I Knew That My Life Was Going To Shift After Hearing Jake Sully Say "baby Girl" For The First Time

ONGG

eddie munson got me twirling my hair and kicking my feet n shit

Tried my best to hit the brief on this one while not making it too long!

Tagging: @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @sinfulrefugy

Reblogs appreciated, Requests open-let me know if you want to be tagged for future works!

(thank you for the gif coupleofruits!)

You remember when he was a teenager, still trying to grow that ridiculous moustache. Of course back then it was more like fluff that had gotten stuck on the top of his lip. He was full of a bravado he would eventually, mostly, age out of - though his penchant for stealing never went away. 

He first approached you at some shitty little bar you both frequented back when you were in your youth. Far too full of swagger for your liking. As if he was certain he’d pull. You looked at him over the rim of your pint and your appraisal found him wanting.

“Alright, darling?”

You’d rolled your eyes.

“What do you want?”

“To buy you a drink.”

He was definitely not old enough to be in a pub, but you’d entertained him anyway. Let him get you another beer. Ignored when he reached over the bar and thieved a bag of peanuts. Listened to him as he blustered and bellowed about himself. Then put the empty glass down, patted him condescendingly on the cheek, and walked off while he was too stunned to know what to do.

You ran into him a couple of more times, before he started getting jobs. He was still as full of himself as he had been that night.

Then he killed someone for the first time.

You found him shaking in an alleyway on your way home, curled up foetus-like against the wall. White shirt stained red and next to a pool of blood. You groaned and, against your better judgement, trudged over to him.

He looked up at you with wide, wild eyes. The eyes of a man who hadn’t felt it sink in yet.

“Where’s Lemon?” 

You liked Lemon, actually. Lemon was a laugh. Liked Thomas the Tank Engine a bit too much but hey, there are worse flaws for a bloke to have.

“He’s getting rid of the body.”

A long, drawn out sigh that you forced between your teeth.

And then he was in your flat, you were making him a cup of tea and helping him clean up. His hands still shook and he spilled some of his builder’s brew on your carpet. Your carpet, however, had seen a lot worse, and you weren’t upset about that.

“You’ll get used to it. The first one is the hardest.” 

You could see he doubted that, but he let you take off his knuckledusters and clean them down for him. Your fingers were surprisingly gentle on his own. As if he hadn’t just become a killer.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, love.”

And from then on you really ran in the same circles. You knew he found out that you were right. The first one was the hardest. Because you saw him take his next life, some cunt who was stalking you home one night with a knife, and there wasn’t a flicker of regret in his eyes. 

As the two of you got older the severity of the jobs you were both sent on worsened. It was a good thing he had Lemon by his side. The two of them would not shut the fuck up with their bickering, but they kept each other grounded.

You? You worked alone. Didn’t mean when you would bump into them on an assignment you weren’t happy to see them, though.

One night you found yourself in a little hole-in-the-wall joint in Dublin. Small place, crammed full. He was standing so close the two of you were touching hips.

“Let me get you a drink.”

His voice was a low rumble in your ear.

An eye roll that was practically second nature when he was involved.

“One drink, Tangerine. And no more.”

And that’s what it was. That’s what it always was.

*

Outside the train windows, Japan flies by. He’s in the middle of berating Lemon for not reading the briefing when he sees you. He stops mid-sentence and lets his mouth hang open.

“What?” Lemon asks, furrowing his brow and following his brother’s gaze. When he clocks you, he lets out an incredulous little laugh. “Ha! What are the fucking chances?”

Tangerine doesn’t stop to engage in banter. Instead, he’s on his feet, striding down the carriage towards you.

You’re looking through the baggage. You don’t realise he’s there until he’s next to you, and he makes you jump so hard that you almost yelp.

“Tangerine!” you laugh, amazed. He’d never admit it, but he feels his heartbeat quicken in his chest. Him. You’re pleased to see him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Maybe it’s the fact, even in the harsh lighting of the train, you can’t fail to look fucking enchanting - or maybe it’s because you’ve always had a special place in his soul from the day you first met in that bar. But either way, he’s entirely serious when he speaks.

“Let me buy you a drink. A proper one. Actually, fuck it - let me take you out for dinner.” He’s not begging, but he’s not far from it. You blink in surprise. And for the first time you consider it.

“Alright, Tangerine. Alright.”

Literally a piece of art

Anything (König x Reader)

Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper. The altercation ends in your hospitalisation and when you've finally recovered, Price assigns the same man who destroyed you to teach you how to never let it happen again.

Requested by @sinnerburrito:

#68 Are you afraid of me?

A/N: I have no idea how we got here.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic description of violence, graphic description of injury and graphic language.

“You’re a liability.”

The words rang like a church bell. You were never one for petty violence but in that moment, after he’d so calmly said the words, you thought that you just might kill him.

“A liability?” You hissed, glaring at your superior like he’d grown two heads. “I’m a sniper, Sir, not a fucking ninja.”

The captain simply shifted his weight lazily, unfazed by your temper. He’d dealt with it many times throughout the years but it hadn’t bothered him because you weren’t inherently his. You were somebody else’s spitfire, under another unit’s command; but now you were part of the 141 and you needed to learn.

“Come on, Birdy. You know I’m right.”

Birdy.

You had Soap to thank for the name. ‘Snipers and birds both shit on people from above’. It wasn’t creative and honestly you could have thought of one hundred better names to offer, but once Ghost started addressing you by Birdy, it was set in stone.

When you said nothing, he continued.

“You can’t fight your way out of a wet paper bag,” he scoffed, swallowing a snort when your eyes widened. “Sniper’s need to defend themselves too, Birdy. You learnt that the hard way, remember?”

How could you not?

The knife wound had healed but the memory of it had not. Images of the hooded man wedging a blade into your shoulder flickered across your vision. Fists bearing down onto your jaw. Fingers wrapped around your throat.

A chill skittered across your skin.

“So, what’s your suggestion?” You crossed your arms over your chest.

When the corner of Price’s mouth quirked upward, you’d already begun to regret asking.

“Simple, really.” He shrugged, “someone’s gonna train ya.”

Your stomach dropped and a cold shiver traced the length of your spine.

“Who, Sir?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “Ghost’s not here. Everyone’s on leave.”

Price smirked.

“Not everyone.”

___

You felt nauseas.

Anxiety had your stomach in a death grip, and it was all you could do to not throw up. Pacing up and down the gym mats, you tried to cool your nerves.

There was only one person that had remained a complete anomaly to you and now he’d been given literal permission to beat the shit out of you.

Training.

You remembered what they loved to call ‘training’ at your old unit. You’d never been the fastest or the strongest, that was not your job. You were the one who could take make an impossible shot a kilometre away, but that’s not what ‘training’ entailed.

Your body ached at the memory.

There was a small noise by the doorway and your body stiffened. He was letting you know that he was there, his equivalent of a knock.

You both knew that he could have had you on your back whenever he pleased.

“König.” You acknowledged him as confidently as you could, turning to face the beast head on.

The giant stood in the doorway looking like the fucking bogey man himself.

“Birdy,” König inclined his head. Those dark, watchful eyes observed you from beneath his hood, taking in your visage. Heat licked the back of your neck and you began to sweat under his gaze.

He was clad in his usual getup from the waist down, the tactical cargo pants and the hefty boots being his barracks favourite. It was the hoodie that had caught you by surprise, you’d seen it a few times in passing, but up close it rendered you breathless.

“I didn’t realize you were staying with the 141,” you said, swallowing nervously as he stepped into the room, ducking his head to avoid hitting the frame above.

This was a sick, sick joke.

“My transfer was approved,” was the only explanation that he offered you.

You knew, logically, that what had happened between the both of you had been a misunderstanding. It was a communication failure on behalf of the brass that had almost gotten you killed but the idea of working with him, training with him, made your stomach drop.

König’s hands got to work removing his gloves and the memory of those fingers wrapped around your throat made you flinch.

You’d set up a sniper’s test atop the rooftop, watching the entrance of the building the 141 was infiltrating. They were going to flush out the target and send him running right into your line of fire.

No-one had been informed of KorTac’s involvement.

You’d heard König before you’d seen him, the dismantling of your trip mine giving you enough indication to roll onto your back to investigate. By then, he was already upon you.

You’d kicked the rifle from his hands but that was where your advantage finished. He’d dragged you by your ankles from your weapon, straddling your flailing body as he got to work. The knife he’d brandished stabbed into your flesh violently, and at first, you’d thought he only punched you.

Until the searing hot pain bloomed across your body and blood sprayed across his hood.

Those emerald eyes were wild and hard as he gripped your face over your balaclava. You couldn’t think to react, dizzied by the agony of knife he twisted into your skin. His palm covered the entirety of your features, fingers tight against your temples as he pulled your head forward then smashed it back into the concrete.

You thought your skull had exploded.

Fists ploughed into your jaw but it was as though you were numb now. Finally, his fingers were drawn to your throat, squeezing tightly as he leaned in. The cloth of his hood brushed against your battered body, filling the space between you as his lips pressed against your ear.

“Your fight is finished,” he hissed heatedly. Then König pressed down into your skin.

You don’t remember what happened afterward. You knew that he’d been called off by his chain-of-command just in time to stop himself from ending your life, but that was according to Soap.

You were in a coma for two weeks.

It took you months to recover.

And only once you came back to work, fit to fight and ready to go, had you discovered that König had applied to transfer into the 141 shortly after the incident. KorTac had offered him up to fill in your position while you recovered.

Not only had the bastard nearly killed you but he’d taken your place.

Now that you were back, he would lose his place as a sniper and be back to running with the team on the ground.

König watched you carefully from where he stood.

“You’re my instructor,” you said plainly, stating the obvious. “Price made you my hand-to-hand combat trainer.

“Ironic, isn’t it,” his voice came quietly from beneath the hood, a small snort following in suit.

You would have laughed had you not been so fucking terrified. You were about to take your place back on the team, a position this giant clearly wanted and now he was given the chance to put you back into the hospital with no questions asked.

You wouldn’t be able to do anything against him. König was a mountain of a man, a force to be reckoned with, and while he tried to make himself as disarming as possible it was implausible to hide that frame.

“Did you want to get started?” König asked, leaning his hip against the table beside him. He was so casual for someone who had nearly killed you.

“No,” you said simply.

“Are you not up for this?” König ventured carefully, pushing off the bench and taking a slow step towards you. Your heart thrashed against your ribs at his approaching figure and you forced yourself to stay still. “You still have bruising-“

“That’s what happens when someone shatters your fucking face, cunt,” you snapped, casting your gaze from his. You were hoping that he wouldn’t bring it up, everyone had danced around your condition for so long. No one spoke about how fucking ugly you looked as you tried to recover.

“It was an accident,” his voice was hard, almost bewildered at your sudden aggression. “We both paid the price for someone else’s mistakes.”  

“Don’t talk to me about paying the price, you fucker,” you snapped, shoving against his chest. König yielded a step and it infuriated you even further to know that he’d allowed it. “You got the fucking job you wanted, you got the transfer you wanted, you got the training you wanted. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but-“

“You wanna know what I got?” You snapped, shoving him harder this time. König’s eyes narrowed and he snatched your wrists, holding them against his ribs to stop your assault. You continued anyway, walking his body backward until his heels hit the wall. “I got put into a fucking coma.”  

König’s gaze softened, his chest heaving beneath your hands. You could feel his heart pounding beneath your fists, you could hear his breaths grow ragged.

“I know,” he murmured, his fingers tightening on your wrists. “I was assigned to watch over your bed for those two weeks."

You stared at him for a long moment, sniffling and gasping for air after your rant. König lowered his head and his grip loosened.

“What I did to you…” he trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. How ugly must you have become that he couldn’t withstand looking at his own handiwork?

You turned around, hiding the hot tears forming along your lashes. You were so fucking ashamed by the terror gripping your throat, embarrassed by how much your image affected you. You hated feeling disgusting. You felt like everyone’s eyes were on you at all times it was suffocating you, they gawked and stared and whispered about how your 'pretty face was ruined.'

You began to understand why people wear masks.

“You ruined me,” you rasped. “And I couldn’t do anything to stop you.”

König was silent from behind you, mulling over your words. You couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your outburst. He had stabbed you, shattered your skull, broken your nose and jaw and nearly snapped your neck- he deserved to listen to you yell at him at the very least.

Fingers slid over your shoulders, slowly turning you around to face him. You tugged against his hold half-heartedly, vision swimming beneath never-ending tears.

“Look at me, Birdy.” His voice was soft and pleading, his hand slowly moving to cup your bruised jaw. You froze as he manoeuvred you, forcing you to face him square on. König slowly lowered himself to rest a knee on the ground, leaving him still taller than you but closer to eye level.

With the hand that was free, he reached for his hood. You swallowed nervously as he carefully pulled it from his head, resting the cloth on his upright knee.

Dirty blonde hair lay splayed across his forehead, the length curling by his ears. Dark brows framed the emerald gaze that watched you intently, taking in your visage as you observed him. All of him.

The scars caught your attention.

Winding from his upper lip, across his eye and leaving a line through his brow, the winding length of damaged skin presented itself. There was another scar along the bridge of his nose that travelled across the width of his cheekbone and into his hair.

“Do I…” König trailed off, full lips parting as he mused over his next words. You stared in awe at the innocence of the freckles smattered across his features. “Are you afraid of me?”

You said nothing for a long moment, mesmerized by the features of a man that had haunted your thoughts for months. He’d been the centre of your existence for so long, the reason you ached and the reason you’d bled. König had plagued your every waking moment ever since the incident, and now he knelt before you. He was on his knees baring his vulnerabilities to you, knowing you could destroy him with it.

“Of course,” you whispered; your voice shaky as you met his gaze.

König’s expression became pleading, “then let me teach you how to beat me.”

His thumb lightly caressed your purple cheek, brows furrowed as he took in his handiwork. “Let me pay for what I’ve done by teaching you how to never let it happen again. And when you finally beat me, revenge will be yours and you may do as you wish.”

“Anything I want?” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

A wry, sad smile pulled at the corner of König’s mouth.

“Anything, mein vöglein.”

My little bird.

Oh my god

Skilled Hands

Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!Reader

1.4k | After taking a shower in your allocated safehouse, Ghost finds an excuse to touch you. He’s a professional through and through, but that doesn’t mean he won’t give you hints about how fond he is of you.

Content: First and foremost, fluff; Ghost gets a boner but apart from some light brushes and touching he doesn’t do anything about it. No mentions of gender, reader is mentioned to be as tall as Ghost’s chest.

A moment’s respite in a gruelling mission.

High atop the mountains somewhere in the Andes, nestled between two peaks that disappeared into the clouds, you and Ghost were taking a night to wind down from all the trekking. The altitude and too-public nature of the approach didn’t lend itself to a heli drop-off, so you’d been tasked with hiking to the enemy base, which intel had told you was a three day walk.

Two days in and you’d reached the safehouse, or rather, safe-cabin that had been waiting for you. A run-down little thing with barely-hot water which provided a place to make final preparations before the stealth aspect of the mission commenced.

Steam followed your towel-clad body as you exited the bathroom, your eyes already adjusted to the low candlelight with which the cabin flickered. There was no point turning the lights on and drawing suspicion, though the cabin was tucked into a pretty secluded nook in the rocks.

You could feel Ghost’s eyes snap to you the moment you emerged, once again ignoring the gut instinct to flinch from his heavy gaze. Despite working with him for months now, you had yet to grow an immunity to those dissecting eyes. Even with your ghillie suit on you would’ve felt naked.

“Sore?’” He asked, perception his most active quality as he analysed the slight way you twinged in pain as you laid out your sleeping clothes.

You hummed a confirmation, barely able to turn your head to face him as your neck pinched again. You brought a hand up, fruitlessly massaging at the damp skin. “Didn’t realize ghillies added so much weight to the pack.”

Keep reading

Lov

Night Hunters

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

NOTE : This takes place before Kiri and Tuktirey, so the reader is Jake's youngest child and only daughter.

ENJOY AND HAPPY NEW YEAR LOVES

Giggles erupted from you as you padded through the forest, rapidly ducking underneath leaves and hopping over mushrooms. Your movements were fluid--just like your mother taught you--as you briefly glanced back for your pursuer. However, when you failed to see him, you skidded to a stop.

Panting, you twisted around, looking over your shoulders. Though the hour was late, the forest was far from inactive. Creatures, that were currently not within your eyesight, chirped around you. A gust of wind blew your hair, causing you to whip around, once again. However, your soaring heart slowed when you caught sight of a group of fan lizards. You followed them with your gaze, watching as they soared higher and higher into the air.

The glow from their bioluminescent wings lit the surrounding area, giving everything they glided past a temporary glow. As they flew deeper into the forest, the glow from one of the lizards suddenly illuminated a pair of yellow eyes. Upon seeing their glow, you gasped as your heart jumped, releasing a scream before turning around and taking off at a sprint.

As you ran, you heard bigger, heavier footsteps behind you, further fueling your adrenaline rush. Giggles poured out of your mouth as you pushed yourself to run faster, desperately weaving between trees and hopping over bushes.

Grunting, you pushed your legs to move faster. You didn't dare look back, knowing that the action would only slow you down.

When you felt yourself gain a bit of distance, you ducked underneath an oversized leaf, allowing it to conceal your presence. Releasing a breath, you gently sat down and pressed your back against the plant. Reaching behind you, you grabbed your queue and brought it over your shoulder. You, then, took a piece from the rest of your hair, absentmindedly playing with it between your fingers as you waited.

Thank goodness Mommy let me wear my hair out today, you thought to yourself.

You'd been begging your mother to style your hair in the same hairstyle that she wore on special occasions--where most of her hair was down, except for the front portion, which would be pulled behind her head and held with a flower. You knew that, if you had beads in, the noise from them might give you away.

For a long moment, you didn't hear any movement around you. That quickly changed, however, when you saw a familiar silhouette come into view. The soft, nocturnal glow from the forest illuminated the area around the figure, making its shape show more prominently through the leaf. You covered your mouth as the tall figure stalked closer to your hiding place. As the figure turned, still searching, its queue whipped around behind it.

Pressing your hand tighter to your mouth, you shook with anticipatory giggles. However, when one slipped out, you sucked in a breath as your eyes widened.

The figure whipped around, now facing you. Then, at an agonizingly slow pace, it lowered itself to its knees before beginning to crawl. You held your breath as you pressed your back against the plant. It drew closer, stalking forward like a predator scoping out its prey.

Before long, it was right in front of you. The leaf was the only boundary between you and your predatory pursuer. Your heart pumped within your chest, echoing inside your ears as a pair of hands made their way around each side of the leaf.

Unable to hold yourself anymore, you squealed, giggling loudly as the hands crawled towards you, moving in a motion that resembled two spiders. As the "spiders" closed in, you pulled your feet in, tucking them closer to you. However, the spiders anticipated this movement and grabbed your ankles before you could pull them out of reach.

"No!" you squealed, giggling as you tried to free your feet.

"Oh, Y/N . . . ?" the figure finally spoke, making you giggle louder, "Where, oh where, has my babygirl gone?"

With one quick pull, you were yanked from under the leaf. The quick force caused you to fall onto your back. You covered your face, shielding your eyes from the awaiting gaze of the vicious predator that had been stalking you. However, once you came to a stop, the hands released your ankles.

Though your vision was blocked, you could feel a large body hovering over you. The feeling of a couple of loose strands of hair brushed over your hands. Then, large hands gripped your wrists and forced them away from your eyes. Immediately, you were face-to-face with the mischievous, awaiting gaze of your father.

Tilting his head, a playful smile pulled at his lips. "There she is," he growled.

Letting out a scream, you sat up and tried to run, once again. However, Jake didn't let you escape this time. After quickly grabbing your waist, he scooped you up.

"Oh no you don't," he said, laying you back down on the ground.

Desperate giggles fell from your lips as you squirmed, looking up at your father. He chuckled as he grabbed your fighting arms and held them in place.

With a subtle shake of his head, he rasped, "You're mine now."

He, then, lowered his head to your stomach and blew an enormous raspberry onto your skin. Squeezing your eyes closed, you shrieked with giggles, squirming desperately at the ticklish sensation.

After a moment, Jake raised his head, wanting to get a look at your face. Upon seeing your joyous expression, he broke into a smile before beginning to laugh himself. Then, he lowered his head again, placing his lips back on your belly. This time, he blew a shorter raspberry before shaking his head back and forth, making playful growling noises into your skin. You threw your head back, hollering with childish laughter, once again.

Then, without warning, he raising your arms before alternating between your hollows and neck, blowing short raspberries into your skin. Your laughter spiked, increasing an octave as the sensation became nearly unbearable.

Sensing your lack of breath, Jake let up, raising his head to watch you. He smiled fondly as your giggles slowly quieted down. Shaking his head, he chuckled before lowering his head to you again. Thinking he was going to blow another raspberry, you shrugged your shoulders, shrinking away from him as anticipatory giggles bubbled up again.

This made him laugh more. "No more tickles, baby," he said, placing a kiss on your forehead, "Just wanted to give you a kiss."

You let out a breath as he released you. However, since you were too tired to move from your position on the ground, you simply stayed put. As Jake leaned up, he positioned himself to sit down before turning back to you. When he saw you panting on the ground, he threw his head back in laughter.

"Aw, babygirl," he chuckled, reaching down and picking you up, "Too ticklish for your own good?"

You shook your head, leaning against him as he placed you on his lap.

"No?" he asked, chuckling as you shook your head again, "Well, you definitely have it worse than your brothers, that's for sure."

"Why should I suffer for that?" you exclaimed, making Jake place a hand on your head and laugh again.

The sudden sound of a low growl ceased both of your movements. Looking up, you quickly realized that the growl hadn't come from your father. Jake jumped up, pushing you behind him as he faced the direction of the growl. As he kept his left hand on your stomach, keeping you behind him, his right hand reached into his belt and pulled out his knife.

Fear spiked within you as a thanator slowly emerged from the bush. Gasping, you reached up and grabbed Jake's hand.

"Daddy," you whimpered, feeling your heart rate pickup.

""It's okay, babygirl," he replied.

Though he was now heavily distracted, he took the time to give your small hand a gentle squeeze. Peeking around his much taller body, you watched as the thanator let out a venomous hiss. Jake, who had not taken his eyes off of the carnivorous creature, narrowed his eyes before tilting his head. Then, he let out a hiss of his own, challenging the creature.

Shivers ran down your spine as you heard the chilling sound. You'd never heard him hiss in such a way.

Just as the creature began to stalk forward, a loud squawk was heard from above. You gasped as Jake's ikran suddenly flew in from above the trees. Crowing loudly, it landed in between Jake and the thanator before turning to hiss at the approaching creature.

You barely had time to register the moment before Jake scooped you up and hopped onto the creature's back. With you sitting in front of him, he secured the bond before giving it an order.

"Yah!" he yelled, signaling the creature to take off.

Sucking in a breath, you leaned back against your father's chest as the ikran took off in a vertical position, briefly missing the thanator's reaching claws as it jumped.

As the ikran took you through the trees, wind rushed past your ears. Heart pounding, you reached out and grabbed your father's wrist. After glancing down, he freed one of his hands and gripped your waist.

"I got you, sweetheart," he said, "It's okay."

Too stunned to respond, you simply nodded and allowed him to hold you to him.

At last, you surpassed the treetops and reached the night sky. Your jaw dropped as you took in the view. Below you, the forest's glow was still visible. Above you, stars gleamed through the dark blue blanket that coated the sky. Neighboring planets were also visible, filling the sky with their blue radiance.

Jake temporarily released you to level out the ikran before gripping you again.

Your father had never taken you on his ikran before, not that he'd ever intended to. Jake had planned for your first time to be after the final hunter exam, should you choose to become a hunter. However, in that moment, he knew that this exception was more than necessary. He couldn't have been more grateful for his ikran's aid in getting you out alive.

"Whew." He released a breath. "I shouldn't have had you out this late, anyway. Your mother's not gonna be too happy with me."

You looked up at him. "Please don't stop our night adventures, Daddy," you replied.

He glanced down at you before smiling gently. "Don't worry about that now, babygirl," he responded, "Just try to get some shut-eye, alright?"

After releasing a sigh, you nodded before leaning back against his chest. You felt him place a kiss on your head before rubbing your stomach. With one last look at the sky, and the glowing forest below you, you closed your eyes.

Taglist : @eywas-daughter @pturnersblog @bombshe77

Creepy girl

Word Count: 961

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Sniffing, Is this kind of weird? Yes.

“Take off the mask”, you whispered out, voice cracking from how light it carried out.

A beat of silence, “No.”

You rolled your eyes and tilted your head, “You took it off before, whats it matter if you take it off now?’

He thought back to what you said, almost a full year ago. The first time he took off his mask in front of the whole team, you didn't look. You stared straight ahead and avoided meeting his eyes. Standing as stiff as a board, even when you reached out to grab a mask. Unlike the rest of the team, you never looked.

A few days later when he caught you alone, and managed to keep you talking longer than a few seconds, he slipped in the question. “Why didn't you look?”

To which you gave a simple reply, “Because I didn't want to see.”

He accepted your lack of interest and bid you a silent goodbye, but you continued to talk and stop him in his tracks before he could even reach the door to his room.

“I feel like if I see you, then you'll really see me too, and I don't want that.”

He paused and then nodded. Leaving you alone in the dark, desolate hall.

He thought back to what you said almost a full year ago, and thinks he finally understands what you meant, or at least somewhat in his own way.

He looks at you through the holes of his mask. You sit beside him on your knees, tilting your head awaiting his answer. The room is dark, no light except for moonlight coming through the window right behind him.

Your eyes are glossy from the few sips of booze you had, your eyelashes are clumped together, and you have a small hint of a smirk on your lips. He can not fathom what's going on in that head of yours.

“You said you didn't want to see it, what's with the sudden change of heart?”

Your ghost of a smirk fell and you bit your bottom lips, eyes drifting off his for only a second.

“I don't want to kiss fabric.”

An instant throb to his heart. A pulse of anxiety rocked through his body in a flash. And for a moment everything tingles. His cheeks, his forehead, his chest, all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

“Take it off”, you blinked.

He could see you were nervous. You always blinked so much when you were. And now you couldn't even sit still. You shifted into a criss cross position, no longer on your knees.

“No.”

“So you'll show everyone, just not me. Why?”

“I don't want to fall in love with you.”

He cringed at the sound of his own voice. Not believing the words that flew out of his mouth were his own. No, there's no way.

But it was the truth, he doesn't want to love you. He doesn't want to love anyone at all. He wants to be by himself, wallow in his puddle of self pity, and use his right hand for the rest of his life. He’s undeserving. He’s all dirty and used up, and you-

You are perfect.

He saw the way you paused. Struck frozen and uncomfortable at his sudden “outburst” so to say. He waited for you to console him and tell him it was alright to fall in love, and some of the fairytale bullshit you love to spew out. How he was “deserving” of it.

But you didn't. Instead you nodded, and smiled at him. A soft, understanding smile. The kind he just wanted to yell off your face.

“Then let me do something else”

“And what is that?”

“You'll think I'm weird.”

“What makes you think I don't already?”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Fine. You'll think I'm creepy.”

“Do your worst.”

He found himself waiting again. You hesitated for a moment before leaning forward, planting your face in the crook of his neck, and a hand on the back of his head.

And with that you took a deep breath in through your nose.

You smelled him.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

You pulled away and searched for his reaction. Sitting tight and stiff.

“Looks like you were right. You are one creepy girl.”

You laughed at his monotone attempt at a joke, and he basked in the sound of it.

There was another beat of silence, a deafening and awkward one at that.

“Seems it's only fair if I let you do it too.”

Again. An instant throb to his heart. A pulse of anxiety, a much longer lasting one coming in waves. His face felt hot. Jacuzzi hot.

You turned your head, exposing your neck. He leaned forward, his plastic mask felt cold against the side of your face and neck, but nonetheless you enjoyed every second of it.

Your stomach flipped, and you tensed up. Your breath caught in your throat and you looked off to the side.

Thoughts completely blank.

He drank in your scent, breathing in the skin on your neck.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

His gloved hand brought your hair towards his mask and he breathed in through his nose again, harder this time.

One second, two seconds, three seconds, four-

“What do I smell like?”

He spoke into your neck, “Vanilla, strawberries, girly shit.”

He finally pulled back, and looked at you. Barely making out your face, the moon must’ve shifted.

“What's it for?”, he asked.

“Smelling nice, i guess-“

“Smelling me, I mean. What the point?.”

You shrugged, “Something to remember you by. Something to think about later when you're not here.”

“You like the smell of rain and smoke?”

“I like the smell of you.”

Scary Dog

You need a new printer. Sometimes you need to bring negotiation aids.

Useless, shitty little one-shot because I need something else to work on.

Konig x Medic!Reader

Scary dog privileges

Your pen tapped against the desk you sat at. The smell of sanitizer and printer ink was fresh on your nose.

And, well your skin too.

That goddamn printer, it was always breaking, half of the time you thought it would just catch fire.

It would be easier that way if it just did, then you'd be able to get a new one.

But, alas, you weren't the head bitch of the armed-with-alcohol-pads crew. That lovely position was reserved by Lud.

All the other doctors lovingly refer to him as Dud.

Because that is what he is.

A Dud.

A lazy, selfish, piece of-

You were getting sidetracked.

He would always deny your requests for a new printer, and at this point, it was a hindrance to your job.

The black ink splattered all over you, staining your shirt and skin was proof of that.

You prided yourself in your work,

your efficiency.

Your ability to get the things others couldn't get done, done.

Just so happened that because of this, you got the....

How could you phrase it?

Well,

you got the scary dogs.

They were big, and they looked mean as hell.

But all it took was a threatening glance and they were rolling over showing their soft puppy bellies to her.

Maybe it was the dum dums you brought back from America to give them as a treat for being a good patient.

"That's it!" You slapped your hands on your desk, throwing the muddled papers scatted across the floor as you swiped your arms across the desk.

All of the papers were useless, all thanks to that fucking printer.

Stomping out of your little office, you made your way through the hallway and into the main living space for the team.

"I need a dog!" You yell, catching everyone in the space's attention.

"What?" One of the men ask.

You promptly ignore him, scanning the room and walking- angrily - might you add to find the perfect scary dog.

"A big- scary fucking dog!" You flail your arms in the air.

And your eyes landed on him.

Oh.

He'd do.

He'd do just fine.

"König." You call out, sickly sweet.

He was already staring at you, giving you a cautious glance.

"Did you fight an octopus, doctor?" He asks.

His accent, it was thick.

Just like the rest of him, you suppose.

Music to your ears.

"Would you please accompany me to Doctor Dud?"

He stands, lifting his body to its natural heigh, towering above you.

Perfect.

"Is everything alright?"

"I just need you... to be my big scary dog." You smile.

That smile could make him do horrible things.

"Uh...?" He asks, confused.

"Be intimidating. Be my persuasion, can you do that for me? Please König?" You bat your eyelashes- not too much. A subtle blink or so.

His name falling off your lips.

He had to catch himself for falling forward as he zoned out, looking down at you as you so sweetly begged for his presence.

"Of course." He nodded.

"Great!" You grinned, that evil toothy Cheshire smile.

Pulling him along- not this his long stride took up two of yours- you stood outside of Dud's office. Knocking on the door twice, you pushed the door open and made eye contact with him.

He never really took the time to work with the special teams.

They were a little rowdy for him.

"What do I owe the pleasure....." His voice trailed off, looking up and meeting the narrow, deadly gaze of König.

"Oh, I think the printer is on the fritz again!" You laughed lightly, innocently.

Oh, how evil.

"... I can see that." He said.

"I think it would be best if I just got the new printer." You said, tilting your head to the side. "You see, König was in my office but he can't go about his day until his paperwork gets finished!" You laughed.

"Well... I don't think a new one is in the cards right now-"

"Oh no!" You fake pouted. "I'd hate to cause your mission to delay König." She glances up at him.

His eyes were fixed on Dud.

His presence loomed.

It was as if he sucked the heat from the room, leaving the air in a suffocating freeze.

"Oh- well-" Dud stammers.

"We wouldn't want to cause any inconveniences to König here, would we?" You ask innocently.

Dud swears that a red glint flashes in König's eyes.

"Of course not!" He all but heaves out, sweat collecting on his brow.

"So, new printer?" You ask happily.

"I'll have it brought down right away."

"Great!" You smile, turn, and quickly walk out of the door.

König doesn't move, opting to leave an impression by standing there in silence a few seconds longer, staring into his soul.

"König!" You call.

His head snaps back, releasing him from his trance. He spins on his heel and quickly exits the room, tailing you.

Man, maybe next you could get new linens!

A Friendly Auction

Tangerine x !GN Reader x !Platonic Ladybug

Word Count: 4.5K

SFW; Language, Jealousy, Possessiveness (all from our best fruit boy)

After being out of commission for a little while, you're getting back into the industry by attending a job auction. You see some familiar faces.

A/N: *speaks into the mic* Hi, did anyone order a *checks notes* jealous Tangerine, and a bestie named Ladybug?

There were a few requests for these, I combined some themes but will definitely be doing more. I have unlocked an addiction to jealous Tangerine and writing a platonic Ladybug is really fun too.

Tall industrial buildings, most of them vacant or under construction, lined the sides of the street as your car flies down the empty road. Coasting through the rundown, abandoned side of the city, pot holes dotted the asphalt and you had to swerve to avoid them. Only sounds of the engine and wheels on pavement fill the small cabin. On the passenger seat beside you was your cellphone, a half empty pack of cigarettes, and an auction invite. Flashy gold lettering on thick paper caught the light of the afternoon sun through the window, shining in your peripheral vision.

Refusing to look at it, but picturing it clearly in your mind anyway, you muttered under your breath. “Fucking ridiculous.”

When you had received the invite along with instructions, you wanted to throw it away, act like you had never gotten it. A job auction? Are you joking? Your boss, a woman you highly respected and had worked with for years, was sending you to do errands for her.

“Just scope it out; see who’s bidding. Think of it as a way of getting back into the swing of things.”

Yeah. Not insulting in the least.

Slowing the car, you turned down a narrow, patchy road, squeezed in between two brick buildings. At the end of it was a guarded security gate blocking off a much wider section of an empty lot in front of a two-story warehouse.

You rolled down your window as your car crawled to a stop, leaning on your forearm to stick your head out. Three heavily armed guards were coming out of the little hut positioned at the side of the gate to meet you. There were more inside, two sat in front of monitors; they were armed to the teeth as well.

Cheerily, you greeted them with a polite smile. “Good afternoon!”

Their faces never lifted from a deep-set scowl.

The one closest marched up to your window and barked orders at you. “Please step out of the vehicle with your invite.”

Well at least he said please.

Over the next few minutes, you stood outside as they inspected your invite, patted you down, and searched your car for any weapons. They even had a dog sniff you and the car’s undercarriage. That was new; security had gone up since the last time you had come to one of these things.

Not that you could blame them. Maintaining peace in a neutral zone where all criminal families (and a bunch of no-good contract killers) could meet, had to be one nightmare of a job. Those that ran the show at least mitigated the risk by choosing who got an invite. Reputation came into play no doubt—generous donations helped too.

Satisfied that you weren’t trying to sneak anything in, the guard motioned for you to go ahead, keeping your invite. That’s too bad, you wanted a souvenir.

Only a few other cars were in the lot when you parked. Every single one of them nice, probably worth a small home; your car was no exception—fitting in is preferrable for this line of work. You parked away from the rest, maintaining the space like everyone else. Checking the time on your phone, you were pleased; even after the long security process, you were early by 25 minutes,. Being early was good, especially when some mob bosses considered tardiness a personal insult.

Grabbing the pack of cigarettes off your passenger seat, you got out and leaned up against the car door. No one would appreciate you smoking inside, and this would give you an opportunity to see whoever showed up next.

It wasn’t long before someone did, and they parked right next to you.

“What the fuck…” You murmured, lit cigarette hanging between parted lips. Then, the car door swung open and you were greeted with a goofy smile and a head of blond hair.

Ladybug flew around the side of his car, throwing his arms out wide. “Holy shit! Welcome back to the land of the living!”

A smile instantly lit up your face as your old friend walked up and embraced you heartily.

“You call auctions living?” You laughed, speaking into his shoulder as you returned the hug.

“Aw, come on. It has to be better than the hospital, right?” He pulled away, checking you over with a hand on your shoulder. “How long did they keep you?”

You huffed, flicking your cigarette ash onto the pavement. “Three fucking weeks, I was going stir crazy!” Giving a wave of your hand, leaving a fading trail of smoke behind, you add, “I started smoking so they would let me sit outside a few times a day.”

Ladybug’s laugh was infectious, and it was enough to lighten your mood; you were suddenly glad you came.

His hand left your shoulder as he leaned back against his own car to face you. “How are you feeling now?”

“Good!” You motioned to your right leg, lifting it a little. “Sometimes I’ll get the odd phantom pain, but other than that, brand new. Ready to start working again.” You motioned toward him with a wide smile. “What have you been up to?”

“I’ve just been looking around for grab and go jobs, I’m tired of shooting people—tired of getting shot at.” He pauses to ask with a raised brow.“Are you bidding?”

“No, not today. Boss lady wants me to ‘scope it out’. I guess she thinks this’ll get my foot back in the door.”

He grins, sensing the impatience in you. “That’s good!”

You only shake your head and groan.

This turns his grin into a wide smile. “Don’t try to rush back in so fast. Take some time to relax. Recovery is important.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from disagreeing. The only thing on your mind after months of doing nothing was holding a gun again. Your hands itched for it; fingers impatient to pull a trigger. You wanted to go after targets, travel to new locations—not sit endlessly on your couch, smoking and waiting around for your next doctor’s appointment.

Giving you a look, one that suggested Ladybug knew exactly what you were thinking, he continued on. “Don’t be like that. I was worried! When I found out you were in the hospital I was shocked—didn’t think anything could take you out.”

More cars were parking now, some distance away. Their owners exited and headed straight for the entrance. A lot of the faces you didn’t recognize, only a few were vaguely familiar.

You scoffed lightheartedly. “A broken leg didn’t really ‘take me out’. It’s not like I was in a coma or anything.”

Those were small lies. It hadn’t been just a broken leg, and you had been in a coma, but only for a day or two. Which, in your opinion, shouldn’t really count. It was more like an extended nap.

Ladybug sounded curious. “Wasn’t it worse than that…?”

Taking a drag from your cigarette and blowing smoke to the side, you attempted to brush his prying off casually. “Says who?”

He shrugged with another one of his goofy smiles. “Heard it through the grapevine, I guess.” He watched as more people exited their cars and went inside.

You groaned through another drag of your cigarette. “Oh, God. People were talking about it?”

“Yeah, of course! A contractor as good as you gets put in the hospital? Disappearing for months? That’s news.” He waved a hand, standing and motioning for you to join him as he started toward the entrance. “You should have seen the other contractors scramble to pick up the jobs you had left over.”

You dropped your cigarette onto the pavement and snubbed it out with a foot, then joined him.

“Sounds worse than it was.” You mumbled.

He shrugs. “I think it was a wake-up call.”

“How so?”

“You’re someone who’s been in the business for years. When people looked at you, they saw how you managed to thrive for so long in this profession. It gave others hope that they could do the same. And then, boom, just like that—you’re gone.”

Frowning you looked at your friend. “That’s part of the job.”

“Sure, sure. That’s something we all say countless times, and we all act like we know or understand what it means…but when it happens, it still rattles nerves.”

You fell silent, contemplating this. On the other end, as the one ‘disappearing’, you didn’t think much of it. You were hurt and now you’re back. It was just the way of the job; you’d seen this happen to others many times.

As you and Ladybug made your way across the lot, two acutely familiar faces got out of a car a small distance away. Despite all the talk of being a professional, your stomach did a flip.

Trying to keep your voice down, even though they were too far away to hear anything, you pointed a look toward them. “I didn’t know The Twins were desperate enough to go to job auctions now.”

Ladybug looked in their direction, speaking carefreely as he openly stared. “There’s big money in this. Connections. A lot has changed since the last time you’ve been here.”

Lemon was exiting the passenger side closest to you and Ladybug, he smoothed out his jacket as he stood, eyes on the people entering the building ahead. Tangerine was coming out of the driver’s side, wearing his usual suit attire with slick-backed hair. He was frowning deep enough that you could make out the lines on his forehead. He looked to his brother but caught sight of Ladybug still staring at them, then his eyes snapped to yours.

His whole demeanor instantly changed—forehead lines disappeared and his eyes widened. Jesus, it even looked like he straightened his back. He must have said something to Lemon, or maybe his brother saw the change, because a second later Lemon turned to look too.

Ladybug laughed, observing your carefully neutral expression. “Uh-oh. Do I detect a little drama?”

You only turned away and grumbled something incoherently. The tall, glass doors to the warehouse were nearing. Inside you could see people milling about.

He bumped your arm playfully with an elbow and leaned in a little. “You know, rumor has it they were involved. Or at least, one of them was involved.”

You tried to hide a smile as you bumped him back. “Involved in what?”

“In what happened!” You could feel his eyes roll. “Don’t try to play dumb with me, you know I can see right through it.”

You hummed, reaching for the door and holding it open for him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

As Ladybug passed by and into the warehouse, you saw Tangerine watching you closely as he and Lemon were walking over from their car. You caught Tangerine’s eyes for a few heartbeats, trying to suppress a smirk. It was a look with meaning behind it. Before Lemon could lean over to say something to his brother, you broke the eye contact and went inside.

Ladybug was waiting a few steps away; he had seen the interaction and was deadpanning. “You couldn’t be any more obvious if you tried.”

In contrast to what the outside of the warehouse looked like, the inside was like a luxury ballroom in a hotel. Rows and rows of comfortable chairs all faced a lacquered wooden stage with a mahogany podium. The wall behind it was filled with a long digital screen that had yet to display anything.

People stood in groups among the chairs and along the rows talking idly. You could plainly tell who was a boss, an underling, or a contractor. It was all given away by the amount of people they were surrounded with, their clothing, or how they carried themselves. As you entered the room, a few heads turned to take long looks.

Ladybug came to a stop at the end of a row and turned to you, leaning his head forward to try and keep his voice down. “I know you enjoy playing with your food, but when are you gonna eat?”

“Weird analogy, Ladybug. I’m not a cannibal.” You teased back.

“Stop dancing around the subject.”

“Well, this isn’t grade-school, we can’t just casually go out for burgers and a malt.” You glance around the room as it continues to fill up. The auction would be starting soon. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but our profession involves killing people; that complicates things a bit—and you don’t know the whole story.”

Ladybug chuckled shaking his head. “This must be serious. In all our years as friends, you’ve never avoided talking about someone this much.” He put his hands on his hips, eyes narrowing playfully. “Just promise me, when you two get married, I get to be your maid of—”

You interrupted Ladybug, sucking a quick breath through your teeth and placing a hand on his chest. The Twins were walking up. Tangerine’s eyes looked at your hand on Ladybug’s chest and those deep forehead lines returned as his brow furrowed. You dropped your arm from your friend’s chest, noticing Tangerine’s eyes trailing the movement.

Ladybug beamed. “Well, helloo—”

Ignoring him completely, Tangerine gruffly interrupted; addressing you. “Good to see you back in the field.”

The corners of your lips twitched, fighting to keep an even face. “This isn’t really the field. More of a playground.”

His mustache twitched as he blinked and stammered out, “Well—uh, it’s good that you’re back. At least.”

Lemon made a face at his brother before asking you politely, “How are you feeling?”

Turning, you gave him a smile. “Great, thanks for asking.” Tangerine’s eyes could have burned a hole through you.

Tangerine opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by someone on a speaker asking for everyone to take a seat. The auction was officially starting.

Ladybug spoke up, pointedly sarcastic. “Nice talking to you.”

There was a gentle tug of encouragement on your arm as he moved toward a nearby row of empty chairs. Tearing your eyes away from Tangerine, you could have sworn that his eye twitched a little.

“Christ, what did you do to him?” Ladybug whispered into your ear.

You leaned in to whisper back as you sat down beside him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he somehow managed to look like a kicked puppy and a psychopath, at the same time.”

At the opposite end of your row, on the isle, The Twins were taking their seats. It had you facing them anytime you turned to talk to Ladybug, and Tangerine was facing you anytime he turned to talk to Lemon.

Had he purposefully done that? The idea almost makes you snort, but you catch yourself.

You blinked, focusing on your conversation with Ladybug. “I didn’t do anything.”

At the end of the row, Tangerine was turning and talking with Lemon. His eyes flickered to meet yours several times. You sat back in your seat to face the front, staring straight ahead and resisting the temptation to look over.

Ladybug hissed. “Uh-huh. Is that why he positioned himself to be able to watch you from the end of our row?”

Unable to control it this time, you snorted and brought a hand up to cover the laughs that followed. He also started to snicker and laugh. Thank God you were in the last row sitting behind everyone. Leave it to Ladybug to bring out the un-professionalism in you.

As the announcer began speaking, the screen lighting up with an introduction, you wiped at your eyes, trying to dry the tears and focus. It lasted about 10 seconds before Ladybug was hissing again.

“He keeps looking this way.”

You grumble back, keeping your face toward the front. “Ignore him.”

“He’s staring at me with those psycho eyes. Like he’s thinking about killing me.”

“He probably is. Just keep acting like you don’t care, maybe Lemon will slap him or something.”

“If you two could just fuck already, it would make everything a lot easier—”

“That’s not how I do things, Ladybug.”

“Yes, that’s right. You enjoy driving men to the brink of insanity, first.”

You whipped your head to look at him, about to come up with a retort, when your eyes met Tangerine’s. Yeah, he was definitely still looking this way.

He frowned at you a little, no doubt wondering what you were over there talking about in the middle of the auction. You frowned at him back, clearly sending the message of ‘mind your own business’. His head tilted to the side a little, eyes flickering to Ladybug and back to yours. And that’s when Lemon looked at Tangerine and shoved him back to sit properly in the seat.

As you also sat back, Ladybug triumphantly whispered, “Told you he was staring.”

The next 30 to 45 minutes of the auction was much of the same. Different jobs up for grabs flashed across the screen while members in the audience raised little auction cards to signal that they wanted to bid. You watched and committed to memory the most sought-after job and by which group. Naturally, since you were unable to participate, it was a complete fucking bore.

During a particularly long bid, going between two mob families for over 10 minutes, you lean over to Ladybug and whisper, “I’m going to the restroom. Let me know who wins this job.” He gives you a nod as you stand to leave.

Making your way down the corridor to the bathroom, the sound of your shoes clicking against the marbled floors bounces off the walls and back to you. It’s no surprise that the bathrooms are just as nice, spotless and adorned with fancy soaps and towels. So much money for a place that’s only used, at most, once a month.

Exiting the bathroom while smoothing down your shirt, you startle a little as you’re greeted by Tangerine’s intense blue eyes. He was casually leaned up against the corridor wall.

“Tangerine.” You greet, fixing him with a cool, even stare.

Something akin to amusement flashes in his eyes as he looks you over. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You huff, purposefully relaxing your shoulders as you lean back against the doorway. “Not scared, you just surprised me. Didn’t expect to be followed to the bathroom.”

He pushes off the wall and takes a step closer. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Your eyes narrow, but there’s a hint of a smile on your lips. “About what?”

“I wanted to make sure you were doing alright…”

You could feel another question lingering in the air. “I’m doing good, Tangerine.”

His jaw clenched once, then twice. “Are you here to bid on a job?”

Slight annoyance spread into your words. “No, just browsing. I’m ready to get back out there, except my boss thinks I’m prone to shattering.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Please just…take it easy—at least for a little while.”

You give a firm shake of your head. “Between stewing in my apartment and going to physical therapy, I’ve been ‘taking it easy’ for seven months. That’s long enough.”

“If you push yourself too far you might end up getting hurt, again.”

You gave him a look, “I’m only going to get hurt if someone hits me with another car.”

The words sting him, even though you hadn’t meant them to. His eyes turn pleading. “Are you still upset?” He shakes his head, letting out a deep breath. You thought you saw wetness in the corners of his eyes before he blinked it away quickly. “You know I still feel terrible, it was a complete accident, love.”

It really had been an accident. Both working on the same job, but with limited communication, left windows for mistakes. So, when you came sprinting out of an alley and into the road while Tangerine was trying to find the right building the target was in, neither of you had time to react.

There’s a vague memory of him holding your hand in the backseat, wiping hair and grit off your face, as Lemon rushed to the emergency room.

You attempt to say something, a gentle smile peeking through, but he’s already speaking again. “Look, what more can I do to make it up to you? Name anything you want—it’s yours. Flowers? You want more flowers, like the ones I sent you in the hospital?”

He had sent countless bouquets of the most gorgeous flowers you had ever seen, every day like clockwork, for three weeks. By the time you left the hospital, your room had more color in it than you had ever seen. Each came with a hand written note from him. Some were pages long about how awful he felt and how sorry he was. You kept every note; they were on your bedside table.

Shaking your head, “No, no flowers. They were nice though; the notes were too—thank you.”

While he seemed momentarily pleased by that, his eyes flicked around the room, trying to come up with more things to give you. “Jewelry?

“No, really it’s—”

“—what about clothes?”

You take a step toward him. “Tangerine—”

“Your car out there’s nice, but I’ll get you a bloody new one. How about that? A little ironic, sure, but—”

“Tangerine!”

When he stops to fix you with round eyes, you laugh gently. “You don’t have to do anything, I’m not upset.”

His shoulders relax, an invisible weight dropping away. He closes the distance between you to under an arm’s length. “You’re sure? I mean, I’d really be happy to—”

Placing a hand on his chest, your laughing response is good natured. “I’m sure. You’re right it was an accident—no hard feelings.”

He’s smiling back now, infected by the sound of your laugh. A large gold-ringed hand comes up to wrap around yours on his chest, pinning it there. It’s warm. “Honestly, it’s a relief to see you again. I was so worried, all this time.”

Playfully, you asked, “You were worried I was mad at you this whole time? Seven months?”

“Sort of—yes, but more at the idea of you not coming back. Thought maybe you’d get offered a cozy desk job and like that more.”

“A desk job? And give up all the excitement? Not in a million years.” While chuckling at the idea, you miss the way his eyes soften and his hand lightly squeezes yours.

His eyes watch you gently. “It sounds silly now, yeah. Especially after seeing you again; I’d almost forgotten how lively you can be.”

With a hum, you stepped forward to look up at him, you were very close now. All it would take was to stand up on your toes and… “Was it boring without me?”

Tangerine seemed to notice the closeness as well, his breath was shaky. “Absolute torture, love.”

You brought your other hand up to rest against his chest. His heart was racing.

Moments before you were about to close the distance to his lips, he cleared his throat gently. “I just have one more question.”

Frowning a little at the way he looked suddenly perturbed, you asked, “What is it?”

“Who’s that fuckin’ prick you walked in with?”

The tiniest snort left you before you could hold it back. “Ladybug?”

“Yeah, I don’t give a fuck what his name is. What’s he doin’ bumpin’ elbows with you?”

Something about Tangerine’s accent getting thicker as he became more upset did things to you. Trying to hold back a few giggles, you spoke plainly. “He’s an old friend of mine—a colleague.”

Tangerine looked at you closely, as if this was a very serious matter, but there was a hint of a smile behind his eyes. “Oh, are you havin’ a laugh? I haven’t seen you in forever and you come in with some fuckin’ bloke, carryin’ on back and forth, as if that doesn’t drive me completely mad.”

By this point, you are laughing which only spurs him on. “Well, I’m glad that you’re havin’ a grand time of it. I’ve been in complete agony. Seven whole months, love. That’s how long I’ve had to wait to see you—and you walk in, smiling at him, and not me—"

The only thing that shuts him up is when you press your lips to his with a smile; whatever he was saying died off with the smallest of whines. You feel his strong hands move to wrap around the small of your back, pulling you closer as he moves his mouth back against yours. His mustache scratches your face but the warmth of his lips on yours drowns out the feeling.

He speaks in broken sentences between kisses, murmuring against your lips with a growl that vibrates through him. “Don’t ever—put your hands—on his chest—again.”

When Tangerine feels your slow smile through the kiss, he tries to pull away and give you another warning, but a gentle bite on his lower lip stops him.

You whisper a cheeky, “Yes, sir”, that has him groaning into you, his lips turn feverish. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip.

You’re about to open your mouth for him when you hear a loud cough to the side, down the corridor. Instantly you pull away, face flushing a scarlet red. You would have jumped back if Tangerine’s arms weren’t stubbornly still wrapped around you.

Ladybug watched with raised eyebrows and a grin, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Auctions’ over.”

Tangerine’s words angrily drown yours out. “Oi! Can’t you see we’re busy? Fuck off, ya cunt.”

Unwrapping his hands from around your back, you chide softly, “Be nice to Ladybug.”

His fingers grasp at your clothes, tugging in protest, as you move away and walk toward your friend. His glowering eyes burn into your back as Ladybug waggles his eyebrows.

With one last adoring look at Tangerine, that sends his heart fluttering, you wave. “I’ll see you around.”

. . .

“There a reason why you’re keen to rip the handle off that door, mate?”

Lemon eyes Tangerine closely as his brother yanks open the passenger side door, but says nothing in response. They stand on opposite sides of their car in the lot. From his side, Tangerine can see you chatting with that blond prat by your car.

When Lemon is met with silence, he tries again. “Did you get a chance to talk, at least?”

“We talked, yeah. It was good.”

Lemon wasn’t convinced. “Then why does it look like you’ve got a thunderstorm over your head?”

Tangerine doesn’t hear him as he watches you hug Ladybug goodbye. Lemon’s eyes follow his and suddenly he understands. He makes a noise. “Oh, come off it. I told you, they’re nothing more than friends.”

As you open the door to your own car, Tangerine catches your eyes. Pausing, you give him a delighted smile, then disappear as the door closes.

Lemon sighs, getting into the car. “You’ve got to talk to someone about your jealousy. I’m serious.”

As he ducks to sit down, Tangerine shoots back. “I don’t usually have a problem, it’s just the way that muppet grins—”

The Twins arguing is muffled incoherently to the outside world as Tangerine slams the door shut.

🍊 Tag list: @whatiswrongwithpeople @marquisdefrenchfry @everythingisspokenfortbh @titaniusanglesmith @sjprongs @piechans @cherrygayness

I think the only way I’ll live to the end of the month is if people start writing sully family x kid that was born after lo’ak and it’ll truly save me and cure my father issues if there’s heavy loving father Jake Sully in them.

could u pleasee write a pt 2 to cold where they just .. grieve :’) and maybe you could weave bits of the reader in the story through flashbacks so we could get to know them? ^^

Empty Space (Cold pt2)

As it sets in, everyone has their own way of coping.

pairing: Sully Family x !Twin Sister! Reader

A/N: I wrote this in like a couple of hours I’m not sure if it’s good but I hope it is! 💔

Sitting on the sandy beach, lo’ak felt the breeze run through and past his hair. After a particularly tough day, the setting sun was his favorite thing to see. Closing his eyes, he breathed through his nose, already feeling the bubbling grief coming back up. Although times like these were pleasant, they left him stuck in his head, stuck in his thoughts. It’s been a week since she left, and it’s been racking the entire family down to sad glances and tight hugs as if the other would disappear just as she did.

¨What are you doing out here so late?”

Her voice was clear as day, a haunting memory. Quiet steps stopped right behind him, waiting for a response. She always knew. She, without fail, consistently saw the sad twinkle in his eye and always felt like the silence in his sentences hung far too long in the air for her liking. If it were up to her, she would have already begun comforting him before returning home, but she can’t force him to speak up, and she knows he certainly always will.

Turning his head, the only thing he saw was not her. Scoffing, he buried his head in his hands. He was going insane as the minutes ticked by, and his mind was suddenly catching up. Letting out a gentle whimper, he bit his lip, stopping it from quivering. He wasn’t sure what was worse—not feeling her soft gaze from across the room as she mouthed little motivations or not feeling her soul in his heart. Scrunching up his eyebrows, keeping the tears at bay, he looked at his family’s Marui pod. Ever since the funeral, he hasn’t spent more than an hour inside his home, fearing that if he took one glance at the places she spent most of her time at, he would break down and possibly do unspeakable acts that even she would frown at.

Slumping down, he succumbed to the feeling and let out tiny cries, mumbling her name between a few.

•~•

Neteyam, pushing past a couple of boys, even bumping shoulders with one, rolled his eyes as some started yelling insults at his back. Wincing at a stab of pain from his hip, he kept walking with the sack of fruits on his back. While the rest of his family either closed themselves off or spent the day growing softer, he grew angrier. He wasn’t sure what he was mad at, but he was confident that most of it was directed toward himself. If only he had run a bit faster, he would have missed it entirely and might’ve saved her.

Deciding that the throbbing wound had been annoying enough, he threw the bag on the ground. Grunting as he sat down, he noticed the eclipse coming faster than he had hoped. He planned to work outside for a while before returning home to help his mother with dinner. Taking a risky glance at his chest, her necklace sat comfortably around his neck. Before the funeral, he managed to keep it as a piece of love, but it only became a constant reminder that he wasn’t there again.

He remembers her weaving this necklace for about two days before she finished it. He had joked about wanting it for himself, and despite it being her favorite piece of jewelry, she only told him that one day it would be his. The only issue was that he expected it to be a while before it was his. Maybe she would have given it to him on his birthday, or maybe after their father had yelled at him quite angrily for something that wasn’t even his fault.

Frowning at how dull it looked now, he puffed out a breath, looking at his destination before he quickly got up and walked a bit faster this time, avoiding the pitiful stares he got from the others.

•~•

Although there had been conversations, silence spoke more than they had in the past hour. Kiri kept her gaze on tuk’s hair, avoiding her mother’s stare. She had been there; she had watched her sister die. She wondered how her brother was holding up. They were always the closest. His twin contained him just like a cup would do with water.

On the other hand, Tuk had barely registered that her sister had died a couple of days ago. Since then, she opted to sleep in the same position her sister had, feeling just a tad bit closer to her even though the truth was that she was very, very far away. She always left places with lingering gazes thinking, ¨She would like this, ¨ before smiling and walking away. Just as she did when she was here, she found comfort in her older sister.

•~•

Dinner had been relatively silent as Neytiri tried getting a couple of responses to her questions about everyone´s day. As night pooled into their home, Jake lay wide awake, eyebags much more prominent now as he desperately wished to fall asleep without waking up to a gut-wrenching nightmare from that day. He felt like something inside him had died, and it lay there clawing for a way out.

Every time he looked at lo´ak, it was like a punch to the gut. He looked so much like her, and now as he wore beads from a necklace she once wore in an armband, it simply became worse. The night she died, he spent almost every moment alone crying. Her voice, laughter, giggles, and even her scoldings replayed in his mind every second of the day despite his angry promises that he would stop thinking about his sweet, sweet girl.

¨Jake.¨

Flinching a bit at her sudden appearance, although she had been there all this time, he only felt like curling more into himself.

¨We need to le-¨

¨Every time I stare at the water, I see how scared she looked on that boat, Neytiri.¨ sharply sucking a breath in between her teeth, she sadly frowned at how she indeed saw the expression on her daughter´s face. As she held that bow with just as much confidence as she always had, her face and quivering hands gave it away, but Quaritch never noticed.

As much as Jake hated seeing how his daughter looked like her opposite, he felt guilty for feeling just a tiny bit terrified of the kid he knew to cry whenever she found a dead insect on her daily trek through the forest. Still, at that moment, he knew her as the girl who had fought three fully grown boys for simply insulting her.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he only saw how much anger she held in her eyes despite her hair covering quite a bit of her face from possibly the worst fight of her life. The snarl coming out of her as Quaritch pressed the knife just a bit deeper into her sister´s skin was engraved into his head.

Neytiri, fighting back a couple of tears at how badly this death affected them all, only took a deep breath and moved closer to her husband, who shook with quiet sobs. Her daughter was gone, and nothing was the same anymore.