breaths, a growl gradually digging itself a hole in your esophagus. Desperately, you say, “I’m heading back to the safe house ASAP. Wait for me there.”

Your right hand gravitates to your pocket, slipping through the fabric and pushing aside the ripped seam at the bottom. The sheath at your thigh pinches you with every step, but you’ve endured it for years, calluses breeding where the leather had chaffed the flesh to toughness. To an ingrained perfection. Flinching when your fingers bump against the handle, the metal adornments feel cool to the touch despite the sweat dripping down your spine; temperature and nerves leaving your palms sweaty.

None of this was going to plan.

You caress the small Dirk blade strapped to you, and when the first footsteps enter the alleyway behind you, your hand clenched into a loose fist around it. Your eyebrows pull tight with annoyance.

Taking a slow breath as the trailing stranger begins to move faster, you take a corner, halting the second you were out of sight. You nonchalantly turn on your heel and lean into the wall, feeling your body conform to the building and the stone dig into your back.

The material is cold, and as you raise your Dirk up, you flip the blade parallel to your forearm, wrist lax, and fingers still. A slow breath flows from your barely-parted lips.

3 seconds. You don’t blink, only gazing out across the space and noticing the dark shadow gaining ground. 2…1…

Your body jerks forward, free hand snapping out and grasping the fabric of a shirt. Twisting your hips, you plant your feet and wrench the stranger around the corner, breath coming out in a loud snarl. Without a shout, you have the person’s back shoved to the building in an instant, blade held above an Adam’s Apple.

A man, then.

“I’m going to give you one full minute.” Your Italian was only surface level – far better at understanding others than speaking full sentences. But you think whoever this man is comes to a conclusion well enough. “Before I cut you open and watch the life spill from your eyes.”

You don’t recognize this person, his sharp face or dark, sly, eyes, and with a quick assessment of his large stature you figure out he’s the basic definition of a man sent to complete a job. One that would have left you dead if you were anything less than a contracted CIA Agent on a job. You had been trained among the best from your time in the Marines – years on Special Ops forces; taking point. Even if they were the worst times of your life, you still learned a great deal from them, particularly, how to know when to cut your losses.

With one look into his smug face, you know that this stranger would tell you nothing.

Your lips formed a grimace, teeth flashing under flesh at the rod-straight form of the man under you. He was smirking with eyes seeming to be laughing at you. Arrogant. Self-assured.

“You’ll get nothing out of me, Reaper. We are already on your trail.” Your head tilts, a numb huff escaping your throat and pushing the individual's hair back as a breeze would. There was a small pause; tiny shiftings of your feet as your blade digs ever deeper.

A thin trail of blood falls from the placement, and your muscles writhe under the epidermis. There’s no thought behind the laugh that enters the air, that cold, dark, thing that’s more of a bark from a hellhound. It was just a realization that no matter where you went, there could never be anything unique anymore. Everyone was always the same.

“You’ll never get it out of me-”

“Break my bones; rip my flesh, you will never make me talk-”

“If you want to see me beg, you’ll be disappointed-”

There were countless memories you could bring to the precipice of your mind and re-live; moments ingrained into your psyche like a tattoo is to skin. So you can only smile and nod, scarf swishing around your neck. The man looks confused now, if not slightly nervous. That self-assured attitude leaking to the ground. Eyes as dark as obsidian beginning to snap back and forth – looking for a saving grace in the make-up of ancient stone that wasn’t going to come.

You wondered how many people had died in this city throughout history. The stories lost to time. Have these alleys seen war? Famine?

Have they seen murder?

But you are a woman of your word. A minute passes in tense silence, your eyes never leaving his own and ears carefully in tune, twitching like an antenna, to the joyous shouts and laughter just a street over. Here you wait like a rat in a trap, though you like to believe yourself more of the metal Hammer than the unknowing participant in a dance of death and wits.

You tighten your grip on your Dirk, shrugging up at the man. Your face is nonchalant as an understanding smile grows. As simple as a server at a restaurant.

“I believe you.” And you run the knife’s edge across his flesh like a match to a striker before he can scream.

Stepping back, you’re suddenly thankful for the scarf over your sweat-slick neck because as the spray of blood splatters over your nose bridge and forehead, you swipe it away with one of the ends of the thick fabric. You let the body drop, watching large hands snap to the gushing wound like that alone would stop the cold grip of death.

Your mark has been met.

The External Carotid Artery was easy enough to cut, though you had to dig deep for it, and it seemed the man had moved mid-slice. Frowning while the man gasps and gurgles; flails as a fish would, you study your work as you flick the blade clear of blood. Your brows furrow.

“Nicked the Thyroid Cartilage, hm.” Sighing and shaking your head, you sheathe the Dirk and twist on your feet, still intent on making your way back to the hotel safe house and trying to find a lead on Rigs. The slumping of a body reverberates a moment later, a grandiose death rattle, and still, only a street over you hear animated conversations – the bustle of traveling feet, and the sound of the breeze.

You often think about the friends you had when you were six. But, now, instead of being the one who fought off the monsters at the ends of the beds, you had become it. The monster. The boogeyman.

The Reaper.

Oh, what would they think of you now?

You swipe at the blood along your fingertips, seeing the red bleed under your nails with such a numb feeling that it scares you more than anything. Taking down a gathering of saliva that feels more like a slug in your throat, you wonder when you lost the ability to value human life. Of course, the answer was slated in those early years in Special Ops, but you don’t dwell on those times.

In fact, it was better if you never thought of them at all.

Taking a left, you hum a tune under your breath and listen to the birds sing as the blood dries.

—

The meeting room wasn’t even a room, just a vacant air-craft hangar that had been fitted out with two rows of metal fold-out chairs and a projector. Shadows danced over the floor, long streaks of darkness over concrete.

“...I’ll be giving you full Execute Authority – but this mission is completely Black. Host weapons only. No Evac team.” Laswell’s voice echoes off the ceiling, and Ghost’s eyes flow over the projected intel, memorizing the faces and locations with nothing more than a blink of his blue eyes. Fluttering eyelashes caress the hard material of his mask before settling.

Task Force 141 was being sent off on another deployment again, deep into Belarus and near the Russian border.

“Time frame?” The Captain asks, standing a small distance away and leaning against a crate of ammunition. His arms are crossed; jaw is loosely set.

Kate looks at him, above the heads of Gaz and Soap, and nods her head before she comments, “one week.”

Gaz huffs from ahead of the hulking form of Ghost, and the silent man shifts his attention back to the group.

“One week, Kate? No offense, but we don’t even know if the bastard’s in Belarus.”

“‘fraid to get dirty there, Garrick? Ah, we’re good enough for it.” Soap elbows the male at his side, and the masked man releases a puff of breath one row back. The Scot twists in his seat, mohawk tendrils falling over his forehead, and smirks. “C’mon Lt. back me up here. We’ve got this in the bag already.”

“Bit confident, Johnny?” Ghost grunts out, accented voice low and muffled from under the black fabric over his lips. His hips shift over the chair, legs splayed and arms crossed as he reclines back; letting the bulk of his gear weigh heavy. “Just wait until you’ve got us sitting on a pile of dry leads and rotting corpses.”

“Eh, nothin’ we haven’t dealt with before.”

“Focus, you three.” Kate interrupts as Gaz rolls his eyes to himself, fixing his ball cap over his head with a fast flick of his wrist at the antics of the other two. “You’re going to be shipped out at 2000–”

An easily recognizable ringtone starts to play.

Blinking in surprise, Laswell takes a glance at the table that had been long forgotten and spies her phone buzzing over the metal. Her light brown hair, kept securely tied back, swished at the nape of her neck. She wastes no time.

Briskly walking over, the rest of the men in the room watched intently, heads perked up. Ghost couldn’t stop the pique of interest at the strange behavior, though his form remains still, only making a noise under his breath in contemplation. In the hold of his crossed arms, his fingers tighten.

“Not the person I’d imagine keeps her phone on for just anyone…” Gaz makes a slow comment, and John slides up beside him, hands hooking onto the sides of his combat vest. Watching.

“Hm,” their command affirms.

Kate picks up her phone and immediately answers, brows furrowed. She shifts her weight as an inhalation reverberates. The conversation on the other side was too muffled, a small droaning the only signal that someone was on the opposite.

Unconsciously, Ghost straightens in his chair as the rolled-back sleeves of his undershirt leave his black ink tattoos on display. A deep intrigue spilled in his chest but otherwise, he was still focused on the previous instructions for the next Op. This was just another cog in the wheel, perhaps a location change for their safe house, or an accelerated timeline. No matter, they would get it done regardless–

“Reaper?” Laswell speaks, and blue eyes slide to stare at the Captain, whose legs had tensed. “What’s happened–”

The Lieutenant knows something was wrong just by the simple fact that he’d never seen their Station Chief talk on her personal phone with that look on her face before – he’d seen it mirrored on the Captain and he’d clocked it from her just as simply. The wrinkled skin at the side of her eyes, and stiff-set lips peeled back in a frown. She’d always been serious, but the air was different.

Reaper? He runs through the database of his mind and ignores Gaz’s and Johnny’s muttered words and glances.

“Now who do you think that is, then?” Soap grunts out. Ghost doesn’t answer.

Brows furrow.

Sounds familiar, the man can’t help but admit.

“Patch me through. Now.” Kate slips to the computer a few steps away and opens a fresh tab, sorting through files and months of intel as if it mattered just as much as a bug under her heel.

“Kate?” Price prompts. The woman only holds up a finger and keeps the phone in between her shoulder and cheek, hands fast across the keys.

Soon enough, a feed pops up on the projector, and the three previously sitting all rise to their feet in an instant.

An open wound is in the process of being stitched and displays itself over the entire available space, violent red internal flesh puckering over the edges of…Ghost narrows his eyes, unphased.

Was that a fabric needle and thread being used for sutures? Resourceful, he admits.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” The manchester man levels thought the blandness of the tone contradicts itself. “Where’s this feed from, Laswell?”

“What the fuck…?” Soap growls out, and the Scot blinks at the screen in shock as the Brit beside him lets off a sound of disgust akin to a sick cat.

“Reaper, sitrep.” Kate doesn’t flinch, rushing off into procedure as steady hands delve back into flesh, blood falling from their fingers like water to splatter to a rundown wooden table. The world-away computer was most likely getting a rain of crimson all over the keys at this rate.

Price grunts under his breath.

“Shit,” a distinctly feminine voice wafts out, a harsh sigh held back, though the annoyed tone was noticed immediately, “can’t a girl stitch herself up in peace? Besides, Watcher-1 answer me this, huh?” The computer is jerked, its screen going staticky as Ghost watches with roving eyes to take in the background when the visibility returns. A bed, nightstand, and sitting by the floor of the front door, copious amounts of weapons. The man takes stock – an M13 assault rifle, X12 handgun, and Arctic .50 sniper rifle. Ammunition lines the floor in a way that leaves Ghost’s lips thinning under the mask.

Someone’s in a hurry. But from what?

“…what goddamn hotel doesn’t have mirrors in it?” Kate’s sigh can be heard a mile away. “No, I’m being serious here, Watcher – how the hell does that happen?”

Watching you take a step back, Ghost as well as the other three all blink in surprise when you come into view. Your top was off, only a sports bra covering your flesh, as your focus stays on the digging needle you send into yourself over and over.

Yet again a feeling of intense familiarity strikes the Brit in the chest. Your soft face, your hair, your voice. It was infuriating.

Who are you? The inability to call forth a memory leaves the fists at his sides gradually clenching under his gloves.

“Reaper.” Seriousness grows in the Agent’s voice, and Price lets out a slow chuckle that leaves Gaz turning to him in confusion.

“Sir?” But the inquiry is ignored.

“Still as stubborn as ever, then, Reap?” Everyone sees your hurried stitches stop, head snapping up as they clock a veiled panic behind the iris’.

Your eyes tell all the story they need, and Ghost’s body freezes as the color evokes a physical twitching of his hand.

“Holy hell,” he utters under his breath so silently no one even realizes he spoke; eyelids pulling back before settling like nothing had even happened.

“You know, you're the first person who’s been nice to me out here.”

“...Then I’d tell you to get better friends, Sergeant. I’m not sticking around.”

“I never said they were my friends, Ghost, and I never expected you to stay, anyways. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re right. It’s not.”

“Bravo-06?” You ask, voice sometimes cutting out over the line. A laugh breaks out, and a small smirk twitches the corners of your lips, “Hey, Old Man, how’s it going over there? Been a while.”

“What have you got yourself into now?” Price asks, chuckling under his breath with a groaned continuation, “and how do you need me to get you out of it?”

The spectral man now watches with a newfound fervency, blue eyes boiling so violently that if anyone had seen, they would have thought he was about to attack. Like a split second of eye contact with a wolf before it rushes. The build of his shoulders was still loose, however, and the only indication of shock was his optics; the mask shrouded all.

But there was a subtle movement of his hips, feet transferring over the floor to stand shoulder-length apart.

“Oh, this,” you point to your injury with a free finger, tying off a knot on the last line of sutures. “Nah, it’s nothing. A couple of assholes tried to get the jump on me a block back, one had a knife on ‘em.” Your hand tosses the needle and thread to the table, a muttered, thunk, sounding off. Looking down at your work with a raised brow, everyone watches. “Took care of it – they gave me a name, too, but with the trail of bodies I left today, I wouldn’t be surprised if it didn’t pan out.”

A pause before you turn your head back up, face now completely serious as you focus on Laswell.

“But we have a bigger problem, Watcher. Rigs is gone; I think my position’s compromised. I’m going black.” Your form leans to the side, and a wrinkled t-shirt is thrown over your head. From your mouth, a stifled groan releases. Ghost blinks in surprise.

The Captain’s lips thin, and he looks at a tight-wound Kate.

“I have a contact in the lower levels, Reaper, meet up with her and she can have you out of the city by tonight. I’ll send over her info.”

“No can do, Watcher.” You sigh, and Ghost simply stares, following your figure as you back up, heading to the X12 and shimmying it into the back of your pants before looking over your shoulder. Kate hums under her breath. “If they’ve got Rigs,” Walking quickly back over to the computer, one of your hands grasps the top of the frame, thumb poking out from the corner. You tilt your head. “I ain't leaving without him right behind me. I’ll be in contact in a month – if I’m not, then I’m dead already.”

Your chuckle strikes a cord through the room and Soap snorts in answer.

“Glass-half-empty kind of person, then?”

“I’d say,” Gaz mutters.

Continuing, you’re about to say something else – lips already partially parted and breath sucked in – before your eyes lock onto Ghost. The atmosphere of the room flips like the page of a book.

You stare at him with what seems to be a million emotions flying past the glossiness of your optics; lids already peeled back and whites showing in a display that showed more than told. The man could only begin to imagine what you were thinking – how long had it been since he’d seen you last? You’d obviously gotten out of your Marines Special Ops unit.

Not quite how I remember you. It wasn’t hard to recall that small branch of the MRR – Marine Raider Regiment – and how they treated you. But that wasn’t any of his business. He’d been there to do a job, and he’d accomplished it. Quite thoroughly, if anyone would have checked the file after it was all over.

Ghost’s life was counted in the sands of an hourglass, small, molecular, bits hitting the bottom one after the other; rarely was that time wasted on pointless squabbles and words but at that moment, he was conflicted.

The Brit had never expected to see you again, and the sand briefly halted when you spoke. Hm.

Yes, he remembered that voice… he’d just never heard you this confident before.

“Ghost.” He watches the emotions on your face settle, and he was thankful for the mask covering his visage because he knows he would have left at least a small twitch of his lips slip. “Long time no see.”

“Mutt.” The Lieutenant nods in a monotone greeting but notices a slight jerk of your shoulders at the name. His eyebrows furrow, but mentions nothing as his pulse slows.

Your neck moves as you swallow, looking to the side as a dark curiosity fills the space in Ghost’s lungs; head nanoscopically tilting to the side like a vulture.

“Nice seeing you, Bravo-06,” You tilt your head toward the Captain before clearing your throat and addressing Laswell. “I’ll be around.”

It wasn’t hard to tell that the title had made you freak, a kind of bad cloud suddenly springing to life above your head.

Seems to bother her more than being in a Hot Zone, Ghost tells himself, the deep well of dark water in his gut still. That didn’t make any sense. He watches your hand slaps over the computer and the feed goes dark in an instant.

The room is more silent than Ghost is.

“Kate, she’ll need our help.” Price shakes his head from side to side; body moving to the front of the room. “I’m not asking.”

The two talk it over as Ghost’s mind trails, head tilting down more towards his chest as his eyelids narrow.

“Hm,” He grunts, arms tensing as his grip shifts. Soap turns around as Gaz goes to join the conversation between the Captain and the agent.

“What? Know ‘er or something, Lt?” The Scot asks, slapping a hand on the taller man’s arm. Ghost eyes lock on the grip before he blinks, looking back up and leveling the Sergeant with a dead stare. Johnny laughs awkwardly and moves his limb back to his side. “Just…didn’t peg you for the type to start relationships.”

The Lieutenant turns down the aisle of chairs and lets out a bland, “negative. Leave it, Sergeant.”

Why did you react badly to the namesake you’d gone by for the entire time you’d been in Special Ops? Mutt was when everyone had called you when he had been around for that short time.

He felt no great concern for you – no hatred or care – you were just another Agent that would probably end up dead like everyone else. Another time, maybe, he’d have gone in a heartbeat, and if the team decided to go after you, he’d follow. A mission was a mission, it wasn’t like it largely mattered.

But there was something in the back of his mind. Intrigue? Yes, perhaps. The blue-eyed Lieutenant wasn’t one to dwell on these types of things, but a colleague was still a colleague.

Whatever the outcome, he’d do his job with all the ruthlessness and tact he always did.

Ghost’s hand goes up to fix the position of his mask and glances at the blank projector stream, eyes boring into it as they darken. A moment later, he was leaning against the ammunition crate that Price had previously been on, arms crossed and ears twitching at the ongoing battle of wills; isolated to himself as his intimidating form towers ever upwards. Spine straight. Bones stiff. Eyes grim.

You’d been nice to him – a person that, for the limited time he’d interacted with, had left an impression that was only just starting to come back full force. Smart and resourceful; not too bad on the eyes.

He takes down a sigh. Stubborn…but undoubtedly loyal.

His thumb brushes your cheek, and you look up at him as if he wasn’t the one in a mask – as if his entire being was laid bare before you. He swipes away the trail of blood with one firm press. The gentleness of your skin is known even through his glove.

“You’ll live, Sergeant.” He utters, teasing in his monotone voice, “now, where the hell are we goin’? Gun’s itchin’ to lay a few out.”

Ghost would have smirked at the way your eyes dilated if he had the ability, but in the end, he brushes past. Because if he hadn’t, you would have seen his own do the same.

‘Reaper,’ he frowns, feeling the ammunition crate dig further into his hip, they never called you that one.

Perhaps the real battle of wills was happening inside of him – not five feet away between his Captain and his Station Chief.

—

You remember every interaction like it was yesterday, and although he might not, you can’t help the memories from flooding as you gather your gear. Stuffing guns into duffel bags and intel into crossbody sacks that weigh you down like boulders.

Fuck, you open the back window and shimmy out into the back streets, knowing that your position is compromised and not waiting any longer to test your luck. Your side burns something awful; horrible stitches peeling back skin as you groan in pain. What the fuck was Ghost doing with Price? I didn’t know they knew each other. And the two other men in the room…eh. Not the problem right now!

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” you pant, swinging your legs out of the window frame and sharply inhaling when a suture tears. “I’m never in the loop.”

In all honesty, you don’t want to be – too complicated. It’s better to just stick around and be told what to do.

Glaring down at the ground with glazed eyes, you only take a breath of hesitation and let off a curse before dropping.

Your knees take the brunt of the force, and the ricochets of landing on cobblestones travel up your ankles and leave your legs shaking. If you weren’t running on adrenaline, you would have come up with a dirty joke to mutter to yourself.

The discomfort can only last so long, you tell yourself, and ignore the spreading liquid on your side, only thinking of Rigs and the mission.

And Ghost.

Gritting your teeth, eyes vulnerable, you turn down the backroad and stay away from others, drowning in memories more deadly than blood. It had been a while since you had thought of it – the lockbox in the back of your mind keeping all under tight watch; guard dogs with metal teeth and chained necks.

But that title; that namesake you’d scrubbed your skin raw over. Mutt and all the others said in cruel breaths. Oh…but Mutt.

Mutt was the worst of them.

Your hands were vibrating, the tremors traveling up your wrists and arms – past elbows and bruised flesh under skin; bloodied nose and quivering lips. Why did they always yell at you? But worse, why did they always make you do the dirty work?

The Captain, everyone just called him Alke, was standing in front of you, berating your accuracy on the last round of target practice. Fortunately, this deep into the Unit itself, you’d found a way to let it go in one ear and out the next, eyes as blank as a starless sky.

You could see the spittle flying from the man’s lips and some even splashes across your cheeks like acid, but there was something artful to the way you didn't react. A culmination of crafted numbness that bleeds like trauma. It was a constant, everlasting, void.

What they were making you into was not what you wanted, but what possible other option was there? Resign? No, this was nearly an unimaginable position to be in at such an age. You deserve to be here. Should you report the blatant unprofessionalism and favoritism in the ranks? And be blacklisted by these people's friends so that you never ascend the line?

Your ears twitch.

“...You’re not sleeping until your marks are perfect – else we’re overthinking your position in this Unit. Can’t have a Mutt in our ranks, can we?” The last sentence is punctuated with a ruffling of your hair almost like a brother would; teasing, but you know that isn’t what it symbolizes. Harsh laughs and mocking remarks from the bystanders. “Least of all one that’s gonna get us killed. Tch.” When you don’t answer, staring off in a daze at his nose in a perfect image of formation, the Captain raises an eyebrow. “Affirmative,” he smirks, “Mutt?”

“Sir!” Your mouth shouts, though the action is more instinctual as your back straightens. He frowns at that, perhaps wanting to torment you more, but huffs and files out, ordering the rest to follow with one last call.

“I expect you to be up for morning drills an hour early. I’ll be checking your shots myself.”

“Sir!”

After everyone’s gone, you blink back to reality. There’s a second of confusion, creases forming in your forehead at the sound of birds and blowing glass. Head turning side to side, your lips thin at the absence of others as if only realizing how spaced out you’d actually been.

Flashing teeth and heated eyes flash through your mind before you blink them away. Signing away the tense nature of your chest, you clear your throat and relax your legs. Your vision slides to the corners of the concrete dugout, snapping past sectioned-off areas for privacy to search if there was someone who might have stayed back.

Not finding anyone, your hands, clenched behind your back, loosen and fall limp to your sides like bags of rock. One weakly goes to swipe at the trail of blood from your nose, wrecking your already wrinkled sleeve with crimson; but soon an identical trail drips off your chin regardless. Licking your lips and tasting copper, you take a shaky breath and nod to yourself.

You knew what shooting all night would bring on – lesions under the firing pad covering your shoulder; deep-rooted pain leading to nerve damage later on. Blisters that leak puss and blood onto your bedsheets. Not to mention the mental strain, the bags under your eyes burn from lack of rest.

Gritting your teeth, you walk over the tossed rifle on the floor and pick it up with shaky fingers, the tips flinching back from the cool metal before encompassing it tightly.

Silently, you get on your stomach and set the weapon in the crook of your already pain-laced shoulder. Your blood splatters the stock.

—

It had been two weeks with no luck in finding Rigs, and you were starting to get paranoid.

Staring at the dead body tied to the wooden chair, you growl and tear your Dirk from the woman’s chest angrily.

There had been increased police patrols from all the corpses you were leaving, so you’d compromised and limited the chance of being caught at the same time.

Bergamo, Italy, was an ancient place, and the underground was what you were now both metaphorically, and physically, exploiting. Sewer systems. Catacombs. You’d lost track of the paths you’d taken a million times over, and had started to hate the constant darkness only kept back by the small hand lamp you’d stolen.

But there were ups to this constant downward slope.

It made interrogations increasingly easier to pull off with multiple feet of stone all around you. The screams don’t meet the surface.

“Catello Tullio,” you mutter, caressing your sensitive side with your free hand and placing your blade on a turned-over piece of rock. The area reeks of blood and gore, a stack of bodies chucked carelessly in the corner beginning to reek something awful; even as you have another to add to the count. It wouldn’t be long before the rats came in droves.

Another given name, another score. But this one was new. Apparently, the title of the one that took Rigs while he was out getting more rations in the market.

You point a finger at the slumped body, “you better hope I don’t find you in hell if you gave me the wrong damn name.”

Grabbing your light, you stalk off down one side of the tunnel back to your camp, dodging drag lines that strike your eyes with their crimson streaks.

The raggedy blanket and gun-sack you’d been using for a pillow take form in the dark, and somewhere in the corridor a rat squeals; feet pitter-pattering until it disappears altogether. You didn’t even want to think of the spiders living down here. Files and notes are strewn along the floor, perfect hiding places for eight-legged monsters.

You couldn’t do anything until nightfall. It was just too risky.

Massaging your side as you bend down, you grimace at the partially healed wound and scoop up your pistol before plopping to the ground with a grunt. With the deadly object held in your lap, you take a moment to breathe and try to push away a growing headache in the back of your skull.

“This has to be one of the worst Ops on record, huh?” your small voice speaks back to you in bouncing waves of echoes as you begin to fiddle over the gun's small grooves and dents. “How did you manage this, Reap?”

Smiling blandly, the overwhelming quiet and nothingness all around you is like a curse. And in those pockets of a void, your mind always trails to him – or at least it had been for your time on the run. Ghost. That dark and brooding mass of horribly bleak humor and…well…you couldn’t call him mean.

Your eyebrows furrow.

He was never mean to me.

There were soft instances where you would question yourself as to if the Brit had possibly had some affection for you. It wasn’t a long shared history of course, but you had sworn that there was something about the way he looked at you…something that you remember so vividly…

You shake your head and stand after a small while, stretching your feet. Placing your pistol in the back of your belt, the weight brings you dull comfort.

Shining your light on the hand-held radio on the ground in passing, you rove back to it after you scan the perimeter. Its black metal mocks you.

No one’s coming to help ‘cept you. One voice says, and another grunts out, get it together, Mutt.

You turn on your heel to go and take a breather to disperse your dark thoughts but only make it three steps before your eyes widen, lips parting in awe. Nearly falling flat over yourself, you whirl around in an instant.

A static enters the air as if the gods above were laughing at you - toying with your fate like it was a rock tossed to the sky. The familiar British drawl causes your chest to tighten, though the sentence is broken and barely understandable.

Someone’s here for me! A smile slashes your face – fierce hope lighting your eyes. You hadn’t wanted anyone to explicitly come for you, but this was a welcome discovery. Someone to talk to!

“--eper…Copy?” Darting like a cat, you move so fast that you stumble over rocks on the way there. “Lead…cafe…red cloth…Out.”

By the time you snatch the small black object, the garbled and firm tone has already shut itself up. Your mouth parts.

“Shit!” You yell, shaking the thing in your hand with an iron grip, hissing like a snake. You look above you at the cracked ceiling of stone and a growled accusation.“I’m too deep…Fuck. Gotta get up there if I want to be able to respond.”

But it hadn’t all been fruitless. Lead. Cafe. Red cloth. You clip the radio to your belt and make sure your shirt covers your weapon; pat your thigh and tell yourself to stop forgetting your Dirk everywhere before setting off in a jog. The light flashes over dead eyes and stiff bodies.

You snatch the blade off of the stone as you pass it, slipping it into your cut pocket and hearing the satisfying clink of it sheathing.

“Let’s just hope I don’t smell too bad…” You say aloud, chuckling, and listening as the sound echoes off the stone. If no other company, you still had the sound of your own voice.

You couldn’t decide if that was a good or a bad thing. But, you were getting side-tracked.

A Cafe with red cloth, then. Not exactly the place you’d go for an intel swap, but if someone had been trying to contact you for more than a week, you’d imagine they were getting desperate at this point.

If I had known…you frown.

Thinking over the multiple blueprints and pictures of the city in your files, you go through your internal cabinet of knowledge for color schemes - not what you’d have thought you’d be using it for, but, oh well. A lead was a lead.

“Golositá!” You laugh, sudden glee on your face as you dodge a pile of large stones; lips peeling back as you take a fast corner. “Gluttony! Of course, that’s the place.”

The bustling business on the upper side of Bergamo with red table cloths as well as red awnings extending into the street. Anyone would be a fool to miss it.

Like blood lining the street.

You force yourself to run faster.

—

You met him last, despite being a Sergeant. The Captain had you up late last night yet again – running the forest trail this time rather than shooting. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it surprised him when you were still up early with the others; from the looks that he was giving you, you just decided that, yes, he was. Or he was just pissed he didn’t have an excuse to get rid of you.

Blinking away fatigue, you keep your stance relaxed as a gargantuan shadow comes to loom ahead of you.

The man everyone had whispered about called himself ‘Ghost’ and, if nothing more, was certainly intimidating. Shoulders wider than a bench, arms as rounded and as strong as boulders; not to mention the tattoos that made him look like he took cross-country motorcycle rides in his spare time. Tan tactical gear and dark patches for the SAS, the red and white British flag. Gloves covered his large hands, straps carried knives on his biceps and thigh. Something akin to a tan cape that was loose around his hidden neck.

But the mask was what really caught your attention; your head tilting with an innocence that no longer lives in you.

Skeletal. Half a visage of a dead and gone intimidation of humanity. Sewn into a hood of black cloth from which only the eye sockets were open…But the eyes there were no different than if the holes had been empty in the first place; as if the person inside was as dead as sun-bleached bone. Was a corpse piloting this suit?

Ice blue. Freezing blue. Harsh. Colder than a grip of a phantom, you thought as you blinked up at him, colder than the nights you would stay awake working yourself to death. You watched this Ghost’s chest move in a steady inhalation and you stuck out a busted-knuckle hand. Foolish, maybe, but there were worse things to be afraid of than a mask. Then of those eyes that made your spine shiver.

But you didn’t look away.

“Pleasure, Sir.” There was a moment of tense silence where your Captain, at Ghost’s side, was frowning at you silently. The man could say nothing as long as this SAS member was here to assist in your next Op overseas. At your sides, your colleagues on the tarmac shuffle on their feet like nervous penguins.

Ghost glances at your hand, and you try not to show how fast your pulse is running when his eyes leave a cold trail as they grace your split knuckles and torn nails. He ends with a slow look at your name patch.

“Sergeant.” He says and slips past without another word. His shoulder brushes against yours, and you inhale smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. Snickers bounce off air particles, striking your ears as an embarrassed heat rises to your cheeks, but that scent stays in your nostrils for days.

Your Captain scurries after.

“Erm, forgive, Mutt. She’s a helluva strange woman, that one.” You keep your sneer hidden, a hiss lodged in your throat and a twitching finger. But your anger isn’t directed at the masked beast that stalks away. That yapping bully of a Captain would hold all of it as long as you were here.

At that point, you were sure you’d seen the last of Ghost until the Op – not really getting the feeling he’s a people person so much as a ‘give orders and follow them’ type.

But that was fine by you, it didn’t change anything. You’d been told to go back to the firing range tonight for opening your mouth and ‘making an embarrassment of the Unit’....whatever that meant. All you did was welcome the guy with the barest hint of a good attitude.

You supposed manners were a foreign concept around here.

The world ahead of you was blurring, red circles in your eyes that gloss over with water every minute you force yourself to stay awake. The stars were out, sky dark, and the area was only lit by large lights situated around the base. In some sort of strange way, you enjoyed the sound of crickets and the cold breeze over your bare arms as if the only sense of peace you got was when you were half-passed out, nailing shots from a rifle.

The stock was where it always is, your cheek pressed to the side; staring down the scope at the multiple holes in the paper targets. Dots surrounded by multiple other dots like a slice of cheese. You suppose that made you the hungry mouse in that case.

‘A mouse with a fucking day before she drops.’ You frown, blink, and pull the trigger as the trees rustle. The force lands directly on your shoulder – the kickback is usually not one to bother you, but seeing as your appendage was one bad day away from being dislocated and forever damaged – you took it with a grit of your teeth.

And you took it because you knew you could. Just as you knew that you felt a pair of eyes on the back of your neck. Freezing, you remove your finger from the trigger and loosen your grip. Turning your head to the side, a free hand goes up and shifts the ear mufflers from your head to your neck in a single movement.

You swear your heart jumps to your throat when you see a skeleton’s icy blues numbly watching you; arms crossed while a nice-looking SA-B 50 Marksman Rifle sits against the wall at his side. How…long had he been there? Watching?

“What’re you doing, Sergeant?” Ghost asks sternly, that Manchester accent making him sound harsh. Grating like a rock being run against concrete. “I’m sure your Captain wouldn’t be thrilled at a scene like this, eh?”

Blinking, you remind yourself to breathe before answering – voice tough and hoarse.

“I have my orders, Sir. You’re free to join me.”

You turn back as a grunted huff falls from behind muted cloth. Ghost walks up to your laying form, standing on your left side and picking up the binoculars from the hanging hook in your station. As you look back through your scope you don’t know why, but you hold your breath; waiting for something.

“...Not a bad shot. You’re prone to firing more to the right, judging from the grouping. I’d fix that, less you miss a moving target runnin’ the opposite.” He lowers the object - staring from the side of his eye. From your position, your neck cranes to see his fingers twitch. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” For someone you’d expected to be quite harsh – though you had no doubt he still was – Ghost was more sarcastic in his mannerisms.

Backhanded comments that wound sting if you got on the other end of them.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sir.” Shifting your grip, you move the stock farther up your shoulder, feeling an immediate release of tension, though the expansive trauma still leaves needles in your tissue.

“Hm, pay attention and you just might learn something.” You feel yourself quirk a lip for the first time in months; your mouth doesn’t stop to think.

“You mentor a lot of people in the middle of the night, then?”

“Only the ones stupid enough to be awake.” He takes a step back, going to grab his own rifle as his footsteps don’t even make a sound.

‘Quiet for a guy with thighs that could choke me out.’

Your brows furrow at the heated thought, taking a slow breath and flexing your hands as the shadow disappears from over you. Why were your hands sweaty?

Were you…afraid? That…that wasn’t it.

“You’re up too, you know, Sir. Bit hypocritical.” This was the first time you’d had a full conversation with someone since you’d gotten in with this Unit. A mildly pleasant one, at least…you wouldn't really call this bonding.

“I can always leave ya’ to it, Sergeant.” Deadpanning the words, you clear your throat and fall silent at the threat.

‘No,’ you wanted to comment, ‘no, I want the company so badly it hurts.’

You swallow saliva and reposition your ear mufflers back over your head, heart bruising your ribs, as you bring down a calming breath of air to still your nerves.

The two of you don’t speak again, and you don’t ask why he takes the shooting cubby right next to yours, the nose of his rifle peeking out from the concrete wall. You certainly don’t ask why he’s up, either.

And in return, he doesn’t ask you the same.

—

When you find Golositá you’ve managed to sneak through the city unseen, taking every backroad and alley you could as the heat of the day increases to near sweltering. Panting, you stick to the thin shadows of the path across the street, eyes dancing over red cloth and flicking to faces; studying visages as one would a medical report.

Your chest hurts, and you run a hand over your side, feeling the raised skin under your shirt before digging into the aching ribs. All this running around and little food to help keep your normal strength was troublesome, and it would only get worse if this Op from hell continued.

I need new intel. Badly.

About to retreat, not finding anyone you recognize off the bat, a black-shrouded figure kisses the side of your vision as if a phantom.

On the outside table, the farthest removed, a man sits stiffly with an untouched teacup in front of him. Smirking, you can’t help but scoff at the thought of Ghost using the thing – you’d think his thumb and forefinger would break the delicate porcelain in an instant. Like a spine over his thigh.

Your cheeks heat.

He looked almost identical to what you remember – minus the gear, obviously – and your stomach twisted at the thought. Was a simple look enough to bring you to the breaking point? Why were your lungs tight?

As if feeling your stuck eyes, those icy blues shift from people-watching to lock onto yours immediately. As hollow as they always were, it seemed. He blinks and the blonde eyebrows on his sliver of visible forehead move.

Shit. Your hips trade weight. Look at you.

Loose shoulders under a rugged buttoned-down and painted balaclava make your breath go thin, not able to resist sneaking a glance at those tattoos you remember so vividly. Yes, that was still Ghost.

Jesus, is this how it felt to see someone you barely even remembered suddenly appear? Was it elation or caution that was making your heart race?

Ghost doesn’t look surprised. His eyes don’t widen; don’t soften or light up. They blankly watch you as you shake away the shock and raise a brow in return. A sarcastic finger goes to your head, and you mock salute.

What are you doing? You seem to ask, a mischievous expression growing as you start forward when he dismissively narrows his eyes. You look ridiculous. Are you asking to be spotted?

The man leans into the too-small chair he sits in, one hand going to hang off the back and the other resting on the tabletop. Gloved fingers tapping morse in slow measures.

Clear. Come here. He follows you with his gaze, head stationary, as you enter the flow of traffic, smiling at people at your sides and letting off polite greetings when you could. Steadily striding, you weave through groups and individuals like water, legs steady even as your ears pick up every little sound.

A comfortable middle point of visible excitement and strict business. Why were you so…happy?

When you approach Ghost’s table, you slip up beside him with a sly chuckle, pulling out the chair to his right. You, softy, lower yourself down into it, not turning to him but instead simply making sure no one had followed you with a quick scan. His heat only adds to the warmth of the day like a walk through damnation.

“Well, well, well,” you smile, addressing the SAS member with his shadow hanging over you once more; such a heavy thing, though you don’t mind. Your expression mellows to have it above you again. There was a safety to it, you had to admit. The cold comfort of death. “Trip to Italy, Sir? Take a little vacation?”

“Came to bail out a bird from my past,” You smell that scent again – smoke and ash; gun-cleaning solvent paired with a canvas tent. Dirt and metallic blood. “And if I ever went on a vacation, I sure as hell wouldn’t pick this place. ‘Bout to burst into flames; traumatize a few kids and their mums.”

Hadn’t he changed even a little bit?

“Now that’s dark.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Of course he hasn’t, you answer your own question, feet shifting and skin pliable, why would he? He isn’t like me – didn’t have to reinvent himself based on atoms and in the wake of silent nights.

There was a piece of you that believed that Ghost had always been this way, though you knew it was false. Nobody in this profession was just born like this, they were led to it. Whoever it was under the mask or balaclava didn’t matter anymore.

They had died a long time ago.

“Not a fan of the history, Brit?” You tease, bringing up a hand to itch at your undereye, finally taking a peak at the form that nearly swallows you.

Your lids try not to peel back, but you didn’t realize how close you’d sat next to Ghost – any closer and you would be in the crook of his arm; the relaxed spread of his knee bumping into yours and arm over the back of your seat. Trying to act nonchalant, you ignore the strange swirling in your gut with a hum and a twitching of your leg.

Stop that.

“Don’t care a smidge, just not a fan of the damn heat.” The gruff man responds with his inked arm on the table flexing, as though he was tenser than he showed. Ghost clears his throat, “needs a good downpour, eh?”

“Try living underground for two weeks. Literally. Sun’ll feel like a blessing.”

“Fuckin’ hell…That’s why the radio wasn’t working, then.” While this was all cute – re-learning each other like a shaken puzzle – there were dangers to being this open. The Brit would be fine, but if you got spotted, well, there would be worse things to worry about than an achy side and a pile of bodies in a tunnel.

“You got something for me, or are we here just to stand out like bullet holes in a forehead?” Feeling his head tilt to you, snaking down your form, your body leans forward, palms sweaty as they lock on the table. “Price with you? The other two I saw on the feed?”

“Negative. Op in Belarus. Sent me in alone.” Your knees brush, delicately; like a touch of down feathers. You refrain from taking in a shallow breath, knowing he’s analyzing every movement with a hidden mouth and gentle huffs of air that rises his sculpted chest. Through a grunted sigh, Ghost tells, “The Old Man insisted. Laswell thought you’d be alright by yourself, regardless,” and falls silent.

What was he doing? Why was he talking with that rasp in his tone? Your heart swells at the comment about Kate, but a confusing feeling settles in your lower body. Why did the air feel thick?

The warmth of the sun was making your skin perspire, leaving a sheen of sweat over your arms. But the thought of heat stroke fled as you became hyper-aware of the man beside you, keeping careful not to touch you, though his gaze still bore into the side of your face like prodding fingers anyways.

He can’t quite figure you out, he admits to himself. So much of you was different – and he couldn’t tell how.

She’s lighter, he tightens his face, not the same as when I left.

But there had been an utter satisfaction when he’d seen you in that alleyway, even if you were different in a million ways, that would never change. Ghost’s body had loosened, his clenched jaw let go, and snappy answers to servers stopped entirely.

Because those were still the same colored eyes that he remembered. He takes a long breath.

Through the haze under your creased skin, a red alarm starts to sound off. Not because of the confusing way you felt the chilled form of Ghost on a near internal level, but because of the hooded individual across the street.

When your eyes lock, they back up three paces and bolt down the adjacent street, vanishing into the crowd. Your expression darkens, and Ghost shifts his attention from your face to the streets.

His eyes blankly follow where you were looking.

“Come on,” you get to your feet, hand snatching at the SAS member's sleeve, dragging him with you as a mother would a toddler. It was ironic – if he resisted, you wouldn’t be able to force him to move, not in a million years, but he slid off his chair with fluid muscles.

He doesn’t question you when he’s brought into an offshoot of the road, vacant of tourists or locals besides a stray cat and a few scavenger birds. Flies jump off garbage cans, buzzing through the air above your heads as you level Ghost with a serious stare.

You nearly stumble over your words when you get to look at those long blonde eyelashes that you remember heatedly, but push through as they move to half-lid his blank eyes. Your heart skips beats as you spare looks up and down the space.

What the fuck is going on with me? Focus. This is serious.

But, Jesus, he should really stop looking at you like that.

“You said you had a lead over the radio – anything on someone called Catello Tullio by chance?” You ask, voice like stone.

“Tullio?” Ghost hums in the back of his throat, all business, hips moving under him as he goes to glance at the street. His balaclava moves as he speaks. “Someone made a mention of it. ‘Fore I put a knife in ‘em, ‘o course.” Nodding, he huffs out, “On me.”

Turning on long legs, he starts to walk farther down the path, and you follow at his side, peering up and eager to gain more intel. “You’ve caused quite a panic around here, Sunshine. Cell’s terrified of the ‘Reaper.’ I’m nearly impressed.”

He briefly flashes an optic to you, heart betraying him as he remains locked on your lips. Rotating his jaw, he turns back forward.

“Oh, my,” smirking slowly, you roll your eyes, “whatever will I do without your approval, great Ghost.”

“Dunno – kick the bucket probably.” Shaking your head in false annoyance, the slow, mocking, stain in the man’s tone leaks into your very DNA; coating it with honey. Like a warm sunrise, you clock a small hitch in his chest and equate it to muted chuckles when you laugh.

“Don’t go placing bets, now. I’m not so easily broken.”

“Oh, wouldn’t think of it, Sweetheart. Wouldn’t be my handiwork if it happened,” his tone goes light, “don’t wanna take credit away from you.”

“Brit.” You spit with fake venom.

“American.” He grumbles back, but you clock the small spark in his iris, cold blue bouncing silver light like snow.

He sounded…entertained? Snide in a sarcastic way.

Your mouth rises in a stupid, dopey, grin as you stare from the side of your vision, chest jumping in easy comedy. What a strange pair you two were, but you find you liked his company even more, this time around.

Or maybe he had changed slightly. Or maybe it was just you.

At the end of the day, you were relieved that it was easy to talk to him. Conversations with corpses are a bit one sided, after all.

Ghost’s lips had to be at least quirked under that dark fabric to achieve mischief like what he was spitting out, you leveled with yourself. At the minimum, the man wasn’t annoyed he’d been forced out of his own primary mission because of you.

You remember he wasn’t averse to cracking jokes – particularly dark ones – but it had…it had never felt like his before.

Strange, you admit with a raised brow and a cocked head, cheeks burning for no apparent reason. You’d gotten him to chuckle? Holy hell, you deserve a Nobel Peace Prize for that. I’d think he would be pretty pissed about being sent here. He’s never been one to fuck around.

You both continue in easy silence until you decide to speak once more, intent on asking where you were being led.

Ghost’s head had perked up in what you assumed to be soldier-like attention, but then his head had whipped behind the two of you. Oblivious to his shift in mood, like a dark cloud, you open your mouth.

“Well, where are we–”

“--Get down!” Hands slap on the back of your arm and jerk you to the opposite wall as a loud echo rings out. Whizzing over your head so close that you feel the breeze of it.

Gasping, the air is expelled from your lungs in one fell swoop; your spine grating over the rough stone as your legs scramble to keep upright. Wiping away the shock quicker than an eraser over a whiteboard, your neck snaps to the problem; brain already hardwired to get over being shot at and the adrenaline that floods your veins immediately after.

Across the way, Ghost’s fast hand was reaching to the back of his outfit – without a doubt going to grab a concealed weapon. Eyes fiery and arms tight. And as though you were seeing it happen in slow motion, you lock onto the hostile in the middle of the alley back the way you both came. And then onto the hooded silhouette ahead of you.

Boxed in.

Hyperfocused, all of it happens in only three seconds, two trained professionals protecting each other without even realizing it.

One, you realize how this will have to play out if you don’t act immediately. You don’t know how you can trust Ghost to take the other hostile while you focus on the one ahead, but you don’t question it. Two, your gun lays heavy in your hand as your legs pivot. Three, you fire double shots with a loose finger and hear mirrored gunfire from the man beside you.

You don’t bother watching him drop.

Snapping your head backward with a rageful expression to see Ghost’s corpse hit the floor with a cracking of a skull, shouts start to ring over the city. When you lower your weapon, you turn to notice the Birt examining your own downed hostile with a satisfied stare. If you hadn’t had his back, he would have been shot in it.

But what you didn’t know was that he was thinking the same thing about you.

Turning to stare at each other, your widened eyes lock; fingers twitching along the cool X12’s metal as those stormy iris’ only seem to darken further when they dart to your lips. Like staring into a wild animal’s gaze and pretending you’re not in a trance because of it – stuck in that moment of infinity and nothingness with not a single muscle moving. Waiting for either a mouthful of fangs around your supple neck or for the beast to turn away with grace and practiced steps.

You swore Ghost’s mouth parted under that damned balaclava, but whatever he was going to say was lost when the world came back in a violent storm of screams. Panicking, you gape at the entrance – seeing multiple shadows shoving through the crowd to get to you.

“On me!” Keeping your pistol in one hand, you bolt, hearing heavy footsteps pounding behind you as your mind begins to run.

Ghost trails without a single doubt in his mind as to why he’s following you, and it makes him cautious.

Catacombs, you decide, get under the city and backtrack to the outskirts. Survey and have Ghost tell me his intel before making a move…yeah!

“Where are we headin'?!” Ghost shouts, keeping right your heels as you turn corners. Gunshots ring over your heads as you jump up small groupings of tile steps, blood pounding in your ears. You try to remember the maps you had stored in your files underground. Left…no, two rights. Shit! I need to be higher – see the streets like a bird would! “Reaper?!”

“Do you trust me?!” You call over your shoulder, and though it seems deranged, a smile forms over your lips. “I’ll need an answer in the next few minutes, yeah? I’m on a time crunch!”

“What are you on, Girl?” The adrenaline speaks to you, propelling your legs faster and faster. You vault over a fallen trash bin and take the shock to your ankles as it travels to your thighs. Snickering, you feel the brooding man’s presence like you always could – just beside you like a loyal hound. His focus excites you as you put your gun away in the small of your back. “Bloody hell! Not giving me a choice?”

“Not if you don’t want to get shot in the ass!” Taking one more right, you find yourself rapidly approaching a dead end, tall walls, a balcony, and a large dumpster – the flap already closed overtop. Not answering the man as he barks out a comment, you throw yourself atop it with a puff of breath and spasming lungs.

Laughing, your hands don’t falter. Reaching up with eager fingers, you grab at the black metal front of the balcony a small distance above and suck down a hot breath. Your arms strain, sickly sweet sweat on the top of your lip, and eyes wide with glee despite the gaining footfalls rising like a battlefield cry. Jerking your body up with only your upper-body strength, you slide your abdomen over the railing with barely a second passing. Once your feet are firmly on someone's property, you twist around and slap your hands to the metal with a twinkle in your vision; face wrinkled with all the animated amusement.

A wide grin is stuck on you.

Ghost stares up with slightly widened eyes from the ground, arms poised on the garbage bin.

Oh, hell, when she smiles like that…

“But I can’t judge, can I?” Teasing, you extend a helping grip with a smirk. “Everyone has their fetishes, hm, Ghost? Maybe yours is just having a gun pointed at you.”

He blinks at that, but knowing the urgency in the back of your throat, he pushes himself up with a grunt. You try not to watch his muscles strain, but spy the way the veins in his forearms grow larger as his alluring hips flex. They situate themselves under him as he crunches before straightening in an instant.

Fuck, don’t drool, you scold, lips lightly parted like seven devils were flying in the back of your mind. Jesus, imagine the weight those things can carry…shit. Wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to that.

A leather-coated hand slaps into your awaiting one. You snap back to a screaming reality and stare down into hypnotic sheens of ice and…wait…did Ghost have fucking green flecks near his pupils?

“You sure it isn’t yours, Sunshine?” He harshly comments, and his balaclava moves with a rising of his eyebrow.

Clearing your throat, you murmur a weak reply as your face begins to feel like a blazing fire, squeezing his limb before pulling. He chuffs. Grunting violently, you know he does most of the work in helping himself up, though the Brit still slaps your shoulder in comradery when he’s stable. Kneeling down, he forces himself into the wall behind the two of you, fingers weaving to create a cuff over his knee.

Tossing his head up, he motions with urgency.

“C’mon. Be quick ‘bout it.”

Catching one foot in the basin of his clutch, you force down your illicit thoughts about Ghost and jump, pushing off with your opposite leg on his shoulder and his added boost. Scaling the wall, you arch and scramble - with a growing bite in your side – to the terracotta-shingle roof.

Following after and checking your six, the beast of a man joins just in time.

Shadows dart around the corner far on the ground, and the both of you are speeding animals over the rooftops in the meantime. Against better judgment, boots pounding the tiles, you release loud bouts of genuine laughter.

How long had it been since you’d had such fun? Enjoyed someone else's company like this? Running across homes, you look at your side, only to find Ghost’s eyes already digging into you. Unrelenting. Unmovable. Panting, you smile brightly, giggles making your sides hurt something awful but your pace doesn't slow for an instant.

All it took was a glance at the streets – you know where you are now.

“Enjoying yourself, Reaper?” He asks, arms pumping and barely winded, and you wonder for a moment how he breathes under that covering of his – it had to smell horrible by the end of the day.

“For…the first time in ages, Ghost.” He chuckles at that, and it is a betrayal of his nature. How could someone so violent, so cloaked in oceans of blood, produce such a soft sound? A genuine sound that makes your stomach flip?

His bewitched eyes rove back in front of him, and he can’t deny the simplicity of speaking to you. It wasn’t a chore, just a conversation with a person who he wouldn’t mind having on 141 at his side.

There were few people worthy of that.

You swallow thickly and take point, leading the shadow of death to your home underground so you can re-evaluate.

You can only wonder why you don’t feel nervous as he watches over you, skin marked with horrors but his hand had fit so well in your own. And you also wonder how you can come to care for someone you haven’t seen in ages so quickly, as if you’d both been around each other for years.

Had you really ever forgotten him? Or just tried to push the affection, both emotional and physical, for him out? But that was the problem, you tell yourself with a clenched jaw, that physical attraction. All of that was just…tied into a million knots. Complicated.

You’d never had sex before.

And, Ghost questioned himself as he watched your legs move, did he forget you out of necessity? Because those eyes of yours won’t leave him alone, and he so very much enjoyed looming over you.

He sighs heavily and follows in silence.

—

When you first joined them, they all created rumors. This was long before you were permitted solo Ops, long before half of your file was filled and bleeding with black ink that would shame a warlord. When everyone just thought you were signed up because you were some unhinged kid, brimming with unchecked problems and willing to throw everything away just for the chance to prove yourself. Who got into it for kicks.

They would say you enjoyed it, killing. Reveled in it, really. That it got you off when you were covered in blood and crimson guts as they pooled at your feet.

You suppose that was what turned you away from sex in general – those heavy comments said with no remorse that stuck with you. It was fear almost, a genuine twisting of your mind to make it your fault. It wasn’t your fault, you knew that; you could sleep with anyone you wanted and the comments weren’t a brand on your skin.

You could forget about it. You should.

But the words were so mean. Just cruel for the sense of being cruel. And it stuck with you.

If that was all anyone would see, why try and force them to look away? You kept to yourself, never spoke unless spoken to, and shoved all of it down like a kill switch. No sex, no relationships. Nothing to make you think about the rumors.

Getting off on death? You were horrified at the concept, horrified that people would play around like that with you – with your life!

You just ended up telling yourself you wouldn’t feel it until it hurt too bad. In a way, you were right…but you can only force emotions down for a while until they break forward like a fist to the mouth.

Besides Mutt, they had many names for you – titles and backhanded monikers. Rabid. Demon. Devil. Monster. Sometimes, beast.

But they all had the same meaning. Inhuman. Wrong.

It shouldn’t have bothered you that much. It…It shouldn’t have made you stay up at night still thinking about the way they would laugh and pinch your arms as you were left shaking; drowning in gore not your own because they sent you into the heart of the Hot Zone for a few jokes. Teasing you about how you probably touched yourself because of it.

But it was just an excuse to make you too scared to leave. Your reputation…

“There’s that Devil for ya’, always ready to slit some more throats for us. You think you could do the next few, Mutt? You’ll love it, I know you will. I’ll give you a good report if you do it without alerting the guards – see there… ‘Course you will. Fucking freak.”

Your eyes stare forward blankly, Dirk leaving a dotted fluid trail over the dusty ground.

Why did they do this to you?

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thefandomthings · 2 months

Note

24."You have a beautiful soul."

12."I love your bedhead."

With my fav precious little babyboy Assmodeus, bro deserves all i love u's, he is precious even with bedhair muah

Beautiful

Fluff Prompts #12 & #24: "I love your bed head." "You have a beautiful soul."

Pairing: Asmo x Gn!reader

Warnings: Extreme fluff, Asmo and MC being obsessed with each other, slightly suggestive, Asmo being a beauty king/dramatic.

Notes: Your request is my command Nony, I apologize if he's ooc. I also apologize if it's rushed

Prompt event

Sleeping with Asmo was a dream. He hardly moves and has the most comfortable bed you have ever slept on in your life. The silk sheets are so soft to the touch, the satin comforter was light but warm. And of course, Asmo was your personal heater and cuddle bug.

Asmo always does his nightly routine, making sure his hair is in a bonnet or curlers before he does his skincare. And of course he always has you do with him. But after late night activities with your beloved, you two completely passed out right after.

Light peaks through the curtains, casting a light glow on both of your faces, slowly waking you up. Asmo has his arm around your waist, his head tucked into the crook of your neck, you are covered in sweat and so is he.

You hold him close to you, your fingers sliding into his usually silky, soft hair but not this morning. His hair is flat and tangled, making it hard to comb through with your fingers.

Asmo lets out a huff at the sudden tug, his eyes opening softly. He tugs at your waist gently. Pink, painted finger nails digging into your bare flesh.

"Good morning my darling.." His voice is soft and full of sleep as he presses kisses to your neck and collar bone.

His lips trail up your jaw line, admiring his love bites from the night before as he does so. Once he gets to your lip he presses a long, loving kiss to them, taking the air from your lungs.

You smile up at him, eyes half lidded and full of love. Asmo can't help but admire you, his own finger card through your hair. You lean into his touch, kissing his wrist and cupping his face.

"You have such a beautiful soul, MC." He whispers. His words make your body ignite with goosebumps, cheeks painted pink. It was such an odd compliment, but it meant the world to you. You forget Asmo and his brothers can literally see your soul. So it adds a bit more extra meaning to it in a way.

"I can't see your soul like you can mine....but I know yours is just as amazing as you, even after all you've been though, Asmo." You say, forefingers moving his bangs away from his face and behind his ears.

"Oh my word, you're gonna make me cry." Asmo sniffles, using one hand to fan his face as tears prinkle at his waterline. You giggle, peppering kisses along his face and lips.

"I also love your bed head." Asmo stiffens at your words. He then wordlessly gets out of bed and b-lines for his body mirror. He lets out a loud, dramatic gasp that most likely woke the whole house up.

"Oh...my...Diavolo!!!" Your boyfriend screeches, pulling your from the bed. He grabs your naked shoulders, eyes full of tears once again.

"MC...MY HAIR!"

#thefandomthings #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me asmo x reader #obey me asmo x mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me fluff x reader #obey me fluff #obey me brothers x reader #obey me brothers #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me asmo smut #obey me smut #prompt event #writing prompt

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etherealising · 2 months

Text

chapter thirteen | the injury of finally knowing you

masterlist | ↢ previous chapter | next chapter

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: hard conversations are inevitable and that’s exactly the lesson carmy learns when he decides to finally be honest with you.

warning(s): unintentional slut shaming (lol) | ooc carmy | very minimally edited |

wc: 7.6k

The sound of the bathroom door opening did little to draw your attention as you sat on Carmy’s bed, eyes trained on the letter in your hand. You hadn’t meant to snoop or anything, as Carmy showered you stayed in the living room for a bit and tried to work more on the rough draft for your article but the inspiration just wasn’t there at the moment, so you ventured to his room to wait for your turn to shower.

You didn’t think you’d ever willingly read these letters again, so when Carmy asked if he could have them you had no problem allowing him to take them. But then you saw them sitting folded on his side table and you knew exactly what they were before you reached for them. As you waited for Carmy to finish you read them, you weren’t sure what compelled you to do so but you read each of them from start to finish even when you could feel the emotion clawing up your throat. The worst part of it all was that you couldn’t even remember when you penned each letter, they were dated but the emotions spilling from your words made you feel a bit ill. It was almost like a different person wrote these letters, of course, you still felt the hurt and anguish, but you were sure you’d always feel it.

“Shit,” your eyes moved to find Carmy making his way towards you, quickly gathering the letters on the bed before gently removing your grip from the one in your hand. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left these out.

You watched him tuck them away then felt the caress of his thumb against your cheek, the motion soothed you even as he moved his thumb up to wipe a fallen tear. “Do you read them often?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to hear his answer, but you also didn’t want him beating himself up over something that was entirely out of his control.

Carmy’s thumb continued tracing back and forth against your cheek, eyes flicking between your own before his hand dropped, his eyes following soon after. “Too often…kinda like if I uh read them enough it’ll fix everything.”

Your heart clenched at his words a quiet sardonic laugh following behind them, “Sounds fucking stupid I know I just,” he stopped himself you could tell he was closing himself off, see in his face that he didn’t feel like what he needed to say mattered.

Carmy’s head turned at the slight sensation he felt ghosting across his hand. You gripped his hand in yours giving it a subtle squeeze before raising it to your lips and placing a kiss so soft and loving to his knuckles that you were sure he could feel the sensation of emotion seeping into his skin and burrowing into his bloodstream.

Watching as he allowed you to comfort him in your way, your free hand reached out to comb the stray pieces of hair out of his eyes. Your thumb ghosted across his temple before tracing a path down his cheek and landing at his jaw, raising his chin so he was forced to look at you.

“Carmy, I wanna hear what you have to say. I always want to hear what you have to say. Do you understand me?” Your voice was quiet yet demanding, you hoped to convey just how serious you were, you would listen to the man in front of you read his grocery list morning, noon, and night if necessary.

You gave him a small encouraging smile as you looked at him. You watched as his eyes strayed to your lips eyeing them for longer than what seemed appropriate considering neither of you was sure what this relationship was, if the context of this conversation was any different you would’ve already captured his lips with your own. Instead, you leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead before leaning back, your hand still attached to his.

Silence settled over the two of you, you couldn’t force Carmy to talk but you hoped he felt safe enough to open up to you more than he already did. You just wanted to be there for him, to show him that through everything you were still in his corner.

“I read them and I…I just feel this intense guilt you know?” You listened as Carmy began speaking he looked away from you, his eyes locked on the wall opposite the two of you. “A-and I just feel angry, angry at myself. Because why the fuck didn’t I just ask you to stay with me, why didn’t I-I check on you.”

You sat next to Carmy silently, squeezing his hand every so often to let him know you were still there, still listening.

“Most times I just think about how alone you were, how fucking scared you must’ve been. A-and it makes me angry all over again because why the fuck would you do that to yourself?” Carmy’s glistening eyes met yours, questions swimming through his irises. “Shit, no I-I’m not blaming you, promise. But I just look at you and it’s like fuck she deserved so much better, deserves so much better but y-you just suffered alone because of me you know. You’ve always been the best of us Baby and just the idea of you all alone writing those fucking words while I was in some miserable fucking kitchen across the country fucking oblivious to it all I just…I.”

Carmy’s words trailed off, you watched his throat bob up and down like the words he tried to get out lodged themselves there fighting to never be spoken. You tried not to cry, you didn’t want Carmy to think he needed to comfort you in this moment, but it was all for naught as the tears streamed down his face, silent sobs wracked his body as he held his head in his hands. Your interconnected hands pressed desperately to his lips catching every tear.

“Bear, hey look at me,” you spoke softly hoping to lure his attention. There were a few moments of waiting until Carmy’s head slowly lifted, eyes quickly tracking the tear stains on your cheeks, you didn’t give him the chance to wipe them away as you removed your hand from his to grip his face. His stubble was scratchy underneath your touch but you gently dabbed away any leftover tears. “There you are.” It was quiet, a whispered breath that made Carmy’s heart race.

“It's cliche, but they really mean that shit when they say you can’t change the past.” You gave a small grin at the huff of air Carmy loosed through his nose. “It hurts Carmy, god does it hurt. But neither of us will be able to move forward if we keep letting our past mistakes and regrets live in the present with us. There’s a lot of shit I wish you would’ve done differently, things I wish I did differently, and now that we have the chance to do things differently I mean…I don’t wanna waste it. I don’t wanna waste another 10 years without you in my life, Carmy.” You paused, stopping yourself from what you wanted to say but knowing that if this was real if you and Carmy were going through with this the opportunity would present itself.

“I don’t want you to pretend what we experienced wasn’t harrowing and trust me some days it’ll hit harder than others. But if I deserve better then so do you Carm, I…I want us to be happy in whatever way makes you most comfortable. Just please Carmy…don’t push me out of your life again, I’m not sure if there’ll ever be a next time for us after this.”

Carmy’s face was still held delicately between your hands, you offered him your best reassuring smile as silence settled over the two of you. You wished you knew what was going on in Carmy’s head, you were nervous to be too blatantly open with your feelings for him scared it would shut him down.

“How long?” Your brows furrowed at Carmy’s question, a plea for him to explain himself. “If I wanted happiness i-in the same way you did, how much longer would you wait?” It made sense now what he was asking, a small sad smile made its way to your lips as you drank in every bit of emotion that ran across his face the longer you stayed quiet.

You searched his eyes for any sense of hesitation but found none, “I’m a patient woman, Carm, but I won’t wait forever.” Sometimes the truth hurts but it was better to be honest and get everything out on the table now since the two of you were being vulnerable.

Carmy nodded expecting nothing less, if he were being honest with himself he didn’t even think he still deserved your time but he sure as hell was still happy to have it. And this time he wouldn’t allow himself to get in his way, his hands came up gently cupping yours before turning his face from left to right and allowing his lips to sink into the palm of your hands.

He watched as your eyes sparkled before he moved to grip your face, tilting your head down just right to place a kiss on your forehead. A kiss full of love and promises.

A kiss that said you wouldn’t be waiting long.

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror, a small smile peeking through at the sight of yourself in the matching pajama set Carmy bought you. A small laugh left your lips as you thought about him shopping for you all alone, how many different sets he must’ve looked through, how undecided he must’ve looked while shopping for you.

He’d done a great job though as far as you could tell, there wasn’t any way he could go wrong. You quickly stepped into the matching fuzzy socks that came with the set before turning to exit the bathroom making sure to grab your work clothes so you could wash them.

Exiting the bathroom you found Carmy sitting up in bed with a journal in his hand, the scene reminded you of that Christmas years ago, although this time you were almost positive you wouldn’t wake up alone. You smiled at Carmy as his eyes found yours before leaving to exit the room and start your laundry.

Looking around the living room a feeling of worry began to sink into you as you couldn’t seem to find your laptop or any of the documents you’d spread on Carmy's coffee table earlier that night. You checked around to make sure you hadn’t overlooked it before making your way back to Carmy.

“Carm, have you seen my laptop?” Your voice trailed off as you watched him lift the device off of his side table, your documents neatly stacked on top of it.

You carefully grabbed your belongings halting as you weren’t sure if Carmy wanted to be bothered by your presence as he did his respective work. You took one last look around the room before deciding it might be best if you just returned to working in the living room, knowing how frustrated you could get at times when writing.

“Sit down Baby.” You stopped mid-step to look at Carmy whose eyes were still glued to the journal in his hand. His eyes flashed up to you as you stayed planted in your spot, his eyebrows raised as if to ask why you hadn’t joined him yet.

It was hard but you hid the giddy smile on your face as best as you could, something about just being in Carmy’s presence in such a domestic context made you feel all warm inside like maybe someday this wouldn’t just be a one-time thing. Maybe this would be your life.

You settled in next to him taking a quick peek at his journal before averting your eyes. You were curious as to what he was writing in there, but that wasn’t exactly your business, it didn't mean you couldn’t ask questions though. “Working on the menu?” You tried to sound nonchalant like you were just making small talk as you waited for your laptop to power on, hands mindlessly shuffling through the loose papers not reading a single word on them.

“Somethin’ like that.” Carmy’s voice was quiet as he quickly finished his last thought on the page before closing said journal and storing it away. “Working on your article?”

You let out a quiet scoff at his non-answer, a quiet laugh following at his curiosities being thrown your way. “Something like that.”

Carmy’s laugh rang through the otherwise quiet room, the timber of it warmed your belly. He quieted down after a moment, you could see a frown forming on his face out of the corner of your eye. “I uh…never apologized for punching your boyfriend b-but I’m not sorry for punching him, I’m sorry that it probably made things at work weird for you.”

Your head turned in Carmy’s direction so fast you were sure it gave you whiplash. This man could not read a room to save his fucking life, you’d basically told him moments ago you were his when he was ready to take that next step and here he was bringing up fucking Hayden. You’d give your kidney to spend a day inside that man's head.

“Let me get this straight Carmen, you think I was dating a man who told me to my face, surrounded by loved ones that I didn’t try hard enough to kill myself?” You could see the realization dawn on him as he let your words sink in, embarrassment clear on his face as he realized his mistake.

Carmy’s arm moved up to scratch at the back of his neck, “Well no, but he said-.”

“And you believed him?” You didn’t need to hear any more of Carmy’s sentence to know that whatever Hayden told him was done with malicious intent. You tried not to be upset with Carmy in that moment seeing as how you hadn’t let him explain his side, but a part of you couldn’t help but feel judged.

“Shit no,” you could hear the panic in his voice as he reached to move your laptop and papers, hands quickly falling to your waist to turn you to face him. “No, no I…fuck. I just didn’t know how to bring it up to you and now I’ve just fucked it.”

The frown on your face deepened as you watched the panic race through him, “You could just ask me Carmy instead of accusing me of things. I don’t mind that you're curious but is that what you think of me that I’ve had relations with every man I know? You gonna accuse me of fucking Richie next?”

“Baby,” the words escaped Carmy in a sigh, he hadn’t meant to offend you but the longer he thought about it he realized how much of a repeat offender he was when it came to backing you into a corner like this. First the prom accusation, then the Christmas accusation, and now this. “I’m sorry… it's just you have so much experience a-and-“

“Carmen!” Your eyes shot wide at his words, if he was hoping to assuage your feelings he sure was doing a shit job at it. “Do you even think before you speak?”

Carmy wanted the world to swallow him whole in that moment, he’d never been a master of words but he was shooting himself in the foot more often than not in this conversation.

“You just indirectly called me a slut Carmen. Which by the way if I was it's nobody’s business but mine.” You removed Carmy’s hands from where they had settled on your waist, peeved by the whole conversation.

Carmy’s hand moved up to run through his hair, he knew deep down why these conversations kept coming up between the two of you and it wasn’t because he thought any less of you because of your sexual history. But every time he thought he could have an honest conversation with you about this it just turned into him self-sabotaging in hopes that you’d do the mental work and figure it out, but that wasn’t your job and he knew that he just tended to ruin any good in his life before it had the chance to become great.

The two of you sat in silence as you allowed Carmy to gather his thoughts; the indignation sat heavy in your chest. You weren’t ashamed of any casual relationships you’d had in the past, and you wouldn’t allow whatever Carmy had going on to force you to feel guilty about living your life. Whatever adventures you’d partaken in prior to this was exactly that, before Carmy.

“I-I don’t think any less of you for whatever past relationships you’ve had. And I don’t care…at least not in the way you think I do it's just,” he paused, gathering whatever courage he had to get the rest of his words out. “There’s just this…this need for me to be the best at everything, a-and I’ve been fucking things up with us for so long that I think you know what if I finally let this happen and there’s just someone better for you.”

A sense of understanding washed over you, and while you didn’t want to invalidate Carmy’s feelings he still needed to know the effect of his words. “Carm, it's okay to feel insecure. But you can’t expect me to know these things if you don’t talk about your feelings with me.” Your eyes darted across his face making sure you hadn’t lost him. “This doesn’t work if neither of us communicate, the next time you’re curious just ask me Carmy. And please if anything like that ever happens again check with me instead of letting things fester.”

Carmy nodded his head rapidly, thankful that his most recent blunder hadn’t caused too much of a rift. He knew he could confide in you about anything but he just felt a bit apprehensive confiding in you about his feelings for you. His hand reached out to play with the ruffled bit of your sock allowing himself time to come to terms with the fact that he’d have to work on opening up even more to you if there was any chance of a romantic relationship.

“You know for a long time I uh, I envied you.” You were surprised by Carmy’s admission watching him closely as he continued fiddling with your sock. “It’s fuckin’ stupid really, but I uh think it started when Mikey let you work at the shop and your relationship with him just drove me fuckin’ crazy sometimes.”

He let out a quiet huff of laughter before finally looking up at you hoping you wouldn’t hold his past indiscretions against him. “I would just watch the two of you sometimes and wonder why the fuck the two of you acted more like siblings than he and I did. But I uh, I think what really pushed it over the edge was the summer you left.”

You sat there listening intently, nervousness building in your chest as Carmy divulged feelings of his you had never been privy to until now.

“I fucked up big time I-I knew that, but at the time it just pissed me off. It was stupid but I just expected you to get over everything the…the kiss and then seeing me with Claire, I was a fucking idiot. And you just started spending even more time with Mikey and it was like the two of us hadn’t been best friends for almost our whole lives.” Carmy shook his head realizing how immature all of this sounded even to his ears. “And then you just fucking left us…left me and I know you had to, but I was an idiot teenager and at that time it just felt like you’d given up on me.”

Your quiet sniffles drew his eyes from their burning gaze trained on your forehead, watching as your lips rapidly trembled.

“I called you every day for a year, Carmy.” The tears began to fall, your voice cracking along with it as you defended yourself for a hurt you hadn’t even realized you caused.

Carmy’s heart ached as he watched you, his hands surging forward to grip your face, “Shh, I know Baby please don’t cry. Please, I just want to be honest with you.” His hands moved to gently wipe your face as you nodded two small kisses landing on the apples of your cheeks before he moved back to make sure you were okay, his hands leaving your face to hold your hands in his.

“It was like I fell into this mindset once I decided to leave for culinary school, I felt like none of you fucking believed in me, but I believed in me and I was just like fuck you watch this…a-and I just lumped you in there. I just threw myself into and I was so caught up in my shit it wasn’t until Sug sent me your article about the James Beard award that I realized I was the one who gave up on you…on us. By then I felt like it was too late, like too much time had passed and it wasn’t fair for me to expect space in your life anymore.

Silence settled over the room, your heart felt like it was ready to beat out of your chest. The idea that Carmy threw away your friendship because of envy hurt you to your core, and as much as you wanted to excuse his actions just because you were teenagers you wouldn’t; not this time. Carmy made it abundantly clear he knew he’d made all the wrong choices and you weren’t going to sit here and lick his wounds or pretend it was all okay because none of it was. For years he acted as though you didn’t exist as if he’d never met you, made you feel like you had done something catastrophically disgusting for him to ghost you in the way he did.

“I thought I did something to make you hate me ” You hiccuped as you spoke trying to rein in the tears, you looked back and forth between Carmy’s eyes scared to find even a sliver of hate floating around in them.

Carmy’s heart broke as he listened to those words leave your mouth, he hadn’t meant for this night to take the turn that it did but he felt the two of you were in a good place and that you deserved to know the truth. He wanted to be honest with you, in the hopes that by clearing the air between the two of you the both of you could continue to move forward, preferably by building a future together.

“Hey, hey look at me please.” Worry raced through him, he was sure this was the moment when everything fell apart for the two of you. The two of you had already come back from a lot, he just wasn’t sure your relationship could come back for the immaturity that caused all the unnecessary hurt in the first place. Carmy wasn’t sure he could watch you any longer, since you’d been back in Chicago it felt like every meeting between the two of you ended with you in tears and he was always to blame.

You wouldn’t look at him, your face buried in your hands. But what more could he expect you’d spent all these years beating yourself up for something that wasn’t even your fault, all these years wondering why you’d lost your best friend with no sign of answers insight. Carmy raised to his knees hesitant but deciding to wrap his arms around you, pulling your head into his chest hoping to offer you some sense of comfort.

He pulled you into him as tight as he could wanting to remember what it felt like to hold you in case this was the last time he’d ever be blessed with your presence.

Carmy didn’t need to open his eyes to know that you were gone, the lack of warmth next to him and the foreboding feeling told him everything he needed to know. He sat up in bed looking at the space you slept in, the covers wrinkled from where you tossed and turned, a part of him was sure the sheets had lost the warmth of your body hours ago.

His eyes flitted around the room hoping to find some piece of you still there but he came up empty. He raised his hand swiping it across his mouth as he recalled the conversation from last night, he thought he was doing the right thing by opening up to you, being honest but as he sat there in his quiet empty apartment he wasn’t sure if his vulnerability had the opposite affect and reopened wounds you were trying to keep closed.

There was nothing he could do now, the truth was out in the open between you, and all he could hope for was that you’d forgive him. Reaching for his phone he scrolled through the few notifications hoping to see your name, but coming up short as he finished looking through them all. He quickly pulled up your contact pressing the call button before raising the phone to his ear and listening as it rang before he was sent to voicemail.

Carmy didn’t want to make a big deal out of you leaving and if you asked him for space he would give it to you, but to do that he needed to know you were safe, and the chances of him finding that out lessened each time you didn’t pick up the phone and the messages he sent stayed on delivered. After the fifth call, he moved from his bedroom to the living room hoping the reason you weren’t answering was because you left your phone behind.

But every trace of you was gone and as much as Carmy tried not to overthink the current situation at hand, he couldn’t help the rising anxiety within him, his hand moving to massage his chest the heaviness in it causing discomfort.

Carmy’s eyes found the Polaroid of the two of you still on the counter where you placed it. He reached out, picking it up and bringing it to his eye line, his finger darted out to trace the smile on your face. Every time he glanced at this photo his eyes would always stray to you, more importantly, the look on your face.

He thought back to the moment this photo was taken, displaying one of the happier moments in his life, and it wasn’t because of the sex, the whispered promises, or the shared kisses. It was the fact that when he looked at this picture it reminded him of the moment he realized he was willing to commit to you, the moment he realized he shouldn’t have ran at hearing your admission through the door. He remembered working his whole shift half his mind focused on the tasks at hand, the other part trying to figure out the words he would say to you upon returning home. But you were gone, and deep down he knew you would be you made it clear your time together had an expiration date, but he still held out hope and then he returned to an empty apartment with this Polaroid and his chain all to welcome him home. He hid it away not being able to stomach what he’d lost, until he found it while unpacking when he moved back to Chicago deciding it was an image he wanted to see every day for the rest of his life.

He placed the picture back in its spot above the stove before moving to grab his phone and quickly calling Sug hoping she might have heard from you. Maybe you called her and vented about the previous night, or maybe you were at her house now. He paced back and forth as he waited for his sister to pick up, he felt guilty that Sug always got dragged into this mess between the two of you but he just needed to know you were safe somewhere.

“Is Baby with you?” The words were out of his mouth as soon as he heard the line connect.

“Good morning Carm, I’m doing great. My feet are a bit swollen but other than that it’s been a nice morning.”

Carmy let out a huff of frustration, “Shit, sorry about your feet Sug,” he listened to her mock laugh through the phone. “Is Baby with you, or have you heard from her?”

He waited with bated breath hoping Sug could assuage his worry, “I haven’t spoken to her since last night, I thought she was with you.”

“Uh yeah, yeah she was,” Carmy wasn’t surprised that Sug knew you’d been at his house, it’s probably how you’d gotten his address. “But I think I really fucked up this time Sug.”

“Carm,” the tiredness was evident in Sug’s voice and he felt even worse continuously adding stress on her plate.

“I know Sug I’m sorry I just…I said some things and she was just gone when I woke up. A-and I’ll give her space if she needs it but I just…I’m worried you know what if she…she,” Carmy couldn’t finish his sentence not wanting to speak the idea into existence.

The line went quiet and he wasn’t sure if Sug understood what he was trying to reference or if she was lost in the web of memories. “I’ll check with Cortez, just call me if you get in touch with her before I do. Please Carmy.”

Camry didn’t know who the fuck Cortez was but he appreciated all the help Sug was offering. He agreed to let her know if he heard from you before ending the call. He tossed his phone onto the counter, his hands running through his hair as he tried not to stress over the situation any more than he already was, bending over he placed his elbows on the cold countertop before placing his head in his hands, he was sure he could feel an ulcer developing at all the stress the two of you caused each other.

His head shot up at the sound of the front door unlocking, the last thing he needed was someone trying to rob him at eight in the fucking morning. Carmy watched from his position in the kitchen, surprised to see your body trying to sneak back into the apartment wearing your clothes from the previous day. He was silent as you quietly closed the door before locking it and turning to face him.

The surprise on your face was evident as the two of you stared at each other waiting for someone to speak first. It was you who broke the silence, raising the bag and cup holder in your hand as you spoke, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you but I bought us breakfast.”

Carmy frowned at how casual you were acting as though he hadn’t spent most of his time awake freaking out over your disappearance, though it's not like you knew that. “You…you can’t just fucking do shit like that Baby.”

The distress was clear in his voice and he watched as you frowned confusion decorating your features “I can’t…buy you breakfast?” If Carmy wasn’t so stressed out by you at that moment he would’ve found it cute the way innocence flashed across your face at the question, he was seconds away from giving in from that look alone.

“What? No, you can’t just…just fucking disappear like that. I woke up and you were just gone and y-you didn’t leave a note or anything…I was worried about you.” Carmy finished his train of thought before it turned into nonsensical rambling, his eyes finding yours across the room as he watched the understanding wash over your face.

You nodded, Carmy followed your movement as you made your way to the kitchen placing down the objects in your hands before lifting yourself onto the counter opposite of him. The two of you stared at each other, Carmy moved to cross his arms across his chest hoping the longer he’d stay silent you’d give in and explain your little vanishing act to him. He wasn’t mad, far from it but he didn’t know how to tell you that this reminded him all too much of you disappearing in New York.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, Carm. I just needed some time to think about everything you told me last night.” His eyes stayed connected to yours as he nodded in understanding, you came back so he felt it was safe to assume the heavens made sure he hadn’t lost you yet. “I’m not sure if I can forgive you Carmy those years for me…they were miserable. I felt all alone in a new place and it wasn’t just me, your actions hurt. My mom was dying Carmen and she asked about you so much…she loved you like you were her own Carm.”

“I don’t think you meant to hurt anyone,” Carmy’s eyes watched your mouth form a disbelieving laugh. “But the fact is you did, and I know you’re sorry Carm, I see it in your face every time you apologize, every time you look at me. And what’s stopping you from doing something like that again? You’re flighty Carm, what if we finally decide to do this…to take that next step and you feel overwhelmed, like it's all too much what then? Do you just ghost me again in hopes that it hurts me enough to finally give up on us or do you stay and do the hard work?”

Your response was valid and Carmen knew that, so he didn’t even take the chance to try and defend himself. He hadn’t thought about the consequences his actions might bring and didn't even give a second thought to how selfish he was being when he cut you off cold turkey. And he loathed to admit it but through all the time apart you still knew him better than anyone else.

“I…I don’t know if I can continue wanting this for the both of us Carmy.” Carmy’s eyes followed your hand that stretched out between the two of you, your fingers wiggling to urge him to go to you, his feet leading him easily.

Carmy found his way to you watching as you entwined your fingers with his, his free hand coming to rest on your hip as he looked up at you seated on his counter from his position between your legs.

“I don’t deserve to spend the rest of my life walking on eggshells around you Carm scared that you’ll drop me at a moment's notice,” Carmy didn’t want to hear the rest of what you had to say but he stayed put, allowing your free hand to ghost across his cheek until you gently cupped it his face relaxing into your palm. “And you don’t deserve being pressured into a relationship you’re not ready for, it’s not fair to either of us.”

The words felt like they burrowed into his heart, growing roots and staying there for all of eternity. He leaned in resting his forehead against your eyes closing so he could pretend this moment wasn’t happening and instead the two of you were just enjoying each other’s presence.

“Baby,” the words were a plea as they left his lips hoping that somehow the two of you could salvage this.

His eyes opened as your thumb gently rubbed across his cheek watching you as you watched him. “It's toxic Carm, we’re toxic.”

Your breath ghosted across his lips and he savored the feeling sending a tender squeeze to your hip before he gently pulled you to the edge of the counter, his nose bumping into yours, lips precariously close to brushing against yours as he began speaking, basically transferring the words from his mouth to yours. “We can work on it.”

His nose nudged against yours waiting for you to stop him before things went too far. His eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes before dropping back to your mouth analyzing the way your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. Carmy’s hand left your hip, his thumb gently tugging at your lip ghosting across the plumpness of it, he cradled your jaw, his nose nuzzling against yours just right to have your bottom lips brush against each other.

The two of you sat in that position for a moment, Carmy wouldn’t make this decision for you not if you didn’t want him to. But as your hand moved from his cheek to the side of his neck he felt his heart begin to race as he would finally get the chance to taste you after so long apart.

Your body jolted against Carmy’s, your lips landing against the corner of his mouth as the phone in your pocket vibrated. Carmy wasn’t sure if the disappointed sigh was yours or his, his hand fell from your jaw moving around your hip on the counter to retrieve the phone from your back pocket. Both of you knew the contact was unnecessary but the quiet gasp you let out was proof enough that neither of you cared.

“Who is it?” Carmy relished in the way your lips brushed against his as you spoke, the two of you still poised in the position for a kiss.

He looked down at your phone doing his best not to show a visceral reaction at the name on the screen. He carefully turned it in your direction watching as your eyes widened before taking the phone from his grip. He let out a sigh of remorse as you pushed off of him, sending an awkward smile his way.

“Sorry, I need to take this.” Carmy nodded, reluctantly stepping from his position between your legs, his hand raised to the back of his neck as he wasn’t sure what to do with himself before deciding to occupy himself with the breakfast you bought.

He watched out of the corner of his eye as you stayed in your position on the counter and answered the phone. He didn’t intend on eavesdropping but considering he was still in close proximity he could hear the voice coming through the other line.

“Cortez, what’s u-”

“Do you like stressin’ people the fuck out ma?” Carmy tuned out the conversation as soon as he heard the gruff voice deciding to instead occupy himself with the breakfast you bought.

Carmy’s head turned in your direction when he realized you’d been trying for some time to gain his attention, he gave you a small half-smile wanting nothing more than to hold you as the two of you figured things out. Instead, he held a bagel out to you as a peace offering, “Breakfast?”

He watched you nod before coming to join him, the two of you standing in silence as you put the spread on your bagels. Breakfast was spent in silence with the quiet dialogue of the TV in the background, the scene of you two on opposite sides of the couch a mirror image of the previous night's dinner, that same tension-filled air hanging between the two of you.

Carmy didn’t argue when you decided to head home after finishing, the two of you silently worked around each other to clean up the trash from breakfast. And he forced himself not to bring up his worries about the future status of your relationship as he led you to the door.

“Drive safe yeah?” Carmy stood in front of his door frame trying not to be as awkward as he felt.

He watched your lips spread into a small smile, he wasn’t the only one seemingly fighting off the awkwardness. “I’ll text you when I get home…thank you for letting me stay, and for the food and the clothes.” Your words ended on a quiet laugh the sound bringing a smile to Carmy’s face.

The two of you stood there for a moment longer awkward silence lingering in the air, you began rocking back and forth on your heels Carmy unsure of what to say. “I guess it’s time I make like a banana and split.”

Carmy tried to hide his smile at your stupid joke, his hand reached out to grip the back of your head pulling you into his chest. “I forgot how fuckin’ lame you could be.” He smiled as he felt you laugh in his arms his lips pressing into your temple as he allowed to push off of him, his hand still cupping the back of your head.

“You missed out on 10 years of lameness Carm, gotta start makin’ up for it at some point.” Carmy let his smile grow at that point. You’d made it clear to him that you wouldn’t forgive what led to the downfall of your relationship.

But as the two of you smiled at each other he took this moment as an olive branch, whether you meant for it to be or not he would take what he could get. He allowed you to pull him back in both of his arms wrapping around you his body relaxing into yours as your warm lips met the skin over his Adam’s apple before moving to place one final kiss on his jaw.

He let you step out of his hold hoping you wouldn’t mention the dusting of pink that he could feel spreading across his cheeks. You stepped back Carmy’s hand that was once on the back of your head traced down the side of your neck, then your shoulder, and arm before finally entwining your hand with his.

“Before I forget do you know when you’ll be free in the next week, I kinda need to interview you for this article I’m writing.” Carmy gave a small smile at your antics.

His free hand moved to scratch the back of his head trying to gather all the courage he could, “I uh still have a couple hours before I head to the restaurant if you wanted…to interview me now.” The smile left his face as he watched your smile fall.

“Oh, I’m sorry Carm I actually have somewhere to be, but thank you for offering.” He nodded trying not to let the disappointment show on his face.

The two of you exchanged goodbyes before Carmy stepped back into his apartment realizing what an idiot he was for not walking you to your car and also thinking you’d just drop everything and spend more time with him under the pretense of conducting an interview. Deciding to make himself useful Carmy headed into his room figuring he might as well head to the restaurant since he had nothing but time.

Carmy was in the middle of buttoning his jeans when the sound of incessant knocking spread through his apartment, part of him was resigned to just let whoever it was knock it wasn’t like he really knew anyone in the building. But the longer the knocking went on he decided to just figure out who the hell was bothering him.

Making it to his living room he swung the door open ready to tell the person off but stopping in his tracks as your figure stood there surprise easily written all over his face.

“Hi, Carmen Berzatto right?” His eyes narrowed confused at the game you were playing, eyes darting to your hand hanging between the two of you before it raised to the notepad he hadn’t realized you were holding and began writing in as you spoke. “Impolite and shorter in person. Sorry, I’m with the Tribune I was wondering if you had time for an interview.”

Carmy rolled his eyes laughing at your antics, “You’re a fuckin’ dork.” He moved out of the way and opened the door wider signaling for you to come in, locking the door he turned and watched as you began taking your jacket and shoes off.

He was sure he had never seen a more perfect image, than the vision of you in his apartment at that moment. Your selflessness was never more apparent to Carmy than in that moment, he could almost physically feel his love for you growing as he realized time and time again you would fight for this relationship.

baby: ayye yo this shit actually kinda toxic

carmy: ohh no maybe if we make out that’ll fix it??

a/n: anyway i know this may feel like we’re going backwards but i promise you the barby ship will be sailing sooner than you know it! please enjoy! 🤍

likes are great, but comments and reblogs really are the lifeblood of fic writing. if you love this fic please consider sharing 🫶🏽

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy the bear x reader #carmy berzatto x you #the bear fic #the bear x reader #the bear x you #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

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