#wrap that war criminal in a blanket

[furiosophie]

this man can't be fixed. i can wrap him in a blanket though. maybe that will calm him down.

- eli vanto after he finds thrawn post rebels, probably

#thrawn #thranto #well kinda I guess #hello hi turns out I'm bad at managing multiple social media sites so I keep forgetting to cross post my art here oops #also I do color now apparently?? #wrap that war criminal in a blanket #it's fine #soph arts

[peachesofteal]

Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader

Morning comes with dark regret. 

Light tries to fight past his curtains, luxurious slivers of sun peeking through the edges, casting sharp beams across his face. It’s what wakes him, at first, gently bringing him to consciousness, easing him into reality- before memory slaps him across the face. 

Fuck. Did he dream that? Was that real? 

He tries, for a barely there moment, to pretend that it was a nightmare. That he didn’t shut you out, turn you away from his door, sweet, beautiful face smiling up at him, timid offering on your lips. 

“Thought we could, um, try this again?” 

His stomach sours when he remembers the way your shy expression shattered, how you faltered, confused and… hurt. He hurt you. He took your trust, your precious heart, and smashed it to pieces because he was afraid. Because he couldn’t let you see. 

His reflection in the bathroom mirror makes him sick. 

Fucked up nose, fucked up face, fucked up, cruel, awful person. 

Maybe he's more like him than he realizes.

How could he have done that to you? To you. The one person in this entire world that makes him feel warm, that makes him want something more, that gives him hope. His girl. 

He knows why, of course. He didn’t want you to see him, didn’t want you to know what it was like. Wanted to shield you from it, keep you and Emmaline tucked away in the space inside his heart, where you're safe. Where you don't realize how much of a monster he is. Didn’t want you to witness the come down, the decompression, the shedding of his skin post mission. Didn’t want you to know that he’s not always the man you think he is, the one you know, the one you trust to hold your baby and take you to the hospital and eat dinner in your kitchen. He didn’t want to shatter the illusion, didn’t want to step out from behind the lie. He wasn’t ready for it to be over yet. 

Because what would you have done, if you met Ghost? If you realized that your neighbor is a professional killer? A war criminal? Sure, he told you what he does for a living, but he didn’t tell you that much. And fuck. He couldn’t just let you in his flat. He hadn’t even showered, hadn’t gotten all the grease off his face. He still had blood under his fingernails, men’s dying screams echoing in his ears. How could he let that touch you? How could he let any of that, be anywhere near you? 

You and Emmaline would be far better off if he stayed in the shadows. Kept an eye on you, kept you safe, but kept his distance. A good man, a better man, would spare you the pain, the heartbreak, of bringing something like him into your life. 

The problem is, Simon’s never been a good man. 

He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, he hangs up, rolling over in bed, burying his face in his pillow. He keeps himself tucked under his blankets, sleep desperately pulling at him, trying to drag him into the black abyss of his dreams and when the minutes tick by and you don’t call him back… he begrudgingly succumbs to the cocoon of sleep. 

He calls again, later, as the sun is setting. You don’t answer, and he tells himself you’re probably busy, busy getting Emmaline and you fed, busy trying to settle her for bedtime. Busy ignoring him. He strains to listen through the walls, hoping to catch the muffled sound of your voice, or the TV, Emma’s cries or giggles, a sign of some kind. A sign that he should try again. Call you again. Knock on your door. 

He hears you in the hall an hour later.

Emmaline is crying, and you’re trying to soothe her, low pitch of your “shhh, shhh, shhh” slipping under his door and down the hall to where he’s pacing in the living room. He bolts to his front door, swinging through the frame, turning towards where you’ve got her in a wrap against your chest, backpack straps looped through your arm.  “Shit!” You yelp, eyes wide. Emmaline startles against you, cheeks wet with tears, and then she quiets, mouth hanging open. “Jesus. You scared me.” You’re fidgeting with your keys, fingers clenched just a little too tight around the ring. 

“Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You smile at him, but it’s all wrong, the kind of smile you might give a stranger, someone you only know in passing. His stomach flips. 

“I tried calling, earlier, uh- are you two… busy?” Let me explain, sweetheart. Please. I’m so sorry. 

“She’s overdue for a bottle,” You motion to Emma, who’s now gazing at him with a sweet little smile, tears evaporated. “and she’s got a tooth pushing through, so it’s been a really long day.” You sound exhausted, and look it too, shifting your weight, stretching with a bit of a wince, and he frowns. Is your back hurting you? Is it your neck? Where is the stroller? 

“Do you need some help?” C’mon love. I know I hurt you, let me explain. Please. Let me help. You need me. I need you. He takes a step towards you, longing practically dragging him by force into your orbit, but your face twists, and you move backwards, away from him. 

His heart cracks in his chest. No. Please.

“Ah, no. I got it, no worries.” No worries. No worries? “With the teething, she’s… I’ll try to keep her quiet. Just let me know if she’s too loud or if it’s a problem.”  

“It’s not a problem.” He rushes to reassure you. “Of course it’s not, sweetheart. I… if you have some time, later… I want to talk to you, about last night, I-“ 

“Oh, it’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.” You wave him off, eyes tight, lip tugged between your teeth. Emmaline lets out a small cry, just the beginning of a wail, and you sigh. “I’ve gotta get her inside.” He doesn’t want to push you, doesn’t want to make you feel like he’s backing you into a corner or trying to force you to listen to him, and he doesn’t know what else to do. He feels lost. Stupid. So, so stupid for letting his girl, his… family, slip away from him like this. 

“Alright… well, let me know if you need anything, yeah?” He asks gently, and you nod without looking at him, eyes bouncing from Emmaline to the floor, to the keys in your hand. 

“Sure.” 

#peaches writes #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader

[ghoulphile]

i want this man to do gross, disrespectful, unspeakable, borderline illegal things to me

⭐ inbox | discord | ao3 ⭐ requests: temporarily closed | tag lists: open last updated | 6/6/24 notes | i'll update this post as i continue to write. fics will be 18+ unless stated otherwise ❤️ requests closed so i can catch up on the ones already submitted - will be opening up again soon!

🍒 sticky fingers the ghoul x reader one-shot | 18+

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.”

🍒 janey's dad cooper howard x reader two-shot, part one | 18+

“We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

🍒 run rabbit run the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

the drabble thing HNNNGH think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time

🍒 in the middle of the night the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

Cooper watching you sleep. Its a quiet night. nothing but bugs passing by. Cooper keeps watching, and his mind wanders. cut to him "borrowing" your soft and smooth hand, pulling it from under your makeshift blanket and wrapping it on his dick, jacking himself with your hand bc he's bored/trying to pass the time/stay awake

🍒 wish you'd make me cry the ghoul x reader drabble, request | 18+

"You’re such a needy fucking brat." :3c

🍒 dog days pre-war cooper howard x reader fluff, request

I was wondering if you'd write something about maybe prewar/postwar (either one) cooper where his love is a bit sick (not life threateningly so ect) and he just takes good care of them

🍒 it's always the quiet ones pre-war cooper howard x reader drabble | 18+

We can see that Cooper tends to go for good girls but what if he ran into a seemingly innocent - or at the very least kind - person… but they dirty talk like a sinner in the sack?

🍒 no use cryin' over spilled milk the ghoul x reader one-shot | 18+

based off this ask; trying to survive topside after growing up in a vault is hard enough, but doing it five months pregnant? it's a good thing you find the ghoul when you do.

🍒 i can taste your skin in my teeth the ghoul x reader drabble request, wip | 18+

drabble request thingy: "you're so wet and I haven't even touched you" and/or "aww... you're pathetic" I feel like these go so well together in a very mean(super hot) way >:)

🍒 use me pre-war cooper howard x reader drabble request, wip | 18+

for the drabble request "I want to use you so fucking bad" with pre bomb coop?

🍒 don't threaten me with a good time the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

how do you think our ghoul would handle having a breeding kink?

🍒 in the collision of your kiss pre-war cooper howard x reader wip | 18+

"As I live and breathe, that's Cooper Howard! Why, he must've cost a fortune -- how ever did you get him to agree to attend a children's party?"

🍒 criminal tongues the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

Could I get and aggressive smut with coop like he hasn't had any in 200 something years ! Hes needy and wants it NOW

🍒 finders, keepers the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

Cooper wants people to know the reader is *his*, and she best damn well know it to. If she doesn't, he'll have to show her

🍒 god is a woman pre-war cooper howard x reader request, wip | 18+

If you don't mind of making cooper howard/the ghoul being submissive or treating reader like a goddess of a smut?

🍒 bury all your secrets in my skin the ghoul x reader request, wip | 18+

I was thinking how it would be to be the first to get him to take all his clothes off since the bombs fell. Being the first to get him to be vulnerable in this way. If you would write this I would be very grateful.

#masterlist #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader

[lycheedr3ams]

a broken man

konig x fem!reader (established relationship) warnings: low self-worth, mentions of war crimes, angst, mentions of smut, comfort, canon-typical violence mentioned

konig would never admit it, but the hardest part of your relationship for him was when you two made love.

you were the opposite of everything he had ever known. you weren't steel or kevlar or bullets or bombs or knives or war paint, you weren't screams in his ear telling him to just kill, nor were you the dead weight in his hands as his dead comrades' bodies were. you weren't the ringing in his ears after alarms went off, you weren't the blood that splattered his clothes, you weren't the empty darkness of his room as he lie awake each night, dreading what he'd see when he'd close his eyes. you weren't the scars on his chest or the bullet wounds in his back. you weren't the words that tore him down and made him look behind his shoulder whenever others were whispering.

instead, you were light. you were the warmth that welcomed him each day, the softness that invited him into yourself. you were the blanket wrapped around him, the warm hugs, the tender kisses. you were the one to bandage his wounds, the one to kiss them away. you were the soft hands that caressed his back, the gentle voice that wished him good morning, the soft hand that wrapped around his own calloused one. you were the one who smiled at him, laughed with him, loved him. you were the sweet words in his ear, playful love bites, a warm meal in somewhere he finally called home. your eyes were the ones that reflected love and comfort, not disdain or fear like everyone else he had known. you were the thing that kept his heart beating. no, even more than that, you were the one who gave his heart life again, long after he ever thought he could feel it beat again.

and that is all the reason why making love was so hard for him. after all the pain, loss, bloodshed, suffering, and nightmares he'd caused, the absolute last thing he thought he deserved was your warm, soft body letting him consume every part of you. your sweet moans in his ear contrasted so much the bloodcurdling screams he heard far more often, the weight he felt in his hands was your breasts and not bodies he dragged back to camp. your wetness guided and invited him in, so different from the wetness he felt in his eyes far too often when he was alone.

he knew he didn't deserve you. how could a broken man like him, one who escaped war criminal conviction for things he didn't want to do, deserve the only angel on earth? the same hands that gripped knives and guns and bombs also caressed the skin of a seraph, his bloodstained hands tainting the most pure, divine thing in existence. some days, konig swore he could see marks from his bloodstained hands on you. the same mouth that screamed and yelled and barked orders was the one that cooed into your ear how beautiful you were, how good you were for him, how he loved you. the same back that had been covered in body armor was the one naked to you, the same skin that he welcomed to be clawed by the least ferocious thing on earth.

konig never imagined how such a broken man like him could ever end up with you, the opposite of everything he had ever known. a broken man did not deserve a woman like you. but there you were underneath of him, moaning and pulling him in and begging for more. a broken man didn't deserve you, but you loved him anyway.

taglist: @osteawb, @sleepystaarr, @vvampir3s, @simpxinnie, @majocookie, @sharkyyyyyyyyyyyy, @marysdelrey, @kybeth5, @chaos-on-stand-bi, @shannonswizzies, @arcadia509, @bloodstoneruby, @cumikering, @skystreamchan, @junkratssheila-09, @kit-williams, @tangerynsbaby, @dreamdiaries777, @royalbxstxrd, @non-satanic-panic, @theweirdchick, @kiyomisan, @maylif, @mortimoshi, @eneiss, @daughter-ofthe-forest, @celi-xxmoon

#konig cod #cod mw2 #konig mw2 #konig fic #konig x reader #konig smut #konig imagine #konig #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #cod konig #konig fanfiction #konig modern warfare #konig x you #konig angst #konig dick #könig call of duty #könig fanfiction #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig cod #könig #könig smut #könig x reader #könig x you

[therenlover]

Always For A Second (Usually At The Start) - A Helmut Zemo x Reader fic

"And when I imagine life when it's mine / I can try to picture faceless folk to love a thousand times / But always for a second, and usually at the start / You're in the image posing with a cradled beating heart" - Katie Gregson MacLeod, i'm worried it will always be you

Synopsis: Leaving Helmut for good had been the biggest, most final choice you'd ever had to make. Two years later, he's in your living room again. This time, though, things are different.

Tags: Explicit Smut (+18), Exes, Getting Back Together, Enemies to Lovers to Exes to Lovers, Enthusiastic Consent, Switch!Zemo, Oral (Fem Receiving), Service Top!Zemo, Aftercare, Bucky is Mentioned Too Much

Rating: E (+18) Minors DNI

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 8,600~

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

“I didn’t expect you to come crawling back so soon, schatz,”

The restaurant was crowded enough that nobody heard Helmut’s words, curt and cloying and so fucking familiar. Still, my face heated. It always would for him, no matter how much my common sense protested by body’s reactions. How dare he be so damn effective at getting under my skin? 

Some over-expensive brown liquor sloshed against the rim of the glass in my hand as I lifted it less than gracefully from the table, dribbling down the edge of my mouth as I guided it to my lips and drank deeply. “For one, two years isn’t soon,” I started, swallowing. “Two, you’re the asshole who showed up in my apartment like a robber, which makes you the one who came crawling back. I was just nice enough to let you take me for a free meal to get you the hell out. Three,” I set the glass down sharply, “don’t call me that. We’re not friends. We’re not anything. I still haven’t forgiven you,” 

“Apologies,” 

He didn’t mean it. 

“Still, it’s too soon to expect any sort of kindness from you,” he continued, “If I recall correctly, you said you’d rather die than suffer through another night with me for the rest of eternity. I believe an eternity has yet to pass… and yet, here we are,”

His matter of fact tone left little up for debate, unless I wanted to reach for my fork and maim his smug face. Instead, I bit my tongue and swallowed another mouthful of whatever I was drinking.

For once I was glad to be surrounded by the kind of noisy, faceless jumble of humanity that usually made my skin crawl. F. Scott Fitzgerald was on to something with his theories on large crowds and intimacy; there was no better place for two war criminals to meet than the corner booth of a hazy restaurant, lounging and drinking, covered by the blanket of sweet anonymity. Anyone who glanced our way would see two normal human beings sharing a meal in peaceable silence, sharing sparse conversation between bites of this and that. 

They would see lovers.

The thought left a lump in my throat. 

Maybe I looked uncomfortable enough that they would presume, correctly, that we were ex-lovers. I wasn’t hopeful about it, though. 

Helmut noticed, of course, but I knew he would. He had always had an almost supernatural sense for these things, like he could tune into my emotional radio on a frequency I didn’t even fully know myself. Enemy or ally or… otherwise, it was a constant to be seen through and picked apart like carrion. An appetizer for the fights to come. Thankfully, though, he chose to have mercy on me this time in a rare show of respect. Instead of wrapping his lips around another snide comment- even though I could tell it was burning a bitter hole into the tip of his tongue behind his clenched teeth- he chose to pick up a ring of calamari from the plate between us. He held it up to examine the crust in the dim lamplight before placing it delicately against his lips, pulling it from the fork in one bite. Still, he couldn’t be too gracious. Helmut held eye contact as he went.

I could only managed a disgusted sigh but found myself mirrored as his teeth sunk into the squid and his brow furrowed. 

“Bad?” I asked.

He chewed for a good while before managing to swallow the offending clump down, gagging all the way. “Despite my recent diet, that might be the worst thing I’ve eaten in a long while,”

A laugh escaped me before I even knew it was there. “You managed to pick a restaurant where our appetizer is worse than prison food? Serves you right for ordering seafood in the midwest,” 

“I suppose it does.” He nudged the plate towards me with a growing smirk, “See for yourself. I’d hate to see it wasted, and as you said, it is ours. I can’t be expected to finish it alone,” 

As if under the spell of his charisma all over again, I followed his instructions without a second thought. It was just as bad as I anticipated. 

Things were off to a bad start from the moment the tines of my fork hit the batter. The breading seemed to squelch under the pressure, sagging and giving way into meat that was somehow both rubbery and gelatinous, if that was even possible, and if the texture seemed bad outside of my mouth it was even worse inside. Somewhere between its fishy tang and the overly salted batter, there was a bitter, almost sour note that seemed to permeate further with every chew. I spit the macerated glob into my napkin before even attempting to swallow down the remaining spit. 

Across the table, Zemo grinned at my misfortune. “Let’s hope our entrees are less offensive to our palettes,” 

“Fuck off,” I muttered, lips turning up at the edges. 

“You can curse all you want at my poor choice of venue, but I can tell you’re glad you’re the one who ordered the pasta instead of the steak,” 

I went for my glass again, letting the liquor with a name I couldn’t pronounce burn all the way down my throat and into my chest. “I hate that you’re always right, Helmut. Can’t you be wrong, just once? Leave some correctness for the rest of us,” 

Maybe it was the lighting, soft and amber against the dark wood of the table to mask the bloody steaks that would sit below, or maybe it was the music, something old and swinging that I couldn’t quite put my finger on but knew from the radio in my grandmother’s car as a child, or maybe, just maybe, it was the crows feet that popped up around Helmut’s eyes when he smiled that hadn’t been quite so prominent the last time I’d seen him, but no matter the cause, the solid iron wall I had put up around my heart when I walked out of the Baron’s life those two year sago seemed to soften. Weakened, somehow. It was like someone took a blowtorch right to the center of my defenses. Something in me screamed that they had never been all that strong to begin with. 

I only noticed I’d been staring when he looked away, clearing his throat and wiping his thin mouth with the napkin from his lap. 

There went my hand. Helmut, 1. Me, 0… Well, 1, if leaving him those years ago counted for anything, and I refused to believe that it hadn’t. That the blow to his ego hadn’t given me at least a slight upper hand compared to the naive girl I had been in comparison when I first met him. There had been so much good in the world then. 

The silence dragged on as if the structural flaws of my guarded heart could patch themselves up with the defenses created from just a few silent moments between us. That’s all it would take for me to remember all the reasons this would never work: all the pain, the sleepless nights, the snide comments that turned into biting replies that grew into massive, earth-shattering fights that exploded into days or weeks or months living alone in a house with him. One by one, the memories flooded back, reminding me exactly why it had taken me almost two years to find enough peace within myself that I wouldn’t decide to shoot the man in front of me on sight. My heart hardened by the second.

“I saw your concert,” 

I was simultaneously thawed and frozen all over again. “How did you-“ 

“James mentioned it,” 

“You still talk to Bucky?” 

“Here and there,” 

The conversation lapsed into silence. 

He had… been there? I didn’t even bother to think about the talk I’d have to have with Bucky about my privacy, too focused on the more important matter at hand. 

The venue was grungy, a basement bar with a small stage serving the communities aspiring comedians and desperate punk-rock garage dwellers just waiting for their big break. I had barely had the guts to pay the booking fee, though. It was just me, a piano, and my guitar for an hour and a half set of mostly cover songs that had gone better than I’d expected, but hadn’t been anything crazy. The crowd was appreciative and respectful. Several people had left tips, even more giving me a congratulatory clap on the back as I left the building that night, promising to “stream my EP” whenever I released it, despite the fact that I had no plans to do any such thing. Still, I couldn’t imagine that I hadn’t seen his face in the crowd. I couldn’t name what I was feeling as I imagined it; visualized his face on the other side of the smoky room, leaned against the bar with his dark eyes catching hold of mine…

“You came and you didn’t say anything? Not even a hello?” 

Helmut laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “And risk my life over a free concert? No.” He paused, “Despite my tendency to sometimes be… less than kind, I knew it would rattle you to see me. I didn’t want to throw you off before your performance.” 

I didn’t have much of anything to say in response. Instead, I picked at the paper straw wrapper in my lap and tried to look anywhere but in his direction, shoving down whatever was welling up in my chest. He wouldn’t let things go, though. He never could. That was half of why we’d never work. Every time I tried to drop an uncomfortable subject he’d be there to pick it up with a snide comment or two. It was an easy rhythm. Too easy. I had never wanted to fall back into it and yet, here I was, almost excited to snipe his next words down. 

“Cain misses you,” He continued. 

I folded the straw wrapper in my hands, pulling at the crease as I thought about the doberman puppy I had left behind. He would be so big now, as big as the one I’d taken with me was now. My heart ached at the thought. 

“I doubt he remembers me after all this time,” 

“Of course he does,” Helmut’s voice was low. It was almost hypnotic, the way he carried himself. He could fool anyone. I realized, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that couldn’t have been the calamari, he could still fool me. “He’s quite the troublemaker. More times than I can count he’s evaded me in the house, only to be found asleep in your old closet. I think he remembers your scent,” 

“Thats…” I sat quiet for a moment, pursing through choices of words in my mind, mulling over the sharp accented way he pronounced the t in scent, “Sad. Really sad. Makes me wish I could’ve taken them both,” 

“And what of Brutus?”

“He’s good,” A smile crossed my face. “Big, as you saw tonight. I remember when we got them, they told us they’d be 60 pounds at most, but I swear Brutus must’ve snuck in with the rest of those puppies, because he’s massive. Headbutts me every time I walk through the door wondering where I was. He’s a good boy, though. Keeps watch while I sleep, just in case.”

“Just in case I decided to let myself in through the window one night?”

I let myself laugh without judgement this time, reaching for my water. “Looks like it was all for nothing, then. Who knew he’d just let intruders come waltzing in off of the fire escape?” 

“Am I truly considered an intruder in your home?” He asked it as if the answer wasn’t obvious. As if there were any other answer I could possibly give. As if I could’ve wanted him there. His earnestness almost hurt as much as his taunting did, maybe more, because even if I didn’t want to admit it to myself, there was a soft ring of truth to his words. 

I took the cowards way out. “I don’t know, what do you think?” 

It was a vulnerability to not give a straight answer, the kind of weak spot that Helmut would catch wind of in an instant before using it to unravel someone piece by piece. Not a no, but certainly not a yes, and the fact that it hadn’t been a resounding yes was enough to glean that maybe, deep down, I wasn’t hating this dinner. He would see through me. Rip me to shreds for the subtle admittance that I hadn’t hated seeing him waiting for me on the couch when I walked through my door, even if I hadn’t expected or wanted him there in the first place. 

I found it was better to lie by omission than to fully lie and let him see through me to the more important truth; For as much as I despised everything about him, I had missed Helmut Zemo. I had missed his stupid expensive taste and the tilt of his stupid head and his stupid shiny white smile. I had missed seeing his coat hung up beside the door and knowing what waited for me inside. It was sick how I had loved him. How I had loved every minute of him picking me apart by the seams and putting me back together. Who could possibly crave their own destruction? Who could live knowing that to be loved was to be deconstructed down to the bone and laid bare as something lesser, something so small compared to the great destroyer I devoted myself to. 

How could he let me live like that if he truly saw through me? 

And that was why I had to leave. 

Loving Helmut Zemo was no way to live. I knew that. I had known that the day I picked up my dog and walked out of our home with nothing but my wallet, car keys, phone, and a polaroid picture of his silhouette. Somehow, I knew that he knew that too. Why else would I move on so suddenly, so sharply, removing every piece of the life we’d built to start myself fresh? A new me, I had said. A new chapter. Yet here I was across from him, shredded bits of paper littering my lap as he puppeteered my heart right back into his arms. 

No. I couldn’t let it happen. 

Not again. 

“Listen, baron,” I didn’t let him answer my rhetorical question. It wouldn’t be wise to let him gain the upper hand again. It wouldn’t be smart to let myself stay weak. “I appreciate dinner. It’s been surprisingly lovely to catch up with you. I’m glad to know you’re not dead, and its great to know Cain is doing well, but I know you weren’t here to tell me that over a plate of mediocre pasta,” 

Helmut smiled, his head in its signature tilt, and swished his own glass a bit. The ice was all but melted giving the liquor an almost clear quality as it diluted. Not a sip had been taken. “Ask the question, schatz,” 

“Why are you here? Why did you stalk me here and break into my apartment when I made it clear that you weren’t welcome in my life?” My words came out so matter of fact even I almost recoiled at them. Not unemotional but detached. 

“Um, who had the chicken alfredo?”

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I looked up at the poor waiter, hot plates in hand, as he took in our table at just the wrong time. Five minutes earlier he would have walked in on polite conversation about the dogs or the shitty appetizers. Now, though, he stood between a man who was known to kill for the things he wanted and me, the one thing he could never have again. 

Surprisingly, though, Helmut waved a hand towards me as I froze. There were none of the usual dramatics, just polite chatter with the waiter as he set my plate in front of me and left Helmut with his, taking the offending calamari plate away with him as he scurried away, surely to tell his coworkers about the crazy exes at the corner table. Helmut didn't even carry on with his answer. He just started tucking in to his steak and potatoes, not sparing me a single glance. If I didn’t know better, if I hadn’t memorized the way his eyes looked in the low light of a restaurant across from me, I would think he’d been replaced by a skrull.

Where was the tearing? The shredding? The utter evisceration of my waiting throat as he drank deeply of my darkest, most shameful thoughts only to spit them out for the world to see. Where was that shame? In the before times, in the times that the two of us had been a we, he never would have paused to mind a waiter. The world would have revolved around him as he laid me bare, no matter who watched or waited in the wings. What changed? 

How had I not noticed his docility until now?

The pasta was decent. It was better than anything I would’ve made at home, at least. I barely thought about it, though, letting my body go through the motions of eating mechanically while my mind went over a million things I could say. What could I say? There was nothing left to. We had gone over every possibility before I had left, at least I thought we had. Whatever we were was dead. That was certain. But what we could be…

I swallowed hard before I could choke on a relatively large piece of broccoli I neglected to chew in my trance. 

Helmut seemed to be in a painfully similar situation. One look at his plate showed a steak cut into tiny pieces. Almost none of it looked eaten, just diced into a pile and shuffled around a bit on the plate to mix with the potatoes, smashed down from their neat ice cream scoop globe and spread with the back of a fork. 

With a sigh, I set down my fork, pasta already forgotten. 

“Lost your appetite?” 

He paused his fiddling with his fork and knife, mirroring me and letting the utensils rest on the table beside his plate. It was odd to see him rattled. Strange to watch his eyes roll up to the ceiling and pause there, as if he was searching for the right words to say. He always knew just what to say to cut the deepest. Maybe it was foreign for him to not want to cut; To find a soft word, instead of a sharpened one. His mouth opened one… two…three times. Open and shut, open and shut. I couldn’t help but hurt for him. The man of many words was finally struck dumb. 

Finally, it came. 

“I’m sorry,” 

I had anticipated a selfish reply, a demand for me to come back and put the past two years behind us, but time had changed him. It had changed us both. He was no longer the man he had been when he was first freed from behind bars, vengeful and biting and so deeply afraid of being alone again, but I was no longer the lost girl I had been either. I did not need to be destroyed to breathe. I could feel tears pricking up in my eyes as he reached a hand across the table to search for my own. It was such a familiar sight in a time of uncertainty. I kept my hands firmly in my lap, though. I would not give him the satisfaction. 

More, I would not give him hope.

“Come home, schatz,”  

There it was. 

I couldn’t hold in the bitter, wet laugh that bubbled up through me, more at my own foolishness than at anything else. He had changed, yes, but some things never would. 

“Helmut,” The word hurt to say. It was altogether both familiar and unfamiliar, covered in a thick layer of dust from time, but nothing could erase the fact that it had once been used over and over, like a prayer, as easy as breathing or saying my own name. “You know I can’t,” 

He let his hand slink back to his side. “I had to try, you know,”

“I know,” The words were a whisper. 

So this was closure? 

The table was quiet. There was no desperation from Helmut’s side, no attempts to sway me or sudden outbursts of resentment. It was almost peaceful. His voice was sad but there was no manipulation in it. We laid our cards of the table as the game we’d played for years finally came to an end. 

“You were right about us, when you left,” he laughed, “I was, as you so aptly put it, a massive ass. I was still so deeply disillusioned about this world and the horrors of it. It was as if everyone around me was just another cog in it all, even you. I thought if I could puppet it all, make things go my way, everything could just be quiet. The horrors would finally stop. The memories would finally stop. I took it too far, though. I took it out on you. For that, I will never be sorry enough,” 

I put up a hand. “Helmut, you don’t have to do this-“

“I want to,”

His voice was delicate but didn’t waver. For the first time I wondered if this was more about what he needed to say than about what I needed to hear. I nodded him on. Without me even thinking about what I was doing, my hand caught his across the table.

“I wanted to run after you the same day you left. I nearly did, too, before I thought better of it. Then I really thought of what you said. What I did. It was then that I decided I had to change for the better, not for you but for myself. Only then would I allow myself to try again. So I did. I spent my time deconstructing the things I had seen and done and finally facing my own demons. I’m not perfect- believe me -but there are many things I have… worked on, for lack of a better word. James was surprisingly helpful throughout it all,” 

“Is that why you’ve been talking?” My thumb stroked over his knuckles, pausing on a scar. 

“More or less. I needed advice on how to overcome my atrocities, and I owed him an apology either way. He told me about your concert because he thought I would be ready to make amends, and yet I found myself unable to speak to you because I knew that if I did, I would have to beg you for forgiveness, and that is not something I will allow myself to do from anyone. Not now, nor ever,”

I let myself pull away. This was not a movie. There was no happy ending for the two of us at the end of this conversation. It was a chance to clear the air and let go of our grievances before going our separate ways. Treating it any other way would only hurt us both. “Why break in, then, and drag this all out over dinner? Why not just knock on my door, apologize, and leave?”

“I couldn’t have you slamming the door in my face and leaving me to apologize to the wall, now could I?” 

We shared a sad smile, a knowing one. “I guess that’s true.” 

“I needed to know you would hear what I had to say until the end,” he paused, “And one last confession. I must admit, I could not walk away without sharing dinner with you one last time. It’s selfish, as I am selfish, but I could not see you again without truly seeing you, more than just as you shouted at me and threw me to the curb,” 

“You think so little of me?” I asked. There was no bite in it. 

“No, I think so little of myself,” he finally took a sip from his glass, “Any anger on your part is warranted,” 

We did not speak again for a long while. Helmut methodically went through the bite-sized pieces of steak on his plate as I finished the alfredo, which had grown cold in the time it took to sort things out. There was no quiet conversation, no jokes or shared stories in the glow of the lamps overhead. Instead we sat in peaceable silence and breathed in the finality of it all. I was almost grateful for it. I never would have imagined sharing a meal like this with him in all of the years I had known him and loved him. If it was to be the last, and it was, we would savor every moment of each others company. Every moment not spent on my meal was devoted to memorizing the line of his jaw and the shape of his eyes as he did the same for me. 

By the time the waiter came to ask about dessert, I could have written sonnets about his face alone, and by the time he returned with the check, paid discreetly with a 40% tip for his troubles on Helmut’s card, I had committed the sound of his breathing to my mind. I could only hope the memory would last this time.

Realistically, I knew it wouldn’t. 

I wondered if he was thinking the same thing as we approached the front of the restaurant together, pausing awkwardly outside the door as we exited out onto the street. 

“So, this is it,” My hands found the pockets of my coat as I rocked onto the balls of my feet. 

Helmut smiled softly in the lamplight. “Let me walk you home,” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” 

“Says who? I have to follow you either way, my car is parked down the block,” He offered me his arm. 

I took it far quicker than I should have, relishing in the scent of his cologne. Even after all these years he had never switched to another brand, and I refused to admit to anyone else but myself that I was grateful for it. Instead I leaned into his warmth. “Well, it’s only a few blocks anyways. I guess it couldn’t hurt,” and with that, we were off. 

The night was cool. Summer had given in to the pull of a lush fall, the temperatures dropping to a comfortable but windy chill when the sun fell below the horizon. The leaves were not yet falling but they’d begun their slow transformation from green into a mosaic of reds and yellows and greens, forming a rustling canopy above the sidewalk that allowed a flash of stars and moon through the foliage every few steps. 

We were not the only pair walking through the streets that night, but if you had asked me about it later I would have said we were the only two people in the whole city, matching each other step for step under the flickering streetlights. Helmut’s crows feet were in full force as he laughed at my terrible jokes, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth rush through my neck and cheeks as he recounted the moment we first met. 

It had been fall then, too. A brief, chance encounter in the streets of Paris was all it was, a night spend with a stranger, until I had seen him again in Sibera, and again in Germany, and again on the Raft, and again, and again, and again, and again…

He had been younger then, much younger, and still raw with grief, but I had loved him even then.

I was so lost in my own memories that I almost missed the stairs up to my apartment, but Helmut paused there, keeping me rooted with him even though the look in his eyes told me he almost kept walking past, hoping to gain one more turn around the block before he had to let me go. He didn't, though. This was the end of the line. 

My arm slipped easily from its place against his own, hand catching briefly on the crook of his elbow. “Walk me to my door?”

His laugh felt almost nervous, a paid mockery of my own earlier reticence. “I don’t think that’s wise,” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a gentleman, baron?” 

“I have never claimed that,” For a moment, when he paused, I thought that would be that. I would turn my back, ascend the stairs, and turn around to find he’d shifted back into the shadows from whence he came, but then the moonlight caught on his soft, wet eyes. “But for you, schatz, I try to be,” 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t find the words I wanted to say as we walked up the front steps and into the building. 

It had been so angry last time. I had vomited up every hateful, raging, repressed thought that I had shoved down into my chest over the course of our turbulent time together all at once and left without a second glance. This time, though, it felt wrong to end things without giving him credit for all of the other things, the things I had forgotten in the midst of all the chaos that surrounded us. How could I thank him? How could I tell him every wonderful thing about himself only to close the door in his face a moment later? I spent the whole trip up to my apartment trying to find a way to express even an ounce of what I felt, and then it was far too late. 

We stood there on my novelty doormat, boots settled over the dirty cartoon chickens, hands in our pockets, and breathed in the stale hallway air. 

“Thank you for dinner,” I said. If I shut off my heart and my mind and every other little betraying ache in my bones it was like it had been all those years ago. We were just meeting. This was the end of our very first date. There was a future instead of a past in the time that lay beyond us. 

Helmut averted his eyes from mine. I could tell he was pretending too. “Of course,” 

“I’ll see you again,” I lied, “I mean, it’s inevitable. We’ll end up at Bucky’s place at the same time,” 

“Or run into each other at a busy cafe,” he offered. 

“Exactly! Or our cells will end up next to each other in maximum security prison,” I laughed, but it caught, pathetic, in the back of my throat.  

He took a step back, boots leaving my doorstep. “I look forward to it, whenever it may be,” 

My shaking hands found my keys, an autopilot motion I had done a million times, and the door to my apartment swung open. I could hear Brutus in his kennel, beginning to whine the moment he heard me come home, but I paused there for a moment, one foot in and one foot out. 

“Goodbye, Helmut,” 

“Sleep well, schatz,” 

I stepped inside and locked the door without turning around for a last look. 

My tears came quicker than expected as I took in the room around me. It was the antithesis of my home with Helmut, all whites and beiges and grays from the sparse walls to the lonely couch against the wall. There was one great shock of black, though; a solid footprint on the windowsill. One last souvenir to remember him by. 

I had done the right thing. 

I had to have done the right thing. 

Life with Helmut was hell. It was exciting and lush and romantic and alluring but it was destructive and painful too. It would mean being seen and unseen for the rest of my life, living with the ghosts of those lost in Novi Grad. He would never stop being the man his grief had created. He was just too broken… wasn’t he? 

All at once I knew I had to see him again. This wasn’t going to be the end. There were still so many chances to make it right. 

Before I knew my own feelings, I was undoing the latch and throwing my door open, only to find him there, feet planted solidly on that stupid welcome mat and fist raised to lift the knocker. Our eyes locked. 

We didn’t need words then. 

No, all I needed was his lips on mine and my hands in his hair. It was a need easily rectified. 

He didn’t pull away as I grabbed the edges of his ridiculous fur coat and dragged him in for a kiss, letting the remains of that day’s lipstick smear against his chapped lips as the parted and made way for me. It was like a piece of my puzzle fell back into place, like the thing that had been lying dormant in my empty chest for the past two years had jumped to life and jumped into my throat. The tears weren’t coming anymore, though Helmut’s cheeks felt wet when I guided one of my hands to rest against it, dragging him closer. I needed him urgently. I needed all of it. Every moment I had missed. 

At least one time in my entire tiny, useless life I needed to know him as he had always known me. I had to see him through eyes that would know every atom of him by heart. 

It could have lasted second or hours. I was lost in it; lost in every heartbeat and the messy clack of teeth on teeth as we remembered exactly how our mouths locked into each other. There was no need to breathe. I would happily drown in him if he would let me. Through the passion I distinctly remembered this fervor, the endless need for him. It wasn’t frightening anymore, though. I knew how to walk away. We both did. 

This time I didn’t want to. 

Helmut was the first to pull away. His mouth was wet and red as he panted there, just a breath away from diving in for more, but he pulled away when I advanced again, instead choosing to speak between placing kisses on my cheeks and down my jaw. “I couldn’t let you walk away from me. Not again,” his voice shook as he kissed me, “Does that make me a bad man? Does that mean you can’t love me?” 

I could only breathe a laugh as I pressed my chest to him. No measure of closeness was enough. I needed him to cover every inch of me. “I don’t think I could stop loving you if I tried, and I’ve tried,” 

“Please, stop trying,”

With that, he caught me in another kiss. 

“We should probably go inside,” I panted, gesturing towards the apartment with my head and Helmut nodded, maneuvering us over the threshold and into the barren entryway of the home  I’d made without him. It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what I was focused on. Instead, my hands were more focused on pulling his coat from his shoulders and discarding it loosely in the direction of the coat rack between fevered kisses. 

The old Helmut would’ve pulled away and make some snarky remark about keeping the place clean. This Helmut, though- my Helmut, as I had selfishly started to refer to him mentally in the past few moments -just dragged me in closer after his arms were freed, letting his hand drift to the small of my back but not even an inch lower.

Suddenly, though, things seemed to cool. The kisses grew shorter, softer. His arms still held me but seemed to loosen their grip. 

“Tell me you want this,” He whispered softly against the shell of my ear, “That you want me,” 

Ah. So that’s what this is. 

“Helmut, of course I do-“ 

“That’s not enough,” his voice was laced with a rare seriousness as he pulled away to look at me properly. His brown eyes glowed a million honeyed colors under the shitty, flickering overhead lighting I should have replaced months ago. They flitted from my swollen mouth to my cheeks to my watery eyes as his hand came up to cup my cheeks again. “Tell me this isn’t a mistake or a bad decision you’ll regret the second we finish,” 

The rest went unsaid. 

(Tell me you’ll stay. Tell me this means something to you, even if it doesn’t mean as much as it does to me. Tell me I won’t wake up alone tomorrow morning. Tell me anything and everything except the cruel reality that neither of us really knows what the future looks like once this is over)

I simply nodded my head, coming in for one closed mouth kiss. “I want this. I want you. Whatever I choose to do next, you’ll be a part of the decision. No more running away,” 

Like a shot, we were off to the races again. 

It was hard to detach our bodies long enough to give Brutus a treat to quiet him down, harder still to lead him to the bedroom and drop his hand long enough to turn on a nearby lamp, but somehow I managed. For all of the small things I’d forgotten about Helmut in the two years we’d spent apart, his bitten nails and the silhouette of his nose and the sound of his labored breathing as he took in my body with something akin to animalistic hunger, it was easy to fall back into the rhythm we’d always found ourselves in intimately. 

His shirt came off first, exposing the soft curve of his stomach. I kissed down from his neck to his chest, letting myself pause on each and every pinkish scar that graced his flesh. I made a mental note to ask him about a few new ones, including a wicked one across his collarbone that still puckered into an inch long divot in his flesh. My fingers followed my mouth, mapping every inch of his flesh. They caught on every soft yielding place he offered, a worship on the altar of his body, dragging his flesh ever so slightly but never enough to leave a scratch or bruise. 

I would not mark him any more than the world already had. It was not my purpose to remold him into my image. Instead I would venerate what he was, what he had become. 

Helmut had put so much effort into changing himself, rebreaking the things that had never healed correctly and setting them right again. I refused to let him break down to splinters again. Not on my watch. 

He shuddered at my attentions. 

“Let me see you?” It was a question, not a demand, and how could I deny him when he asked so nicely? 

I stood up again, relishing in the feeling of his fingers against the hem of my t-shirt, the gentle scratch of nails on skin as he lifted it over my head. When he looked at me, it was like he was looking at the most precious thing in the world. Usually he was so hungry for it that there was never a pause once my shirt was discarded. My bra would be thrown off with it, then my pants, then my underwear, all in such quick succession that I barely distinguished one article from the next in the order of things. This time, though, he paused, hands just inches from my bare flesh. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispered to me like a prayer, a confession, “I don’t think I can hold back much longer,” 

Slowly, deliberately, I stepped forward and pressed my body into his awaiting hands. He squeezed my hips once, gentle, and twice. Then they were roaming up to the clasp on my bra with that usual hunger again, freeing my breasts for his attentions. I don’t exactly recall how he manhandled me on to the bed, I was too busy feeling the hard press of his bulge through his crisp dress slacks. The first thing I was fully cognizant of was his hot breath on my sternum as he hovered over me, still standing but bent at the waist, boxing me in with his knees. 

“So fucking sweet,” he whispered before taking one of my nipples between his lips and laving his tongue over the hardening tip. 

I felt like a live wire. Heat was building everywhere. Dazzling electricity shot through my head and fingers and toes and cunt and gods especially my breasts. They were always my weak spot, and how he knew it, how he knew me. I wanted to thrash against him, to buck and gain his attention where I really needed it, but his body above mine held me fast, keeping me right where he wanted me, vulnerable to him and his specific brand of torture. With a particularly sharp pinch and a well timed suck he had me keening against him, curling into his every move. 

How had I lived without him? It was hard to imagine a night not spend here with Helmut, wherever here was, not that that mattered. I was embarrassingly wet. The slickness had gathered enough that I could feel it on my thighs despite my jeans. When I tried to relieve myself, though, the baron caught my hand, tutting softly. 

I expected to have to ask permission. Soft begs escaped my mouth. I needed him. I had no patience for games. Instead, though, he lifted up off of my chest and smiled, pulling my hand to his lips. “Let me help you, love,” 

There are no words in the human language that could adequately represent the sound that escaped my mouth. I could not even begin to try. It continued even as I lifted my hips to shimmy free from my jeans and underwear in one fluid motion, only ceasing when Helmut was on his knees with his face buried in my cunt. I was making different noises then. Loud. Guttural. If I had any mind left at all I would worry what my neighbors thought, to see me out on my doorstep desperately pawing at a man only to hear the noises we were making in tandem now. Thankfully, any sensible thought I had left seemed to fly out the window with Helmut’s first lick to my cunt. 

It was clear that he hadn’t forgotten me, and if he had, the muscle memory was coming back quick. His tongue was deft as it worked its way over my aching nub in a pseudo-figure eight; circling once, twice, and three times before dipping back through my folds. I held him in place this time, though, rocking into his mouth. At some point my hands found their way into his hair. It was so soft between my fingers, so pliable as I pulled against him, desperate for more of him, anything he would good. 

Every time he relented to me. Each sharp jolt was rewarded with a kiss against my thigh or a muttered curse in Sokovian, hot breath teasing my glistening mound. 

He was so giving, so attentive to my every need. He had always been a generous lover, never leaving me wanting for anything, but this felt… different. The way he sucked bruises into my thighs, relenting to each and every sobbing please that escaped my soft lips, was a new and devastating experience. There were no power games left to play, no lording his sexual prowess over me as he brought me slowly closer and closer to the ever distant goalpost, just his mouth on me over and over and over again as he wrung the first orgasm of the night out of me, then the second in short measure, barely ceasing from one to the next.

By the time he decided I’d had my fill, my legs were a trembling mess against his shoulders and my cunt was a sopping mess. 

He grinned a crooked grin at his masterpiece.

“How was that, my love,” 

I could barely catch my breath enough to speak. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, thrumming a frantic drumbeat even as the room quieted. “So good- really really good, Helmut,” 

Slowly, he rose up from his knees, undoing his belt. “Please say my name again, schatz,” 

“Helmut,” My voice was hushed. Reverent. 

He undid the button at his fly, pulling at the band of his boxers. “Again,” 

It fell from my lips like a prayer. “Helmut,”

His cock bounced free, bobbing as he took a sharp, steadying breath. He placed his hand at the base and squeezed slightly. 

“Again,” 

“Helmut,” 

“Fuck, that’s good,” The trance broke momentarily as I gazed up at him, watching the sweat roll down his forehead in shining rivulets despite the chill in the air. He wiped at them with the back of his free hand and smiled sheepishly. “Scoot back and get comfortable, please. I don’t think I’ll last long,” 

I did as he asked, settling against my pillows on the still-made sheets. “Neither will I,” 

“Where are your condoms?” 

“Bedside drawer, way in the back. I’m on the pill too, so no worries,” 

He moved quickly, grabbing a foil package from the small pile I’d accrued, just in case. 

It felt odd to have him be the one using them. 

There had been a few other men who had been invited here, fewer still that made it to the point that Helmut and I were at now. Every time, though, I hadn’t been able to go through with it, because every time they had finally settled themselves above me, I would close my eyes and, just for a moment, see Helmut in their place. It was unsettling the first time, enough so that I sent the guy home right away. The next time, though, it was more thought provoking than anything. I chalked it up to him being my longest lasting sexual partner and left it at that, but now, watching him roll the condom onto his length and crawl into his position over me, I knew. 

I would never get over him, even if I tried for years. My heart had a space carved out in the shape of his own. No matter how long I stayed away, I would never find something quite like what we had. He was it. This was what people dreamed about. And to think, I had almost let it slip away…

He slid one hand into mine, lacing our fingers together in the gentle lamplight. “Are you ready for me?” 

“More than ready,” My thighs spread as I canted my hips up.

Physically and mentally and every other possible way I needed him. I was prepared. 

So Helmut pumped himself once with his free hand before guiding himself into my wet heat. 

It was impossible to last long once we were finally complete. 

Feeling him inside me was like knowing the truth of the universe. It was comfortable, and thrilling, and so deliciously enough. He filled me well, finding his rhythm as he swore and released my hand to prop himself up more comfortably. We were linked together like the final pieces of a puzzle. I closed my eyes at let myself relish in it. 

There was nothing left to worry over while Helmut was inside of me. All thoughts that weren’t of him were banished. It was something to be cherished, every thrust paired with a whispered confession of love from one of us, a fleeting kiss, a curse, a plea… We laid ourselves bare. I let my legs wrap around his warm, soft hips as he rutted into me, bringing a hand between us to circle my clit once more. Even after everything he refused to leave me behind while he chased his own pleasure. It didn’t take much to send me tumbling over the edge into oblivion. 

As always, Helmut followed me down. 

His thrusts quickened, then stilled as he came to rest upon me, panting and heaving and begging for breath. I didn’t care much. He smelled of cologne and sweat as I buried my face in his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could feel him soften inside of me but I was far too spent to urge him to move.

We only shifted apart when he slipped free of me.

Helmut quickly kissed my forehead and gathered himself up, shuffling to the trash can to discard the used condom and grab a tissue to wipe himself up. I didn’t let myself move an inch. If I moved, would the bliss run away? Would I realize what I’d done? I let myself lay instead, eyes closed, panting in the autumn chill as my lover approached and wiped up our beautiful mess as gently as he could manage. With one last kiss to my thigh, he discarded the rag, opened the window, and crawled back into bed with me. 

The process was indelicate, a lot of awkward shuffling of sticky limbs, but we were settled beneath the blankets soon enough. Helmut stroked his fingers down my arm languidly while kissing the back of my neck. 

I broke the peace between us. 

“I don’t… I don’t know what this means for us,” 

He sighed gently. His breath was soothing and familiar against my shoulder. “That’s not something we have to decide at this very moment,” 

“But I just don’t want you to think this means something… or at least something more than it does? If that makes sense? I don’t know,”

“Schatz, please,” 

“I want to keep my own place, at least for now. I don’t know what that means for when I’ll see you or if we’ll keep doing this,” I gestured vaguely to my nude body beneath the sheets, “or if we’re even a thing anymore, bu-“ 

Helmut reached his arm around us, placing a quieting finger over my lips and another soft kiss against my shoulder. 

“I swear, your mind sounds even louder than mine,” 

“Sorry,” 

“No reason to be,” His hand left my lips, running down to my stomach and pulling me back towards the softness of his chest. “As for your questions, I shall respect your wishes about distance and housing and labels, whatever they may be. That being said, as long as you’re still up for… this, as you put it, I will never deny you, no matter the distance. I would cross oceans for you,” 

A cum-drunk, half-asleep giggle escaped me as he nuzzled in, kissing my ear. 

“Thank you,” 

“No, thank you,” he matched my laughter with his own, “I believe this is what James would call post nut clarity,” 

“Now you ruined it!” I huffed. The faux anger only lasted a moment, though, before I was rolling to face him, cheek pressed to the soft, downy hair of his chest. “I love you, Helmut.” 

“I love you too, sweet girl. Now sleep. I’ll get up and deal with the dog once you’re resting,” 

For the first time in two years, I breathed in the scent of Helmut’s cologne before lapsing into a peaceful sleep.

---------

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first foray into smut in literal years, and it was literally all written within a 12 hour period, so I hope any mistakes weren't enough to take away from your enjoyment. Comments are always appreciated, but never expected. See you on the next authors note!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #zemo x reader #daniel brühl #fanfic #marvel fanfiction #x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo smut #marvel smut

[ghostgorlsworld]

Moondrunk Monster Part 3 (ghost x reader)

You're a retired combat medic that made a mistake, costing you your cushy office job. As punishment, you're sent to an active war zone, where you meet the 141, a squad of werewolves that slowly accept you as their own. (I know, I know I'm bad at summarizing)

it's a slowburn guys but I promise there will be smut in the future. Read part two here

Part 3

Warnings: violence, war, death, injury and pain.

You had forgotten how brutal war was.

The day had started out early and anxious. Graves strode in your tent and tossed you a bulletproof vest and a rifle, saying something about a little trip. 

A quick in and out, he had said, fetching a war criminal from a nearby town and patching him up well enough to ship back to the States for something Graves called “negotiations,” air quotes included. 

You were to stay in the armored humvee from beginning to end, your only job was to make sure this war criminal was fit enough to make the long flight back to the states.

That was all good and well. In fact, the humvee even managed to make it to the airport to drop off the patched up criminal and half-way back to base before you ran into trouble.

The trouble being half a dozen hostiles trailing you in trucks fitted with deadly weapons. Within a few seconds, the driver had his brains blown out against the dash and your humvee was flying through the air, flipping down a steep hillside. 

You might have even screamed, the sound lost by the noise of crunching metal and bullets.

The humvee came to a stop abruptly, your shoulder wrenching against the door as it settled on its top. 

You took a sharp breath, blood rushing to your brain as your seatbelt jerked painfully against your stomach. The driver was gone, his corpse thrown from the wreckage mid-roll.

Graves dangled beside you, his blonde hair slick with blood from a nasty cut on his temple, glass shards peppering his skin like buckshot. 

“Captain,” you managed, your hands shaking as you reached for his shoulder. “Captain! We have to get out.”

He was alive, but dazed, his blue eyes red with burst blood vessels. You cut yourself down first, then him, dragging him out of the crumpled remains of your humvee on shaky legs.

The remaining vehicle of your squad was still uphill, keeping the fight from reaching the two of you.  

Base was still fifteen minutes away.

A lot can happen in fifteen minutes. 

A man pops out from a nearby copse of trees, sending a bullet your way before you manage to duck down and send one right back. It was quick, his head snapped back as he crumpled like a doll with its strings cut. It’s the first time you’ve taken a life in years and you barely think about it, dragging Graves over your shoulder and making for a metal shed behind the trees. The humvee could blow at any time, and it’s best to be behind something when it does.

He groans, stirring as you dump him on the hard, straw floor. It was a cattle shed, the remains of this morning’s hay breakfast in the corner. You kicked it away and crouched beside the wall, peeking out at the chaos with your rifle pressed into your shoulder. 

Your squad was winning, two of the three weaponized trucks overturned and burning while men scattered from the blaze like ants. The other humvee was still upright, Graves’ men clearing out the rest of the hostiles from behind its armored doors. 

Instinct took hold, settling over your brain like a blanket. Stay alive, get Graves back to base. 

He groaned, hand coming up to touch the nasty wound on his temple. “Doc? What the fuck is going on?”

“Don’t speak, Captain,” you said calmly, bending to wrap a band of gauze around his head, tucking it neatly into itself. You kept one eye on the entrance for stragglers, adrenaline  making your fingers tremble. “You’ve hurt your head, sir.” Graves blinked up at you groggily before keeling over, heaving into the hay.

That wasn’t a good sign. You slid back into position, but the fight was already over, Graves’ men yanking hostiles out of the vehicles as they burned. They flooded the area where your humvee crashed, looking for Graves.

“Over here!” You shouted, standing. You helped Graves to his feet, shouldering his weight as he wiped sticky strands of sick from his chin. “Steady sir, it’s over.”

Sargent Harrison hurried over, his face slack with relief as he shouldered his captain’s other side. “Shit, doc, we thought you two were burned up already.” The others surrounded you like coyotes around a carcass, filthy and panting with adrenaline. You thought of the 141, despite the fact that they were off on some secret mission miles away. 

Soap was going to be pissed that this much action happened while he was gone. 

“Doc saved my ass,” Graves slurred, squinting in the sharp sunlight. “I think.”

“I did, sir,” you said wryly, wiping the blood out of his eyes with your sleeve. “I think he got the worst of it, other than the driver. We need to get back to base so I can examine his head.” Harrison nodded, barking orders as Graves sagged against you, pale eyelashes fluttering. Your shoulder burned, a warning that you hadn’t gotten out of the crash scot-free. 

Things went quick after that, you and Graves being quickly stuffed into the remaining humvee with half the squad while Harrison stayed back with the rest. They were going to wait for an evac from base. 

Base was buzzing when you returned, a dozen hands helping you set up Graves on a stretcher while the rest of the injured went to the other medics. It was all a blur, Avon forcing you in a chair while he stripped you of your vest and overshirt, revealing a nasty-looking shoulder that looked as if someone had taken a baseball bat to you. 

You brushed your fingers against the new bruises, the skin puffy and swollen. The swell of pain took you off guard, hissing between your teeth as Avon eyed the obvious difference in height between your shoulders.

“Dislocated,” he said simply, as practical as always. 

A patient of yours limped over to inspect the yellowing flesh, sucking on her broken teeth. “Fuck, doc, that looks bad,” she said, smirking even as it tugged on the sizeable gash through her cheek. 

“That’s the pot and the kettle, Shane,” you said, trying to smile but failing when Avon gripped your elbow and wrist. Your mouth watered, nauseous with pain. “God, that hurts.” Avon passed you the leather strap. “We’ve got to set it,” he said as you put the strap between your teeth. “I have a suspicion there’s torn ligaments as well, but we can’t address those while your arm is out of socket.”

“Get it over with.”

Avon nodded, barely giving you a moment to think about the pain before he jerked with a sickening crunch. 

Shane made a noise, turning away from the scene with a green face. A little hypocritical, you thought, considering you were the one that had to sew her cheek back together.

You bit down on the strap hard, teeth creaking with the force to keep from screaming. Old wounds resurfaced, scar tissue from Donny, bullet holes and burns–it was like relieving it all. Tears trickled down your cheek.

“Hey, hey, what the fuck is going on here?” Soap shoved his way into your tent, Ghost at his heels.

You groaned, spitting out the strap. “God, you just had to come in right when I’m having a moment.”

Avon smeared cool pain reliever cream over your shoulder, tugging your shirt back over where your bra and stomach had been exposed. You were grateful–you weren’t sure if you wanted Ghost to see how out of shape you really were.

“That looked like it hurt like a bitch,” Shane said, reaching over to gently move the hair out of your eyes. “You alright, doc?”

You tried to nod, but winced. Soap nudged into your line of sight, loyal as always. “We heard something went down with Graves, so we came right back.” He was filthy–they both were, smeared with dirt and a variety of other things. 

“Dislocated shoulder, Johnny,” you said, tipping your head back against the wall. “Nothing serious. Graves got his bell rang pretty good though.”

Ghost stepped closer, his spine stiff as a board. For a werewolf, he reminded you of a cat, always so wary of things. “Looks like you were at the business end of a truck, love.” His voice was deeper than usual, an edge to it. His hand twitched like he wanted to touch you. 

“You’re not wrong, LT, humvee flipped,” you said, biting at your lip as Avon tied together a sling for your arm. “I’m gonna come back later to give you a proper once over, but for now I want you to take three of these,” he shook a bottle of pain killer in your direction. “And not move from bed. I’m serious, if I see you so much as lift a fucking finger I will tie you to this chair.” You smiled blearily at him, delirious with pain. “Yessir.”

“We’ll watch her,” Soap said, his tone more serious than you had ever heard it. “Ghost, you want a shower first?” Ghost shook his head. “Go ahead, Johnny. I’ll keep an eye on her.” That was ominous. You pushed yourself to your feet, planning on crashing on one of your cots, but before you could take a step a wide hand grabbed you by the hip. 

“Steady,” Ghost grumbled, lifting you onto the cot as easily as if you were a child. Your hip burned, the heat of his palm soaking through your pants. 

You winced as you sat back against the uncomfortable pillow, accepting the water and pills Ghost handed you. 

Avon raised his brow at both of you, his mouth twitching. “Right, well, I’ll be back soon. Hang tight.”

Soap gave you a reassuring smile and followed him out, probably aching to scrub the sand and muck out of his hair.

Shane took the cot beside yours, flipping open one of your grungy paperbacks. She patted your knee. “See, doc, now you’re one of us.” Ghost knelt at your feet and began untying your boots, his gloved hands quick and precise. You blinked at him, “LT, don’t worry about it, these cots see so much worse than my boots.” “Shut up,” he said, shucking one off before moving onto the next. 

It was the twilight zone, truly. Ghost settled himself into the chair across from your cot, gesturing for Shane to toss him another one of your novels. 

The meds took effect quickly, your head spinning as you stared at the ceiling. Pain melted into something else, something that led you into sleep with a steady hand. 

Ghost watched over you as you faded off to sleep, his dark stare oddly comforting. Like having a doberman sleeping at the foot of your bed.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #soap mactavish #cod mw3 #ghost cod #simon riley x reader

[4riadne]

Safe & Sound (j.m)

joel miller x fem! reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: settling into Jackson isn't as easy as one would think, Joel battles with finding peace within the safety of Jackson's walls.

warnings: angst and fluff

(a/n): for my little war criminal old man bbg xx -lana

GIF by vera-kozhemiakina

Joel doesn’t like it here. He doesn’t like how easily you’ve settled into Jackson. It’s only been a six months since you all decided to stay in Jackson— and the way you, even Ellie, let your guards down so easily here unnerves him. He especially doesn’t like how he feels more on edge now than he’s ever been, a lot to say considering the things he’s been through. 

He stares as you dance with some guy who bothered to ask when Joel had made it clear that he wasn’t. He’s never seen you so at ease. Your hair is undone and wavy from its usual braid. Even your clothes, the dress you wear is so impractical. He knows he should take it as a sign that he can unwind as well, but he can’t. What if you needed him, what if something happened?

He feels like he’s stuck waiting for something to go wrong, for this play of domesticity you’ve settled into to end.  

After the song ends you drift back to his side, inserting yourself under his arm as you wrap around him. A content smile on your face as he asks if you had fun and as you whisper back, “I woulda had more if it was you spinning me around.” 

It feels like the calm before the storm. 

Every waking morning by your side, your form wrapped in one of his shirts.

He always wakes up earlier than you with a small start, but he stays in bed until your lashes flutter open. He likes that. When you’re near him and he can touch you. For however long he wants. 

That next morning starts the way he always likes it to, you roll over onto your back to look up at him with a groan. Like you’re mad at even the idea of not being asleep right now. He adjusts his hold on you to make you feel more comfortable as you place a hand on the nape of his neck, fingers clawing through his hair. “You need a haircut soon, Miller.” 

But it’s something about this morning that’s different, he doesn’t feel that racing in his veins anymore and it’s replaced by something else hollow. He shakes his head dismissively at your comment as he presses a kiss to your forehead. A smile graces your lips as you pull up the blanket before pulling him into a kiss. It’s messy and heated, your leg pressing into his side to bring him in even closer. When he pulls away strings of saliva form to your dismay as you scrunch your nose. Joel hasn’t said anything yet, eyes crinkling at the sides in a smile as you grimace in disgust. 

“Okay what’s with the staring, huh?” You return his gaze with narrowed eyes as you press your forehead to his. 

“Nothin’” He mumbles, brushing your nose with his before slanting his mouth against yours. You protest despite your eager return, pulling away with a sniff. You look at him tenderly, brushing back unruly strands from his hairline before resting your hand on his cheek. He presses a kiss to your palm instead of answering as you roll your eyes. 

“You’re being so weird,” You widen your eyes playfully as you smile. “Are you gonna say why?”

“Nope.” 

Joel sits up on the edge of the bed as you watch on your propped up elbow. He is being weird, but you don’t press on the topic anymore. It’s only until he turns back to you that he sees your mind racing, the gears turning behind your eyes. He wonders what you’re thinking, he always is. There’s always something you want to say, and on the rare times you don’t blurt it out, he’s left wondering. 

You're still this enigma to him. And he supposes the same applies for him to you. Even though sometimes he feels like you’re the only person who really understands him. The only one who can. You know just when to push and pull with him, a special power of yours as Ellie calls it. 

Sometimes he wonders what life would’ve been like if you’d come into his life in a world where all of this hadn’t happened. Even though, past Joel isn’t who he is now. He sometimes thinks you deserve that version of him, the softer, unhardened, and unburdened Joel. The one who would’ve bought you flowers on your first date and introduced you to Sarah while being a nervous wreck. Instead you’re stuck with this version of himself, the one whose stuck in survival mode even in the safety of Jackson.

Just as you look like you’re about to say something, you stop yourself with a shake of your head and get up. Joel still sits on the edge of the bed as you return from the bathroom and start changing, wordlessly watching you. When you finally approach him, you stand between his legs and cradle his head between your hands. He rests his hands on your hips, hooking his thumb into one of the belt loops of the jeans you put on. 

“I love you, you know.” He nods between your grip. And he does, he knows. He does too, but you like to say it. He’s only said it a few times, before you slip into sleep or when you really need him to but you’re not saying it and he can tell. For a split second he thinks it’s one of those times but from the way you look at him, it isn’t. 

Finally, you lick your lips, “Whatever’s been on your mind lately, you can tell me.” 

He opens his mouth to dismiss it, but you’re too quick and too familiar with him to even let him get it out. “And there is something, spare me that bullshit. You’re always staring at me or at Ellie like you- You can trust me, y’know.” 

“I know.”

You nod once before pressing a kiss to his hairline. You’re out the door before he even realises it, like you’ve given up your resolve in finding out what he’s thinking. Usually you fight him back more, and he doesn’t like how things have changed. He almost wants you to tear it out of him, to have you dig your heels into the ground. Usually it’s him walking away to escape your conviction, but it’s not. It’s uncharted territory and now he doesn’t know what to do. The carpet’s been pulled out from under him. 

Joel’s scared. He can admit it. At least to himself.  Of losing you, losing Ellie. He’s always struggled with the idea of failing the two of you, but now that the ways you could leave him have narrowed, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to do with how overwhelming his feelings are. He was needed before, even if you two were capable on your own, he was.  He’s not anymore. 

He should be happy about that, that you’re all safe, that he doesn’t always need to be on guard now. But he isn’t, and he hates that.  

You’re back in the room for some reason, and your eyes soften when you realise he’s still in the same position. His eyes glance down at the woven tray of food you’re carrying. You set it aside as you take a seat next to him. “Ellie’s awake if you want to eat all together.” Your touch is gentle as you tuck a piece of his hair behind his ear. 

“I’m scared, baby,” He says finally. 

It’s clear it takes you by surprise from the way you halt before nodding, your eyes all soft and warm on him. Just full of understanding and love, it gives him the strength to try and speak. Even if he’s never been good at words. Or emotions. Something about the way you look at him makes him feel at ease, even if he couldn’t ever fully let go. Even if he spends the rest of your lives waiting for something to happen, for the other shoe to drop. He’d be happy to, so long as you kept looking at him like that, so long as you kept trying to understand. 

So long as you were by his side.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel the last of us #tlou series #pedro pascal #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #fluff #emotional joel miller #maybe angst #by lana

[eos-aurora-rise]

“It’s not so bad.”

And it wasn’t. It had all the clinical neatness of Percy’s room back home, just with less furniture. What Percy lacked in bed frames and side tables, he made up for in stuff; there was no other word for it.  

Ginny stepped over a stack of books which were balanced bizarrely a foot in front of the door. The top book was titled ‘Laws and Regulations of Quidditch’ - Ginny had read that one before. She trailed her fingers over the words as she made her way further in, kicking her shoes off before stepping onto the thick shag rug that she happened to know he’d filched from his room at Hogwarts.  

“Yes, well. I’m working on it.” 

He sounded particularly flat these days. Ginny glanced up at him over her book. He sat cross-legged on the sofa, a laptop balanced on bony knees as he tapped away at it halfheartedly, even as his eyes darted critically around the living room.  

Things were different after the war. The ministry was still in crisis mode, all cylinders firing while they attempted desperately to clear out all of the death eater-flavoured corruption that had been festering for decades. It meant holding trials for convicted criminals, while unconvicted criminals sat in the stands judging them. It was an utter mess.  

Harry had spent the last year sitting in on nearly every single one. He wasn’t a man suited to politics in any way, but he fought diligently to protect the people who didn’t deserve to be there, and name everyone he knew who did.  

He’d gotten Draco Malfoy out of a sentence in Azkaban, and had dropped his mother’s sentence down to a few years of house arrest. Ginny personally thought that Azkaban was a waste anyway, on account of them having no soul to be sucked out, but upon voicing that she’d gotten a chastising look and much good-hearted explanation about difficult situations.  

Ginny knew difficult situations. She’d raised and led a rebellion among children who were tortured for failing to be soldiers. Draco Malfoy had kissed the shoes of Voldemort and left them to die.  

Whatever. There was a reason that the ministry let Harry sit in on their trials, and not Ginny.  

“Working?” 

“Trying to. Drinks are in the fridge.” 

“Muggle.” 

Percy sent her a scathing look. She grinned, stepping over even more plastic files and loose leaves of paper as she stepped into the small kitchen.  

While the ministry busied itself with self-destructing under the watchful eye of the Chosen One, Percy had quit. It was about the closest he’d come to having a spine in his entire life, as far as Ginny could remember. She wished he’d done it a bit earlier, but going by the haunted look in his eyes that had seared itself into her brain some time around them wrapping Fred’s body in blankets to carry it out of the great hall, so did he.  

“What shit is this?” Ginny groaned, popping the fridge door open.  

Percy didn’t do well with boredom. He needed to have his time effectively filled or he went mad. In the immediate aftermath of the war, he’d disappeared. He’d cut himself off, vanished into nothing. Mum had torn herself to pieces over it. Losing two sons at once was… well, more than any of them could handle.  

When he’d finally turned up on their doorstep with the general air of a cat who’d gotten caught in the rain, it had been with an offer from a muggle university and the hope that he could work in the muggle government. After the screaming and crying and fighting, Ginny had settled herself on the edge of the bed and asked him what had changed.  

He’d said ‘everything’, and they’d left it at that.  

“It’s effective. I’m poor.” 

He’d picked up all sorts of muggle quirks. Ginny was getting used to it.  

“‘Vodka’? What the fuck even is that?” 

“Take a shot of it. It tastes like shit and it burns the whole way down, but you’ll be drunk in 10 minutes.” 

Ginny studied the bottle curiously. Sounded good to her. She reached into the cabinet above the sink, plucking out a couple of shot glasses before picking her way back to the sofa.  

It took a little skill balancing them all in one hand, but she eventually managed to effectively free the other hand long enough to slam Percy’s laptop closed on his fingers. He hissed a few nasty insults, but took the hint and slid it onto the floor, grabbing his glass from Ginny with no small amount of irritation.  

“Alright.” Ginny began, topping their glasses off with the clear liquid. It smelled foul, harsh and chemical, but she didn’t complain. “What is it.” 

It wasn’t really a question anymore. They often talked about the same thing. Percy wrinkled his lip, though whether it was at the ‘vodka’ or the memory, Ginny wasn’t sure.  

He knocked it back with practised skill, coughed a little, and sighed. “He bought me dinner.” 

Ginny closed her eyes. Of course he did. She could just about picture Oliver Wood’s face in her mind's eye. He was usually windswept, sweaty, bright red in the face, and grinning like a madman. She didn’t see him off the court often, considering they were so far apart in years, so that had always been the image that stuck with her. Passably handsome, but not her type.  

She pressed the shot glass to her lips, braced herself, and tossed it back as quickly as she could. Percy was right. It did burn.  

“God, that’s fucking awful.” She choked, but Percy, who had been staring unseeingly at the wall the whole time nodded solemnly.  

“Isn’t it? I don’t know what to make of it. It feels important.” 

Ginny swallowed against the urge to keep coughing and blinked at her brother through teary eyes.  

He looked horrid. Pallid and gaunt, half-dead in his seat. He was working himself to the bone, trying to make up for all of the things that he did, the people he let down. Like the rest of them, he carried Fred’s weight on his shoulders, the feeling that he could have done something but didn’t just as heavy in his heart.  

He wanted to believe that he was helping in whatever way he could, and if it took the very life from inside of him to do it, then that’s what he would give. It was a big part of the reason that Ginny was even bothering to drag herself around muggle transportation to visit him so often. Nobody else would.  

He hadn’t been cut off, per se, but no one was going out of their way to see him. He visited home for Sunday dinner, just like the rest of them did. The only difference was that Ginny went out drinking with Ron often, and went to the muggle movies just a few weeks ago with George, and even travelled to Romania to spend the week with Charlie at the dragon centre. She babysat for Bill and Fleur every other week on Thursday.  

And Percy sat in his flat, on his own, drinking and working. Unless he went out for food with Oliver Wood.  

“Well, it doesn’t sound like ‘nothing’.” 

That’s what Wood had called it last time Ginny had been over. The flirting, and the pining, and the endless drunken complaining. All nothing. Within a few days, Percy had gone from nervously pink, even managing a bit of a smile when Ginny got him drunk enough to admit how handsome he found Wood, to this. Grey, tired, monotone.  

“Merlin.” Percy sighed. “I feel foolish every time. He hurt me, and I still leapt at the chance to go out with him again.” He held his shot up, and Ginny dutifully refilled it. “But I can’t quite tell him to bugger off either.” 

“You need to be clearer, Perce. About what you want from him.” 

He looked desolate. Ginny hated Oliver Wood.  

She hadn’t always gotten on with Percy. She was more like the twins, fiery and angry and mischievous. Her accidental magic manifested as pranks so often that they’d called her the triplet. Percy had begged on his knees for a week before mum agreed to put a charm on his bedroom door that stopped Ginny from sneaking in to set his socks on fire, or make his duvet wrap him up and drag him down the stairs.  

She’d thought he was a boring, stuck up, bastard of a brother. And then she’d thought him a foul coward.  

Now, he was barely a smudge on the sofa of his new apartment, 20 minutes away from a muggle university campus, drinking disgusting ‘vodka’ and mourning his fragile, fractured relationship with Oliver fucking Wood.  

Ginny had worshipped him once, the picture of the athlete she wanted to be. Now, in the burnt-out wreckage of the wizarding world, her priorities had shifted. She had learned to love her brother again, and she hurt to see him suffer like this.  

“What if I don’t know what I want?” 

“You have to figure it out eventually.” 

“What if I decide I want nothing to do with him?” Percy asked, finishing another shot as Ginny prepared her own. “If I just make him stop tugging me around.” 

“Is there much tugging going on?” Ginny asked, voice innocent as though she wasn’t hiding a smirk behind her shot. Percy went a little pink, lips pursed in distaste.  

“Absolutely not. Not since… well.” 

Ginny hummed in understanding. Percy had been utterly pissed when he divulged that particular piece of information.  

They hadn’t gotten close quickly. It had started awkward and stilted. Percy wasn’t interested in fixing things in the family. He wanted to slip away unnoticed and forget any of it had ever happened, to ignore the wounds until they finally killed him. Ginny had been absolutely determined to make him remember, no matter how painful it had happened to be.  

One of them had managed to convince the other that it would be easier if they were drunk, though Ginny couldn’t remember which of them it was, exactly. They’d barely been upright when Percy managed to slur out a small truth - Oliver Wood of all people had pressed him into castle walls and kissed him senseless in their sixth year. They’d been on and off, close and distant, ever since.  

On a particularly low night, Percy had invited him over to spend the night. Things had gone cold for months after. Ginny listened patiently, stomach turning dangerously as she’d stared into her beer, the frightened, scarred words of her least favourite brother ringing painfully in her ears.  

He’d kept it short, constantly cutting himself off. The more intimate it got, the more professionally he spoke. He described his relationship to Penelope Clearwater clinically, voice flat. I never loved her. I knew I never could.  

Ginny thought of Harry. He was bigger than the world sometimes, too bright to look at. He had big ideals. He’d walked out of the war with this deep desire to change things, to protect the people who’d survived it all, to make the world better. He’d dropped out of Auror training to get a teaching degree. He’d run a couple of speeches through newspapers before deciding he hated the attention.  

He was a mess, essentially, but a beautiful one. Nothing could slow him down. Meanwhile, Ginny was stumbling to keep up with him. She’d taken a year off her Quidditch training to mourn Fred. She spent long days cradling her mother’s tear-stained face, and burned through her clothes when she forgot she was ironing them. The world had slowed to a crawl. She couldn’t keep up.  

She thought about how she admired Harry, in all his fierce determination to save the world. It had made her want to keep fighting for it. When the Carricks flicked a curse at her, she thought of him. If Harry could, she could.  

“Well, what about you? Any- tugging?” 

Percy made a face when he said it, like he was sucking on a lemon. Ginny laughed, knocking back another shot. It was still harsh, but the faint haze across her eyes softened it. Percy had been right - it worked quickly. She sighed.  

“None. I haven’t the faintest of how to ask her.” 

Percy huffed, leaning his shoulder into the back of the sofa. Ginny had thought about it a lot. Maybe she’d mistaken admiration for love. Maybe she’d mistaken friendship for something more. Maybe the quiet fascination at Luna’s stories, and the way the light filtered through her pale hair, and the little crease at the corner of her mouth when she smiled in satisfaction - one which didn’t appear when she smiled in excitement - maybe all of that wasn’t platonic observation.  

So no, Ginny and Percy hadn’t gotten close quickly. But there was something about being the only gay siblings among 7 that helped the process along quite a bit.  

“Buy her something. Something pretty.” 

“She’s not very material, Perce.” 

“For Merlin’s sake.” He hissed, flicking Ginny’s knee. “That isn’t the point. It’s not about the thing, it’s about the thought behind it.” 

“Surely it’s more thoughtful of me to not buy something she won’t want? And besides, I don’t see you buying Wood anything.” 

Percy sighed shortly, studying the empty shot glass in his hand with enough intensity to smash it to pieces. “I’m not spending money on that bastard.” 

“He spent money on you.” Ginny pointed out, immediately receiving a nasty glare in response. After a moment, it faded.  

“I suppose.” 

“That’s your in. You can tell him you owe him a meal or something. Find a way to spend the day with him.” 

Ginny didn’t have any trouble inviting Luna out for the day. She was happy to go wherever Ginny pleased, smiling all soft and pretty as she always did. She had a story to tell about every stone, every flower, every new face they passed. The problem lay with drawing the line between friendship and romance.  

Percy was almost the opposite. It seemed that the only interactions he managed to have with Wood were flirty and charged. Actually getting to know each other was the only hurdle they had.  

“Maybe. But I’m busy.” 

“Percy.” 

“I said maybe, didn’t I? Merlin.” He grabbed the vodka from Ginny’s hand, filling his glass quickly. “It’s so bloody difficult.” 

“Welcome to homosexuality.” Ginny offered, ignoring the nervous flash of Percy’s eyes when she said it. She was working carefully on making him a little less afraid of words like that. His own insecurities were just as much of a hurdle as Wood’s apparent inability to commit to anything. Well, they were all recovering.  

If Ginny was braver, and Luna less agreeable, and Percy more self-actualised, and Wood more confident, maybe they’d all be happy. But war did funny things to people.  

Silently, Percy topped off Ginny’s shot and clinked their glasses together.  

“Cheers to that.”  

#fanfiction #harry potter #ginny weasley #percy weasley #percy x oliver #ginny x luna #family feels #alcohol #gay #post canon #post 2nd wizarding war

[sillyrabbit81]

The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood - Part Four

Series Summary: Lori "Babycakes" Tate swore she would never date a biker but when her life is in danger, she is put under the protection of a small club known as The Fallen Wolves Brotherhood. She suddenly finds herself attracted to not one, but five bikers.

A reverse harem, biker AU.

Part Three Summary: Syverson and Lori get through the night as tension between them mounts. Sy, discusses the situation with the Brothers.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC, Walter Marshall x OFC, Mike x OFC, Geralt x OFC, August Walker x OFC

Word Count: Approx. 3.6k

Warnings:

Series Warnings: Reverse harem, age gap (OFC 23, ages range from 23 to mid 40s), oral sex (male and female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, anal sex, group sex, masturbation, praise kink, mentions of body fluids, drug use, recreational drinking, sex work, criminal activities, mention of death, violence, use of weapons, mentions of war, mentions of abuse, angst, fluff, probably a lot more that I will add as they come up.

Part Three Warnings: Flirting, smutty thoughts, angst, fluff.

Authors Note: I need to apologise for not having replied to the comments on the last chapter. I will get to them soon I promise. I have had a lot going on in my personal life. I've been offline a bit, trying to deal with it all. Things will get better, I'm just going through a low point (my hormones are NOT helping). As a result, I'm not sure if this chapter is my best work, but here it is and I hope you enjoy.

Divider made by me. Edited by me, there will be errors.

Masterlist

Parts Masterlist

Part Three Part Five

Syverson

When Lori came out of the bathroom I kept my eyes on the window. 

I had only just managed to calm my raging boner and seeing her in those little pj shorts and tank top was not conducive to keeping my cool.

What was I thinking coming onto her like that? It was reckless, unprofessional, stupid and overstepped the agreement the Brothers and I made. Yeah I wanted her, yeah I flirted with her back at her apartment, but the ride had made me see sense. She wasn’t mine to have.

A muffled sound came from the bed. At first I ignored it. Then I heard it again and realised what it was. Lori was crying.

I glanced in her direction. She was facing away from me with the blankets pulled up over her head which was probably why I couldn’t hear her at first. Her shoulders jerked sometimes, like she was trying to hold back and she probably was.

My first instinct was to comfort her, wrap her in my arms so she didn’t have to cry alone. But after my bullheaded pass she’d probably take it the wrong way. And she wouldn’t be completely wrong. Of course I wanted to feel her body against mine again, but I wouldn’t take advantage of her in this state.

Besides, she probably didn’t want me to know she was crying. She was doing everything she could to hide herself from me. I felt like an asshole, especially after earlier, but invading privacy in cases like this was par for the course.

She wasn’t the first woman we protected to cry at night. Hell, even a few of the men had. And God knows she had cause to. Not only had she just been taken from her home by five strange men, she was in fear of, not just her life but that of her brother’s too. Of course she’d be scared, if she had any sense. On top of all of that, she had buried her parents earlier in the day. Who wouldn’t be at least tempted to shed a few tears in her situation?

I had every intention of ignoring her and letting her cry herself out and hopefully sleep through the night. Then I heard her again and I couldn’t stand by and let her go through it alone.

Sighing, I went closer and standing over the bed I could hear her clearly. Poor girl sounded awful. 

I squatted down to her level beside the bed and asked softly, “You okay, Babycakes?” 

All movement stopped and I heard a soft sniffle.

“I’m okay,” came her warbled and muffled reply.

”Ya sure?”

Lori slowly lowered the covers and peeked out. My chest felt tight as I stared into her glossy and bloodshot eyes. God, she was a pretty little thing, even all red faced and teary.

I smiled. “Hey.”

She just looked at me. Staring hard back at me almost as if she hated me for seeing her vulnerable.

Keeping my smile soft, I reached out and laid my hand on her cheek. 

The corners of her lips raised briefly, then she lowered eyes. I rubbed her cheek, ignoring the fat tear that spilled from the corner of her eye and ran down the edge of her nose and rested on her lip. Her little hand came out and wiped it away with a jerk, as if she were angry.

“You can cry if ya wanna, no shame in it. ‘Specially after what you've been through. You don’t gotta hide.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

My brows drew together. “You're cryin’. What else would I do?”

“So this isn’t part of the contract?”

My lip twitched. Sassy bitch.

“Another freebie, just for you, sugar,” I said. I licked my lips and added, “Hey, about earlier. I didn't see anythin’. I wasn't— I was only gonna close the door and— Well, I didn't see anything. Okay?”

She smiled through her tears and nodded. Then she opened her mouth to say something and her chin wobbled.

“Hey, Baby. C’mere.” I held my arms out and hers flew from the covers, encircling my neck and she pressed her face into my chest.

Without breaking her surprisingly strong grip on my neck, I pulled her close to me and got onto the bed, resting my back against the headboard. She surprised me again, climbed onto me, drawing her legs up until she was a small ball sitting across my lap. Thank God, she had put a tshirt on, her bare thighs were distracting enough.

She cried again, soft as before and I don’t know if it makes me an asshole, but it felt good holding her. I dropped my head into the crook of her neck, just to surround myself with her. She smelled so good, not like the scent I caught in the elevator, this was even better, this was her. Being with her like this made me realise how much I missed this; it had been years since a woman had let me comfort them. Most of the women I’d interacted with were too scared of me and the Brothers to allow us close to them. Or they liked us a little too much, thinking we were like other MCs and were bitterly disappointed by the quiet lifestyle we all led.

“You’re okay,” I whispered, “You cry all you want to, alright Lori?”

“You do know my name,” she said through her tears and I chuckled.

“Try not to use real names with clients when we’re travelling, baby.”

“You always call your clients baby?”

“No baby, just you.” 

She laughed softly and soon her tears stopped and her breathing became steady.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but it must have been a while because my gun started to dig painfully in my side. But I didn’t want to move, fearing that any slight movement would shatter this moment.

I put it off as long as I could, until my spine couldn’t take holding the position a moment longer and I shifted. My manoeuvre made Lori lift her head and she watched me as I pulled my gun out of my holster and placed it within reach on the nightstand.

When I settled back into a comfortable position, her bright grey eyes caught mine. Her cheeks (and my shirt) were wet, though she seemed to have stopped crying. She stared at me, she looked with such open vulnerability it made my chest ache a little and stirred something deep within me. In that moment, I would have done anything to take her pain away, shouldered any burden to see her happy.

I lifted my hands to her cheeks, letting my thumbs wipe away the remnants of her tears. She let me, closing her eyes slowly and her lips parted slightly as if she enjoyed my touch, which only led to something else stirring.

My breath started coming in hard, like I’d just been for a run and couldn’t get enough oxygen. God, those lips… I wanted to feel them again. Although this time my thumb wouldn’t be enough; I wanted to know what they felt like on mine.

I tore my hands and eyes away from her, wrapped my arms around her, guiding her gently back to my chest. I had to get a handle on this situation before shit went sideways and I made a move on her again.

“Sy…” she spoke softly, resisting my movements.

Steeling myself I looked at her, my eyes widening as I realised she was nervous. I’d not noticed her being nervous before.

“Can I… you…” she said hesitantly.

“What you want, baby?”

“I don't want you to go,” she said in a rush. “Can’t you stay with me instead of Walk–” she stopped herself and continued, “the others?”

Fuck. This is not good.

“I gotta get some sleep, sugar,” I said gently, letting her down as best I could without straight up rejecting her. Because fuck, I really didn’t want to say no. And if I was honest with myself, I didn’t like the idea of her being alone with Walker either. Not that he’d do anything. Well, he wouldn’t force himself on her, but I’d seen him with women before, that man was persuasive.

“Sleep here with me?” she asked.

Oh fuck me.

Her cheeks reddened and she looked away as if she were embarrassed by her request.

God I wanted to say yes. I wanted to wrap myself around her and never let go. But I cleared my throat, swallowing down my urges and said, “My brothers ain’t bad. You’re safe with us. With all of us.”

“Can you just hold me then? Just ‘till I fall asleep?”

I  knew I should say no. I knew that, but… Oh, fuck me.

“Scooch on over,” I said. 

I was going to hell.

Lori climbed off my lap. I stood up, toed my boots off and reached for my belt buckle. My eyes caught hers and saw her unsure look.

“I can leave ‘em on if ya want,”

She turned away as her blush deepened. Then she raised her eyes back to mine.

“Are you wearing underwear?”

I pressed my lips together. “Yeah, I am.”

“Okay then.”

Lori didn’t look away, instead she stared at me, expectantly. I hesitated.

Ah fuck.

Don’t think about sex, don’t think about sex, don’t think about sex.

I bit my lip and slowly dropped my pants and stepped out of them. The damn girl’s eyes never left mine and her look made my heart thunder and I felt a familiar and warm rush of blood. 

Jesus, give me strength.

I thought about leaving my shirt on, but then I thought, fuck it, I’d come this far, may as well go the whole hog. I tugged at my shirt and raised my eyebrows. She licked her lips, nodding slowly. 

Quick as I could, I pulled my shirt off and lifted the blanket to slide in beside her before I started to harden up. She finally looked away from me and rolled over. I sidled up to her back and my body melded behind hers. It felt so natural, like we’d laid like this a million times.

“You’re going to stay here with me, right? Don't go when I fall asleep?” she asked.

“Alright, sugar,” I said, “Ya twisted my arm.”

“Will you get in trouble?” My eyebrows drew together in confusion. She rolled over until she was facing me. “From Walker,” she clarified.

I smiled reassuringly and tucked her head under my chin. I probably would, not trouble exactly, more like Walker will make it his mission to keep us apart. Even if I did, it’d be worth it. I kissed the top of her head. 

“Go to sleep, baby. We got a lot of miles tomorrow.”

“I’ll ride with you again, right?”

“You ride with whoever you want. You just go to sleep, baby. We’re gonna take good care of you alright?”

I felt her nod and I held her close, stroking her hair until her breath became slow and steady. 

About an hour later there was a knock on the door. Three triple raps followed by two slow ones indicated it was Marshall.

I slipped out of bed, grabbed my gun and flicked the safety off. I stood beside the door and waited a moment before quickly checking the peephole and moving away again. It was Marshall, so I unlocked the door and stood back.

“’S open,” I said.

Marshall came in walking straight past me. I checked behind him, making sure no one else was going to follow and I shut the door.

“Bloody hell, Sy,” Marshall mumbled. He took in her sleeping form and my state of undress. “You didn’t waste any time.”

“We got a problem?” I asked. I flicked the safety back on and put the gun back beside the bed. 

Shaking his head, he went to the bed and looked down at her. He reached out, tucked some loose hair behind her ear and sighed. 

“We didn’t fuck, alright?” I grunted.

Marshall crossed his arms across his chest and looked over my lack of clothes again.

“I made a pass at her and she said no.”

Marshall kept staring.

“She wants me to stay the night with her,” I shrugged and shook my head, “Says she feels safe with me. I don’t know.”

Marshall sighed. “That’s good. At least she feels safe with one of us. We’ve got no problem, brother.”

I nodded. Marshall sat at the table pulling his gun out of its holster and resting it on the table. I got back in bed, and she stirred a little, eyes fluttering.

“Shh,” I whispered. “’S only me.”

“Sy,” she mumbled.

She snuggled into my chest, and smiling I waited until she was settled before I laid an arm over her. I was quiet, waiting for her to sleep again then I looked at Marshall. He turned his head, and I felt guilty. I knew he wanted her as much as I did. We all fell for her in our own way as we watched her for the past week.

“Just dumb luck,” I said to him. “Coulda been you she met first.”

“You think she feels safe with you just because she met you first?” Marshall asked. “You hate yourself that much?”

My fist clenched and looked away.

He sniffed and shifted in his chair. “Get some rest, Sy. I’ll wake you when Mike comes.”

“You know I don’t sleep much,” I reminded him.

“When was the last time you slept with a woman in your arms?” Marshall asked. 

I looked at him blankly, annoyed that his comment mirrored my own thoughts. I didn’t think I was that easy to read.

“You tryna get a rise outta me?”

“No.” Marshall shook his head. “I’m trying to remind you that it helps.” 

I woke at another set of raps on the door. Marshall looked at me and nodded. He checked the door as I had, but unlike Marshall, Mike had a way of being an idiot.

“Let me in Marshall,” he cried, “I’m freezing my nuts off.”

Marshall and I looked at each other, “So help me,” I growled. “If he wakes her up…”

Throwing the door wide, Marshall dragged Mike in by the scruff of the neck. “She’s sleeping you bastard.”

Mike grunted. “Smells like sex in here.”

I snorted. That boy was damn lucky he made us laugh or God knows what we would have done to him by now.

“Shit,” Mike said, his attention drawn to me, “I thought I had a chance. She giggled and everything.”

I snickered and Marshall shook his head. “Go back to sleep, Sy,” Marshall said as he left the room. “Good night.”

“Night,” I said.

Mike locked the door behind him and took up his seat, laying his gun on the table like we all had. She stirred at the noise and rolled over, shimmying back until we were spooning. Her mass of hair was in my face, and I smoothed it away before laying my head on the pillow. 

“Does she know?” Mike asked, blessedly keeping his voice low. “About what we agreed?”

“No.”

“Think we should tell her?”

“Why? We said she’d be free to choose and that we wouldn’t let it come between us.”

Mike grumbled. “You didn’t give the rest of us much of a chance to make our case.”

I grunted. He had a point, but I’d never tell the little shit that. “I ain’t stoppin’ you from tryin’.”

“Sure, Sy,” Mike said petulantly. “I’m sure you wouldn’t kill me.”

I chuffed. “You’re my brother, Mike. I wouldn’t kill ya.” He grinned and I continued. “I’d beat the shit outta ya, but I wouldn’t kill ya.”

“Dick,” Mike said.

“Nothing happened, alright? She’s just scared. Now, shut up and lemme sleep will ya?” I closed my eyes and Mike was thankfully silent. But I had to admit, sleep didn’t come as easy this time.

His objections had me thinking things I didn’t want to think, and I struggled shutting off my mind. Not all the thoughts were unpleasant and being awake with her in my arms wasn’t like being awake alone. She was so soft, all curves, few hard edges, except where her hip bone jutted slightly out. I liked putting my hand there, slipping my fingers under her a little. Eventually, the rhythm of the breathing was a good enough lullaby to help me doze through Mike’s shift.

When Geralt knocked I was already awake and Mike opened the door, having enough sense to check the peephole at least.

Geralt’s eyes went straight to me, and I heard him hum.

“My thoughts exactly dude,” Mike said.

“Do not presume to know what I think, boy.”

I grinned. Geralt had a way of putting all of us in our place on occasion. Including Walker, remarkably. Geralt nodded at me, removing his knives and pistol from his belt, and laying them on the table. He approached her in a similar way to Marshall, but he didn’t touch her.

“She sleeps like a babe,” he murmured, looking at her curled fists.

“Everyone’s a baby to you, old man,” Mike commented from across the room.

“You’re still here?” Geralt retorted without looking at him. But I could see the small smile on his lips, and I chuckled.

“Fine, I’m out,” Mike pointed at me as he left. “We aren’t done talking about this by the way. We need a new agreement.”

“Mike,” Geralt’s gravelly voice warned. He waited until Mike left before addressing me. “He’s wrong. We don’t need a new agreement.” Geralt walked back to the table, taking his seat with a soft groan. “We never said she could only choose one of us. Only that we agreed her choice wouldn’t come between us.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Thought you were smarter than that.”

Geralt shrugged again. “It would solve a lot of problems.”

“Or create them.” I sighed, resigned, “She hasn’t chosen me. Not yet anyway. Nothin’ happened.”

“Does this,” Geralt waved his hand towards the bed, “feel like nothing, Syverson?”

I grunted. He was right. Having her in my arms like this wasn’t nothing. It felt like everything.

Geralt was quiet for a while, but I could feel the weight of unspoken words in his stare. Eventually it got the best of me.

“Say it.”

“Walker was on the phone tonight…”

“Fuck.”

“There’s a logistics job coming up.”

“Fuck.” 

Logistics. Always my job. I knew the fucker would send me away first damn opportunity. 

“She doesn’t like him.”

“Is that what you think?” Geralt asked, I could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I think she’s scared of him.”

Geralt grunted, “Not the same thing.”

I had no reply to that.

“Get some sleep,” Geralt said, taking up a position by the window, “I’ll wake you when Walker arrives.”

Birds were waking when Walker made his way into the room. Unlike the others, he strolled in like he owned the place, his ego entering the room only seconds behind his cock.

“You’re still here,” he observed in a tight voice.

“Where you wanna be I suppose?” I replied, my voice as tight as his.

He huffed and shrugged, appearing completely unbothered. 

“Was she good?” he asked flippantly.

“Fuck you.” 

My voice was louder than I thought it would be and she whimpered, rolling over facing me, and burying her head into my chest. I didn’t bother correcting Walker's assumption. Let him think what he wants.

“Walker,” Geralt said with a hint of warning.

Walker shrugged and took the seat, staring at me with his cold eyes. I knew I’d slept enough for the night, no way was I going to sleep with his ass in the room. Geralt left with a nod in my direction and pained look. He’d stay if he thought it’d help, but we both knew it would only serve to aggravate Walker further.

It took half an hour for the asshole to start talking.

“We got a job,” his voice didn’t hide his smugness. “Logistics.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I hate to break up this burgeoning relationship…” I scoffed but August continued, “But you’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow, soon as we get her back..”

“For how long?”

“Could be a day or two, could be a week.”

I scowled. 

“It’s not personal Syverson. It’s the job.”

“You coulda said no. We have a job.”

He hummed. “I could have,” he admitted, “But the offer was too good, and I only needed to send you. The four of us can take care of her.”

I didn’t say anything. He was right, but it stung. 

But as I laid there I formulated a plan. I thought of Geralt’s words; she could choose more than one. My brothers cared for her as much as I did, they would take care of her, and I think she’d be happy with any of them. Maybe if I guided her choice, set her towards Marshall or Geralt, I wouldn’t worry so much on my job. 

Plus, it’d piss Walker off real good.

Not bothering to cover my smirk, I settled into the pillows, gently lifting her chin to look at her a bit. God, I wanted to kiss her, wake her softly with my lips on hers, or her neck, or breasts.

If my brothers make her happy, I’ll share her, but I’ll fuck each and every last one up if they hurt her.

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[acquity]

Hate Is Easy | Obito x Reader

Summary: After the Fourth Great Ninja War, Obito survived and changed his ways. He was allowed to return to the Hidden Leaf Village where he met you. You were a kunoichi of the Leaf who was also a part of the Anbu. You had fought against him during the war. You were one of the few besides Kakashi and Naurto who didn't shun him giving him a second chance. The two of you started dating after a while and when you went on a mission you were almost killed before he came to save you.

Warnings: Mention of injuries, suicide, and death. Notes: First time writing Obito in a while, hopefully, I did him justice. Enjoy! :) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You laid inside your bedroom tucked under your fluffy blankets with your boyfriend spooning you from behind. Obito's embrace was warm and comforting as he clung to you, burying his face into your hair. He was always extremely clingy always having a hand on you. You couldn't help but find it adorable and as of late, he got even more clingy when you two moved in together. When you first brought up the idea of him moving into your apartment a bright red blush coated his cheeks. His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side asking you if you were sure. Thinking back on it now, brought a smile to your face as you shifted a bit to look at his sleeping form.

His eyes were shut and your eyes traced the scar on his right side before looking down at his arms that wrapped around your waist. He wore no shirt only boxers allowing you to feel his muscular body press against yours as he kept you warm. He held you like you were a priceless gem that even the slightest touch could cause it to break.

He was always so gentle and sweet with you that it was hard to believe he was once a hardened criminal driven by grief and hatred toward reality. But, you knew he wasn't like that anymore. He really had changed, and even though you were a bit biased as his partner you had noticed changes in him.

So did Kakashi, who when you last spoke, he commented how Obito seemed more like his old self. You let out a content sigh at the thought happy he was recovering even if many of the other villagers couldn't see it yet.

However, you were interrupted by your thoughts as your alarm clock went off on the nightstand next to your shared bed. You moved quickly to shut it off to avoid waking your lover up as you sighed again rubbing your brow. You knew you had to get up, the sun hadn't even risen yet, but you had a mission and that couldn't be avoided as much as you wanted to stay in bed with Obito.

As you went to get up, his grip on your waist tightened as he groaned his eyes flickering open as he looked up at you. "Don't leave just yet…" he spoke softly, "Stay with me a little while longer…." he added in a quiet and gentle tone his voice still a bit groggy from just waking up.

You smiled weakly as you gave him a kiss on the lips which he happily returned pressing his lips against yours in a gentle but passionate kiss as you pulled away with a chuckle.

"I wish I could but I have a mission." You moved your hand to his cheek caressing it before continuing. "I promise to get it done as quick as I can."

The former criminal reluctantly let his hands fall down from your waist- his arms felt empty without you but he knew you had a mission to get to. He soon spoke giving you a tired smile, he would always be your biggest supporter even if you had to leave him for a few days to go on a mission he just hoped you returned soon. "Just be safe out there."

You nodded, before sneaking in another quick kiss on the lips before getting up and going to change. You quickly changed into your Anbu uniform putting your mask over your face and your katana in a sheath on your back.

As you exited the bathroom you looked back at your boyfriend one last time before you left. He had fallen back asleep his chest moving up and down slowly with each breath. You were tempted to just write a quick note to Kakashi saying you couldn't go on the mission so you could crawl back into his protective embrace but you knew you couldn't.

Instead, you admired him a little longer before leaving heading to the gates of the village to met your unit.

______________________________________________________________

A little over a week had gone by, and Obito was worried sick. Your mission was due to end three days ago you should have been back by now. He knew you could handle yourself but he couldn't stop himself from thinking the worst.

He couldn't lose you like he had lost Rin- you meant too much to him. Your bright smile and laugh were what gave him reason to keep on living after all the horrible things he has done. He knew if you died he would join you soon after as he would be incapable of going on without you.

So, he did what he does best making a risky decision by tracking you down. He had to know if you were safe, a lot of people would be interested in harming you to get to him if they knew how much you meant to him- he couldn't allow that. Even if you would be upset with him for going after you.

It was hard for him to track where you and your team had gone as Anbu missions were kept top secret. But, he pleaded with Kakashi and after seeing how distraught his old friend was gave him your general location.

He rushed there immediately wearing his usual kimono with the Uchiha Crest on the back unable to teleport as he didn't know the exact area you were only to find the bodies of your teammates. His heart fell to the pit of his stomach as his Mangekyō Sharingan spun into place as he feared the worst.

A feeling of dread and worry overcame him as he managed to focus his mind enough to sense you. He breathed a quick sigh of relief- you were still alive for now.

When he found you, you were falling to the ground. You were surrounded by ten enemy shinobi and by their wounds and a few others lying dead it was clear you put up a good fight but were outnumbered.

Obito caught you before you hit the ground cradling you in his arms and as he looked upon your unconscious face he saw red. It reminded him of when he held Rin's dead body in his arms. Your side was gashing blood and you had a cut caused by a kunai on your neck.

"You have made a grave error when you dared to even lay hands on her." He spat as he looked at the enemy ninja and they noticed the Mangekyo Sharingan and stepped back.

But, he wouldn't let them get away that easily after what they had done to his beloved girlfriend. Using his eyes he made swift work of most of them leaving only one remaining. He laid you gently down onto the grass as he grabbed the last ninja by the throat.

The shinobi's eyes widened in fear as he recognized Obito fearing for his life as he tried to fight out of his grip. "Wait- you are him! The one who started the war, you are supposed to be a heartless bastard full of hate!" He muttered. "Why are you here?"

"Hate is what motivated me in the past." he continued, "but that's different, this is different." 

His grip on his throat tightened more as he spoke. 

"You harmed my lover, my soulmate, the reason I still value living. I am not killing in the name of some plot anymore I am killing for her and her only." He paused looking into the other man's eyes with a cold look.

"You were just unlucky you encountered her, now I'll make sure your death is as painful as it could possibly be." He finished as he burned the man's face using his fireball jutsu letting him suffer for a few moments before finishing him off.

He threw the ninja's corpse to the side like a worthless piece of trash as he ran back to you bending down and putting an arm behind your head as he ripped off the sleeve of his kimono using his free hand to bandage your wounds to slow the bleeding.

When you lay there motionless your blood covering his arms and chest he lost his mind as tears fell from his eyes. He quickly picked you up hoping it wasn't too late to save you.

He felt like it was his fault you were in such a state. He should have followed you or not let you leave his warm protective embrace then you would have been safe. Now, he was going to lose you like he lost Rin- you too would die in his arms as he yet again failed the woman he loved with all of his heart as he prepared to teleport back to the village.

But, he soon felt your hand on his cheek and he looked down to see you smiling weakly at him. Your eyes reflected the light of the moon and you chuckled a bit as you spoke.

"You are definitely a sight for sore eyes, Obito." You whispered and he immediately felt a sense of relief that you were awake as he held you even closer tears still falling from his eyes as he responded.

"Don't speak too much, you are injured I'm taking you back to the village." He was not surprised the first words out of your lips were a lighthearted remark, you always cracked jokes and remained positive even in the worst of situations and he loved you for it.

"I was so worried about you... I am so sorry I should have come with you." He added as he rested his forehead against yours his tears falling onto you as you looked to see the dead bodies of your teammates.

It was a tragic loss but there was nothing you could do for them now, you had fought to protect them but in the end, you were outnumbered and probably would have joined them in death had Obito not come to save you. That would have meant their deaths would have been in vain anyway and you would have completely lost the information that was the goal of the mission in the first place.

"It's alright Obito, besides it was an Anbu mission I'm surprised you even found me." You replied as you moved your hand to wipe the tears from his eyes, you closed your eyes a bit wincing from the pain as you focused on him to distract yourself from the deaths of your teammates.

He looked at your expression with a frown. "Kakashi told me where you were after a bit of pleading." You smiled again at his words only imagining how your boyfriend had begged his old teammate to tell him where you had gone, it made you even more grateful for Obito and you would also make sure to thank the Hokage later.

"I'm still grateful you came for me." You whispered in response your voice a bit weak.

He sighed as he tightened his grip on you kissing your forehead as he prepared to take you back to the Hidden Leaf Village Hospital. "I'll always come for you, my love." You blushed at his comment as he quickly realized what he said a blush coating his own cheeks as he teleported you and himself back to the village hospital before you could question it.

He didn't regret it though, you were the love of his life. The words just slipped out before he could stop himself, but it felt right and if you were comfortable with it he would make sure to call you that more often. Besides, the blush on your face was adorable.

#naruto x y/n #obito uchiha #obito x reader #obito x you #naruto shippuden #uchiha obito

[mortemtheraven]

Artemis Fowl x Reader

References: Artemis Fowl Series by Eion Colfer

Tw: Angst

Artemis Fowl is a stoic, highly intelligent, criminal mastermind who's only a teenager. But you, (Y/n) (L/n) managed to break through his icy barrier and found his weak spot which made him vulnerable to you. Artemis Fowl may control or dare I say—manipulate everything around him, but you have that genius wrapped around your little finger.

"Please, Arty? Can we just cuddle for today?" You pouted, wrapping your arms from behind him as he sits on his study table while typing quickly on his computer.

"No, (Y/n). And don't call me Arty." He's relentless.

"Art," he tensed at your special nickname for him. He remembered the day you gave that to him; Art, short for Artemis. Because everything is art and so are you. "Please?"

Artemis composed himself. "No." He felt your arms unwrapping themselves from his shoulders and strangely felt anxious.

"Fine," Artemis flinched at the coldness of your voice. It's so not like you.

He heard his bedroom door closed, leaving the room silent. Artemis sighed and stood up, turning off his computer. Why does he feel guilty? Somehow, he's convinced you've done something supernatural to make him feel this way around you. But he knows it's just you, the whole you that gives him a hard impact.

Artemis left his room and walked downstairs, finding you sitting in their massive living room. You're facing the fireplace, huddled by yourself on their leather couch. Wrapped around you is a blanket where Artemis should be, his arms making you warm instead of an old fabric.

"(Y/n)," Artemis called, and he heard you sniff as your body tensed. Oh shoot, we're you crying? His heart clenched at the thought. "Love, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, go back to whatever you were doing. I'm fine." he heard your voice break at the last word and winced. He really did screw up.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong." Artemis insisted as he sat beside you and pulled you against him.

"Not that you care anyway." You wiped your tears hastily.

"Please, enlighten me." he said and you sighed.

"It's just—these past few months, you barely acknowledge my presence. I did everything to save this relationship, because I could feel us drifting away from each other. You've been very secretive, always busy on things that you don't wanna share with me—it's like all those memories of us together...gone. Like you never even cared, as if I was never in your list of importance. Am I?" You cried, facing Artemis with glistening tears in your eyes. Your confession made Artemis feel horrible. He never actually thought that he'd make you feel this way. His precious (Y/n), not important? He can't even imagine what he would do if you were gone. All hell would break loose.

"No, no. Of course not. You're the most important part of me, (Y/n). You're my life, you know how to put up with me despite knowing my true colors. Please don't feel that way, love." Artemis said and hugged you closer, wrapping his arms tightly as if he couldn't lose you, because he couldn't.

"I apologize if I hurt you, it was unintentional. There's just some things that I couldn't share with you for your own safety, please understand." Artemis couldn't just involve you in his war against the People. They already threatened to take you away from him once.

"I'm sorry for being melodramatic." You mumbled against his chest as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head.

"Don't be, love. I'm the one who should be apologizing here. Our relationship isn't supposed to be something that has to end. I'm not gonna lose you, you're practically irreplaceable. Tell you what, how about I set aside my errands and spend the rest of the day with you?" he suggested. You looked up at him with a bright smile that immediately made his day.

"You'd do that?" Artemis kissed your forehead once more.

"Yes, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that..." Artemis whispered, kissing down your cheeks until he reached your pump lips. Oh how he missed the feeling of your sweet lips against his. He just realized how long he's been missing out and he swore to himself that it would never happen again.

#artemis fowl #eion colfer #artemis fowl x reader

[cao-the-dreamer]

10 characters, 10 fandoms

Tagged by @greypetrel thank you! This looks fun, though idk if I'll reach 10 knowing my very few hyperfixations 😂

Tagging @lush-specimen @torisfeather @dangerouslyclassyhottub @emikokiichigo101 @selanaris @notebooks-and-laptops and YOU, the reader

1. Whirl - Transformers (IDW)

Listen. He's insane, he adopts a murderous shape-shifting creature as his daughter, he's got high heels, he spent most of the comic playing matchmaker despite saying he doesn't do "relationships", he provoked a war, he becomes best friends with the guy he tried to kill (and vice versa), he's a war criminal but since they're all war criminals it doesn't mean much lmao. Do I have to say more?

2. Batman (played Robert Pattinson) - Batman 2022

Batman but he's a soggy wet emo cat. Wanna wrap him in a blanket and listen to My Chemical Romance together.

3. Jaskier - The Witcher (TV)

Honestly he's the only reason I'm in this fandom lol. Bard but he's a damsel in distress. Let's put him in situations.

4. Fenris - Dragon Age II

Kiss me already, you handsome broody elf with a tortured past.

5. Belle - Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Me? Projecting on a beloved character from my teen years? It's more likely than you think :3

6. Mulan - Mulan 1998

Projecting again? Projecting again.

7. Papyrus - Undertale

Beloved character and beloved video game who introduced me to the concept of fandom as a whole and to my very first fanfictions.

8. Tzipporah - Prince of Egypt

Absolute queen. It's a movie I watch over and over with pleasure, and she's my favourite character.

9. Zagreus - Hades Supergiant

...I think the GIF speaks for itself XD

10. Giant - The Iron Giant

Shut up I'm not crying over a robot who doesn't want to kill SHUT UP I'M NOT--

#my stuff #not tagging because oh boy there's a lot #tag game

[safetycar-restart]

This happens most often after a workout. He’ll come home from the gym feeling all soft with pleasantly tired muscles and he’ll just shower and curl up under a blankie. You find him on the bed, only his hair poking out from his blankie cocoon and you just have to kiss his forehead. Tears immediately well in his eyes cause he’s just so small and subby and tired and you kissed his forehead.

SHELLLSSSSSSSSSUH?!?!??! BLANKIE COCOON 😭 BABY CHARLES A LIL BLANKIE BURRITO 😭

OKAY UM. RECOLLECTING MYSELF.

charlie my sensitive poor little babygirl. he loves you more than life itself and would go beyond the world to make you happy. he can never take his mind off of you, and how lucky he got when he met you. the constant affection you give him, the praise you tell him oh so sweetly - he's never had it before. all his past partners/doms had something they didn't like about charles. but you? you love all of charles. and that's what he loves about you. he could be a war criminal and you'd still hold him like a baby and kiss his nose all the time.

the smallest things get him emotional. you bringing him a snack on your way back home after hanging out with your friends, when he said he was hungry, bringing him a marigold flower because that's his birth flower, laying out soft clothes on the bed for him after he had a long day, kissing his forehead, perhaps.

once or twice, he started crying just by looking at you. you were talking to him about your day, and he was just looking at you with his face resting on his palm, listening to you. suddenly, he felt tears welling up in his eyes. why? because you're his and he's yours. you're so beautiful and angelic, and out of all people on earth, he's the one you chose to talk to about your day, to spend every day with him. and he just feels so lucky, because nobody else gets to do that, to be with such a wonderful person. it worried you, sure, but once you found out why he cried, you couldn't help but just keep him cradled in your lap for the rest of the night.

but after a long, long day, all he wants is to just cuddle up in the living room, wearing the hoodie that smells just like you, and fall asleep. so he grabs his favorite fluffy, warm white blankie, and lays down on the couch, noticing the tv is already playing his favorite movie (thanks to you). when you come back home, his head is under the blanket and his fluffy hair is peeking out. you think he's sleeping, so you walk over to him and just press a kiss to his forehead before leaving to change into some comfortable clothes.

on your way to the bedroom, you hear sniffles and soft whimpers which make you stop in the middle of the hallway. you turn back to see charles, with his head still under the blanket, lightly shaking because of the sobbing and hiccuping he's doing. you crouch down next to him and take the blanket off his face, only to be met with a pouty, teary eyed charlie boy. you know exactly why, so you waste no time in hugging him. he just sobs a soft "mommy" into your chest, kissing your arm which is by his shoulder.

"my angel, it's okay. you wanna calm down for me, hm? do you wanna let mommy get changed and sit down to cuddle or just sit like this for a while?" you ask gently, not wanting to pressure him more by suddenly leaving. "please stay a minute, please." he begs in between sniffles. "of course, angel. i will." you answer, and you do stay. you stay as long as charles wants, and then you do change and join him on the couch to cuddle.

charles is laying on your chest, his nose brushing perfectly against your jawline, both of you as close as you can possibly be. your arms are wrapped tightly around charles, while you softly run your hands up and down his back, drawing random shapes and letters on it. he's still got tear streaks in his cheekies, but the way he's sleeping tells you maybe it was worth letting him all the tears flow, even if it lasted for half an hour. there's nothing you like more than seeing him so peaceful and content, and you'd trade the world for him to be able to rest more often, and to not have a single care in the world. you kiss his head this time, careful not to wake him up and cause another breakdown, cause you might just start crying with him. sweet sweet boy.

- 📓

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO FUCKING PERFECT I LOVE IT?? 📓 anon you have somehow managed to outdo yourself AGAIN. I am speechless. Holy fuck. I’m gonna try to add some of my own thoughts but this is already absolutely incredible.

Charles has never had someone who just accepted him completely before? There’s always been something they wanted him to work on, something he had to change.

And I think a lot of that was how submissive he was? Of course partners would never outright say it. They would say things like “you need to be more self assured” and “work on your confidence” and “take what you want” and “take some initiative in the relationship” but what they really meant was “stop being so submissive and useless and take control for once.”

Which no, no he can’t do that. That’s not him. He’s fine with not being able to be submissive in a relationship, but he can’t be dominant. Absolutely not.

And so to have someone who not only fully accepts him for who he is but let’s him be as subby as he wants to all the time? He’s so in love. So so so in love.

Which is why he gets emotional over things you do but when others do it he’s fine. Like making him lunch. He’s not sobbing when his mom makes him lunch but you make him lunch and he’s having a full mental breakdown because his Dom made him lunch he’s been such a good subby baby because his Dom made him lunch and now he’s gonna get a hand on his thigh as he eats his lunch and oh god he's crying.

Of course he's gonna cry sometimes when he just looks at you, cause he's yours? He's your good boy! Your sweetheart! Of course he's gonna cry when he looks at you, cause he just feels so safe when he looks at you?

Especially when he hasn't seen you in a few days. The moment he lays eyes on you, he just feels so much love and safety because he's finally back with his comfort person and now he can let his guard down again. He's gonna get a hug and a forehead kiss and to hear about your day and obviously that knowledge will make him cry because he's just so happy!!

When he gets home from a long and tiring day, he really just wants cuddles and to hear about your day and have a forehead kiss, but you aren't home yet. However, you have prepared your sweet boy for times like this and he knows exactly what to do when he wants comfort but you aren't there because you've taught him. You would never expect your sweet little one to know what to do when he wants to be subby.

So he showers and uses your body wash and then changes into your sweater and some soft boxers and grabs the softest blankie. This blankie is so soft and so special that it's not even kept in the living room because guests aren't allowed to use it. It's kept in your cupboard and only used when Charles feels small and subby.

The sight that greets you when you get home is so sweet. Charles cuddled up so tightly in the special blankie, only the top of his head peaking out from under the blanket. You just have to kiss the top of his head, because that sight is just too cute.

You honestly think he's asleep, but he clearly isnt because once you kiss his forehead you hear little whimpers.

For a moment you think that you've done something wrong, maybe he didnt want to be touched for some reason? But then he's peaking out from under the blanket and smiling with tears in his eyes and oh he's not upset.

He's just... he was feeling so small and subby and then you kissed his head to let him know his mommy is home and it just makes him feel SO much. He just needs to have a little cry.

"Hello little one," you tell him, pulling him into your arms, "I'm sorry for taking so long but I'm right here now and we can cuddle for as long as you want, yeah?"

"Cuddles with mommy..." he mumbles, clinging to you. He seems utterly distraught but you know better. His feelings are big and scary but they are good feelings, and he just needs to have a little cry before he can calm down enough to be your giggly good boy again.

Once he's finished crying he is just so content, so soft and sweet and cuddled up in your arms. He's smiling softly at you, pressing kisses on any exposed skin he can find because his mommy is here!! So he must kiss his mommy! those are the rules.

#soft soft vibes #sub!charles #cl #f!reader #📓

[morb22]

I finished my WOK re-read. Part four and five are always such a wild ride. I was in tears for most of it.

Dalinar is such a menace when he remembers he is THAT bitch. I love him. My favorite war criminal.

Kaladin will always and forever be my sad boi. His mental health struggles are so real. I just want to wrap him up in a weighted blanket and make him watch Christmas movies and drink hot cocoa.

#kindred spirits #kaladin stormblessed #dilf Dalinar #cosmere #way of kings #stormlight #stormlight archive

[crymeariveronceagain]

linh

my honest opinion of her:

okay. so here's the thing. canon linh is. not good. when i was re-reading the books, she was the character who stuck out to me the least, meant the least to me, etc. I felt no emotional connection with her in canon, primarily because the way she's written first of all, for a background character, gives you nothing to latch onto, and her personality is constantly shifting. she's a chameleon soul, with no fixed personality or morals, going whichever way the winds of the story pull her, and it's really annoying to me.

HOWEVER. TAKE HER OUT OF CANON AND FLESH HER OUT AND MAKE HER A REAL ACTUAL PERSON WITH A SET WAY OF MOVING THROUGH LIFE AND A PERSONALITY, and she's easily one of my favorite creations in the entire series. I love her so much. Just as long as she's not a girl who could be renamed "hydrokinetic biana" or "asian maruca", yknow? each character ought to be distinct in their own right, and as far as canon linh goes, I feel like she doesn't stick out from the dark like a light she could be.

BUT ANYWAYS I REALLY LOVE THE IDEA OF LINH THATS SOFT AND SMART AND QUIET AND FRIENDLY and moves through life like she's water, passing over it all and shaping it slowly! i love a soft and kind war criminal and murderer who is haunted by what she had very little control over. i love her. i love her i love her. i want to pick her up and hug her. i want to wrap her in a blanket and give her a cup of hot cocoa. i want to kiss her forehead.

who i ship her with:

aww nobody. best little aro-ace. she's the best wingman, and she 100% teases you about your relationship. Equally it's that no one deserves her and that no one in the series matches her well enough for me to be satisfied.

predictions for the next book:

hahah i havent even read stellarlune

she's gonna immediately make up with Tam. Or never speak to him again. One of the two. Either way, it will hurt me as a writer.

She's going to learn some sort of blood-bending and the black swan is going to start taking advantage of her abilities

she's actually the key to defeating the pyrokinetics. actually.

she is going to commit a lot of murder.

Both her and Tam are getting adopted into the Alenefar family and im dying on this hill, if it doesn't happen, or isn't even implied, im actually gonna cry.

She's going to cut her hair. Jagged and short, all the silver taken out of it. She's going to sport a bob and short bangs. It's going to annoy her, but she'll grow it out again. She needs freedom from herself, to wipe the red in her ledger out, and i think a hair cut will be a great way for her to start to let go of all the past sins she's committed. She's confessed, she's done her penance, now i think all that remains is for her to finally, finally, forgive herself.

#thanks for the ask! #kotlc #kotlc linh #linh song #dadwinstan my dear #kotlc headcanons #kotlc theories #kotlc thoughts #ask game #kotlc ask game

[chaotic-orphan]

Dec. 12, prompt: snowman

Would I ever have seen myself write like this before? No.

Do I love it? Absolutely!

Will you see me tomorrow for prompt 13? Of course!!

Prompt calendar’s/challenges I fear are becoming a bit of an addiction but oop— who cares not me!

Thank you @the-modern-typewriter @the-modern-typewriter-aesthetic for getting me addicted to writing again!

Enjoy!!!

*~*~*~*~*~***~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~~**

“-police have issued a warning regarding a high security criminal who has broken out of prison in the District of City this morning. Local police have urged all citizens to be on the look out for this man. He is 5’11”, around forty years old and lean with long brown hair that reaches his chin. “

The detective turned the radio down as they pulled into the criminal’s house. They turned the car off, not really wanting to get out. They knew criminal was here. There was no question about it. They just didn’t know what they’d be walking into. Sometimes detective hated their job.

They got out of the car. Closing the door. Catching their face in the reflection. They looked tired. Maybe they were getting too old to be chasing criminal around the country the minute they do something.

Criminal’s wife answered the door. Her eyes soft and full of tears.

“Hi Criminal’s wife,” detective said softly. Noticing the crows feet around her eyes. Maybe they were all getting too old.

“Detective, please. He- he just wants to see Child.”

“I know, criminal’s wife. I know. It’s okay, where is he?”

“Out the back,” Wife said as she moved to let detective in. “Do you want some tea or something? They’ll be done soon.”

“A coffee sounds marvellous,” detective said. He walked into the kitchen and turned the kettle on. “Do you want anything?”

“Maybe a coffee too,” Wife said and detective nodded. Out the window of the kitchen you could see the backyard. Covered in a blanket of snow. Well, it would have been. If not for the half snowman that was built in the middle of it.

Criminal and Criminal’s child packing snow onto the body of the snowman as they went.

“I’ll make them some hot chocolate or something,” detective said, “then go have fun. I’ll be in here when you’re finished.”

Criminal’s wife started to cry again, running over to detective and giving him a lung crushing hug. “Thank you detective. Thank you so much.”

“It’s okay, now go.”

Detective watched her disappear from the kitchen and reappear outside. Criminal looked up at her and a wide smile broke their face as they whispered something to child.

Child looked over their shoulder and got the same grin as their dad as they reached down gathering snow in their hand.

“Don’t you dare!” Wife screamed as two snowballs went flying at her. One missed and one hit her shoulder. She laughed as she bent down gathering snow, and soon it was all out snowball war.

The kettle clicked and detective grabbed four mugs from the cupboard, went about making the rounds as they watched the small family enjoy each other’s company in the first snowfall of the year.

Detective set his coffee down at the table and sat at the end of it, looking out the French doors. He sent a quick text to partner, telling them they had criminal and to call off the man hunt. Then settled down, taking a sip of their coffee.

They really shouldn’t be doing this, but it was Christmas. What’s he gonna be a grinch? Absolutely not.

The snow started coming down hard, and they had finally got the snowman’s head up. Criminal wrapped a scarf around it, and Child put on the hat. Stones for eyes, then criminal threw a hand to his forehead and started coming towards the kitchen.

When they got to the door they hesitated, visibly swallowing before pulling the door open.

“Detective,” criminal nodded.

Detective smiled sadly, “Criminal. You look good.”

Criminal shared the same pained smile. “Thanks. You, uh, don’t.”

Detective shrugged, bring the mug to their lips, steam hitting off their nose as they mumbled, “thought that this morning myself…”

Detective nodded out the door, swallowing a mouthful of coffee. “How’s the kid?”

“They’re good,” criminal said, this time with a genuine smile, walking towards the fridge and grabbing a carrot. “They thought it was magic that it started snowing and I was here. We never- they were so excited about the snow last visit, they don’t remember seeing it, y’know? So I thought…”

Criminal trailed off, walking towards the doors again.

“There’s hot chocolate waiting for you all when you’re done.”

“Thank you, detective,” criminal smiled, pulling the door open and braced his shoulders to the snow once more.

Criminal presented the carrot to child who smiled so wide, and plucked it from Criminal’s hands. Then stuck it halfway through the snowman’s head it nearly broke in two. Criminal and wife both held each side, laughing at the near disaster. Then criminal inclined their head inside and wife looked between criminal and the door and nodded, her face growing sad again.

“There we go, look! My friend made us some hot chocolate,” said Criminal to child as child ran in.

“Your friend?” Child asked, eyebrow cocking looking the detective up and down with a stare so sharp it could take flesh off bone. Detective knew that stare, had seen it so much in criminal’s eyes over the years. Picking apart everything about you, exposing every detail. Every weakness. It nearly made detective want to confess.

Nearly.

Instead, they took a sip of their coffee. “Yeah, my friend. From work, I have to go back after our hot chocolate,” Criminal said almost wincing at the whine child let out.

“Come on, child. It’s not that bad,” wife said forcing a smile. “We got to build the snowman, hmm?”

“Yeah,” child said, settling heavy into their chair. Then they looked at detective.

“Will you take a picture for us, after we’ve done our hot chocolate?” They asked.

Detective smiled. “Of course.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The detective stopped into a pharmacy to print out the photo on their phone for criminal while they were in the car.

The criminal cradled the photograph as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“Thank you detective,” criminal said before getting taken away by the prison guards.

Detective nodded, not trusting their voice, then made their way back home.

#december prompts #december #prompt challenge #writblr #writing prompt #hero villain prompt #hero villain writing #detective story #detective stories #criminal #criminal story #angst #but the angst #my chest aches #because the idea is so sad #like criminal just wants to be a good dad #too bad he chose to be a criminal #like detective wants to be nice too #and he is #but he also has a job to do #and a duty to uphold #oh the angst #of these grown ass men