#almost there guys! chapter 1 is going to be posted tonight!
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Haha one step closer to posting the first chapter of the Tibblings Fic, there are just a couple of characters that needed to be introduced before hand! So let's get started!
Going from left to right btw
Starting off with Valerie!
She's Giovanni's daughter and is going through her "moody Teenager phase". She's angry at the way her life is going after her parents get a divorce and Vanni begins to date Lib. It only gets more akward for her whenever she finds out that Lib is her art teacher. She doesnt want to get in the way of Giovanni's and Libs relationship, and lies to her Dad whenever he ask her if she likes him dating Kib. Whenever she distance herself from Giovanni and Lib she can be quite friendly. She's in charge of year book photos for her school and news paper.
She's a sweet girl with a big personality, but she can become a nervous wreck. Especially around David, who she has a tiny crush on and admires a lot.
Giovanni is Valerie's Dad, Libs boyfriend, and Tibbs very best friend. He's divorced from his horrible ex wife and is in a very healthy and loving relationship with Tibbs sister, Lib. He's trying his best to navigate Valerie's moodiness post divorce. He loves Valerie and let's her know that she comes first before any woman, but he also needs her to try and get along with Lib.
His friendship with Tibbs is one that he cherishes to the fullest. Heck, if he never met Tibbs he would probably be a catholic pastor like his mother wanted him to be. As teenagers Vanni followed Tibbs to whatever rebellious scheme Tibbs had in mind. Drinking Beers Tibbs took from the gestation he worked at? Why not. Smoking MJ in the bed of a truck? Sure, sounds fun! Helping Tibbs run from the cops because of God's know what? Absolutely! What are friends for!
Gracie was also in a friend group with Vanni and Tibbs as teens. After moving all the way from Oklahoma to Hawaii she instantly took a liking to the two boys and they all went and caused chaos together.
She mellowed out a lot after Tibbs left and sparked a romance with Tibbs brother Budd and eventually married him. She finds all aspects of their marriage to be fine except for whenever it comes with her struggle with intimacy. See Gracie is Ace, but in the time period the fic takes place in Gracie doesn't understand that there's a term for how she feels. Which sparks an issue between her and Budd as he doesn't understand Gracies feelings.
Budd and Gracie do however have a kid together named David. And Gracie loves him to pieces and does her best to raise a good gentleman. She works as a pre k teacher and connects to Lib a lot since they both are in the same career field. She still stays in contact with Giovanni and the two meet up for a drink every now and then.
David is a sweet younge man but is a dumb as rocks. He doesn't do well with sit down and listen to what the teachers tell you, he's more hands on. Which is why he can't tell you what 12 x 12 is but he can go on on and on about sports, especially foot ball! Explaining just how to throw the ball just right or the different positions in a foot ball team. He does tutoring to help him get his grades up so he can stay on his school's football team.
He's fairly popular around the school and always sparks up a conversation with Valerie whenever she comes and takes the teams pictures for news paper or year book. Joking around how their basically cousins, much to Valerie's dismay.
He helps Budd out in the bakery on the weekends and after his tutoring sessions and foot ball practice. Coming straight to the store ready to work until it's time to close. It's a routine that Budds been putting him on for years and he's enforced it a lot ever since Budd let David join the foot ball team. Wanting to make sure that David stays out of trouble and not go around doing things he shouldn't. Which it isn't like David would do anything, he knows better then to go out and do dumb things. It's no use trying to argue with Budd over it though, so the only day that David isn't working is on Fridays for his games.
And my favorite part of creating characters! Voice claims!!!
David is my favorite one! Chicken Joe's Voice is just so great to listen too!
#almost there guys! chapter 1 is going to be posted tonight!#the muppets#muppets#muppet ocs#giovanni#valerie#Lib#David#Gracie#Tibbs#Tibblings#Budd#Rose&Tibbs❤️#ocs#art#janice muppets#voice claims#go watch Surfs Up its MUCH better then happy feet.
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Not Just Friends - 6 -
M.List : Prologue : Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4 : Part 5 : 5.5k words
Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.
"Photos have been released, of the two of you," you shared a look with Katsuki from across the table, "Together. At the camping resort you went to this previous weekend."
Katsuki's PR manager was in front of you. Arms placed on the table as she clasped her hands together. Face stern and hair slicked back into a ponytail. The definition of professional. The opposite of what you looked and felt right now. You've been sweating your ass off since you got told to come in.
"Are you sure they know it was us?" Katsuki fixed his posture, sitting up straight for the answer to his question. The two of you haven't necessarily came forward with your relationship, but you haven't been hiding it. Still, you preferred to not be public. Mainly to protect your work, everyone would discredit you if they knew you had personal ties to the number two pro hero that led beyond friendship. But also because you knew the danger, you were targeted enough as his best friend.
"Yes," she said bluntly.
"Maybe they didn't see me?" you voiced your hope aloud.
"Look, they know it was the both of you," she sighed, "We need to focus on how to fix this. It needs to be address before it gets worse, and it will get worse, so I suggest acting now."
"Can I see the fucking pictures?" Katsuki ordered, sick and tired of not knowing entirely what's going on.
She clicked away at her keyboard, turning her laptop to face you two. "This was posted by a couple that were there," she showed the photo Katsuki took with the couple that almost caught you at the pond. "And this," she clicked to a photo that showed the lake, "was posted as well. You can clearly see Chargebolt, Red Riot, and Cellophane. And in the background it is also easy to see the two of you being," she coughed, "intimate. They've been able to connect the dots that it was you that he was kissing," she looked at you, "With your connection with their class."
Your stomach dropped. Words just fell from your brain. You were used to the press but not for these reasons. Mainly just for your work, or how you made all number one, two and three top heros support gear and costumes.
"So what the fuck should we do?" Katsuki crossed his arms, face scrunched in thought.
"We need you to make a statement," she paused, prepared for Katsuki to snap. He hated making statements. When all he did was nod, she continued, "We need to do this quick before rumors catch wind." Both you and her were glad that he wasn't being difficult about this.
"What rumors can even be made?" you were curious how bad the drawback could be, trying to see if you could lessen the stress for you and Katsuki.
She looked at you, an apology on her face already, "It is already being said that you are using him to get to Deku, wanting to get the best pro heroes under you." You physically winced. "It is also being said you are cheating on Deku with Dynamight."
Katsuki scoffed, rooling his his eyes as he threw his hands up, "So what the fuck do I say? This is bullshit."
"I've arranged a interview for tonight, they'll ask about it there and you will give as much truth as you want. Talk about how long you've dated and the bond you two have, you need a united front," She explained, "Deku needs to also make a statement that you have not had any romantic relations," she turned to you.
"Of course, I'll call him now," you stood up from your chair, grabbing your phone. Knowing that he was terrible with emails and likely wouldn't notice anything happened until it was too late for the press. Too focus on crime and other heroic things.
"Good, tell him to do it as soon as possible," she instructed.
You squeezed Katsuki's shoulder on your way out, leaving him to discuss about what to talk about in the interview.
Dialing Izuku's number the second you closed the door, walking towards the stairway so you could walk off the stress as you made your way to Katsuki's office, the next floor up.
He answered when you opened the door to the stairway, "Whatssup?"
"I need a favor," you immediately started with.
"What's wrong," he asked concerned. You could hear the wind blowing through his phone, he was likely jumping his way back his office.
"Could you do an interview tonight or something?" you walked up the stairs while talking to him, letting your body move on autopilot and lead the way to Katsuki's office.
"For what?"
"Katsuki's and my relationship got leaked, picture proof and everything," you confessed, "Now there's rumors that I'm cheating on you or some shit." You ran the hand that wasn't holding the phone through your hair. Before dropping it to open the stairway door, keeping your head down as you walked through the office.
"So I need to clear the air?" he concluded, you could hear him land on a building, taking a break from jumping.
"Yes, please," you sighed, "Just talk about how we're best friends. I don't think you have to do an interview, I think a social post might help, ask your manager."
"Of course, I'm happy to help," he smiled, "How are you and Kacchan doing?"
"I'm a little rattled, I didn't think this would happen," you opened the door to Katsuki's office, briefly waving to his manager. "I don't know how Katsuki is doing, he's still with his PR manager."
Izuku laughed nervously, "He's going to kill me."
"It's not your fault," you reassured, "he knows how crazy the internet is." You stood in front of the window, it was a floor to ceiling window that captured the view of the city perfectly. "Uraraka won't be mad right?" you asked, you've never been close to her but you knew her and Z were together.
"No, she'll understand," Izuku confirmed.
"Good, I would of felt horrible," the weight on your shoulders was slowly lifting.
"Well, I should talk to my manager about what to do," Izuku said his goodbyes before he hung up.
It was only Tuesday and your week was already shit. Barely got through lunch before his manager told you to meet with PR. The city was still buzzing with life, unbothered by how much yours was changing. It felt weird, to know each of the small humans from this distant, had their own life and motivation.
"Hey."
You jumped from your spot near the window, "Asshat," you said clutching your heart.
"How are you doing?" Katsuki stepped into the office, letting the door fall shut as he walked to stand beside you.
"I've been better, you?" you looked at him, his face was still scrunched with thought.
"I'm annoyed," he said plainly, "The one fucking time we kiss in public and it's everywhere."
He crossed his arms, his elbow slightly bumping you from where he stood. You hummed your agreement, "When's your interview?" The both of you were looking out the window, trying to puzzle together how to avoid the drawback.
"Right after work, with fucking Heroes' Gossip," he grumbled.
"I'm sorry," you apologized, knowing how much he hated every part of this.
"Was gonna happen eventually," he sighed, "Is that nerd gonna help?"
You nodded, "Yeah, he might make a social media post or something, I told him to listen to his manager."
"Good," he said plainly, letting the conversation end.
Everything was going to change now, it'd be impossible to go back to normal now. With the grief of your old life already setting in, you rested your head on his shoulder. He'd be the one stable thing, even if it got rocky.
---
You had the interview pulled up on the TV, waiting for Heroes' Gossip to introduce him. They've been teasing a surprise guest the entire show, waiting until the last few minutes to bring him on. You've been dealing with the show for the past 40 minutes with no sign of him. It was nice to watch for once though, but it felt like you were intruding on some of the topics. They brought up Mirko's lovers and then talked about spotting Best Jeanist in and out of the hospital, automatically assuming he had a horrible disease. It made you feel gross to watch.
Wondering into the kitchen you grabbed a glass of wine, wanting something to help make the show a little less painful.
When you sat back down they finally announced for Katsuki to come on. Having him grumpily stomp on set until he sat down near the obnoxious interviewer.
"So, Dynamight," she addressed him head on, "There's been some photo's leaked of you and the tech genius," she announced your name to the world. You took a long sip, trying to shake the unease feeling for being known as someone who was with Dynamight rather than a tech genius. The interviewer displayed the pictures his PR manager showed you earlier on screen, "Is this you and her?"
"Yeah," he answered flatly.
"So you and her were making out at this lake, correct?" She pushed, surprised she got this far already.
"Yeah, what about it?" you could see that he was close to snapping, face furrowed entirely as his arms were crossed.
"Despite the claims of her and pro hero Deku being together?" the interviewer smiled, glad to see she was riling him up.
He rolled her eyes, "As if she'd date him."
"Is she not?"
"No, I've been dating her for three god damn years," he confessed to the public.
The interviewer blinked in surprise, quickly getting back onto the questions, "You're not concerned they are seeing each other behind your back?"
"I've known them both since I was five, they aren't like that," he answered simply.
"That also means that they have known each other that long, you're not worried about their connection?" she pushed for more, irritated that Katsuki wasn't lashing out like normal.
"Lemme prove it to you dumbasses," you cringed at his swearing, it wasn't good press for him to swear during interviews. He was grabbing his phone out of his pocket, quickly pressing buttons before he put the phone on speaker, letting everyone listen to it ring.
"Hey," Izuku's bubbly voice echoed through the mic.
"Are you fucking with my girlfriend?" Katsuki was straight to the point, likely not having warned Izuku of his plan before hand.
"No! Why would i do that?! You know that it is just the press going on right? Anything for a story-" before he could ramble on anymore, Katsuki hung up on him.
"See?"
"Well that doesn't prove much," the interviewer was at a lost for words at this point.
Knowing that Katsuki had a handle on this, you walked back to the kitchen, looking for something to eat. All the premade dinners were eaten already so you'd have to cook something from scratch. The voices from the TV faded from your mind as your rattled through the ingredients to use. Deciding on a fried rice. You pulled out the vegetables and placed them to the side as you set the rice to cook.
Your phone buzz and you answered without a thought, "Sup?"
"You fucking Deku?" you laughed at Katsuki's angry voice coming through your speaker. "Stop laughing dumbass."
"Sorry, I just saw you call him for the same thing. No, I am not. I'll say that on a truth quirk as well," you said absentmindedly cutting up the vegetables.
"Great! We'll have you come in soon to do just that," you heard the interviewer cheer though Katsuki's side of the phone.
Katsuki grumbled, "I'm fucking out of here." You could only assume he left the set, hearing him stomp off. "Hey dumbass," his voice was near the mic, clear he turned the call off speaker as his voice was quieter and less aggressive.
"Yeah?"
"That was stupid, my PR agent is going to scream at you."
"Why?"
"Going under a truth quirk on TV is dangerous, you know so much confidental shit," he explained.
"Oh fuck," you realized how much you could spill if someone asked about too much. You felt as if the genius quirk you had wasn't much help.
"I'll be home soon," he skipped past it, saving the conversation for when he could see you.
"Okay," you nodded despite him not being able to see you, "I'm making some fried rice by the way."
"Thanks, see ya."
"Bye."
You put your phone back down, grabbing the now cooked rice and mixing it with the vegetables in a pan. You looked over the mess of the kitchen. You dirtied an extra pan for eggs last second, knowing Katsuki loved the extra protein. Walking back to the living room, you grabbed the wine glass and filed it some more in the kitchen to drink as you mixed the rice.
The rice was getting to a good mixture, just needing to heat for a little longer, you grabbed the eggs and dumped them in with the rest of the rice and vegetable, setting the pan aside on the stove.
You heard the door knob slightly move, as if Katsuki was having issues with the key. You glanced at the time, he wouldn't be over for another ten or so minutes. Fear gripped at your chest. You moved the finished pan of rice to the corner of the stove, putting the empty pan on the heat.
Before you could think of anything else to do, you heard metal fall to the ground. Turning around quickly you saw the doorknob melting off with the remains of it on the floor.
Looking towards the figure in the doorway you saw a girl, around your age. Maybe a couple years older. She looked insane, it sent a chill up your spine at how similar her glare was to Toga's. Her eyes were a bright red, her hair a darker shade as she wore torn up clothes, burn holes all throughout. As if she just got out of a fight.
"The fuck are you doing?" you forced yourself to question.
"So you're the bitch Katsuki is dating?" she ignored your question.
"How did you get up here?" you knew that the apartment probably wasn't the most secure, but you and Katsuki never had time to move. Still, security was set in place. Blood dotted her outfit as well, the smell of burnt flesh radiating off her.
She ignored you again, stepping closer. "You know, Katsuki's going to love me right? Once your out of the picture."
You couldn't help the slight laugh that slipped from your lips. Maybe Katsuki's cocky energy affected you more than you thought.
Her eyes glowed, "That funny to you?"
She was about arms length away at this point, you reached your arm slowly behind you, grabbing onto the handle of the pan. "Kinda," you shrugged.
"Such a cunt," the girl all but screeched, eyes glowing red. From the damage on the doorknob it was clear she had some sort of heat vision. Before she could burn hole through you, you picked up the pan and swung at her. Burning the side of her face and causing her to stumble. Keeping yourself aware of her eyes, you reeled the pan back and hit her straight on, letting the edge of the pan fall into her eyes.
She quickly started to grab at you, cornering you into the stove, blinded by your hits but still intent on hurting you. Digging her nails into your arm. Scratching as she managed to grab ahold of your hand during her flailing around, forcing it down onto the hot stove and burning you.
Filled with a new rush of adrenalin, you grabbed onto her hair with your free hand, yanking her off your hand and pushing her face into the stove. You felt horrible as she screamed, your and her burnt flesh tainting the air with a foul smell. Ruining the stove top in the process. You scrambled away from her after holding her down for a moment, grabbing the knife you used the the vegetables only 20 minutes ago. Almost slipping due to the wine that was spilt from her flailing around the stove.
You stole a glance at the clock, still five more minutes till Katsuki was home. All you had to do was not die in those five minutes.
The girl was standing back up when you looked back at her. Face half burnt as she held a crazed look in her eyes.
"That knife won't do anything," she pushed, "I've done my research, you hardly have a quirk. Another reason you aren't worthy of him."
You weren't interested in talking to her, you just waiting for her next move. "You know, we could end this here. Just stop fighting and Katsuki will talk to you," you suggested, throwing the offer out to distract her.
"With you in the picture, he won't talk to me," she said frustratedly. Her eyes lighting up again, having recovered from the hit to them.
She aimed for your stomach, you move to the side and crouched, kicking at her locked knees, cringing at the snap of it. The hit on your stomach burned through a lot, the pain causing you to hold a hand on yourself. While you were trained to survive, you couldn't handle it. The blood, the pain, the guilt that already worked its way into your bones. She fell down with a yelp. Pulling you with her, before she could get her other hand on you, you stabbed one hand through a cabinet. You stood up as straight as possible, pressing your slipper covered foot onto her head, forcing her to face the cabinet and away from you. Placing your other foot onto her free hand so she couldn't grab at you.
You wheezed, clutching both hands at your side now, pain getting to you. The girl was crying now, "My face! He won't love me if I look deformed." Her heat vision flickered on and off, burning a hole through the bottom cabinet. Slowly destroying your home with Katsuki.
"Shut up," you hissed, stepping on her hand harder.
The injury was getting to you, it was mostly cauterized but her heat vision burned a good depth into your side.
Katsuki kicked the door fully open, snapping his head to look at you. You most of looked crazy. Wearing his shirt from high school, barely visible shorts, fuzzy Deku themed slippers and standing above a very injured girl while bleeding from the wound of your side.
He stepped towards you, lifting you off the girl and making you sit on the floor next to the door. "Cops were already called by the way," he answered your question before you thought of it. "They'll be up here soon." He walked back to the girl who was panting now, going into shock from the pain, something you think you shared with her. He cuffed her quickly, making her quirk shut off. You couldn't be more thankful that he wore his hero outfit home.
With the girl contained, he walked back to you, "Is it just your side?"
You nodded your head aggressively, in too much pain to form words. He lifted the side of your shirt, wincing before putting it back down. Moving to pick you up and carry you.
"I need to get you to the hospital," he claim.
"What about that girl?" you forced out, sucking in a deep breath after. Eyes getting fuzzy as you looked at him.
"She tired herself out," he confirmed, the girl passed out and you felt like doing the same. Eyes blinking without any of your control.
"Kats?"
"What?"
"It hurts," you were only speaking to stay awake, not wanting to scare him anymore then you knew he was.
"You'll be okay, I promise," his voice waivered as he moved through the hallways, you didn't even know where you were at this point. The background slowly turning into black until you blinked the rest of the image away.
---
Everything was too bright, too loud, too stale when you woke up. You couldn't even open your eyes but you were overwhelmed. You're mouth lacked any taste besides meticalic. Muffled voices came from somewhere in front of you, a room away likely. You braced yourself heavily before opening your eyes. Seeing Katsuki in a chair pulled up to your bedside, book in his left hand as his right hand held onto yours. Flipping a page by placing the book into his lap and using his left to flip it. Never once letting go.
The light blurred everything but him, you could only put together the fact that you were in the hospital. He was wearing his glasses, the ones he hardly wore unless he was stress. It was always harder for him to read when stressed, to lessen the strain, he wore the glasses.
"Bright," is what you decided to croak out, voice rough from sleep and likely screaming from the events. Everything was blurred already.
His basically jumped out of skin at the sound of your voice, letting the book fall from his lap as he stood up straight. Looking over you.
"Lights off," is what you groaned next, unable to keep your eyes open in the blare of it for long.
"Fuck sorry," he rushed to turn the light off before returning to your side. "How are you?"
You only looked around now, happy to be without the strain of the light. Your right hand was covered in bandages, from where the girl slammed it against the stove. With how bad it hurt, you worried for her face. Your left side was also heavily wrapped. She burned entirely through you, you remember how burned your walls were before you passed out. Multiple cabinets having holes in them. "Our home is all messed up," you focused on.
Katsuki let out a laugh, it was his laugh that showed you were being ridiculous, when you looked back up at him with a frown he returned it, "You can't be serious?"
"I am," you pouted, looking down at your hands, "She fucked it all up."
"Yeah and you put a dent in her for it," he followed.
"She put a dent in me too," you changed you focus to your stomach. Acknowledging the hole in your side
He gripped tighter onto the railing at the top of your hospital bed. "I had our stuff moved out," he spoke, saying he won't let that happened again without any words.
"Where will we live?" you looked back up at him.
"I bought it on a whim, the first day you were out," he looked apologetic, "I think you'll like it. Safer than that shithole."
You grabbed onto his hand, "Okay, anywhere is home with you."
"The drugs makin' ya loopy?" he smirk down at you, pointing fun at your cheesy line but holding onto your hand nonetheless, gripping on tighter.
"Maybe," you blushed, looking away for moment to think over the feeling. Drugs were definitely dampening the pain right now.
"How are you though? Took quite a hit," he looked at your stomach as well. It reminded you on how he first saw it, likely seeing straight through you. It's probably why he rushed you to the hospital right after.
"Hurts," you mumbled, not looking down but staring at him instead. Wanting your focus off the pain. Looking over how soft the glasses made him look. It was something you always wanted to admire but rarely got to. His face looked softer in the barely light room, just having the glow of the hallway lights shine in.
"Figures, you put up a fight."
"I almost died," you clarified.
"But you didn't," he was trying to focus on the positives, for both you and himself.
You recalled him saying the first day you were out earlier, "How long was I out?"
"Four days," he answered, "Not too long, you were just tired."
You hummed, "When can we go home?"
"I'd have to call the doctor in."
You nodded in permission for him to do so, letting him go alert them. With the quality of the room, you figured that he had you in a hero hospital.
The doctor walked in and asked you to stay an extra day, claiming a healing quirk will be able to help you before you left tomorrow. You reluctantly agreed, mainly from Katsuki cutting in and agreeing for you. It was obvious he felt guilt. From the way he held himself and the way he spoke.
When the doctor left, the two of you sat in silence. Soaking in each others presences.
"Is she okay?" you asked.
"Who?"
"Crazy bitch," you labeled her as.
He looked at you confused, "Yeah, in jail."
"So I didn't hurt her badly?" you were trying to relive some of the guilt.
"No, you did. Put a hole into her hand and burned her face," he confirmed, "Something you did to protect yourself."
"Then why do I feel bad?"
He sighed, grabbing at your hand again and looking you in your eyes, "Cause you always do, you'll probably feel guilty for a while. But trust me, you gave that bitch what she deserved and I'm so fuckin' glad you did."
"How's the press?" you switched topics. Not even remotely proud of yourself for burning a girl's face.
"Everything's settled, police still need your report though," he told you softly.
"Okay," you took in a deep breath, flinching at the pain going up your side. Ignoring Katsuki eyes looking at you in worry. Trying to patch your guilt away.
---
You peered through the apartment door after Katsuki unlocked it and walked through. Taking in the view of the apartment, a clear upgrade from the last. After kicking off your shoes you noticed the empty space to the right, a perfect spot for a living room. Windows from floor to ceiling and a sliding door to excess the balcony, with just enough space for a long wrap around couch to loop around. Snug in its own cube. The left side was a nicely sized kitchen with a dining table near the middle.
The security on the way up was worth the apartment, it was beautiful. It was a good sized apartment overall, perfect for you. There's a total of three bedrooms and three baths. You wondered for a moment about where Katsuki would choose his bedroom. Shoto also lived in this apartment complex, so you knew it was safe. The thought of Shoto's scar hurt your soul, he hated that scare and you gave a random girl the same if not worse.
"We need to buy new furniture for the living room," Katsuki cut into your thoughts.
"Why?" you turned to him confused, you didn't have a wrap around couch but he didn't know your ideas.
He coughed, knowing you hated the topic already, " Other one is burnt."
"Oh," you said sadly.
"I also can't get shit here until Tuesday. Takes a week for em," he barreled through the bad news, "You can look up a couch and I'll buy it."
"I already know the one I want," you looked back at the space, "I saw it Monday online, we can go check the stores to see if it's in stock? If not we can look."
"I don't think you should be doing all that walkin'," he furrowed his face in distaste.
"Too bad," you pushed past your injury, walking back outside the apartment after slipping your shoes on, "We have nowhere to sleep, we can get a couch and have a movie night. Wait, do we need a new TV?"
"Yeah, other one was shit anyway," he put his shoes on and followed you out reluctantly.
---
You pushed past all press, keeping your head down as you walked in front of Katsuki, his arms around you to keep from touching you. It was horrible, worse than it ever was. After your police statement was in, the press went crazy. Needing every detail possible. The entire furniture store had to shut down while you shopped, it made you thankful for Katsuki's job for once. He saved the owners before so they easily shut down for him. Finding your perfect couch was easy enough, wasn't the exact one you saw online but it was even better. While you found the couch, Katsuki got the TV, both set to be delivered to your apartment during the next three hours.
So you and Katsuki got lunch and stopped by his agency in the mean time, him needing to grab some paper work to go over the next few days. Kirishima's bright smile welcoming you the second you walked upstairs.
"Hey!" he greeted, arms stretched out for you. Hugging you gently. "How are you?" he held you back by your shoulders as he looked over you.
"Alright," you answered watching Katsuki walk into his office, "I hurt like a bitch though."
Kirishima laughed warmly, "No doubt, sorry that happened. What you did was super manly though."
You cringed, "I thought you left the manly thing in high school."
"I say it on rare occasions," he smiled down at you.
"Say what?" Katsuki asked as he closed his office behind him, joining you again.
"Manly," you answered, leaning into his space, feeling safe. He hummed in reply, smiling down at you briefly before looking back at Kirishima, crossing him arms.
"You got my patrols cover till Tuesday right?" Katsuki asked.
"Yeah, Denki, Sero, Mina, me and even Midoriya are all taking a chunk of your hours," Kirishima smiled brightly.
"Till Thursday?" you looked up confused, Katsuki hated time off.
Katsuki refused to look at you. LIstening as Kirishima talked, "You need a break and we got it covered, don't worry."
He rolled his eyes, "Send me every detail that happens, I'll be available if absolutely needed."
"Got it," Kirishima gave a toothy grin. Likely happy that he convince Katsuki to take time off in general. You weren't surprised at him being at the hospital, but taking a week off was unknown for him. Yet he seemed perfectly okay with it.
---
Once home, you noticed the fridge was fully stocked. Katsuki's premade meals filling the shelfs. Glad to see no fried rice. Fruit also filling the shelfs.
It was the first thing you went for when you got home, ignoring the wrapped up couch and TV and going for the food. Afterall, Katsuki would set up the TV fully. Needing to wall mount it.
With a premade meal in your hands, warm and ready to eat, you stood at the counter and watched him work.
"So I remember saying I'd do an interview with a truth quirk," you brought up after a while, Katsuki humming to continue from where we set up the TV. "How do I do that without giving up information?"
"Aizawa is probably willing to help, he'll monitor you and turn off the truth quirk person if they ask something sensitive. Still don't know why you said that," he answered, cursing at the TV when it didn't hook into the slot on the wall mount easily.
"Just want to clear my name," you took another bite of food as you watched him grin in victory at the TV being attached to the wall now. Him plugging it in and starting to log into all the streaming apps and everything.
You joined him after finishing your food, pushing a part of the couch into the spot you wanted. "The fuck are you doin?" he spun his head towards you at the sound of the couch moving. "I'll do it, just fuckin' point where to go."
After huffing at him, you stood in front of the TV, facing the couch and leading him to place each section of the couch. Cutting off the wrapping afterwards and sitting in front of the TV.
"What are we watching?" he called towards you, you were digging through the little amount of stuff that Katsuki pack for you two. It was clothes and blankets, all you'd need until Tuesday. It was already Saturday as well.
You plopped down a big blanket for you to share and sunk into the couch, "I don't know," you mumbled. Watching as he clicked onto your favorite movie right after.
"Hate when you say that," he grumbled.
"Yeah sure," you leaned into his side, wanting to be as close as possible to him. The scare of the break in still getting to you. He messed with his hand for a moment before laying his arm over your shoulders, pushing you closer to him. It was something both of you clearly needed. Just the warmth of the other.
-Next Part-
In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3
I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3
@ldk3347 @suki0 @ez4ra @mithicakurogo @aomi04 @ellielover69 @minori-taiga1 @54fangirl @zoast32 @mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @snxwflwr @keiva1000 @thescarletwallflower @juicyfingers @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @albakugo @venusluvslove @fairiesgloss @limitedstar @i-bitch-you-bitch @drageonix24 @sweetpandabiscuitrebel @sinyaaa @xreiiss @oddball08 @imsuperawkward @lomlchi @anime-manga-fanatic @irlpadfoot @lord-goosifur @chocoyanchan @gollumsmygel @yuptha-tsme @icedemon1314 @alstrums @suki0 @yesiamrobbysimp @supersecretsamm @maeveorsomethinggg @ivuriexo @schniti-is-in-the-house @dumbbitchenergy17 @slaydispussaylikeademon @whydoyoucare866
(make sure your can be tagged, your blog might be hidden)
#not just friends katsuki#i like ruining innocent men#innocent men are insanely hot#the entire idea is based off smut#slow burn#innocent bakugo is an insane trope that i love#mha#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugo x reader#mha x reader#x reader#bakugo#katsuki bakugou x reader#mha bakugou#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#my hero academia#virginity loss#bakugo is physically distant#izuku is your best friend#mha smut#fluff#smut#bakugo smut#smutty fanfiction#smutty fanfic#learning sex
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A Love Connection Part 5
Hey, guys! You really seem to be loving this story! Yay. This is the first of two today as the next chapter will be posted later tonight.
Just a heads up Billy's introduction is very indicative of his attitude throughout the whole thing.
@tartarusknight 's tags made me laugh because how spot on their assessment of the three Suitors was.
In this we get a feel for each of the contestants and Steve is already done with this shit. I won't put a warning up here, but this does have a lot of more adult themed questions for a dating show. Mainly because I figure it's on a streaming service.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
~
“All righty!” Bob said with a bright smile. “We have three rounds in which our lovely Suitors will earn points and two of our Suitors will get a chance to win a date with our Catch! The first round is the all around where our Suitors will each have a chance to answer a question from our Catch. The one with best answer will get three points, second place will get two, and the last place will get only one.”
The audience clapped and cheered.
“The second round is our lightning round. Our Catch will ask either or question that the Suitors will have to answer quickly. For each answer that matches our Catch they’ll receive a tally. The one with the most tallies will get five points, the second will get three, and last place will get one.”
The audience again clapped and cheered.
“Then in the heart to heart round, our Catch will get to ask each contestant five questions and then will rate the answer from one to three. A one will get our Suitor three points, a two will get you two points and three, only one.”
The audience again clapped and cheered.
“And now our lightning round!”
Steve was told to just call out all the either or questions he felt spoke to him as they handed him a list of the thirty plus.
He called Dustin’s first. “Star Wars or Star Trek.”
All three picked Star Wars. And all three got a tally.
He just started calling out the ones as he saw them on the page.
“Silver or gold.”
“Cat or dog.”
That one had been a bit divisive considering Steve owned a cat and of the three only Tommy was a cat person. Bob winced at that one. “Ooh. That one hurts.”
Steve could only agree.
“Bondage or blindfold.”
“For me or you?” Billy asked before answering.
“All the questions are for the Suitor, not the Catch,” Bob explained. “You are trying to match with your Catch. But in this case it would what you want to do with the Catch whether you were the one it being done to or not.”
No one was surprised when Billy picked bondage. Tommy did, too. Eddie being the only one to get a tally for that one for the blindfold.
“Camping or the beach.”
Again only Eddie got a tally on that one. Steve lived in Indiana where there weren’t a lot of sandy beaches but lots of great places to go camping.
“Give or receive a blowjob.”
Eddie snorted and Steve could almost imagine a little smirk on his face. All three preferred receiving and so none of them got a tally.
Bob laughed. “I think that’s actually a good thing. Stevie here can give his final Suitor the best bj after all this.”
Steve was again grateful for the Suitors not being able to see his face as he blushed a dark red.
“Vampires or werewolves.”
Only Billy got a tally for that one as Tommy and Eddie both picked vampires.
The game continued until finally Steve called out his last either or question: “Taylor Swift or Beyonce.”
Eddie snorted again. “Billie Eilish. But if I have to pick a billionaire, definitely Taylor Swift.”
The audience laughed.
Steve laughed, too and happily gave Eddie the only tally as the other two picked Beyonce for Chrissy’s question.
The final rundown of points after everything was added up, Tommy with five points for having the most tallies, Eddie with three for coming in second, and Billy with only one. Tommy barely beating Eddie by two tallies.
~
They took a lunch break after they filmed that and Steve was whisked off to a dressing room where a nice girl named Vickie brought him all his food and two bottles of water to sooth his throat after talking so much.
Steve was a little bit more nervous about this portion of the game. The questions would start fun and go deeper or in some cases spicier.
“Everyone knows the first question,” Bob said as if they didn’t just spend two grueling hours answering either or questions.
“What would be your ideal first date?” the audience roared.
“Damn straight!” Bob said. “Or in this case, damn gay!”
The audience laughed, but Steve squirmed in his seat.
“I would drive up your place in my shiny red 1969 Camero,” Billy said, low and seductive. “Then I would take you to a five star restaurant and order the most expensive wine. Then I would take you to my hotel room and fuck you into the mattress until our neighbors call in a noise complaint.”
“Oooh,” Bob said, “already starting off hot.”
“I would take you to my private jet,” Tommy answered, “and wine and dine all the way to Paris where we would have breakfast on the balcony of a French villa and make love as the sun rises on Paris.”
“Fancy and romantic,” Bob said with a saucy wink at the camera.
“For a first date?” Eddie mused. “I’d find out all your favorite foods and drinks from your best friend and then we’d go on a picnic complete with a blanket and a six pack of your favorite beer. Then we’d go miniature golfing and then your favorite diner for dinner where we share an old fashioned milk shake. Then I would walk you to your door where I would hope for a goodbye kiss.”
Steve’s jaw dropped. He had never heard such a perfect date in his life. Even Bob was speechless. He just kept glancing at Steve and the camera just back and forth as everyone was stunned by the answer.
“I think we all know who’s getting the three points for this question,” Bob finally said. “Steve tell us who came in second and last place please.”
“Billy in second,” Steve said, “and Tommy in third. I’ve been to Paris, whatever it was when it was named the city of love, it certainly isn’t now.”
Again Eddie snorted and Steve was starting to think he had the same sense of humor as him.
“What is your favorite sports team?” Steve asked Lucas’s question.
“LA Lakers,” was Billy’s reply.
While Tommy said, “Chicago Bulls.”
Steve face fell. He didn’t like either of those teams.
“I’m not much of a sports fan,” Eddie admitted, “but my favorite thing to do growing up was watching the Hoosiers with my Uncle Wayne, because I got to spend time just him and me. So I’m going to say Hoosiers.”
The audience went ‘awww.’
Steve choked up. “That was a beautiful answer, Eddie. The Hoosiers are my favorite team, too. Three points to you. Two to Tommy, and one to Billy.”
Billy grumbled something his mic didn’t quite catch.
“What’s your favorite pick up line?” was Steve’s next question. This one was Robin’s question. She thought it would get some cheesy answers.
“I’m Billy.”
Bob snorted, but wisely said nothing. The audience however seemed to agree with Billy.
“I have a private jet, just say the word and we can be in Paris by breakfast.”
Bob blinked for a moment. “Does that really work?”
“Oh yeah.”
Steve shivered at Tommy’s smarmy tone.
“This must be a museum,” Eddie said into the resulting awkward silence, “because baby, you’re a work of art.”
Steve laughed. There was the cheesy answer he had been expecting. But the top points ended up going to Billy for the sheer balls of that one. Eddie did come in second though.
He went through a few boring questions like favorite book or quote to go with some of the spicier questions.
Then he asked his last question of day one.
“Do you consider yourself a good person?”
All three men are shocked into a stunned silence.
“That’s one hell of a question, boys,” Bob said, “how about it?”
Eddie actually being the first to speak.
“I try to be,” he murmured close to his microphone, “but without a doubt I wish I was better than I am.”
Tommy laughed and quoted ‘Firefly’ complete with him saying stab between each downgrade.
Steve chuckled a bit at that one.
Billy scoffed. “I’m no philosopher, I don’t get into shit like that. But yeah, I’m good person. Fuck you.”
Steve gave Tommy the top points on that one, with Eddie again coming second. Billy was not happy with coming in third. Again.
The director called cut and Bob said, “Ooh. We can’t have you saying the eff word, but I’m not sure if they’ll bleep it or cut it.”
“Whatever.”
Now Steve was absolutely eaten up with curiosity about what these dudes looked like.
He would find out soon enough.
~
After eating at the hotel restaurant, Steve went back to the hotel and called Robin.
“Hey, Robbie,” he murmured, flopping on to the bed.
“Hey, dingus,” she said softly. “I’ve Chrissy here with me, so I’m going to put you on speaker.”
“Hi, Stevie,” Chrissy cooed. “You have any idea who are going to be the final two yet?”
“Oh yeah,” Steve huffed, playing with the tassels on the decorative pillow. “Because unless Suitor number one gets his head out of his ass, it’s bye bye birdie. Dude is so full of himself and only interested in how much sex he can get. I’m really dreading the final round when I have to start asking personal questions for each one.”
“Why’s that?” Robin asked. “Or can’t you tell us with all the NDA crap.”
“NDA crap,” Steve said, resigned. “But I can say that Suitor number three is the one I hope gets at least to the dating portion. His answers were so cute. He sounds like an absolute dork.”
“Perfect for you then,” Chrissy agreed. “Tell us about everything else. The hotel, dinner, the clothes you got to wear.”
So Steve did and by the time they had worn out every topic it was late. They all needed to be up early the next morning so they said good night.
Steve got ready for bed.
He slept fitfully, dreaming of three large shadows looming over him and laughing as he fell into the abyss.
~
The hair and makeup lady certainly had her work cut out for her when Steve arrived that morning. She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze.
“Everyone sleeps badly on filming days,” she assured him. “It’s all the anxiety. You aren’t making my job harder by having not slept, okay?”
Steve nodded and let her do her work. By the time she was done, he looked exactly the same as he did yesterday.
He was impressed and told him so.
“You’re sweet, sugar,” she murmured. “Now, go knock ‘em dead!”
Steve got into his little booth and sat down.
“You ready for day two?” Bob asked, stroking his tie like he had the day before.
He shook his head.
Bob laughed and counted down with his fingers, three, two, one!
The first question on his little cue card read: “What would you do if someone important to me called while we were in the middle of sex?”
“I’d hit the text me button and toss the phone on the laundry pile,” Billy said. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”
Tommy chuckled. “I would answer it for you and tell them that unless this was an emergency, my dick up your ass is slightly more important and then hang up. If it’s important, they’ll call back.”
Bob and Steve shared wide-eyed expressions over that one.
“I’d let you answer it,” Eddie said softly. “Your people are important to you. I would hope, however, that you would chose to continue to go back to doing what we were doing if it wasn’t essential right then, though.”
“Fair enough,” Steve said with a huff a laughter. “Three points to Eddie, two to Billy, and one to Tommy.”
There was a little murmuring of surprise from the audience on that one. But Steve felt that Billy’s wasn’t as rude as Tommy’s was. Telling them to text wasn’t as bad as being lewd about it.
That would be the last time that happened, much to Steve’s dismay.
When asked about what they wore to bed, Billy said he was naked, Tommy said that he wore a silken matching set of pajamas with matching eye mask. Eddie said that he wore an old band t-shirt and Garfield pajama pants. Steve immediately was endeared. Billy also came in second place on that one.
When asked about their favorite act of foreplay, Billy didn’t do foreplay, Tommy was all for getting blown, and Eddie’s was even sweeter than the last. He said he enjoyed stripping his partner and kiss every inch of newly exposed skin.
The audience was starting to get excited as Billy began to pull into a dead heat with Tommy, though Eddie was clearly in the lead.
Then came time for the final question of round one. God that felt weird to say considering they had already done round two.
“What would you do if the house we recently moved into,” Steve said, leaning forward to the microphone, “and I believed it was legitimately haunted and was scared?”
This was Will’s question and he loved it. It really spoke volumes about a person.
“I’d buy you a new house, baby,” Billy said. “You think it’s haunted, then fuck let’s get the hell out of there.”
Steve was little surprised on that one. He would have thought that Billy would have been the one to tell him that it was all in his head.
The audience clapped in appreciation, too.
“I’d hire a priest to bless the house,” Tommy said, “before anything else. We just bought it, I wouldn’t want to give up a new investment so easily.”
“Uh...” Eddie said sheepishly. “I’ve always wanted a haunted house. And like it would suck, because you were scared and shit, but it would be so cool to live in haunted house. So I’d try to make friends with so it would stop being mean to you.”
That was the sweetest dorkiest thing Steve had ever heard, but it was also the most insensitive of the bunch and no one was surprised when Billy and Tommy were one and two respectively.
Bob smiled. “Can’t win them all, Eddie. You’ve been batting a thousand this round.” He turned to the audience. “Eddie got forty points that round, with Tommy and Billy almost at a dead heat with twenty-five each.”
“So with the totals of the two rounds, Eddie is in the lead at forty-five points, Tommy at twenty-eight, and Billy at twenty-six. But the next round is anybody’s game. Each Suitor will be asked one question and based on how well our lovely Catch Steve likes the answer they can get anywhere from one to three points. Get ready for the final round!”
They broke for lunch like they did yesterday and Steve was exhausted. He was almost too tired to eat, but he forced himself to eat and drink, for the energy if nothing else. He certainly was going to need it.
He buried his head in hands. He wasn’t sure if it was going to be worth it in the end. He was so worn out. He could only hope the Suitors were as tired as he was. He didn’t even know if they got to go out and enjoy the city while he was stuck in his hotel room every night.
He let the makeup lady retouch his makeup and he put on his best parent teacher conference face and stepped back out onto the stage.
~
Part 6 Part 7 Part 8
Tag List: CLOSED
1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog
2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system
3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog
4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji
5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon
6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman
7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth
8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss
9- @dreamercec @wheneverfeasible @themoonagainstmers @garden-of-gay @little-birch-boy
10- @ollieolive @dissociatingdemon @stripey82 @kultiras @micheledawn1975
#my writing#stranger things#steddie#ladykailtiha writes#game show au#buckingham#everyone is gay#not billy hargrove friendly#tommy hagan
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Stray dog (Part 1)
To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist
Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader
Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and forcefully refuses affection from Ghost and Soap even in his sleep.
Word count: 1852
Warnings: It's my first time posting my writing on Tumblr. There are so few CODxM!Reader fics I just want to contribute lmao TToTT. The warning is it can be shit because I'm new.
It was a successful mission. A tough one, yes, many soldiers got serious injuries and had to spend days in the hospital, but still, the mission was accomplished with minimal loss. The people at the base decided to throw a party at a well-known bar in the area. As usual, you stayed close to your team, until they left you all alone again for whatever they were up to: Ghost and Soap went into the dark corridor doing ‘secret’ business except for the fact that everyone knew what that business was; Price meeting up with the Captains of other teams, talking about the ‘kids’ in their care like the good ol’ tired dads and moms they all were; Gaz hitting up on some pretty guy or girl; and Roach just immersing himself in the music on the dance floor.
“The usual shot?” The bartender smiled at you. He was an ordinary-looking guy, not too tall, not too short, but he was always nice to you.
“Yeah.” You replied, eyes looking down at the empty glass in your scarred hand. Your usual shot was one of the heaviest types served at this bar, you found its bitter, stinging taste and the dizziness it brought about worked wonders for you, helping to repress the strong emotions that always came up to the surface to trouble you whenever you were off the field, whenever you were not having to fight between life and death. Free time and a mind that was offered the opportunity to relax were not something you felt grateful for. Instead, you loved being constantly stimulated when being in battles, since it left your mind no time to overthink unnecessary things other than trying to keep yourselves and your teammates alive.
“A successful mission, huh? Everyone is enjoying themselves a lot tonight.” The bartender said, clearly trying to keep talking to you as he was preparing your drink.
“It was.”
“Did you get injured?”
“Just some scratches, nothing serious.”
“You seem to do your job very well.”
You did. You were a good soldier. An excellent one even. You were showered with praise from the Captain, the teammates, the higher-ups… just anyone after almost every mission. Even Ghost himself had to admit that you were a good one. However, you didn’t know for sure what made you excel while most others didn’t. Maybe it was because every mission you paid no mind as to whether you would be alive or not. It was true that everyone in this line of work had to come to terms with the notion of death upon themselves, no one could be sure how many days they got left on this planet doing this kind of job, but you were still different. You weren’t actively trying to get yourselves in situations that would get you killed, because it often meant a great threat to your teammates too, but you were not one that would hold on to life that much. You were always ready to sacrifice.
“I notice that you’re always alone. Well, the others do join you, but after a while, they leave and you’re still here.” The bartender passed you the shot.
“They have things to do.”
“Why don’t you? Getting out there and having some fun.”
Fun? It did not sound fitting to who you were. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I prefer it this way.”
“By the way, can I ask for a guy’s number? The one with the mohawk.”
“You mean Soap?” You left out a soft chuckle, “Give up, mate. He already has a partner. A scary one.”
“Who?”
“The fuckin’ huge one with the skull mask. I’m sure you know well who he is and how scary he is.”
“What? That guy? I’ve always thought he’s into you though.”
This time you laughed out loud. The thought of someone interested in you was just so ridiculous, it felt surreal and impossible, “Ain’t no way, why would you think that?”
“He always looks at you with those piercing eyes, as if he will eat you up in no time.”
“Probably it’s because the Soap guy is always leaning over me. He’s so mad that I dare to get that near to his precious partner that he just wants to end my life right here.” You drank up the whole glass in one breath, then smashed the now empty glass on the bar, resulting in a huge ‘thump’ sound, mainly due to the fact that it was your fist that came into contact with the wooden material. It sent a burning feeling to your skin and fresh, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain you had to endure in battles or the mental one off field, when your mind was free to drift away.
“Could be. But I still think he is into you.” The bartender shrugged, knowing you so well that he went ahead to prepare another shot for you. Nights like this often led to you drinking non-stop until you were so drunk that you’d pass out, and that masked guy was the one who carried you back. That was another reason besides the intense glare that made him convinced that the guy was attracted to you. Well, the hot man with the mohawk was always there too, but he usually waited in distance and smiled at how the masked guy having trouble carrying you as you thrashed around in his arms, clearly too drunk to know that he was just helping you. But the bartender only thought that the mohawk and the masked guy were close friends. Now that you mentioned it, it was indeed possible that they were in love with each other.
Wouldn’t that make a love triangle though? The bartender threw a glance at you, studying you with amusement. Everyone loved some drama in their mundane lives. You were a handsome boy with sharp facial features, those damn bright eyes that lit up the whole place when you genuinely smiled, and all those strong muscles. He would’ve asked for your number instead if that scary big masked man wasn’t into you that much.
A few hours passed and the party came to its near end. All those smiling and laughing soldiers slowly hopped on the vehicles, making their way back to the base, clearly not wanting to wake up a mess the day after. They still had training as usual after all. One didn’t seem to care though. You collapsed on the bar, your handsome face grew red with how drunk you were and how much alcohol your body had absorbed. Ghost and Soap assured Price that they would bring you back safe before the tired dad of your Task Force got in the car with Gaz and Roach. They didn’t usually drink too much when they were off base, but you were quite the opposite. The team had no idea why you would pour so much alcohol into your mouth and stomach on these occasions, it was like you were grieving over something rather than celebrating the good news of a successful mission. Everyone in this line of work had their own past and troubles, but there was indeed something different in your troubles as they never felt that you were comfortable to open up. Soap even joked a lot about how much harder it was to get closer to you than Ghost. It was true that you were always smiling, chatting, and gossiping with him and Gaz and Roach over stupid things, but there was this invisible wall that you had built around your heart, unwilling to let anyone in.
Ghost and Soap got to the bar where you were lying.
“Come to get him?” The bartender was cleaning all the glasses that you and some other regulars used.
Ghost looked at you as your eyes were tightly shut, clearly not happy with your current condition, “Maybe next time don’t let him drink too much.”
The bartender raised his hands, “C’mon, I’m just serving my customers. He appears to need those shots to handle whatever emotions he’s having.”
Ghost and Soap turned their head to look at each other for a few seconds before Ghost stepped up and got you off the bar. You were too drunk to know anything, but surprisingly tonight you were very silent and cooperated well with your Lieutenant.
“Let’s take you back to your room, huh?” Ghost was content with this sudden change and Soap just casually used his strong hand to rub your neatly cut hair.
As Soap parked the car in the base's park, Ghost threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you off the vehicle. However, your tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, they widened as you turned your head left and right to make sense of your surroundings.
“You’re up early.” Soap said jokingly.
“He’s too drunk to understand your stupid sarcasm, Soap.” Ghost scoffed.
However, it took both men aback when they heard you sobbing. Soap was quick to cup your face with his palms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”
You shook your head, sobbing almost uncontrollably, trying to get your face out of his grip. One of Ghost’s arms went to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place and calm you down, but you started to act the usual way when you were drunk: thrashing around hysterically, as if you were striving so hard to escape from something inescapable.
“Let go of me!” You screamed.
“Y/n, calm down, calm down! It’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap tried to talk some sense into the heavily drunk you.
“Stay away from me!” You didn’t seem to listen. Feeling Ghost’s grip was still firm around your body, you got more and more violent. Screaming and kicking, you definitely hurt him in the process as you finally succeeded in getting away. You stumbled a few steps on the cold cement ground before you collapsed on it due to the perfect dizziness that you hoped the shots at the bar would gift you. You curled into a ball, trembling violently yet not from how cold the ground was. Shuddering sobs still escaped your lips, and your eyes were tightly shut again. Price and Gaz hurriedly ran to where you three were, their eyes filled with worry given how loud and heartfelt your screams were (Roach didn’t come with them because he also drank too much). The two men saw Ghost and Soap standing beside you, their arms were hanging in the air as if they were holding on to something, while you were there, laying on the ground sobbing and mumbling unintelligible words.
Luckily you quickly fell asleep again, still sobbing but unconscious enough for the men to carry you back to your room. They tucked you nicely into your bed, watching over your now peaceful sleeping face. Soap wiped the tears left on your cheeks with his hand, his mind questioning the reasons why you reacted so fiercely to them taking care of you earlier. When you finally stopped sobbing, they carefully left your room. There were things to be discussed, but they could wait.
to be continued bc I have class tmr and I need to sleep :D
#call of duty#cod#cod x male reader#ghost cod#soap cod#john price#gaz cod#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#ghost x male reader#soap x male reader#price is a tired dad#mw2 x male reader#roach cod#cod x reader#it's 3am in the morning im fvcked guys#angst#cod angst
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SERENDIPITY ✦ DR3
“Serendipity is an unexpected and very lucky finding, that is, a coincidence that fills us with happiness. Serendipity in love implies the feeling that the universe conspires in our favor, bringing that special person into our lives at the right time and oh boy, did the universe send her everything she ever needed in the form of a 5'10" man with a built-in accent, a love for Tim Tams, adrenaline-fueled spirit and a smile that could light up a whole town.”
✦ PAIRING: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader
✦ PIT BOARD: social media au | ✦ FACE CLAIM: becky g
✦ TRACK LIMITS: female!reader, covid-19 & quarantine mentions, age gap, language.
✦ MAY'S RADIO: HAPPY FRIENDSHIP DAY BESTIES! 🤗💗 I've been working on this for a month, honestly I thought I was gonna finish it fast but tbh that was really naïve of me 🥴 the amount of times I ended up changing almost every little thing is insane lol but today I sat down and commited to finish and post this! this is my first ever smau or any kind of 'x reader' really, so please be kind 🤍 and of course it was going to be about the love of my life! — oh btw, my idea is to get to present time and make it angsty so let me know what you guys think! I really hope you enjoy!
series masterlist | general masterlist | next chapter >
JANUARY 01, 2020
yourinstagram and danielricciardo added to their stories!
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danielricciardo has followed yourinstagram!
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yourinstagram
♡ liked by anitta, danielricciardo and 6,546,214 others
yourinstagram 2019 was full of happiness, pain, healing and growth. I loved a lot, I cried a lot and I laughed a lot. I'm grateful for a lot of things in life, but I'm specially grateful for you guys ❤️🥂 I LOVE YOU! ❤️
tagged: selenagomez, fioamato, iamdannaschwarz, itsvittoriasousa
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fioamato It's out with the old and in with the new ⏭️😜
iamdannaschwarz this could be the start of something new indeed 😏🤭 yourinstagram 🙈 user yourinstagram girlieee does this mean you found your Troy Bolton tonight? 👀👀👀
iamdannaschwarz what a year it has been! Through the ups and downs you prevailed. So proud of you! Cheers, amiga! 🥂❤️
itsvittoriasousa u deserve the whole world, i wish everyone knew ur heart 🥺 love you biiiiiiig ❤️
user1 can we talk about that dress!!!! jaw dropped 🤯
user2 Mami 🔥🔥🔥
selenagomez ❤️🥂🎆
user3 danny ric you ain't slick baby we can see u 👀
user4 words on the streets that they were seen pretty close the whole night 👀
user5 girlies do we think the writing on the napkin belongs to mr. ricciardo? 🧐
user4 what about the last pic?? could it be about a nod to him???
user3 somebody call the fbi and the cia we need to decode this 🔎🔎🔎
sebastianyatra una locura de año 🚀 happy new year penguin!
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JANUARY 25, 2020
justjared
♡ 9.075 Likes
justjared New couple alert?! YN LN, 21, and Formula 1 driver Daniel Ricciardo, 30, were spotted on a walk and getting cozy during a night out in New York. More photos now on JustJared.com #YNLN #Daniel Ricciardo Photos: Backgrid
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user1: well that's a couple nobody saw coming 😶 good for them tho
user2: These pictures are so creepy as to get these they literally have to stalk these people and are probably hiding in bushes or wherever to get the shots
user3: he's a full-grown man in his 30s messing around with a teenager how shocking 🙄
user4: how is she a teenager if she's 21??? she is a consenting adult and has been for a while...make it make sense user5: it's a 9-year age gap not 25 😑 y'all should learn to mind your own fucking business
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FEBRUARY 05, 2020
danielricciardo added to their story!
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yourinstagram added to their story!
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yourinstagram
♡ liked by danielricciardo, greeicy and 7,452,325 others
yourinstagram starry nights, sunsets, little moments, deep conversations & special feelings 💖🃏
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iamdannaschwarz pov: you were there to witness the first conversation 🤣
itsvittoriasousa never knew a person could blush that hard 😂 yourintagram you are both getting blocked 🙅♀️
fioamato 🃏🃏🃏
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michaelitaliano and scottyjames31 have followed yourinstagram!
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MARCH 11 & 12, 2020
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yourinstagram has added to their story!
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APRIL 09, 2020
yourinstagram
♡ liked by danielricciardo, jbalvin and 5,723,498 others
yourinstagram Quarantine with an aussie boyfriend: turns out, 'G'day mate' is the only greeting you'll ever need. Who needs handshakes anyway? Also, you get to excessively use the word 'mate' without being judged. It's basically a linguistic free pass 🤷🏽♀️😂🇦🇺
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user: OMG OMG IT'S FUCKING HAPPENING!!!! EVERYBODY STAY CALM!!!
user: Dan-Y/N nation how we feeling today? 😍
user: wasn't she dating sebastianyatra tho?
user2: nah they've been friends for years
user3: «cristina» is lowkey about her tho 🤭 "you were 19, i was 23"?? and there's a 4 year age gap between them?? they deffff had something going on a few years back AT LEAST 👀
user2: who knows maybe they did, but they refer to each other as "like-a-brother" and "like-a-sister" so as far as we know they are only best friends 🤷🏽♀️
fioamato what do you say titi yourmomsinstagram does it get the seal of approval?
yourmomsinstagram 🤔🤔🤔 yourinstagram she face-timed me and told me to pass the phone so she could talk to him. They talked for an hour. They are besties now, she's just trying to play hard-to-get 🙃
danielricciardo and 5,345 other liked it
fioamato 😂😂😂
jbalvin encantado de verte feliz hermanita ❤️
danielricciardo tell your boyfriend he's really lucky 🤙🏼
yourinstagram thanks will do, mate 🤙🏼
user OMG??? you guys are so unserious 😭
user2 MOM??? DAD???
user3 danielricciardo yourinstagram i'm glowing, flourishing and thriving 🥰😭
michaelitaliano shitty accent though
yourinstagram I love my haters ❤️ you guys are my motivators ☺️ btw don't you have a kangaroo to fight?
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APRIL 29, 2020
yourinstagram
♡ liked by michaelitaliano, danielricciardo, lewishamilton and 6,498,498 others
yourinstagram Spanglish country…we’re doing it!! Watch kanebrown_music and I blend sounds, languages and dance moves in #LostInTheMiddleOfNowhere (Spanish Remix) 😜 song and video OUT NOW 🔥
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iamcardib OKAAAY MAMAAA ����🧊🥶
lali ALTA DIOSA 🔥
user she 👏 never 👏 misses 👏
itsvittoriasousa BRO U ABSOLUTELY ATEEE
user jaw drops to floor eyes pop out of sockets hearts out of chest 😍
danielricciardo wow caliente 🔥
user the amount of unwell I am in this exact moment
user2 daniel is right. muy caliente 🥵
user3 i'm losing my mind over 2 words + emoji okay
user4 daniel stop being a cunt and make an appearence in one of Y/N's ig lives
user5 user4 you could totally hear his voice in the last one lmao
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MAY 03, 2020
danielricciardo
♡ liked by pierregasly, jensonbutton, iamdannaschwarz and 710,610 others
danielricciardo Just a bunch of life 🤠🚜🇦🇺🇺🇸
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yourinstagram awesome taste in music mate 👍🏼
danielricciardo big fan of hers 👍🏼 love finding new underground artists ☺️ user imagine calling THE yourinstagram an "underground artist" lmaooo user2 they're both such little shits i love them your honor 😭
kristenanniebell ❤️❤️❤️
scottyjames31 I see you're in good company mate
corey_wilson goodness I miss the ranch so much
user daniel said lemme give you thirsty bitches a few droplets of water
user2 there's so much to unpack here omfg
iamdannaschwarz you're welcome 😌 also there's a no-return policy in the contract ok bye
fioamato you're welcome 😌 x2 itsvittoriasousa you're welcome 😌 x3 danielricciardo nah i think i'm gonna keep it for a long while thanks. i'll rate you guys with 5 stars 👍🏼
user3 THE LETTER ON THE LAST PHOTO ???? I'M SENDING Y'ALL MY THERAPY BILLS
user4 THE MATCHING RINGS PLEASE!!!!!!! 😭😭😭
user5 all this soft launch shit is killing me guys help somebody let them know that we already know so they can stop playing!!!
yourinstagram but where's the fun in that babes? 😌 user holy shittttt!!!! y/n ???? i- 🤯 user5 OH MY GOD!!!! HI MOTHER AJKFFLAHDASD user2 it's a fucking confirmation!!!! dan-y/n nation we got it!!! it's crumbs but we got it!!!!!
user6 we stan a suportive bf ☝️🤩
user7 999 for grammy's best album of the year ✨manifesting✨
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─── Please don't forget to reblog & comment! ♡
#the joker and the queen fic#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo x you#latina!reader#famous!reader#daniel ricciardo imagine#daniel ricciardo social media au#daniel ricciardo instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 social media au#( agentstarkid's works )
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'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader.
!! This is Chapter 3! Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 can be found here! If you'd like to be here for the next part, ask to be added to my taglist! It'd be my pleasure ♡ !!
{{-Story Description: You're a youtuber with a fairly decent following deciding to help your good friend Tanner with a minor film project, with you set as the leading lady. When the actor for the male lead is a no show, Ted takes up the role himself. One problem: This short film's a Rom Com, and you just met the guy.-}}
//18+, Def gonna be some smut. Reader is implied to be afab, under 5'5 and has specifically named friends, all who have no real connection to Ted.
This story will be in multiple chapters. Also gonna post this on Wattpad and Ao3 (when I figure them out LMAO) under the same username: ObsessiveStarla. Hope you enjoy :^)\\
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@k-k0129
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Word count: 3.5k
Chapter 3: My Eyes Are Up Here
The first day of shooting the film finally came and went. We had spent most of that afternoon figuring out what every character's wardrobe would be like and making sure everything on set looked good on camera. If any furniture needed to be moved, we moved it. Paintings were taken down or added, blinds were closed or left open, overrall it felt like the first day was about preperation. While I had thought we'd get at least some filming done on the first day, it actually worked out well. It gave Ted an entire day to go over the script with Tanner, and Joe the entire day to play the role of my father, demanding I stay away from bad boy Ted. I mean that sarcastically. Mostly sarcastically.
The plot of the film is almost similar to our real lives: We're supposed to be a bunch of adults out of college trying to hold on to our youth while spending their last summer together at some...summer house. There's a few extras that are meant to be playing our friends, but the main focus is on the relationship of Ted and I; our characters, I mean. At the end of the first day, everyone part of the film crew leave to sleep at their own accommodations except 5 of us. Ted, Myself, Tanner, Joe and another member of the editing team, though I don't learn his name tonight as he spends the entirety of it in his assigned bedroom. Joe had offered to get me a separate Airbnb when he realized I was the only one staying here that didn't identify as a guy, but I'm not uncomfortable with these arrangements. I have a lock for my assigned bedroom if need be, but I have no reason to distrust anyone else that will be spending the next 3 weeks living here.
The first night passes with no problems from anybody, except from Ted. He started knocking on my wall around 12am. Took a good couple minutes and a quick Google search to realize the fuckass was knocking 'cunt' in Morse code. He stopped shortly after I messaged him a picture of my middle finger being held up at the same wall.
The next morning i'm involved in a few scenes with some of the extras first so I can get a real feel for being on camera in this light, which also gives Ted time to read over the script in another room. In the film, my name is supposed to be Kara, and he's Mason. Tanner picked simple names. Ted looks like he could be named 'Mason'. The scenes go by fairly quickly, doing the necessary repeats to get multiple takes and angles, standard procedure when filming. I find myself to be quite a natural at this sort of thing. Other than the occasional stammer, I'm able to speak my lines and act the part with little to no difficulty. No bloopers just yet.
Next thing I know, morning turns into noon and we're having to move outside to take advantage of the last bit of full sunshine we'll have for the day, including Ted, who will finally be joining me in front of the camera. Like Ted had explained yesterday, we'd been filming a lot of the scenes out of order, this one included. At this point in the story, several days have passed, and our characters have already shared their first kiss, so our chemistry needs to be on point to make it believable. We need to act like there are some real, lingering feelings for one another while keeping it subtle. It was actually challenges like this that made me agree to take the leading lady role. I could've easily been one of the extras and only have a page or two to read off of, but I wanted to explore true acting, not just pretending.
I can't say I'm inherently a romantic. I'm certainly intrigued by how romance in film was handled decade's ago compared to now and I'd absolutely invest myself into a romantic comedy of the 90's or 2000's if one was turned on in front of me, but I didn't sign up for this to play pretend with a handsome guy. I want to explore the trials and tribulations of this cheesy kind of storytelling I'm a sucker for. I want to see if I'm capable of bringing chemistry into one scene, then slipping it into my pocket for the next as if it were never out there.
My thoughts are cut by Tanner and Ted meeting me and the rest of the crew outside, with the script still in Ted's hand. He's still in the white t-shirt they fitted him with yesterday, changing his slacks into some dark blue jeans. He looked pretty good in jeans.
"Okay, so we wanna get some establishing shots.." Tanner explained to us, Ted moving to come stand beside me. "We're gonna get some of the extras to toss around a football and sort of...run around, get some shots of them playing. You two are gonna go stand over by that post and just...talk..." He pauses on that last word, as if to really emphasize it. "Just talk?" Ted repeats, raising both of his brows with a smile. "I don't like the way you hesitated there, my good man."
"No, I mean--"
"I feel like you're trying to imply something, good sir."
"Yeah, Tanner. He can talk to the 'pretty lady'." I pitch in with a knowing smirk, getting a look from Ted. "We won't need an intimacy coach just yet."
"No, I get it.." Tanner chuckles slightly. "What I was trying to say is now might be a good time to talk about what your 'tell' is going to be, if you can't think of anything to talk about."
I furrow my brows in confusion, silently looking to Ted for an idea of what that is. He looks equally confused. "Our 'tell'?" I ask.
"Yeah, for when you have to kiss." Tanner replies, pointing at Ted and I. "We can't just count down from three and shout at you. It has to feel natural, so if you have a tell, a non-verbal way of signaling that one of you is going in for it, it makes it...realistic and saves up some time."
I suppose the way Tanner explained it make sense. It makes me think back on a moment in Stranger Things. There's a scene at the end of Season 2 where everyone's dancing, and you can just barely see Finn Wolfhard's mouth move before he goes in for a kiss. He had mouthed 'I'm coming in' or something like that to Millie and it's noticable in the final shot they went with. Tanner wanting to avoid that is completely valid.
"OK. No problem." Ted was the first to agree with a casual shrug, turning to look at me. I give a quiet little nod in return. "Where should we go stand?"
"Just over there would be perfect." Tanner pointed over by the large empty flagpole in the distance, a bit farther away from the rest of the extras. "I'll just be a little more to the left with the film crew, I'll give you a. O.K. signal just before we start filming so you know when to start and I'll shout 'cut' when we're done."
"Sounds good to me. Let's go." Ted beckoned me to follow, heading towards the flagpole.
I'm walking somewhat behind Ted, blushing a little to myself as I take in just how much taller he is than me. He's definitely at least a foot taller, maybe more. I'm only noticing it now. I wonder how tall he is?
"It's 6."
I stop walking for about a second, almost wondering if Ted had somehow read my mind. "What?"
"It's 6 kisses. I counted."
"O-Oh." I giggle a little to myself, crossing my arms over each other to rub them with my hands. "You counted them? Did you even read the script?"
"Better than you did! How do you over count kissing?"
"I counted 7!"
"You added one in, you fuckhead."
"Why the fuck would I add one in? What, you think I was enticing you with an extra kiss, asshole?!" I move up a bit to stand beside him as we walk, just so I can playfully nudge his arm. "I counted 7!"
"You fucking wish, princess."
"Ooghh, you fucking wiiiish!..." I start to mock Ted's strong voice again. "You're projecting. Maybe you under-counted."
"How about you under-count how cute you think you are, huh?" Ted snickered to himself, nudging me back a little harder. "We're supposed to want to smooch it up more once we get to this pole, I need to be able to stay in character."
"That sounds like a you problem. I can stay in character, even with your headass."
"I am going to stick you up on that fucking flagpole, princess. One more."
"Stick--" I pause and close my mouth, resisting the urge to burst out laughing. "Stick deez nuts down your throat."
Ted and I erupt into laughter, almost getting a little hysterical. I leaned forward and hugged my stomach while Ted flung his head back. I'm sure at least some of the others could hear us, our laughter was practically echoing out. We knew we had to come down from our laughing fit when we reached the flagpole, letting out a few more cackles and giggles. I lean back against the large flagpole, it's wide enough for me to push all my weight on it without shifting one way or another. From here, we can see that Tanner was still talking to the film crew as they mess with their large cameras. I'm having to squint and raise my hand up to cover them from the sun's bright, harsh rays, though I smile to myself. I'm glad I agreed to help with this.
"How much longer, do you think?" I ask Ted, watching as Tanner moved over to a different cameraman. Before Ted can answer me, I see Tanner turn to us and raise his arm up high. I can just barely make out the O.K. symbol he's doing with his hand. Next thing I know, the sun's rays are no longer over me. Did some clouds move over it, or...?
I turn my body, only to stiffen it up against the flagpole, almost like I'm trying to push my body into it. Ted is now completely towering over me, only being held up by his forearm resting above my head against the pole. He's crossed his legs somewhat, so if he were to remove his arm, all of his weight would come crashing down on me. "You feelin' alright there, (Y/N)?" Ted's grinning like an absolute winner, keeping his dark brown eyes on me as he removes his round glasses and rests them atop his head. I feel like his eyes could be replaced with the red laser of a sniper, and I'd be just as tense.
"Wh-Why are you--"
"Ohhh, nothing sassy to say now, eh? Where's more deez nuts jokes, hm? Where's being an annoying little cunt?"
Before I can create a coherent response, I feel another one of his hands move closer to me. Ted rests his hand right on my forehead. "You're burnin' up, princess. Did you pack some sunscreen? Gettin' real red over here.."
Something about the way he's bullying me is making my stomach twist. His tone, his words, his smile....
I try to turn my head away to get his hand off my forehead. It works, but his hand moved down to the side of my chin, gently pushing it to the side to make me face him once more.
"My eyes are up here, baby."
I glare daggers right back at him. I can't tell if he's actually flirting or if he's just fucking with me 'cause of yesterday. Both are plausible.
"Y'know this isn't helping your case." I collect my composure enough to speak plainly.
"What case?" He asks with a snicker.
"The case where you don't think I'm a pretty lady."
"I don't. Tanner said I need to act like I'm into you, so I'm acting like I'm into you."
"You're a terrible actor."
"I act for a living."
"You make YouTube videos for a living."
"Well, I'm good at pretending to like you, so.."
Ted's earthy orbs linger on me as he removes his hand from my chin. I'm not sure what I'm feeling at this moment. Is it embarrassment? Is it uncomfortable? Am I...intrigued? Interested, even? The way he speaks to me, it's just...
"Sh-Shouldn't we be discussing what our tell is going to be?"
"St-St-St-Stammerin' up a storm over here.." Ted mocks my stutter, his confident grin becoming even more annoying to me.
"You're not funny.." As the words leave me, I realize I've been smiling a little at him.
"What, and you are?"
"I mean it! I--"
"Woww, you wake up on the wrong side of the bed, princess? All that knockin' bothered you?"
"I'm gonna knock you into this fucking pole if you don't shush. I meant about the tell." A chuckle escapes me. "He's gonna want to know what we've come up with. Any ideas?"
Ted let's out a gentle sigh, finally pulling back to stand beside me against the pole instead. I feel like I can breathe properly again. "It's gotta be subtle, yeah?" Ted asks, crossing his arms. "I believe the term Tanner used was 'non-verbal', but yes." I cackle a little. Tanner has a certain way of speaking that's rather amusing. He's one of those friends that are naturally funny, whether he's intending to be or not. "Something that, if picked up on camera, would make sense in the moment.."
"Like a wink?" Ted asks. I turn my head to him, watching as he gives the most non-subtle wink I'd ever seen a man give me. A chuckle leaves me. "More subtle...like..." Thoughts about how the kissing scenes are shot wander through my mind, where the camera may be at any given moment, whether or not there will be a close up. It needs to be as non-verbal as possible; the most subtle way a person can signal to another that they want to kiss them.
"...Like...a quick look at the lips."
"Like a quick little one-two?" Ted asks, moving his eyes from my lips to my eyes to give me a physical demonstration.
"Yeah. I'm sure people do that when they're about to kiss someone."
"You're 'sure'?" Ted's smile drops, his change in expression suggesting he's nervous. "Oh man, don't tell me I'm about to be your first kiss.."
"Oh fuck you! I've had my first kiss! I'm in my 20's!" I laugh at him, watching as he let's out a sigh of relief. "I've had several kisses with several other boys, thanks!"
"Wowww, okay, first of all, kissin' the bro's is different." Ted points his finger at me, trying to appear serious with his lips tucked in a bit. "Second of all, boys? I'll have you know you'll be kissing a MAN, (Y/N). A fully grown 26 year old man!"
"What happened to the 'man' that was supposed to put me up on the flagpole, hm?"
"I basically already did, and you turned into a tomato."
"My feet didn't even leave the ground."
"Were you expecting me to pick you up? Cause I can do that!"
"Oh please, looks like the heaviest thing you ever carried was a Tuba."
"Okay, fuck you, I was in theater, but I can throw a mean ball and could absolutely carry you."
"You think so?"
"Absolutely."
"Try it."
Ted raises a curious brow at me and turns his body towards me once more. For a moment, I thought I saw his eyes wander downward, but our moment is interrupted by a shout, though it's not from Tanner. Right before my eyes, like time moved way faster than I was ready for, Ted had moved around me to stand in front of me to catch a fast-moving football. His back was close to me, in fact, this was the closest he's been to me so far. Though for only a brief moment, I could feel his white shirt slightly caress the tip of my nose as the wind blew. He smelled like...pine trees.
"Dude!" Ted shouted at the extras as he threw the football back. He may not have been a jock in high school, but his form was pretty good.
His. His football form. Y'know, like, not--not his--
I think that football would've hit me if Ted hadn't reacted as fast as he did.
"Jesus..." Ted huffed before turning to me again. He noticed how tense I had gotten, reaching to touch my arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't back up into you, did I? You alright?"
"I-I'm alright.." I managed to mutter back. It was odd hearing his voice sound so concerned for me. Up until now, most if not all of our interactions had been full of sarcastic, tyrannical but overall light-hearted jabs at each other, but in this very moment, I realized we may have unintentionally developed something here. I'm not saying it's necessarily romantic, but...there's a tension building up between us. It's not just in my head, is it? Does he feel it too? Is that why he's?...
"That...works too." Tanner catches up with us, alongside the man that had thrown the football. I didn't even realize they had been approaching us.
"What, did you plan that?" Ted turns to Tanner, sounding quite frustrated with him. "That could've hit her."
"Dude, I'm so sorry, I messed up my throw..." The man next to Tanner spoke with a genuine frown. "I-I meant to throw it higher up and hit the pole, the sun blocked my view. It's my fault."
"No, I told Dan to throw it, I'm sorry." Tanner speaks up as well, his hands resting on his hips nonchalantly. "I've been shouting at you two for, like, a good minute. I thought it would've been funny if Dan hit the pole.."
Ted and I are silent. Oh fuck. How long have they been trying to get our attention? How did we not hear them? I can tell Ted still isn't satisfied with the answer. Angry wasn't a good look for him, I don't think it's a good look for anyone.
"We need to buy you a whistle.." I manage to get out a joke, smiling to show everyone that I wasn't upset. I knew Tanner hadn't meant for anyone to get hurt. He probably trusted this 'Dan' to make the shot. Tanner wouldn't hurt a fly. He /would/ hurt a spider, though. He hates those things. "Yeah. Clearly." Tanner chuckles slightly, slipping his hands into his shorts pockets. "I'm really sorry."
"I'm okay, Tanner. Teddy's got me." I move away from the flagpole to place my arm on Ted's shoulder, leaning against it somewhat. I think my attempts at showing him I was OK finally worked, watching as he looks down at me with a friendly scoff. "I should've let it smack you in your stupid face." He remarks, finally bringing some of the tension from that altercation down. "Maybe, but at least I believe you now." I smile at Ted, moving my hand off his shoulder. Dan apologizes one last time before moving to rejoin the extras. Tanner let's us know that we'll be moving back inside to check on the shots before returning to the cameramen to help pack up. Ted and I start walking back to the house, though he pauses for a moment.
"What do you mean you 'believe me now'?" He asks, furrowing his brows while smiling. "Believe what?"
I give him a cutsey smile and reply simply.
"That you could carry me."
I walk a bit ahead of him, feeling the weight of my cheeks from how wide I'm smiling to myself. I hear a quiet scoff from Ted, though the rest of the walk is quiet.
After a few minutes of packing up and walking, we all return inside to look over the footage and set up for other scenes the extras will be filming. Now is the time we let Tanner know that we've figured out what our 'tell' is going to be. I look over at Joseph in the meantime, who's across the living room helping an extra with adjusting their outfit. As Ted explains the idea, Joe shoots me a look, furrowing his brows like I had just disobeyed a direct order. I return the look with a shrug. He's just going to have to deal with it. Tanner absolutely loved the idea, said it would add 'real intimacy' to a scene if he caught it on camera.
I suppose that's it, then. If I'm ever going in for a kiss, I'll look at Ted's lips to let him know.
__________________________________
|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 ||
#ted nivison x y/n#ted nivison x you#ted nivison fanfic#ted nivison x reader#ted nivison#jschlatt#chuckle sandwhich#youtuber fanfiction#youtuber fanfic#AllARomCom
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@Dazai Osamu . . . ( ノ´ヮ`) ノ
Tags: ada!dazai, camgirl!reader, mentions of sex, suggestive, pining, cursing
A/N: Since a lot of people liked the first part I’m going to write chapter two. No, they don’t have sex. And Yes, the chapter title is a Taylor Swift reference. No, I am not a swiftie, I am a casual enjoyer. (December Mo: Hi guys, this will be my LAST post with the old style and probably the last time I’ll be doing a long, drawn-out fic. The old title was ‘Whiskey on Ice’ so that explains what I said before.)
Inspo: Mingwa’s BJ Alex. Links: Part 1 , Masterlist
Camgirl’s Crush – 💋
“I was wondering if you wanted to go to a bar with me tonight, since you did say I was such a good boy today.” Dazai whispered seductively in your ear. You felt the heat of his breath on your neck, “O- okay..” you nervously spoke. Dazai had a way of making you feel nervous at times, especially when his moves are sensual.
You’ve experienced teasing and flirting before, but when he whispers in your ear, when he pays attention to your idiosyncrasies, when he takes you out on little dates; only to disguise it as “work lunch” you feel—special.
Dazai was still holding you by the waist as you walked back to the agency to clock out. You told him that the both of you had to do it before going to the bar to which Dazai reluctantly agreed; he just wanted to make you happy. “Osamu-kun, people might make up stories if they see us together like this..”
Like he cared anyways. He chuckled at your worries, “Ah darling! You don’t need to worry about that! Pretty soon, those rumors would be true anyways, yeah?” Without thinking, you immediately respond, “yeah!”
You then realized what you just said. Your face turned red and you looked away from Dazai. “I- ‘m.. sorry.” You nervously mumbled. Dazai found your actions adorable! You were just so cute, he wanted to keep you all to himself.
Once you got to the agency, Dazai hurriedly clocked the both of you out while you waited for him downstairs. While he was upstairs, you thought of your moments with Dazai, you wanted him so bad. You’d fantasize about him during your streams and sometimes—at work. You were definitely not proud of that.
“Darling!” Dazai’s words snapped you back into reality. He ran to you then scooped you up into his arms, carrying you roughly to the bar. “Osamu!! Put me down!” You huffed.
But he didn’t, and you were happy. He almost makes you want to quit streaming. You just want to be his and you hope he wants to be yours. You just held onto him tightly, silently hoping he liked you back.
Dazai smiled softly as you held onto him tightly. He liked you like this, sweet and vulnerable. If there was one thing on his mind, it’d be if there was someone else or not, if you heard of him—IU, and if you could hear the love in him, waiting to burst.
His touchiness with you didn’t stop when you got to the bar. Not that you expected it to, but it was quite the opposite. He placed you on top of him, with your back to his chest as his bandaged arms encircled your waist.
He bought you drinks, obviously, he wanted you drunk. Dazai wanted to take advantage of his cute little coworker who may or may not be his favorite cam girl, not that he watches any other.
“Darling..” he whispered in a deep, sultry voice. “Wanna go home to my place? I’ll take care of you, I promise.” You only nodded in response. You knew you shouldn’t, you knew this couldn’t be. But you were only human, a slave to your urges. And right now, what you want is Dazai Osamu.
He gently laid you on his bed once you got to his apartment. Can you believe he carried you all the way there? It was his fault anyways, he got you so drunk!
“So cute..” he whispered underneath his breath. “‘Samu..” you called out softly. You then put your arms up, opening and closing your fists, wanting him to give you a hug. God! If you were sober this would’ve been embarrassing, acting like a fucking baby?!
“Hold me!!” You whined, to which Dazai chuckled. But he still happily complied. Taking off your shoes and sitting beside you on his bed, pulling you closer to his body. “Such a cute girl..” he whispered as he gave you a kiss on the cheek.
As the clock struck 10PM he saw that there was no new livestream, but there was an announcement. But he knew you had typed this out when you were waiting for him downstairs as he clocked the both of you out. Such a sneaky girl.
There was no going back now that Dazai knew that his adorable, seemingly innocent coworker was a cam girl.
@toxicramune @oh-my-beel @nymphsdomain @morinuu – Comment 🪩 to be on my taglist !
++ @yasu-masashige @ninin8nin (who asked for pt.2)
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bungo stray dogs headcanons#bungo stray dogs#dazai osamu#osamu dazai#dazai x reader#osamu x reader#dazai osamu x reader#osamu dazai x reader#tojifile
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Paring: Roman Reigns x Sabrina Richards™️
Warnings: none
Word count: 1420
a/n: So apparently y’all wanted a whole story, and originally I said I would only keep it going if Roman retained. Spoiler alert, sadly he did not. BUT I can’t let it go out like that, The Tribal Chief reign was one of the greatest in modern day Wwe history thus far. So, Gemini Moon: Chapter 1. Sabrina Richards is my oc that o created, I have my main characters pinned to my post. Like, reblog and leave comments. Throw the ones up one last time for our Tribal Chief ☝🏽❤️
I couldn’t stand by and watch Seth, and Cody get beat on by The Bloodline any longer, by the time I got out there, Seth, Jimmy, and Jey were laid out, outside the ring. Cody was being hounded on by Roman in the corner, I ran around their side of the ring. I tugged on Roman’s large arm as hard as I could to stop him, he reared back his fist, but froze when she saw me. I rolled Cody out the way; then I turned to Roman with my hands up pleading with him to leave Seth, and my brother in law, Cody, alone. He cracked up in laughter, his perfect, white teeth shining under the stadium lights. As quickly as his smile appeared, it left.
“Who do you think you are? Thinking you can step in here with The Tribal Chief.” Roman backed me into the corner of the ring. It hadn’t occurred to me when I came out here to try and pull him off Cody that I’d have to face The Tribal Chief. There was no way you thought you could overpower him, so I used the one thing in my arsenal I knew he wouldn’t resist. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, I pulled him into me, and smashed my lips into his. At first stunned he grabbed hold of my shoulders, but to my surprise, he leaned into me. I was so wrapped up in the softness of his lips, and the way he held me so closely, I almost forgot that I was supposed to be using this as a distraction.
That was until I was being ripped away, “What the hell are you doing!” Cody shouted at me, I could feel my face heat up out of embarrassment. He looked at me with wide eyes, his sky blue irises piercing through me. I looked back at Roman who was still shocked, stood right where I left him, his hand touching his lips. His eyes watching me, desire reflecting within them, and sending a chill down my spine. Everything in my soul told me to run, Jimmy and Jey were dragging themselves back into the ring, and when Roman took a step forward I automatically made a break for it. Cody grabbed Seth by the shoulders, and he clumsily stood to his feet. His eyes found mine, and his face morphed into a confused expression. They followed my lead as we retreated up the ramp.
“You never should have come out here! What if you got hurt, Brandi would have my head on a platter!” Cody fussed at me, I wasn’t hearing anything he was saying. My eyes remained on Roman who was now leaning over the top rope, and seemingly fighting himself not to chase me. I could still feel his warm lips on mine, I could still smell the hint of spearmint from his hair, and the phantom touch of his strong hands around my waist. The Tribal Chief had left his mark on me tonight.
When we finally got to the back, Cody and Seth pulled me to the side. A disappointed expression written across Cody’s face, he stood with his hands on his hips, and his head hung like a disapproving father. “Why in the hell, were you out there?” Seth asked, he still held the back of his neck where Jey kicked the shit out of him. I didn’t answer, I didn’t wanna have this conversation with Seth around, he would just laugh at me.
“Go on, tell him Sabrina…why were you out there.” Cody encouraged, my eyes found interest with the ground, and my fingers twisted together anxiously.
“I was just trying to help, I couldn’t stand by and watch you guys get rocked like that.” I tried to explain, for a moment I had Seth sold at least, and that was until Roman, and his Congo line of cousins came trotting in. Unlike Jimmy, Jey, and Solo, Roman wasn’t breaking a sweat. His hair was still neatly tied back in a tight bun, and his clothes looked fresh like he just walked out the house. Perfection.
“If by help you mean tried to get a taste of the Tribal Chief for free? Then yea, you definitely helped Sabrina.” He gloated, Paul Haymen stifled a giggle from behind Roman’s broad shoulders. Seth gasped dramatically, then slowly pivoted from Roman to me, then from me to Roman and back? I rolled my eyes, Cody hadn’t said anything, but he kept his gaze trained on the Royal Samoa tribe in front of us.
“You kissed him?” Seth finally asked out loud, as if the thought of me even looking at Roman in any kind of way disgusted him. I could feel my face heat up in embarrassment, I didn’t even have an argument, not a sensible one anyway.
Roman chucked deeply, his head lowered, then looking back up to me, his eyes darkened. Cody tensed up, at the same time Jimmy, Jey, and Solo stood at attention. “As pretty as you are, you try that again…” He trailed off, the corner of his mouth curling upward into a menacing smile, then said, “well, you know what they say?” He paused again, and even now Roman had us hanging on his every word. “Fuck around, and find out.” He growled out, he took a threatening step forward, and so did Seth. Cody pushed me by gingerly, his lips pressed together forming a line, an attempt to control his emotions. The boys had already gotten in trouble once for brawling in the back.
“If I may make a comment my Tribal Chief?” Paul Haymen cut in, Roman nodded his head in agreement without taking his intense site off me. “Might be wise of you, to reconsider who you do business with Sabrina Richards. I’ve done my research, and if it’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’ve got an immaculate track record of working with losers.” He grinned his trademark grin, and in never wanted to lay hands on a man so badly before.
“In other words, you need to come on over here and get you some of this Tribal Chief money.” Roman said bluntly, his eyes danced playfully, and his band of goons really seemed to have found that funny.
“Are you done yet?” Seth asked, a bored expression on his face; though if anyone knew Seth, they’d know he’s ready to pop off at a moment's notice. He was never interested in doing much talking.
Roman’s face scrunched up in disgust, he glanced around at his team, “the funny man thinks he can rush me, hmm.” He scuffed, then his eyes found mine as I stood meekly behind Cody, and Seth. “Tribal Chief money babygirl.” He reiterated, then flashed me a bright smile, and when he looked upon Cody for the last time, he just laughed at him. He signaled for his council, and then left the three of us standing dumbfounded.
As soon as Roman was out of sight, Seth whipped around to me, “you kissed him!” He was on the verge of having a fit, and honestly I’m surprised how he just hasn’t up and fainted all these years. The way Seth described how I make him feel is something close to retirement every week. It’s not my fault I stress him out.
“I was trying to help!” I squeeked, we began to bicker, and Cody tried to break us up.
“I said enough!” He shouted, stepping between us, and as if enough people weren’t staring at us, I was sure the whole back crew tonight had their eyes on us. Cody pressed his palms together, more than likely praying he isn’t the one to croak out right now. He let out a defeated breath, “let’s just, go on back to the locker room while we still have some dignity. And you Sabrina, should be thinking of ways to get your head back on straight on the walk back.” Cody spared me one last glance, then turned and walked off leading the way to our shared locker room.
“Ouuu, looks like somebody upset grandpa.” Seth teased, then danced off in the same direction of Cody. I restrained myself from slapping the back of his head, and followed behind with my head held down. Though the moment had long passed, Roman’s words reverberated in the back of my mind. “Come on over here, and get you some of this Tribal Chief money.”
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Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 10
Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.
Warnings: This chapter contains mugging, memory loss, traumatic brain injury. This fic as a whole contains sex, language, violence, mental illness.
Word Count: 3164
Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9
Author’s Note: I’m back! Obviously, it took me sooo long to figure out how to write this next chapter, but I finally got it together. I really appreciate your patience in the meantime & hope you enjoy reading it. The plan is to post more regularly soon (Chapter 11 is almost done).
“Makeup is an art,” Chantelle and Tina had explained to you the night before. “Think of your face as a canvas.”
Despite all their well-intentioned beauty coaching, the cold, hard truth was you still had no idea what the hell you were doing - you couldn’t even keep the differences between moisturizer, foundation and concealer straight in your brain. And after twenty minutes of attempting to “paint” your face like the natural-born Rembrandt they were convinced you were, you’d stared back at your reflection in the mirror and decided you looked like a clown…and not in a sexy-Arthur-Fleck kinda way.
Exasperated, you’d washed everything off, opting instead for a tiny bit of mascara, lip gloss and powder.
But then there was the issue of your hair. You’d burned your fingers on Tina’s flat iron before managing to get things somewhat under control. But as soon as you stepped out onto the street the rain began to fall, causing your already-unruly mane to frizz up completely by the time you reached the subway.
Chantelle’s handpicked outfit, however, remained the only unblemished element of tonight's ensemble: her tight-fitting angora sweater did things for your non-existent cleavage you’d never imagined possible. You’d be sure to thank her profusely later…even though she thought you were going out with someone else tonight.
You’d never cared how you looked in front of a guy before…but Arthur Fleck wasn’t just a guy. To say he’d gotten under your skin was, perhaps, the understatement of your life: you were becoming crazy about the man.
You didn't know how you were going to survive this date. You could barely hold it together in Arthur’s presence without wanting to reach out and smother him with affection, and the kiss between you earlier today had only solidified your deepest desires. You wanted Arthur in so many ways…ways you didn’t even understand yet. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever rode the Giant Dipper at Amusement Mile: the sensation of your stomach flying up into your throat as you went over that first terrifying drop…a disconcerting mix of fear and exhilaration. Was this what being in love felt like?
***
The bouncer at Pogo’s frowned as you handed him your ID.
“Are you…um…are you alright, miss?” he asked, concern in his eyes.
You were thrown off by the question. “Of course. Why?”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…have you looked in a mirror recently?”
You shook your head. The jerk was actually making fun of how bad your hair and makeup had turned out. People in this city really didn’t know how to act.
“Wow, you’re hilarious,” you rolled your eyes at him, snatching back your ID. “Can I please go inside now? My friend’s about to go on.”
You pushed past the rude bouncer and entered the club, scanning the room feverishly for an empty seat. Spotting one parallel to the center of the stage, your eyes lit up and you rushed over to claim it. As you sat down, a strange chill ran up your spine as you slowly began to realize: everyone was staring at you. Faces of concern and mockery swam around you, and you weren’t sure why.
Oh shit, you thought. Do I have something on my face?
Unfortunately, you hadn’t brought a compact mirror (Tina and Chantelle had given you a five minute lecture on the importance of always carrying on in your purse), so you couldn’t check. And you couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom because then you’d lose your seat. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, then glanced at your watch and saw the glass was cracked.
Weird. You hadn’t remembered smashing it against anything on the way over.
Your concerns about your appearance, however, were quickly dissolved as the current act wrapped and the emcee took the mic.
“This next comic describes himself as a lifelong Gotham resident who from a young age was told that ‘his purpose in life was to bring laughter and joy into this cold, dark world.’ Umm. Okay? Please help me welcome Arthur Fleck!”
You applauded along with the rest of the half-faded crowd as relief washed over you. Thank God you hadn’t missed him. As Arthur took the stage, your heart began to throb again. There were simply simply no words to describe how incredible he looked tonight. His red vest. The crisp, white button-down shirt underneath it. The matching slacks.
And his hair. His hair.
You were certain his hair was going to be the death of you. How was it possible that you and that gorgeous hair inhabited the same planet without the entire world imploding?
Arthur squinted out at the crowd before speaking. You knew he was searching for you, needing to see you in the audience, needing to know you were there for him. And you were. When the two of you locked eyes, he smiled. You smiled back at him and everything else fell away. It was you and Arthur again. And nothing else in this cold, dark world mattered.
You didn’t care that Arthur had a laughing episode at the beginning of his act. You didn’t care that basically all his jokes fell flat, either. You didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was how proud you were of him. So proud, you felt like you could burst into a million pieces.
When he finished his set, you leapt to your feet, clapping and screaming. Arthur blushed from the stage, embarrassed…and pleased. Everyone was staring at you, then back at Arthur, then back at you in dazed confusion. Two weirdo peas in a pod…and proud.
“We’re gonna take a short break,” the emcee announced.
A moment later, you and Arthur found each other at the back of the club.
“You were amazing, Arthur!” you exclaimed as you threw your arms around him.
“I'm so glad you came tonight…” he hummed into your ear. Of course, your depraved mind twisted the meaning of those two words in your head, and you found yourself having to stifle a blushing smile. You felt your body quaver with excitement at being next to him once again.
“Wait a minute…” Arthur pulled back to look at you, shock and concern flooding his face.
“Y/N, what…what happened to you?”
You blinked. “What? Nothing happened to me.”
“You’re…you’re hurt.” Arthur looked you up and down, then lifted your hands to eye-level. Bruises in the shape of what looked like fingers and fingertips lined the insides of your wrists. You frowned at the sight, utterly confused.
“Y/N, who…who did this to you?”
“I’m fine!” you insisted. “I mean…I have a slight headache, but, y’know, it’s probably just the rain.”
“Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. Can you remember?”
It took a minute for your brain to register Arthur’s question, which you realized was a little strange.
“Well,” you inhaled, trying hard to formulate your thoughts. “I got on the subway…I know that. And I took it all the way to…well, whatever this stop was near here, you know? And then I got off the train and went up the stairs…and then…” you looked up into Arthur’s beautiful eyes. “And then I was here. Watching you perform for the very first time. And I’m so proud of you, Arthur!” you squealed as if you’d seen him for the first time tonight all over again.
“You don’t remember anything else? You must have hit your head.”
“I'm fine!”
“Y/N,” Arthur’s worried eyes blinked at you. “I don’t think you are. I think I need to take you to the hospital.”
“But it’s our big date!” you wailed. “I got all dressed up and everything!”
At that moment, a few Wall Street bro types brushed past and snickered at Arthur.
“Nice set, freak. In case you didn’t get the memo: you’re supposed to tell the jokes and the audience is supposed to laugh…not the other way around.”
"He has a laughing condition, you assholes!" you snarled at them without hesitation.
To everyone’s surprise, the bros paused, thrown off by the fact you’d called them out.
“Sorry…” Arthur interjected, glancing at the dudes apologetically. “She’s…she’s not feeling well.”
Arthur shot you a desperate please-shut-your-mouth-before-you-get-us-both-killed look, but you could see there was a tiny, triumphant smile curling up his lips underneath it. Still, the words were flying out of your mouth and there wasn’t much you could do to stop them.
“Yeah, I’m not feeling well,” you continued loudly, glowering at them. “Maybe if assholes would shut their fat faces and stop acting ignorant, I’d feel better.”
“Okay, you’re coming with me now!” Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders and scooted you towards the door. You looked over your shoulder to see them staring after you, dumbfounded. The sight of it made you laugh.
“Y/N,” Arthur pulled you into him as soon as you were outside. “I’m taking you to Gotham Hospital. We’ve gotta get you checked out.”
“No, Arthur!” you protested. You didn’t exactly know why you were so opposed to the idea, but your first instinct was to protest.
“Y/N, please. Please? Just do it for me. Just so I know you’re okay.”
“I’m worried about you,” he emphasized.
“I’m fine!”
“Okay.”
You’d switched it up so quickly, Arthur blinked in disbelief. He cleared his throat, nodding.
“Uh…okay. Good. Let’s go.”
**
“This is not where I expected to end up tonight,” you lamented. Arthur sat next to you, a clipboard given to him by the nurse at the front desk in his lap. He was trying to fill out your paperwork for you.
“Um. Your last name is…L/N right?”
“Yeah” You smiled at him. “How’d you know?”
Arthur blushed. “I…might have looked at your timecard. I was…curious about you. This was before…you know…we became...closer.”
“That’s so sweet! I looked at your timecard, too!”
Arthur stifled a laugh. “What’s your date of birth?”
He patiently wrote in all the answers and brought the completed forms back up to the desk.
“I’m surprised there aren’t more people here,” you observed, looking around at the handful of other patients. “It is a Friday night, after all.”
“It’s only ten o’clock,” Arthur reasoned. “My guess is things get crazier out there in a couple hours or so.”
“I feel like things are flying out of my mouth tonight without any filter,” you blurted. “And I’m not even that angry.”
“I feel like they are, too,” Arthur agreed. “But, that’s okay. I’m glad you agreed to come here. I’m…I’m still worried about you.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning in. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Arthur looked a little startled, but he nodded.
“How do you get your hair to look so good all the time?”
Arthur’s eyebrows arched and he laughed.
“I'm serious!”
“No…I'm sorry,” he demurred, looking down at the tile floor. “It's just that nobody’s ever said that to me before.”
“Nobody ever said your hair looks incredible?” you asked. “Like it's the most gorgeous hair in the world? Nobody ever approached you to do shampoo commercials?”
“Maybe that's my true calling,” he joked.
“What shampoo do you use?”
"That's a personal question," Arthur teased as the door to the back of the ER swung open.
“L/N? F/N L/N?” the nurse called out.
You leapt to your feet. “Oh! That’s me.”
“Do you want me to wait here?” Arthur asked.
“Are you kidding?” You extended your hand and pulled him up. “Of course I want you to come. You’re my emotional support clown.”
**
After weighing you, taking your blood pressure, asking if you had any allergies to any medications and all the other boring details that entailed a medical visit, the nurse set you up in an examination room and read through your paperwork, pursing her lips as she centered in on the handwritten scrawl (Arthur’s handwriting of course) that explained why you’d come to the ER in the first place.
“It says here you…think you hit your head?”
“He thinks I hit my head,” you clarified, jerking said head towards Arthur. “I’m still not sure. There’s a big gap in my memory from tonight and I don’t know why.”
“There are bruises on her arms,” Arthur added. “She came to meet me and she looked…disheveled. Like someone had…”
He paused. The nurse looked you up and down.
“You don’t remember what happened to cause the bruises?”
You shrugged. “I can be clumsy sometimes.”
“You’re not…that clumsy,” Arthur murmured under his breath. “I mean,” he looked up at the nurse. “She’s a dancer. She’s…one of the most graceful people I’ve ever seen.”
“Arthur, that is so sweet!” you exclaimed.
The nurse shot you both a skeptical look, then smiled. “Your husband obviously cares for you a great deal.”
“Oh,” Arthur blushed. “I’m…not her-”
“Yes, he’s a wonderful husband!” you interjected, flashing him a slightly maniacal smile. “So protective of me. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”
“It sounds like you might have taken a fall,” the nurse continued, jotting down a few notes on your chart. “But the bruises on your wrists do look like they were caused by someone else’s hands.”
“My watch is broken, too,” you blurted.
“I’m wondering if maybe you were mugged. It happens to women in Gotham all the time, unfortunately.”
“But I still have all my money,” you pointed out, opening up your purse to show off your untouched wallet.
“Maybe you fought them off,” Arthur suggested. It wasn’t a completely outlandish notion. You were known to bring out the feistiness if the wrong people pushed your buttons.
“In any case, we’ll run some tests to check for concussion and other injuries.”
The nurse opened a drawer and handed you a light blue paper robe. “You can put this on. I’ll inform the doctor and he’ll check you over.”
“Thank you,” Arthur said.
“Of course. He should be by in just a minute.”
“What a nice lady,” you said to Arthur after she left you alone. “Don’t always meet people like that around here.”
“Very nice,” Arthur agreed. He cleared his throat. “Um…do you want me to leave, or…turn around while you get changed?”
You blinked, the reality of everything that had happened tonight finally hitting you.
“I just can’t believe this is how tonight turned out.”
“What do you mean?” Arthur asked softly.
“I had a whole outfit planned, Arthur! And my hair and makeup. I wanted to impress you and look beautiful for you tonight.”
“Y/N…” Arthur stood up to face you. “You are beautiful. No matter what. All I care about is that you’re okay.”
You sighed, moved by his sweet words, but you still felt utterly crestfallen and defeated. “I ruined our first date. And your big stand-up debut. I wanted tonight to be perfect so bad…”
“You didn’t ruin it,” Arthur interrupted. “I…” he paused. “Of course I wish none of this had happened to you. This city is…awful. In so many ways.” He paused, taking your hand into his. “But…I just love being with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as we’re together.”
You wanted to kiss him again, but suddenly the door flew open and a man in a white coat suddenly stood before you both.
“I hear somebody got banged up tonight.”
“My guess is you got mugged. Maybe the muggers chickened out before they could actually…you know…mug you. It does look like you’ve got a concussion.”
**
Dr. White’s bedside manner was on the complete other end of the spectrum of your nice nurse’s from a few minutes before, but you’d come to expect that from men with MDs. After performing the perfunctory tests of shining a light in your eyes, examining your body for additional trauma or bruising (none was found) and asking you a few routine questions, he announced his evaluation:
“What can you do for that?”Arthur asked, concerned.
The doctor snorted at what he obviously deemed a dumb question. “Not much. Just wait it out. Don’t go to sleep for a while.”
“What happens if I fall asleep?” you asked.
“You could die.”
“Oh.”
“Your brain’ll heal itself,” the doctor continued. “Might take a little time. Just try to take it easy and don’t be in places where this could happen to you again.”
“You mean the entire city?” you asked, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him. You knew what he meant, but the slight insinuation that getting mugged was somehow your fault didn’t sit great with you.
“What can I say?” Dr. White shook his head and shrugged. “Welcome to Gotham.”
“I’ve lived here all my life,” you informed him dryly. “Gotham’s a jungle.”
“Then welcome to the jungle.”
**
“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked in the lobby of the hospital. It was past midnight. “There’s a diner down the street people seem to like.” He paused. “That is…if it’s not too late for you.”
The way you saw it, you’d stay up all night with Arthur if he’d have you.
“Let’s go to the diner. I could really go for a cheeseburger."
Arthur laughed. “Okay.”
The rain had stopped and the air outside felt crisp and freshly-washed. For a brief moment, it made you forget that the garbage strike in Gotham had just entered its seventh week.
You and Arthur moved through the crowded sidewalk together, stumbling through the endless obstacles of people and garbage. A startling headline caught your eye as you walked past a newsstand, and you stopped in your tracks to read it:
KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE. LATEST NEWS ON THE MURDERS, PAGE TWO.
Beneath was a drawing of a vampiric clown.
“Can you believe that?” you asked.
Arthur paused alongside you, his eyes wide as he soaked in the headline.
“I watched this on the news last night."
Arthur nodded, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. “They worked at Wayne Enterprises. All three of them.”
You rolled your eyes. “That figures.”
Arthur cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”
You continued, lowering your voice. “Between you and me, I actually knew one of them. Back when I was still at college. He was a complete asshole, and that’s putting it nicely.” You sighed. “And if I had to guess, those ‘friends’ of his were cut from the exact same cloth. But it looks like he finally picked the wrong person to fuck with. And I can’t say I’m shedding any tears.”
Arthur nodded slowly, taking in your words.
“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself. “You must think I’m crazy for talking like this.”
“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”
“Three less pricks in Gotham City,” you quipped. “Only a million more to go!”
Arthur threw back his head and laughed. You took it as a good sign: despite the traumatic brain injury and the chaotic night you’d shared, his smile still made you go weak at the knees.
🤍🩷 Thanks for reading. Visit my Masterlist for all my Fleck writing, including future chapters of Heartthrob.
#arthur fleck#arthur fleck x reader#arthur fleck imagine#joker arthur fleck#arthur fleck fanfic#joker#joker fanfiction#joker 2019#joaquin phoenix joker#joaquin phoenix#slow burn#friends to lovers#age gap relationship#gotham city is awful#phoenix!joker x reader
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Scream Queen Book 1: Conventional Final Girl
The Epilogue
Chapter 8 / Masterlist
Hey guys, just letting you know after the epilogue I won’t be posting on this account anymore! I’ll keep it up for a while though. Anyways, if you want you can follow my main account @total-lost-boys-simp for more stories and eventually a sequal to SCB1CFG! It was great getting some new readers & just know this doesn’t mean goodbye! Thank you for everything!
It’s been what, a little less than a year? About eight months, I think. I still have these bone chilling dreams about Billy & Stu. One minute we’ll be close, watching a movie like Friday the 13th, Pieces, Maniac, or even Sleepaway Camp. Next I’ll hear the phone ring. Quickly I’ll say, “I’ll get it,” and move myself off the couch leaving a space between them. The person on the line will say, “Hello (y/n), it’s been a while,” instantly I could recognize it as Ghostface. Looking back at the couch the boys would be gone, no trace of them ever there. “Who is this?” I’ll ask, even though I know the answer all too well. I’d hear a laugh on the other line before being yanked back into someone’s arms. Looking at who it is I’ll be filled with dread just seeing the masked killer as they raise the knife over their head. Suddenly I’m being pulled away by a blood covered Stu saying, “We have to get help!” When I look back for the murderer we stop at a door…
Looking forward I’ll see the deranged killer in the stark white mask yet again but this time he’s taking it off to reveal himself as Billy looking in my direction with a Kubrick Stare. “We all go a little mad sometimes,” he says before raising a gun that barely misses me. That’s when I realize it’s not me he’s aiming for. The person he does shoot changes every time, it could be; Sidney, Tatum, Casey, Steve, or even Principal Himbry… but they say the same thing each time, “Save me (y/n),” before they bleed out on the floor. Next thing I knew both Billy and Stu come charging at me, tossing me to the ground. They’ll hold me down as they run the Buck 120 knife all along my body. It’s so vivid, I can feel the chilling alloy steel grazing my skin all the way from my jaw in my abdomen. They whisper nonsensical things in my face. And when one of them raises the knife above their head and plunge it into my body, everything just goes white.
“Hey, earth to (y/n)?” I hear Randy call me from the counter.
“Hm? What’s up?” I asked, snapping my head in his direction leaving my thoughts behind.
“You’ve been staring at the shelf for almost fifteen minutes,” He complains
“Guess there’s just too good of a selection?” I said with a false smile and a shrug.
“Yeah sure, just up and pick a movie,” Randy said, rolling his eyes.
“Jeez did anyone ever tell you that patience is a virtue?” I laughed out as I snatch up a copy of Amityville Horror.
“Still staying away from slashers?” Randy asks, a sympathetic look in his eyes.
“Yeah, they just remind me too much of that night…” I said, look down and scratching my arm.
“anyways...What are you and your dad gonna do tonight?” He asked, trying to change the subject.
“Hmm? Oh Neil just wanted to stay in and watch some movies, maybe order some pizza?”
“He adopted you over half a year ago, start calling him Dad for once!” Randy said, cackling at his own words.
“Yeah yeah whatever, see ya later!” I shouted as I left the store.
So much has happened since October of last year. The day after ‘That Night’ Neil told me about what Stu and Billy did to my mom. It was just Neil and I from then on so he decided that I should officially be his daughter! Neither of us see it as replacing Sid or my own parents, if anything we see it as a better way to remember them and keep them close. The town held a mass memorial for all of the victims. The individual funerals were hell. I just wanted to say goodbye to my friends, my mother and my sister but there were reporters and news vans at every turn.
It’s never been the same after I not only lost Tatum and Sindey but also… Stu and Billy. I get it, I shouldn’t have anywhere near a soft spot for those two but I do. I don’t excuse anything they did because it tore apart everything that made me happy in the world. That doesn’t mean I don’t see why they did it. Billy was hurt and driven mentally insane once his mother abandoned him because of the affair. And Stu, at the same time he might be a spoiled rich kid but he was also manipulated into all of it by Billy. In a way, neither of them had full control of what they did.
I like to think that had they not run away on ‘That Night’ they would’ve been sentenced but also would’ve been able to get the psychiatric help they really needed.
“Neil, I’m home!” I shouted as I opened the door. No response.
“Neil?” I called out again, suspicion rising in my voice. No response again.
“Are you here?” I asked, looking around the living room, the kitchen, upstairs in his room, Sid’s room, my room, every room in the house.
“Neil?!” I called out again this time with frantic breathing and hot tears itching at my skin.
“Oh woah, woah, kiddo it’s okay!” Neil came from around the corner running to me.
“I thought- I thought you were gone! That they took you! Where were you?!” I asked, clinging to his sleeves and he pulled me into a hug.
“Shh shh, I was in the garage working on the car, kid,” He said as he rocked me back and forth.
“I already lost mom and Sid. I don't want to lose you too, Dad,” I said as I thought back to how I found Sid and Tatum at Stu’s house…and the officer who sat me down to tell me how my mom passed away.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m okay, we’re okay,” Neil softly said, trying to calm me down.
“Ya know what, you got a letter on the counter, looks like it might be from a family member, go take a look,” Neil said as he ruffled my hair.
Going downstairs I look on the kitchen counter, sure enough there’s an envelope with neat and somewhat familiar handwriting. Huh no return address, I thought to myself. I’m careful not to rip the paper as I open the envelope. As I looked inside I saw a few polaroids and folded paper inside. Taking the polaroids out ran my blood cold. One of them was a picture Mrs. Riley took of Sid, Tatum, and I from our final sleepover. The next was of our group at the fountain, all of us, but Sid and Tatum’s faces were crossed out and small Ghostface doodles were placed over Billy and Stu’s. The last two were pictures of me, Stu and Billy on Stu’s couch at one of our movie nights. Placing the pictures down I look at the paper… on the folded front said; To: (y/n), from: Yours Truly. The letter itself said;
Dear (y/n),
It’s been a while. We’ve really missed you. How’s your mom…oh wait. We just wanted to check in and let you know we’re doing fine after you killed us. Or well, almost killed us. We bet you’re wondering how we’re still alive, Right?
Well for starters, the knife? A retractable prop, bit of a let down since you didn’t actually stab Stu, right? Then that gun, we switched out Dew-fuses’ bullets for blanks while you ran to his car. Really explains how Randy lived. You most likely knew that already. Also when you kick someone against a coffee table, you should really check their pulse next time.
We hope you haven’t gotten too comfortable thinking we’re gone for good ‘cause trust us baby, we’re coming back for the sequal.
P.S. you should pick up the phone.
Sincerely,
Yours Truly
Just as I finished reading the letter I heard a ringing from the telephone in the lounge area where Sidney got the call the night we were attacked. Cautiously I walked over to it, fear in my chest making my heart race and my palms sweat. “Hello?” I asked, swallowing nothing out of pure nervousness.
“Hello, (y/n), miss me?” Asked an all too familiar raspy off pitched voice.
“Oh shit.”
Tag list; @katie-tibo @thatoneuchiha @honeybee54321 @lolwey @livingordeadwhoknows @theomegaofvodka
I’m sorry for the inconsistent posting, please forgive me 😭 also let me know if I should put a sequal in the works? Thank you so much for reading!
#scream 1996#scream fanfic#billy loomis x reader#ghostface x reader#stu macher x reader#billy x reader#scream#scream x yn#stu x reader#halloween
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3 times you and Anthony Lockwood caught each other sleeping, and the 1 time both of you said “screw it.”
Anthony Lockwood x fem!reader
PART 4 (Finale)
Hi y’all! So, I finally finished the last chapter of “Screw it,” as I am now shortening it to. I’m not sure if I’m going to change the title officially or just the title in the masterlist, but that can be figured out at a proper time of day. I wanted to get this out to you guys as soon as I saw it fit to post. Thank you to everyone who liked, commented, and reblogged the parts of this fic. You have no idea how much it all means to me, so thank you <3
Without further ado, I present to you: the fluff.
(Also, please cut me some slack on the House scene. Im not the best at writing fight scenes but im going to try and improve. :) )
TW: murder, abuse, momentary talk of abortion, more cursing than in previous parts, lack of communication, significant fluff.
Word Count: 3.5 K Taglist: @galactidiot
part one part two part three part four
“Guys, guys, guys, I figured it out!” The downstairs members of Lockwood and Co. were not sure you would survive going down the stairs at the speed you went. You half ran into the table, out of breath from zooming two flights of stairs.
Lucy held out her hands to steady you as you caught your breath. “Whatever you’ve figured out can’t be more important than not breaking your neck on the stairs, yeah?” You both gave out a laugh at that. George and Lockwood looked at you two from their places at the sink.
“Sorry about that, but this couldn’t wait,” Lockwood silently set down a cup of tea in front of you. “Abigail’s mother was pregnant when she killed her husband. That’s the reason she made the decision to kill him. She had her youngest child almost exactly 8 months after his death. Her doctor ordered a pregnancy test days before she killed her husband.” You sipped your tea and sent a look of thanks to Lockwood. He only turned and returned to George’s side.
George’s face scrunched together as he thought. “Even if you’re right, how does that help us figure out what the source is?” Your smile went wide as you held up a finger then ran off to the living room.
“This,” you came back and set down her financial records on the table. “She made a significantly larger purchase than usual only days before the murder. I think they were baby things. Like diapers, toys, a crib, the whole lot.” Everyone, even Lockwood, looked at you skeptically. But then, George grinned.
“You think the source is something she bought for the baby.”
“It would make sense! If she killed her husband to get a better life for her future family, what better place to decide than looking at something that represents that future?” You looked down when they still looked at you like you were crazy. “I know it’s a long shot, but what else do we have?”
Lockwood pressed off from the counter and crossed his arms. “We can do a full sweep of the house again, check everything with a new perspective. Lucy, you said you couldn’t hear much, maybe it’s because we weren’t listening for the right sounds.” He patted George on the back, and grinned at Lucy. “We can go tonight. Better to get this over and done with, and move on.”
His demeanor seemed cold in some ways, despite the warmth he displayed for George and Lucy. Your intuition told you that something was bothering him, and you had a suspicion what it was. As he left the kitchen, you tried to catch him. Your hand brushed his forearm but he only maneuvered farther out of your reach. The feelings that were expressed last night had had quite the effect on both of you, apparently one more than the other.
____
“Alright everyone, stay sharp. We don’t want a repeat of last time.” Lockwood opened the doors of the house and you all went straight inside. It was decided that you and Lockwood would take one half of the house, Lucy and George the other. Thanks to Flo Bones, both teams finally had radios. Although you weren’t sure how much help they would be.
They had found out the husband had held a lot of pent up rage when Lockwood and Lucy had initially investigated the house. Lockwood became temporarily ghost-locked, and Lucy ended up getting literally thrown out of the house when she saved him. It was not an experience anyone wanted to repeat to say the least.
You always hated the sounds of a haunted house. Sometimes you were thankful for the sound of all the salt bombs and magnesium flares in your duffel bag. Though you weren’t so thankful when the ghosts found you ten times faster because of it.
You and Lockwood wandered the halls of the house, checking each room. Your rapier was uncomfortably strapped onto your right side, with your tool bag hanging from your arm. While you couldn’t wield your rapier as well as you used to, you compensated for having a Listening talent that was on par with Lockwood's’ Sight.
Your footsteps echoed softly throughout the house. “Are we going to talk about this morning? Or last night?” Your voice was only just above a whisper when you turned to Lockwood. The only sounds you two could hear were the doors creaking open and the wind rushing through some of the open windows. You hated it. It was like the ghost was trying to bide its time. You thought of no better time than the present to have some mind altering conversations.
Lockwood returned to the hallway as you continued your path through the house. “No. We are not. Last night shouldn’t have happened. I was an utter fool, and-”
“Stop.”
“No, it has to be said, I shouldn’t have made things complicated-”
“Are you going to break my heart or actually fucking listen to me and stop talking?” Lockwood tensed up at that. He hadn’t seen it as breaking your heart, merely saving himself the heartache of rejection. But he reconsidered his decision when he saw the anger on your face, and the tears welling up in your eyes.
You turned back around to face the next three doors in the hallway. Energy pulsed around you and suddenly there was no more creaking or rushing, there was just nothing.
“Someone’s crying. It’s coming from the room at the end of the hall.” You and Lockwood move slowly towards the door. Both of you were getting increasingly worried that there was no activity from the ghost, nor radio chatter from Lucy and George.
You entered the room. There was no furniture in the room, but it had an air of warmth. An air of comfort. The only sound Lockwood could hear was the movement of the curtains. But you heard differently.
“It’s Abigail. She’s crying. She’s just ran out of the room. Her mom yelled at her, but she didn’t mean it. This was going to be the nursery. All the baby items are in here. She feels overjoyed, but scared when she looks at them.” You walk slowly into the room as Lockwood listens and keeps watch.
He knew how Listeners could get when a haunting was this powerful. Despite all the words he said to you, he is worried. You had invested yourself so deep in this case. Lockwood was worried that you wouldn’t like what you heard in this room. Be careful, darling. I don’t think my heart could take it.
You spoke softly, but the distance in your voice told him you were not fully present. “Now she’s crying. For a moment she considers ending it. She heard of home remedies for this particular ailment from her neighbor. But the rattle. The rattle was rolling towards her. The rational part of her mind said it was the wind, but it could be more. It was her child calling to her.” You sink down in the middle of the room, facing said window. You could feel the warmth of the sun on her face, despite it being the dead of night for you. “She knew what she had to do. She wouldn’t let another one of her children witness their fathers violence.”
As Lockwood sees you kneel on the floor, he starts to see the faint start of a death glow. “Darling, we have to hurry. We know what the source is now, we just need to know where to find it. I know you can do this, but hurry.” He had never had much worry for his own life in these situations, but for you he was terrified.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Shade of a small child crawl towards you. You made no movement, so he dove to swipe at it with his rapier. As soon as he moved from the doorframe, the door slammed shut. This was the ghost’s plan all along.
He tries to go for the radio attached to his belt, but the ghost starts to fly towards you. Lockwood slashes at it but you look none the wiser. You both had been so absorbed in the situation that you had dropped the toolkit outside of the room. He realized all the two of you had were the bombs on your belt and your rapiers.
“Okay, come on now, snap out of it!” Lockwood threw a bomb at the ghost and the sound had you take in a gasp, coming back to the present. As soon as you processed the situation, you stood up and drew your rapier.
“Perfect timing! Where’s the source?” Lockwood yelled as he heard banging on the opposite side of the nursery door from Lucy and George. This ghost was powerful, and he doubted they could get in without having secured the source first.
“Draw it away from the closet, it’s under the floorboards so it might take some time.”
“Do it, I’ll handle the ghost.”
You gave a quick nod and went to work. You pried the door to the closet open and started pulling on the floorboards. The ghost immediately noticed and lunged for you once again. You turned away from your efforts and drew your rapier, but you were too slow. The ghost pushed you back against the wall with its force. Fortunately, the impact had done a number on the floorboards and revealed the source. You just had to reach it.
But you were still trying to bring the air back to your lungs.
All you could see was the ghost hovering above you. As you tried to cough, you realized the ghost wasn’t just hovering over you. It had ghost-locked you. You could see Lockwood out of the cover of your eye trying to open the door to let Lucy and George through. Until he turned around and saw the ghost above you. He knew your fear stricken face would be etched into his mind, his nightmares, forever. He did the one thing he knew best to do.
“Hey!” He threw a salt bomb at the ghost and waved his rapier mockingly. “No wonder your wife killed you if you’re hovering over other girls, eh?”
In hindsight, this was probably not one of his best plans, seeing as though taunting an angry Type Two was the only step of the plan he had thought out.
In a blink, everything happened so fast. The ghost screamed in a rage and went towards Lockwood. It took all your will not to run for him and defend him from the ghost, but you knew you had a more important job. You reached into your pocket to grab a small silver netting you had bought just for times like these. Before you could cover the rattle, there were two loud crashes. The first was Lucy kicking in the door. The second was Lockwood being thrown out the window.
As soon as you dropped the netting on the rattle, the room became silent.
“We missed all the fun, didn’t we?” Lucy laughs, mostly out of surprise that you two were alive. But you were more focused on the groaning that came from outside. George advanced towards the secured source as you quickly got up and ran to Lockwood.
You reached out for his arm. His jacket and shirt were ruined, large cuts made by the glass were slowly oozing blood. Lockwood let out a quick “ow” when you squeezed his wrists far too hard. He realized you had the same look on your face as when you thought you were going to die.
He reached up and lifted your face from his arm. “Look, I’m fine. Just a couple of scratches.” Once you had processed his words fully, that fearful face was replaced by one of very harsh anger.
“I got the source properly contained. We should all get one of those pocket nets, that was quite handy.” George smiled, but Lucy grimaced when you stomped out of the room. Lockwood sighed and decided to just go around the house as he was already outside.
“Those two don’t get it, do they?”
“Oh, I think they will soon.” Lucy walked over to George and placed the source in his bag. On the ground was a small piece of paper, aged by the water and mold that seeped into the old floorboards.
“To whom it may concern: I’m not sorry.”
___
Everyone sighed as they entered Portland Row. It was the only place they ever felt truly safe, at least from ghosts. Feelings on the other hand, no one was safe from. You put away the rapier at the door, and promptly went upstairs to your room. You hadn’t said a word to anyone on the cab ride back. Lucy sent a pointed look to Lockwood.
“You. Go talk to her.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong, why should I talk to her?”
Lucy points an accusatory finger at his face. “I can see all over your face that even you don’t believe what you said was true. Now, off you go or you don’t get any of the biscuits George bought from the store.” She sends him a devious smile as she turns and walks to the kitchen.
Lockwood paced the hallway, considering his options.
Upstairs, you have never wanted to punch him more than you do right now.
___
You reach your hand under your bed and pull out your first aid kit. “Reckless, idiotic, suicidal...” You pause in your mumbling to open the kit and make sure everything has been newly stocked. “...irrefutably obnoxious, fucking insane-”
“I probably deserve all that.”
You gasped. Anthony leaned on the door frame, pointedly on the uninjured shoulder. “Lockwood! What are you doing here?” After you processed the initial surprise, it was almost as if you had to remember you were mad at him. “Shouldn’t you be out and about, being a martyr for every hopeless girl on the street?” Venom laced your voice, but he knew it was well deserved. “Plus, you said you had ‘made things complicated,’ so I’m making them uncomplicated.”
“Darling, I’m sorry.”
“No, no! You do not get to come in here with your smile, and your cut up arm, and your beautiful, pleading eyes, and tell me you’re sorry. Do you know how hard it was for me to watch you get thrown out of a window for the umpteenth time? Do you know how hard it is to sit there and watch you risk your life for mine?” The tears spilled over onto your cheeks. You let out a sob and bring your hand to cover your mouth, but quickly recover.
Anthony had half a mind to wipe them from your face and stare into your eyes for the rest of his life. But he thinks that would be a bit too much to say right now.
You grab a tissue from your desk and wipe your eyes. You pointed to the bed vehemently. “Now, Anthony John Lockwood, you are going to sit right here and shut the hell up while I fix your arm, is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Your jaw clenches at how effortlessly charming he seemed, even when both of you look like you’re about to start sobbing.
“Good.” You work in silence as he settles on the bed, arranging the tools in the first aid kit so they’re easily accessible. “Take off your shirt. And if you have any mind about making a joke, be aware I have multiple things I can stab you with directly in arm's reach.”
His eyes move to yours as you both try to stifle a laugh. No matter what state either of you are in, you can appreciate a good dirty joke. You put on the latex gloves as Anthony unbuttons his shirt. He winces as he takes his cut arm out of the sleeve. “Be careful.” You mumble as you put ointment on the gauze in advance.
The rest of the process is done in silence, other than a few sounds of discomfort from Anthony. As you finished taping the gauze down on his arm, he slowly reached up to hold your hand. It wasn’t like when he was dragging you on the streets of Portland Row to Arifs, or pulling you from danger. This was a boy, trying desperately to find words that neither of you knew how to say.
“When I called you my world, Anthony, I meant it. I would be nothing without you-”
“That’s never true, darling-”
“Would you let me finish for once? I amend, then: My heart would feel nothing without you. I was a girl trying to escape her home town for something new, and there you came. I didn’t know I could even feel these things before you,” You grasped his hand, gently rubbing your thumb against the back of his salt covered hand.
Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time you didn’t bother to wipe them. “I love you, Anthony Lockwood. No matter how much you push me away, no matter how many times you get thrown through a window for me, I love you. Before you leave this room, I need to know if you love me too.” You squeezed his hand, and then went to pack up the first aid kit. It was as if you hadn’t confessed your love to your employer, but more importantly, your friend.
It was silent as you walked over to your desk. You looked back, and Anthony just sat there. There was no megawatt smile, no fidgeting of the hands. Just you and Anthony, plain as could be.
It was too much.
In an instant, you left the room. You heard the echoes of Anthony calling for you down the stairs, but you had to get out from the grasp of the stifling air in your room. You had taken the silence to be a refusal, but Anthony meant for it to be a scapegoat. He was waiting, almost begging for you to say it was all a joke. A prank to get back at him for being so careless. He couldn’t let himself imagine what you said to be true.
You went to the only room in the house that you could think was safe, the library. You closed the door softly as to not wake Lucy and George with your modest screams of frustration. You had bared your heart to him and he looked at you like you were a wall of drying paint.
“Darling please, talk to me.” Anthony opened and closed the door behind him. You paced the short width of the library, not looking at him.
He looked down in shame. His shirt was already buttoned back up, thank god, but it was haphazardly tucked. He fidgeted with the ring on his hand, not sure what to say. Not sure how to convey years of pining, yearning, love, into something so insignificant as words.
He whispered, cruelly, “How could you ever allow yourself to fall in love with someone like me?”
You turn your face towards him. Anthony thought it funny that it looked as if you had glitter on your face from the way the light hit your tears. He ought to compare it to the stars in the sky, but maybe at a later date.
You turn your entire body towards him. He wasn’t wearing his grand facade of confidence or wit. He looked like a man who would get on his knees to beg your forgiveness. You have never wanted to see him like this, nor want to again.
“How could I not, Anthony?”
He crossed the room in a mere four steps. “Screw it,” and he kissed you.
His hands made their way to your waist, pulling you against him. He put every single ounce of love he had since the moment he met you into that kiss. Your fingers reached into his hair, pleading for him not to let go.
Regrettably, you pulled away to catch your breath. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You laugh as Anthony smiles that lovely smile.
“No, not in the slightest.” He said softly as he cupped your cheek. Your laugh sounded throughout the room, and Anthony started laughing too. The hilarity of it all didn’t escape them, of course. Two teenagers, having grown up in a world where they were faced with death every day, were most stressed by how to confess their love to each other.
There would be ghosts, nasty Type Two’s. There would be murderous people who were hell bent on destroying Lockwood and Co.. But for now, Anthony was content to think that the only sounds that existed were you two laughing. The only sight was your eyes crinkling with joy, and tears that were finally not of distress.
That night, you both learned that your love couldn’t easily be put into words, and that was okay.
#anthony lockwood#anthony lockwood x reader#anthony lockwood x fem!reader#lockwood and co#lockwood & co#lockwood#xreader#fem!reader#fluff#so much fluff#fics by foxbee#fic#fanfic#fanfiction
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Hellfire Exotic Club Part 4
Yay! This story is really moving along and were getting to all sorts of plots coming up for you.
With any luck I'll finish Secret Tunnel (aka the Game Show AU) and then just so it goes up and you can read it before the end of the time, I'll be doing a one time posting on Tuesdays.
"A Love Connection" coming to your screens this Tuesday!
It looks like it will be about 7 chapters and lot of fun. So stay tuned for that.
In this we Steve making waves and Jeff having a heart to heart with his best friend.
Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3
~
It was Saturday night and Chrissy and Steve were debuting their fallen angels. Eventually they were going to get color change outfits made up so that they were white when dry and red when wet. So that by the end of their dance, they’ll be devils.
Eddie was so thrilled by the idea that he ordered a couple of different outfits for them so they didn’t always have to wear the same outfit every week.
What they wore as Samael and Eve weren’t anything like their Sins, Satan and Lilith. Steve was having his own outfit made, so for now he was merely wearing the very held on together with too many pins outfit of the former Envy. Bill was much broader than Steve and his out was meant to be tight.
When he first tied them on he looked ridiculous. Steve refused to wear the cowboy hat that went with it because one, it was hideous; two, he had no way of knowing anything about Billy’s hair care or lack thereof to be considered safe; and three, because Steve was a vain ass bitch and refused to cover his hair for anyone.
So until their costumes came, Steve and Chrissy were just wearing skimpy white outfits that they removed during their dance.
It featured Samael and Eve being tempted by Lucifer into falling. It was sexy as hell and Eddie didn’t mind getting to dance with them both.
After all, Eddie was bisexual and both Chrissy and Steve were amazing dancers. Steve wore wings that by the end of their dance, Eddie had ripped off. Eve and her apple. Turning into the gluttonous Lilith, having tasted temptation and wanting to devour it all.
Then it was Eddie’s turn with the hour in the spotlight and he began with his guitar. He played like a rockstar and as he played and screamed his heart out, the clothes came off until there was nothing between him and his sweetheart.
Then he would set the guitar aside dance in just his boots, bumping and grinding for the crowd and all their hard earned money, now his.
Everyone was thrilled with how well the angels dance went down. Well, almost.
Eddie was putting the club’s take of the money into the strong box that would then be locked in his safe in the floor when he got a knock on his office door.
He looked up from his count. “Stella! Come on in. Have a seat. What can I do you for?”
She moved with all the deadly grace of cobra.
“That was a pretty impressive dance tonight,” she hummed non-committedly. “You and Chrissy and the new guy.”
Eddie was a smart man. He gotten to where he was based on that and his good instincts. And both were screaming Stella was in fact not impressed.
“It feels good to shake things up a bit,” he hedged. He wasn’t sure what her complaint was. That Steve and Chrissy got ‘extra time’? That Eddie was playing favorites? That they were a trio instead of duo or single like they usually were?
“We aren’t called Heaven and Hellfire Club, Eddie,” Stella huffed. “There’s shaking things up and then there’s throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”
Ah. The Heaven theme. “A lot of the demons in hell were fallen angels. Lucifer, Samael, Abbadon, Rosier and several others. We’re just tapping into the more Judaic and Islamic mythos instead of relying on the Christian one.”
She pursed her lips and Eddie could feel a storm brewing.
“We’ll see how it goes,” Eddie continued, cutting her off before she could build up steam. “If people don’t like it, we’ll stop. But at least for tonight, we pulled in good money for that dance.”
Stella nodded primly. “You’re right, Eddie. We’ll see.”
Like that wasn’t ominous as fuck.
~
Steve didn’t feel as nervous tonight as he had last week. He had had more time with the dance and he felt more confident in his skin. He knew by now that not everyone stripped, but he wanted to try a little tease tonight to see how that went over.
He leaned over the stool in the middle of the stage and waited for the lights to come on. This was his favorite moment even when he was back doing ballet. He loved the beat between the spotlight being off and then on.
That moment of hushed silence as the crowd takes in a collective breath in anticipation. Waiting.
Waiting.
Bam!
The lights came on and Steve snapped up his head. He pulled his body over the stool and straddled it. He ran his fingers over his body and looked back into the crowd with a pout.
Half way through his hour of dancing, he looked over his shoulder at the crowd and slowly unzipped his corset and then pushed it down his body, as money flew through the air.
Yep. That would certainly do the trick. He turned around and dipped down low, spreading his legs. He bounced right back up. He spun and then did the splits, slowly sinking to the floor. He brought his legs back together and arched his back, leaning on his hands. He laid completely flat and undulated his body. He sat back up and tucked his legs under him.
He crawled toward the front of the stage where there were men and women alike waving fists of cash at him. He let them tuck the bills wherever it would fit and then stood back up.
He finished his dance back on the stool and turned away from the audience. He looked over his shoulder again and winked.
~
Eddie was going to go feral. This was it, the end of his sanity. It had slowly been ebbing away for years but this?
This destroyed the last tether he had to reason. He didn’t drink on the clock. Because he knew the second he got drunk some catastrophe would happen that he would need to be sober for and he’d fuck the whole thing up.
But god, did Steve’s little wink at the end make him want to start with one end of the bar and go all the way down, drinking everything he could get his hands on.
How his hands managed not to shake when he handed Steve his cut of the night’s earnings, he’ll never know. But he even got in a sincere smile while he was at it.
He quietly put the money in the lockbox to be combined with Saturday’s take and taken to the bank first thing in the morning. He locked up his office and went out front to wait for the cleaners. When he got out to the bar, he saw Jeff waiting for him.
That brought him up short. If he was expecting anyone to stay for a chat it would have been Chrissy or Gareth. Jeff pulled out a bottle whiskey and poured them each a glass before sitting down. He patted the stool next to him.
“Come on,” he murmured gently. “I’m not gonna bite you.”
Eddie scoffed and did as he was told. This was bound to be a better conversation then the ones he had with Stella and Steve. At least this time there was booze involved. He picked up the glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a long drink.
“You did good bringing him in,” Jeff started. “More people are coming in then they were before and tips for everyone have gone up.”
Eddie looked over at his best friend and then cocked his head to the side with a half shrug. “I was about ready to go drown my sorrows and give up finding anyone who could replace Billy. Because, yeah for all we brandy about him being stereotypical, he got warm bodies into the club every Sunday night.”
“He certainly could out Magic Mike even the best of strippers,” Jeff agreed. “Too bad his personality was shit and he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants off the stage.”
Eddie drained the rest of his glass and poured himself another. He turned in the stool to face Jeff. “See that’s the part I don’t understand. Why would he sleep around with married women? Especially high profile married women? Because that was just asking for trouble.”
“Because it’s not about sex,” Jeff said with a shrug. “It’s about power. He could have sex with any woman he wanted so he went for the ones in power so that he could control them. Dude was a class A asshole.”
“That’s true,” Eddie scoffed. “But no, I’m glad Steve is settling in. Since Scott’s been helping him learn the moves, he’s been picking them up faster and even adding his own moves.”
“When you got him in to see Ellie?” he asked downing his drink. “Because if he was in a costume that actually fucking fit, he’d be bringing in even bigger numbers.”
Eddie winced. He loved Ellie. She did all the costumes for the club and was always happy to make him new ones. Hell, she was super excited to do the costumes for the fairy tale night. But he was having a hard time getting Steve and her together in the same room because of how wildly different their schedules were. He really wasn’t thinking about that when he gave Steve his schedule.
“I’m working on it,” he muttered darkly. “She’s already slammed with some of the extra work we sent her. I don’t know what Steve does on his days off, but he’s been super busy so it’s hard to get the two of them in the same room.”
“Just have her show up to one of the shows,” Jeff said, “and have her take the measurements between him shaking his assets.”
Eddie snorted. “She likes making our costumes but she passes on the actual show.”
“She’d be in the back in the dressing rooms,” Jeff huffed. “Because he needs to get costumes that fit his style. Hell, he needs to dance his style. The envy dance was great for pole, but Steve barely touches the damn thing. Which considering his past experience is a little weird, but that’s not here or there. He needs to be able to branch out.”
“Would you tell that to Stella, please?” Eddie growled. “She’s already been on my ass about the angel thing. She’s trying to clip his wings before he even gets them.”
Jeff poured them both another glass. Eddie raised an eyebrow. He didn’t usually have more than two. “Don’t worry, I’ve got Uber on standby, but I think we both need this right now. But to answer your question, some people just don’t like change. Especially since she is one of the last vestiges of the KitCat Kitty Club. Her and a couple of the backup dancers. When they saw Billy get fired, suddenly they got very afraid for their jobs.”
“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said, playing with his glass and really not drinking it. Around them the cleaners were getting to work. They were used to Eddie having a drink with one of his friends and just did that section last.
“You just have show them you understand where they’re coming from,” Jeff said, “without letting them push you over. You’re boss after all.”
Eddie glared at him. “And how do you suppose I do that, pray tell?”
“I don’t know,” Jeff said waving his hand. “Fly casually.” He snorted when Eddie hit his arm. “Look, man I don’t know. I’m just a dancer. I shake my ass and I get paid for it. You’re the real brains of this place. You took it to new heights when it should have failed. You brought in some of the best dancers this town has ever seen by the sheer grace of just being friends with them. I don’t know why you’re asking me for advice.”
Eddie buried his head in hands. He sat like that for a moment and then drank all the whiskey in his glass in one gulp. He put his head on the bar and thunked it a couple of times. He was good at this. He could do this.
“I can handle this,” he said waving his hands at the bar. “What I can’t handle is how hot Steve is. Like what the hell?”
Jeff threw his head back and laughed. “Can’t help you with that one, man. I’m straight.”
“God, I wish I was straight or gay instead of the bisexual disaster that I am.”
Jeff put his arm around his shoulders. “People still think you and Chrissy are still an item?”
He nodded morosely and then laid his head on his arms on the bar. He turned his head to look at Jeff. “I can’t beat the allegations even with my personal no dating staff rule.”
“Maybe they just want you to be happy,” he said, finishing his drink and setting the glass behind the bar for the crew to clean up.
“It’s just she’s not out as a lesbian,” Eddie whispered, “and I worry she’s going to be pushed into revealing something she’s not ready to yet.”
“So take a night off once and awhile and date, man,” Jeff huffed. “You give everyone at least one night off, two if you can swing it. But when was the last time you stepped into a club that you didn’t own?”
Eddie scoffed. “Probably never.”
“You have me and Chrissy to help you run this place,” Jeff reminded him. “Take a day off, rest. Hell, go visit your uncle. I bet that bastard misses your scaly ass.”
Eddie shook his head and finished his third glass. “I should. I call him all the time, but it would be good to see him too.”
“I think you’ve had your head so wrapped around this club,” Jeff said, “that you forgot to be someone other than ‘boss’.”
Eddie let out a slow shuddering breath as he pushed away from the bar. “Thanks, Jeffy. I owe you.”
Jeff laughed. “You don’t owe me shit. I love my job and I know there would be no other place in or out of this fucking state that would take a black man as a headlining stripper, let alone one looking like me.”
“Which is a damn shame,” Eddie replied. “Let’s find that Uber of yours and go home.”
Jeff laughed. “You’ve become such a fucking lightweight.”
Eddie pushed him and then wrestled and tussled as they exited the bar.
In the back of the bar one of the cleaners watched them go with a furrowed brow.
~
Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14
And don't worry, I haven't forgotten our little cleaner, they'll make an appearance later. ;)
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3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog
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Girl's Night Out - ch. 1
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
pairing: Ghost x shy!goth!f!reader
rating: M
summary: A full rewrite of this idea I posted last week. Read that if you want to be spoiled. Shy reader is pulled out for a girl's night by her two friends. They run into Gaz, Soap, and Ghost at the same bar. The night develops from there.
word count: 9.6k
warning: mdni, not beta-read, reader is painfully shy, like socially anxious levels of shy (i'm not projecting at allll), drinking, smoking mention, touching and kissing but mostly sfw (the good shit will be in the next chapter i promise. it's already written. 😈). This is also about 90% exposition (i'm sorry).
Also, I have committed the ultimate, unforgivable sin in this: Ghost is maskless. So if that ruins it for you, sit this one out.
snippet:
“If you’re interested, that guy hasn’t stopped looking at you since he walked in.” You set your drink down with a clunk. You were going to kill both of them. Your friend giggled. She picked up her glass and took a delicate, almost coquettish, sip. “No,” she said setting it down so lightly you almost didn’t hear it. “All of them have been staring over here since they walked in.”
“GOD, this week has been complete shit!” your friend shouted as soon as the two of you were far enough away from work to be out of earshot of your other dispersing coworkers.
She stretched her arms up, a few cracks audible through her heavy coat as she groaned. It was true. It had been a hellish week. You hadn’t even had time to have lunch with each other. Most everyday for her was either a “lunch meeting” or just working straight through her usual lunch hour. You had started just giving her your packed lunch and running out for a bite to eat when you could. She was thankful for it. She was a junior partner. Every extra billable hour and little bit reflected back on her, helped her future career.
You weren’t privy to exactly why all the partners were so ungodly busy, you were just a receptionist. Not even a secretary. Your days were busy in a different way: greeting and checking in what felt like the same ten faces, answering the phone with a greeting that was worn into the foundation of your brain at this point, answering emails, moving meetings around. There was also the bonus (if you could really call it that) task of covering for one of the senior partner’s secretaries when they took their lunches. It was nothing you weren’t used to. The only thing you disliked was that one slimy junior partner that seems to always conveniently hang around the front desk while they’re away.
Your friend wound her arm around yours. Her face was still scrunched from her stretch, not yet ready to relax.
“What do you have planned?” she asked.
“Oh, the usual,” you sighed turning your face away, watching the pavement pass by as you walked, “laundry, cleaning-”
“So, nothing?” she interrupted you sarcastically.
A cold wind whipped down the street, mussing both of your hair.
“Yeah. Nothing,” you mumbled. You broke your arm away to push your hair back behind your ear. “Do you still want to stop for groceries?” you asked, desperate to change the subject. You wanted this week to end in it’s usual, boring way for the both of you.
She hummed back in agreement, distracted with rearranging her long, curly hair back into place.
“God, I need a drink,” she said with a huff, giving up on her hair. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, looked back over to you and said exactly what you did not want to hear. “We should go out tonight.”
-
You spent your whole shopping trip feebly fighting off your friend’s attempt to make plans. She was begging you by the time you pushed your trolley out of the store.
“PLEASE,” she had begged, pulling at your hand while you tried to take out your bags. “Please! Just a few hours! Just you and me and we can go to this cute little bar that’s out of the way! No guys! A girl’s night!”
Your silence had been your answer.
You felt a bit guilty, walking away, leaving her there to beg to no one in the middle of the parking lot. The farther you walked, face into the cold wind, the worst you felt. It was the wind making you cry, you lied to yourself. The desire to turn back and just give in to your best friend, to make things right despite your own feelings grew stronger with every block. You tightened your grip on your bags. No, you told yourself. You don’t want to go out, and you don’t have to if you don’t want to.
You repeated it to yourself until your little white apartment building filled your hazy vision. You set down your bags on the stoop and wiped your eyes as you shuffled through your keys. Your eye wandered forward, looking through the two tall bushes that flanked the fenced-off area in front of the bay windows. The sun was pooling bright and yellow on the hardwood inside. It took you a second to connect that your were looking into your own apartment, mess cluttered across the floor on full display to the street. You had forgotten to close your curtains again. You let out an exhausted sigh, pushed open the door, and gathered your bags. If there was anything to be thankful for, it was that there were only seven other tenants and none of them seemed the voyeuristic type. Or at least you hoped so.
Safe inside, you put away your food. You puttered around, looking over the mess you had let accumulate all week (at left on display) as you raced to and from work, only having enough energy at the end of the day to heat up some food, wash yourself, and pass out into your unmade bed. You sighed sinking down into your couch. You would definitely have enough to occupy your mind for the next couple days. Your friend had enough other friends, you told yourself, wrapping up in a blanket you had left stuffed over the side of the couch. She would find someone to go out with, blow off that steam she needed to.
Your eyes were about to close, cuddled up in your blanket in the sun-warmed pool of late-afternoon light from your front windows. The street was mostly quiet, just the wind and branches from the bushes and trees against the building. It was pleasant white-noise to fall asleep to. You heard your phone buzz. You almost ignored it. Then it buzzed again. You groaned. Someone was texting you and you had a feeling you knew who it was. You pulled yourself out of your blanket cocoon with a groan and angrily went to find your purse where you had dropped it in the entryway.
It wasn’t who you thought it would be. It was your (only) other friend. She just so happened to be your friend’s cousin. You had known her for about as long as you had your other friend. They looked very similar, most of the time getting mistaken for sisters, but they could not have been more different in personality.
Your friend was a solicitor, through and through. She was quick, witty, and tough with a beautiful face and sensuous body she knew how to use when either softening or enhancing a biting comment. No man stood a chance against her, most women, too. You admired her strength. The way she took no shit, stood up for herself, and got what she wanted from life.
Her cousin, on the other hand, with almost the same face and body, was sweet. She loved to hear other people talk. She had a talent for putting people at ease, for getting them to open up and tell their tales. She would laugh with their funny stories and softly hold their hands through the sad ones. It had to be something in her kind eyes, her genuine words, her warm smile. You wished you had her warmth. How she could give so much, make people feel loved and wanted and safe.
You opened your messages.
You okay?
Heard you got in a fight?
You huffed looking at the pair of messages. You wondered what she had been told. You tapped out your reply.
I’m fine. Not really a fight. Your cousin wanted to go out but I’m just not feeling it.
You watched the line of dots bounce as she replied.
Glad you’re okay. ❤️☺️ Take care of yourself!
You smiled. She still had that ability to make you feel better, even through the phone. You took the time while you were there to tidy up your entryway: organizing your shoes back into a line on the rug next to the door and hanging up your jackets. You were thinking about grabbing your mop to get rid of the stains and dirt that you had tracked in when it had rained for a few days this week when your phone buzzed again.
Did you end up buying that shirt you liked?
You blushed thinking back to last weekend. Both of your friends had managed to pull you out for a day of shopping. You were usually against buying anything for yourself, used to squirreling away your money for when you really needed it. Moving internationally had done that to you. Your nice friend had called it “self care” but your lawyer friend had taken you by the shoulders and very directly told you that you could not keep showing up to the office in clothes from ten years ago. So you three had made a day of it, a nice day at that. You had bought mostly clothes for the office: black skirts and slacks, button up shirts and cardigans.
Toward the end of the day you had given in and finally let yourself go in the store you had wanted to explore the whole afternoon. A little, dark store specializing in gothic fashion. Your friends had not made fun of you, and actually encouraged you! They kept pulling down things for you to try on, much to the annoyance of the two employees, cooing and squealing every time you came out of the dressing room. You had wanted to buy everything, and your friends did too, but you were realistic. You knew you hated going out, and none of these clothes were appropriate for your office job. You had sighed, coming down from your retail high, and sorted out a few shirts and skirts you felt you would actually wear day-to-day.
Your friend’s text was about the hardest choice you’d had make: a black velvet, lace trimmed, cropped tank top that came with a matching, long sleeved, lace over-shirt. The lace on the tank was beautifully ornate and pointed. It made you feel like a cathedral window. The over-shirt was wide necked, hanging just enough off your shoulders to let the lace below peak up. What made you self conscious about it was what your friends had exclaimed when you did a turn around after walking out of the dressing room.
“It shows off your tattoo so well!”
You clamped your hand over your right shoulder now as it had then. It had shaken you then. You felt exposed. Who were you pretending to be? Some girl who goes out to clubs to show off her body? No way. Were you going to display your tattoo just so some stranger could leer at you, dig into your personal life? No. Your tattoo was yours. You didn’t have to tell anyone about it if you didn’t want to.
You had hardened your heart as you paid for your other clothes. You didn’t need that shirt. But once you were home, and your friends were texting you, just like they were now, you had caved. You had thought about it for two days. Despite your busy week, you had ran back to that shop after work on the third night and bought it. You had told your friend at work the day after.
You replied:
I did, actually.
She texted back quickly.
Can I see it on you again???
It was still sitting on the floor of your bedroom, in the bag with the receipt because you were definitely going to return it after the honeymoon phase passed. Phone in hand, you pulled it out again. You dangled it between your hands by the straps, lace fluttering, more nothing than anything. You sighed. It was still as cute as the day you first fell in love with it.
You threw your phone on the bed and stripped off your warm sweater from work. The cloth was cold against your body, and the lace did nothing to hold onto any heat. You swiveled back and forth, looking yourself over in your mirror propped in the corner of your room. With a necklace and the right pair of pants, or a skirt, it would be really cute. You found yourself thinking about what color lipstick you would wear with it.
You grabbed your phone off of your bed and quickly snapped a picture for your friend. She replied back almost immediately.
!!!!!
SO CUTE
Then, your other friend texted you.
GIRL. YOU HAVE TO WEAR THAT OUT WITH US TONIGHT.
You could have strangled the both of them. Of course they had worked together again to get at you. Of course. You texted her back.
You two are going out?
Yep!
You tapped the side of your phone. She seemed in a better mood than when you last saw her. That was good. It was also good that your other friend was going out. Even if you bailed, she would at least have her. You let yourself be bitten by curiosity and texted:
Where?
She texted you the address for a bar. You clicked on the link. As the website loaded you sat down on your bed, running your hands over the lace on your stomach. You swiped through the pictures. It was just as your friend had described it: small, dark, intimate, out of the way. Not a place you felt you needed to worry about being interrupted by jackasses trying to hit on you or your friends. Another text pulled you back to reality.
?
It’s cute.
soooooo
you wanna meet up with us later? 👀 Just for a drink or two? Just us girls?
There it was. A question you didn’t want to answer. It was selfish, but you really wanted to ignore your friends, curl up in bed, and let the night pass alone. You fell back onto your bed and stared up at the ceiling. You tapped at the sides of your phone. You also really didn’t want to ghost your friends. They had been gone out of their way to do things with you, to include you though the worst and most stressful years of your life. You ground your heel against the hardwood floor. A little smile crept over your cheek.
You could do it. You could do this for them.
What time?
Your friend’s reply came not a second later.
7!
See you then!!!!
-
You thought the hardest part of this night was going to be getting ready. You only had an hour to decide what to put on. The problem of how to combine the various pieces of your all black wardrobe into something cute enough for a girl’s night out but not too cute to attract unwanted attention, that was a struggle. Your floor was filled with tights, leggings, and skirts as you tried on every piece of clothing you had with the shirt you had set your heart on. Finally, with time running out, you put on your high waisted leggings and, after a quick once over in the mirror, you decided it was this or nothing. You actually liked how the waistband almost met the bottom of the crop top, giving your outfit the illusion of being one piece.
You had gone back and forth in your head over what color lipstick you wanted to wear. You could have softened the whole look with a dark red or even purple. There was something rebellious in you though, maybe it was the fact that you still didn’t want to be doing this, that made you pick out the matte black. If they wanted you to come out they would get the full you. The rest of your makeup was minimal: lashes, liner, brows. You wanted your lips to be the star. Not that anyone would care besides your two friends.
You quickly pulled together the rest of your outfit as you walked out the door: a lace choker around the middle of your neck, short black boots, and your black motorcycle jacket that you had stopped wearing to work after too many pointed stares.
The hardest part also wasn’t walking alone the five or so blocks to the bar. The dark didn’t scare you, even in the city. It was Friday night and the weekend was just staring: everyone was heading out, rushing by just as you were. No one paid you much attention, even dressed as you were. Head down, you blended into the bustling crowd and quickly made good time to the bar.
No, the hardest part so far was just walking in the door. It was an old door, like one that the traditional pubs from the old section of the city had. There was only one, antique looking, lantern style, light illuminating the brass plaque with the bar’s name on the outside. The one large window was tinted so dark you couldn’t even peek in to see if your friends were inside. They had texted you about five minutes ago, saying they had arrived and had a table. It still scared you that they might not be inside, that you would just have to trust them.
You gathered your courage and pushed the door open. It was truly a tiny place. The horse shoe shaped bar took up almost a third of the space. There were four little round tables pushed toward the walls that filled the rest of the pub. It was too dark for you to see very clearly into every corner. The brightest light hung like a pendant above the middle of the bar, which was empty save for the bartender. Your heart clenched in a panic. You were alone. You looked desperately around for your friends.
The bartender: a young, dark haired guy with a curled mustache who was rather cute, greeted you. He called you over, casually leaned against the bar and asked what you wanted to drink. Before you could say a word your friend, like an angel from heaven, came snaking around the bar toward you. She was just as dolled up as you: a flowing, long sleeved, red shirt shifted off her shoulders, tight, dark jeans, and bright red heels.
“You came!” she said pulling you into a tight hug, leaving you breathless. Your lungs filled with hairspray and perfume. You heard the bartender chuckle as she pulled away, leaving her arm wrapped around your shoulders. Your friend turned to him and smiled flirtatiously, her red lipstick accentuating her wide smile. You saw her gold earrings sparkle out from her dark hair. “See? I told you she would come!”
You blushed as the bartender now asked your friend what he should get started for you. You we about half sure that he assumed you were her girlfriend. “This round’s on me,” your friend said squeezing your arm, letting you order for yourself.
“Vodka Cranberry, please,” you told the bartender, avoiding his eyes by unzipping your jacket.
He quickly made your drink and, as soon as it was in your hand, you were whisked away by your friend. A dim, hazy light hung above your table. It was enough to clearly see the drinks on the table and your friends faces, but not much else. No wonder you hadn’t seen them when you walked in.
Your other friend’s soft smile greeted you when you got to your little round table. She was more casual that the two of you, wearing a tight sage-green dress with a square neckline. Her sleek, black hair fell in neat waves to her shoulders: not as short as yours but shorter than her cousin’s. A small, silver necklace hung down over her clavicle, setting off the tone of her skin brilliantly.
“You wore your new shirt!” she said sweetly as you shuffled your jacket off your shoulders. You threw it over the back of the chair. “You dressed it up so well!”
“Thanks,” you said hopping up into your chair and stirring your drink, trying not to sound too proud. You did feel cute though.
“So,” your friend said slumping over the table, her red sleeve flowing over the bottom of her martini glass, “what’s new with you guys?”
Your other friend took a sip of her wine. “Nothing,” she said with a sigh.
“Nobody cute at work?” your friend goaded, resting her face on her fist.
She shook her head. “Not even anyone interesting. Same doctors and researchers as always.”
Your friend picked up her glass. “A toast to the single life then,” she said sarcastically.
Both you and your friend picked up your glasses in unison and, with a laugh, clinked them against hers. In the middle of your drink, your friend rolled her eyes and set her glass down without taking a sip.
“Guys! I don’t WANT to be single!" She reconsidered her choice, eyeing the last bit of alcohol in her glass, and picked it up again.
“Maybe if you weren’t so busy . . .” your friend suggested, swirling her dark wine.
“Ugh, if only,” she replied setting down her glass after a long drink, olives rolling at the bottom. She looked at you with a wince of sympathy and said, “We’re in for a long couple weeks.”
“Really?” you asked, hoping for her to elaborate, but your voice was drowned out by the door opening and another group walking in.
It was a group of guys, if you could guess by their voices as they passed by to sit on the far end of the bar. You didn’t bother to look back. They made small talk with the bartender as they ordered. The bar equalized back to it’s quiet state, indie-rock barely audible through the speakers. You couldn’t help but catch your friend’s wandering eye as you picked up your glass for a drink. She was looking at them, fingers tapping across her lips.
You rolled your eyes. She had promised this was a night out for friends, just for you girls.
Your other friend, sensing the tension, reached out and patted her on the arm. “It’s hard to keep a relationship when your work life is so busy,” she said softly.
“You would know,” she shot back.
Your friend’s hand flinched back, shocked by her words. You hadn’t been involved but you felt like you had been punched. Now you were both staring at her, more than a bit angry. What had gotten into her? Your friend sat back in her chair, a sad look creeping over her face.
“Sorry,” she apologized softly, “I didn’t mean-”
“It’s okay,” your friend said finishing her glass of wine. She hopped down off her chair, the heels of her boots clacking against the hardwood. She pointed at the two of you. “I’ll get the next round.”
Your other friend plucked her skewer of olives out of her empty martini and bit one off as she pushed the glass toward her cousin.
“I’ll have another.”
She collected the glass with a hard, neutral face and clacked away, needing to cool off away from the two of you. Maybe a conversation with that cute bartender would help. Your friend next to you, however, didn’t seem phased. She was running her wooden skewer over her lips, a glazed look in her eye. You followed her gaze to the group of guys standing at the corner of the bar. Something she was only able to do because your other friend had left. You snapped your eyes back to the table as soon as you saw them. You stirred your drink and tried to think of something to bring your friend’s mind back to your table.
Your other friend, thankfully, returned with your drinks then.
“You two sure are quiet,” she observed, sliding her cousin her drink.
Your friend bit off her other olive, holding it with her teeth as she pulled it off the stick more than a little seductively. Her eyes were still trained past your friend. You gulped your drink, too afraid to say anything. You stared at her over your glass, pleading she would read your mind.
Eventually she looked at her cousin’s blissed out expression, as her position hadn’t changed since she had left and with a little smile said, “If you’re interested, that guy hasn’t stopped looking at you since he walked in.”
You set your drink down with a clunk. You were going to kill both of them.
Your friend giggled. She picked up her glass and took a delicate, almost coquettish, sip. “No,” she said setting it down so lightly you almost didn’t hear it. “All of them have been staring over here since they walked in.”
Her cousin, with her back to their eyes had the most freedom of expression. Her mouth dropped open in surprise and shock and then formed back into a smile. You could hear her hum with excitement. There was the same wicked glint in both of their eyes.
Oh no, you thought.
“What do you want to do?” she whispered, leaning forward to her cousin.
Her eyes broke away from the man she was staring at across the bar and met her cousin’s, a shameless smile still painted her face.
“I’m going to go over there and ask him if he likes what he sees.”
You felt the pit of your stomach drop. You weren’t even halfway through your first drink and she was already acting like this. Your friend was just as stunned into silence as you were. She was true to her word though. She spun out of her chair and walked around you, more hairspray and perfume wafting off of her, to the group of men lurking in the shadows.
Your other friend grabbed your arm.
“What’s going on? I can’t see!” she whispered excitedly in your ear.
You very slightly turned your head, blush creeping over your face, and tried to make out what was happening. You could see your friend’s bright red shirt as she leaned against the bar. There was nothing you could make out of the guy she was talking to, just that he had a well-muscled arm holding a bottle of beer.
“How many did you say there were?” you asked your friend in a whisper.
“Three,” she answered, “Why?”
“Because I can’t-” You were squinting into the corner trying to make out the other figures when your friend turned quickly around, spraying out her hair in a heavy curtain around her as she bounced back toward the table. She had a small smile on her face and the man’s hand in hers.
You both sat up straight and pretended you hadn’t been spying and gossiping the whole time as she walked him over to your table and around to her chair. You could smell his warmth and cologne as he passed behind you.
“Guys!” she gushed pulling the mohawked man close to her. Her hand pressed into the front of his white shirt as if he was already a friend. “This is John, but you can call him Soap!”
He tipped his beer at the two of you and you both politely greeted him.
“Hope you don’t mind my friends and I joining you ladies. Promise we’ll behave,” he said in a Scottish accent with a sparkle in his blue eyes. As much as it was irritating you now, your friend had a knack for finding interesting guys.
Wait, your brain stopped mid-drink as you tried to hide your nerves. Friends? Plural?
A hand, and then a face, and then a body broke in between you and your other friend. He smelled shower-fresh, minty fresh even. She looked up at the tall, dark, and handsome man in a sky blue t-shirt that had appeared, with eyes blown wide and was instantly smitten.
“Hi,” he said softly. His London accent familiar to your ears. He set his beer on the table between the two of you. “I’m Kyle, Soap’s friend.”
Your friend didn’t say anything, her brain must have short-circuited when she saw the cute little mustache above Kyle’s mouth.
You heard Soap snort into his beer. Everyone turned to look at him.
“Kyle,” he said sarcastically.
Kyle laughed back, toying with his bottle. “Real name’s Kyle, but you can call me Gaz, like my friends do, if you want.”
“Kyle’s a nice name,” your friend said sweetly. He looked over to her and they both smiled, a soft ‘thanks’ trapped between them. You almost missed him throwing his coat on the back of her chair, the smell of leather fanning out as he did so.
That’s two, you thought. Where’s the last one?
You felt a hand land on the top corner of your chair. The vibration it caused sent a shiver down your spine. You clenched your hands in your lap, wishing yourself to disappear. A large presence walked behind you as you heard the arm drag across your leather jacket. You let yourself look at his hand as he set his glass on the table. You blushed, eyes wide. Damn. He had big hands.
“Ghost!” Soap greeted his friend with a little nod. “Nice of you to join us,” he said bring his beer to his lips.
“Bartender took ‘is sweet time,” he said gruffly.
Oh god. He had a deep voice too. It’s normal for a bigger guy to have a deeper voice but goddamn is his an octave deeper than it has any right to be. And he wasn’t local, just like Soap. You would have to ask your friends later where he was from. They at least grew up here.
“Oh?” Soap said with a quirk of his expressive eyebrows.
Ghost took his glass off the table. “Not too happy with this,” he said gesturing to all of you around the table, “Think we ruined his plans.”
Your friend next to Gaz groaned, her hand covering her face as everyone turned to look at her.
“He . . . didn’t charge me for our drinks,” she admitted shyly.
You couldn’t help but join in the laugh over that. The poor guy, your poor friend, you thought. Kyle soothed her, telling her she didn’t have to worry, as she let her hands fall in his. It was almost too sweet to watch.
“Right then, guess the next round is on me then,” Soap said guiltily pointing his bottle toward himself. Several glasses and bottles were immediately pushed his way and he deflated with a sigh. Your friend giggled at that.
As he left, you relaxed back into your chair. You had thought the worst when your friend had pulled those guys over here, but, for once, it turned out okay. They seemed fun. The air around you was filled with soothing scents: their hoppy beer and sharp whiskey mixed with your fruity cocktails and wine, musky cologne and soft leather over floral perfume and hairspray.
“Hope we aren’t interrupting your night,” Gaz said leaning over to talk to your friend.
“Oh no,” she said urgently shaking her head, “it’s no problem. Actually, we had all just been talking about how boring our lives were lately.”
“Boring? Really? What do you all do?” he asked.
“I’m a lawyer,” your friend said proudly.
“Shit, really?” Soap said returning to the table, hands full of drinks. “Smart an’ pretty, eh? Some girls have all the luck.”
She smiled, basking in his compliments. She looked at you across the table, fresh drink pushed in front of her.
“We work together,” she said proudly pointing to you. You buried your face in your glass.
“No shit,” Soap said looking back and forth between you two, “Both lawyers?”
You wished you could die, right there. Your mouth was full of alcohol, but you shook your head. Your friend took pity on you and, with a laugh, said, “No, she’s our receptionist. Keeps me organized and on time. The whole office, really.”
Your eyes silently thanked her for going easy on you. Your heart slowed back to normal. She could have said so much more, so much more that was very personal to you, but she didn’t. You thanked whatever deity was out there that she wasn’t a rambling drunk.
“That’s cool,” Gaz said turning to the woman next to him. “What about you?”
“I’m a speech therapist. I work with the university mostly and the hospitals when they need me,” she said sweetly.
“You’re a doctor then?” he asked.
“No, not yet,” she said with a shake of her head, reaching for her wine, “Maybe in a few years, though.”
“And!” your friend said reaching across the table to grab the woman’s hand, “we’re cousins!”
“Really?” Gaz said as him and Soap looked over their two faces. “Could have passed for-”
“Sisters?” they said together.
Another laugh rang out around the table as you quietly finished your drink. You set it down in front of you, not ready to ask for another. Even the thought of asking for one of them to buy you a drink was twisting a knot in your stomach. You rarely drank, even out with your friends, so you planned on having a water next. The man behind you didn’t miss it though. You saw him point and Soap was quick to swipe it from you. You tried to protest, but your friend had started a conversation with Gaz that grabbed your attention.
“How did all of you meet?”
“Military,” he answered quickly and less warmly than he had before. His eyes met the man’s behind you as he turned to sip his beer.
“Ooooh,” your friend cooed. Soap had just returned with your drink, which you quietly thanked him for, as he took his place back by her side. “Soap, why didn’t you tell me that?”
“Didn’ ye’ see my tattoo?” he said holding out his left arm.
You and your friend across the table got the first and best look. She was babbling to Gaz as your friend pulled him around to get a look for herself. She was cooing again as she smoothed her hands up his arm.
“What is it?” she asked, head cocked to the side.
“It’s the crest for SAS: Special Air Service,” he said softly, her fingers still massaging over his skin.
“You fly?” she asked excitedly.
“Not personally,” he said with a chuckle. “Been in enough helicopters to fill a lifetime, though. Right Gaz?”
Gaz scowled into his beer. “Got that damn right,” he answered wearily, clearly bringing up a bad experience.
“So you all work together?” your other friend said to Gaz, “Like as a-”
“Team? Yeah,” he answered.
“That’s so cool! How long?” she asked.
“A couple of years now, give or take,” he said looking over at Soap, who shrugged in response.
You listened to the conversation ping-pong back and forth across the table. No one seemed to mind you just sitting there listening as you slowly sipped your drink. Gaz and Soap told more stories about their shared experiences, your friends fawning over their every word. You leaned over your glass, checking out of the conversation. You were more interested in the man behind you. Why wasn’t he saying anything? He couldn’t be shy like you, not a military guy, surely not.
“But no, really. How did you guys find this place?” your friend asked Gaz. Soap had his arm fully wrapped around her and she was leaning back into him.
“I’ve been coming here for a while, back before it was sold. When we all got back into the country I thought-”
“It would be a great place to get this guy out for a night.” Soap interrupted, pointing at the man behind you.
“I said the same thing about her!” your friend burst out.
You wanted to sink into the floorboards again.
“We’ve got more than one thing in common, then,” you heard the man behind you comment darkly into his glass.
His voice sent tremors down your spine. It was low and gravelly. Probably just from his drink you tell yourself. No one else noticed what he said.
Your hand flexed on your glass, still mostly full. What did he mean by that? More than one thing in common? Ghost leaned in just a bit to set his glass next to your hands. A slip of the amber liquid still sliding around the bottom. Oh god, you can smell him. He’s got this natural, understated, manly smell. It’s probably just soap and laundry detergent but he made it musky and dark, notes of copper and grease and fire crinkling around the edges. It’s making your head spin. You wished you had been braver before, when they had first came over, and gotten a good look at him.
A loud giggle from your friend in Gaz’s arms pulled you out of your thoughts.
“I don’t believe you . . .” she said through her laughter.
“No, for real, ask Soap!” he said pointing with his beer across the table.
“Wha’s that?” Soap asked pulling his face away from your friend.
“Gaz says you like to dance. Is that true?”
Soap’s face lit up, a manic energy possessing him. “Oh hell yes I do! Same as Gaz,” he answered, “D’ you ladies like to dance too?”
Your mind kicks into overdrive. Dancing? This was not a part of the plan for the night.
“There is this club I've wanted to go back to. . .” your friend said melting into Soap’s chest, eyes pleading.
“I’d go!” Soap said looking down into her eyes. She’s in heaven, in her element, loving it.
“Me too!” your other friend said excitedly, pushing her wine into the middle of the table.
“Sounds like a plan then,” Gaz said with a little duck of his head.
All at once, the four of them turn around to look at you and Ghost.
“What about you, Lt?” Soap asks the man behind you. You’d never heard that abbreviation before. You wonder what it stood for. His initials?
You held your breath.
“Gotta keep an eye on you two,” he said flatly, a lint of exhaustion or boredom in his tone. Soap’s smile was practically blinding.
Your friends take a different approach to convincing you. They each grab at your hands and beg, actually beg, you to come with them.
“Please?” your friend pleads “It’ll be so much fun! We don’t have to go out for long!”
You look at the two of them unsure what to say. You weren’t mad about how things were turning out. It was interesting, if anything. It was annoying that you didn’t get to stay home or have a night alone with your friends, but drinks and dancing with some handsome military men was hardly the end of the world. At least you were slowly convincing yourself of it. They are so lucky that you’ve had just enough alcohol to make you feel light and happy.
“Yeah, okay,” you replied softly.
They both jumped out of their chairs to hug you, squealing that you wouldn’t regret it.
Everything happens very quickly around you after that. Soap and your friend are at the bar closing out their tabs. Gaz is helping your other friend into her jacket, talking about which way they should walk. Going across the bridge would be colder, but safer, he says.
You took one last, long, swig of your drink, finishing half of it. You rubbed the imprint of your black lipstick left on the rim. You touched your bottom lip. You probably should have ran to the bathroom to touch up your makeup at some point, but there’s no time now. As you shifted forward to hop out of your seat, Ghost handed you your jacket. You said a soft “thank you” but he was walking away as soon as you took it from his hands. You don’t even know if he heard you. It shouldn’t have, but it crumpled your heart just a little bit.
-
Business at the bar cleaned up, you all gathered at the door and headed out. Your friends and their guys, their arms gently around their shoulders and waists, took the lead. The walk itself was refreshing. You watched the laughter and conversations dance in the cool air in front of you, too far back to listen in and not really interested anyway. You blow a puff of air out to watch it trail behind you, reminding you of the smoke you can’t have, that you don’t need. The night air is cutting into your buzz, but doesn’t make you forget the tall man walking behind you, bringing up the rear.
It made you wonder how tall he actually is. Soap and Gaz seem to be of average, if a bit taller, than normal height. The man behind you: Ghost, Lt, seemed taller. Roughly a hand or so, if you can judge by how both of them needed to look up when they looked behind you to talk to him. Good lord, you clench your hands in your pockets, your knees suddenly feel like jelly.
And what about what he said before, that you “had things in common”. It stuck in your brain, repeating over and over. Soap had been talking about how Ghost didn’t go out, just like you. So he was a loner, like you. That wasn’t hard to imagine, given his career and all that. But what else? You had no earthly clue what he saw in common with you. You sighed, another vapor trail winding out of your lips. Maybe he was just that much more observant.
One thing you do know is that, eventually, he’s going to get sick of you. A familiar knot forms in your stomach. If he’s pursuing the same thing his friends are, with their hands roaming more boldly with every block, he’ll either shoot his shot or wander off once you reach the club. You know it. You haven’t even said a word to him tonight. That's how these things usually end for you. The guys you like never seem to like you.
You reach the club just as your feet start to chafe in your boots. You can hear the music pulsing from outside. As you walk in, it’s loud and crowded, but it’s not terrible. You usually hate this: big crowds, smoke, a hundred tightly-packed voices yelling, loud music, the floor sticky and the lights strobing through the darkness. For what reason you can’t say, but tonight you actually can’t wait to cut loose, to feel normal like your friends do. You’ve come this far, drinking and spending time with strangers, you might as well dance to some awful techno music and shake off this stressful week.
You have a small hope that the big guy, Ghost, will shoot his shot. Maybe it’s all the small things he’s been doing thought the night. Having Soap get you another drink, handing you your coat, walking protectively behind you, he even took your coat from you to give to the coat-check.
-
The building is a large box, an old industrial space converted into a trendy night club. A bar on one end, DJ booth on the other, and the dance floor filling everything in between. The floor and the bar are equally packed tonight with only a sliver of empty space separating them from each other.
You all snake along in a single file line until Soap and your friend reach the bar. You watch as they lean against it together and order a couple more outrageously overpriced drinks. They turn around, backs to the bar, and usher everyone to join around them. Gaz leads your other friend to stand a little beyond the other couple, next to a steel column they can lean against. Left to find your own space, you form the last leg of a triangle between your two other friends, your back to the dance floor. Ghost, of course, hovers just behind you, protecting you from the other patrons as they push their way to and from the bar. You’re silently thankful for it. Even in heels, you’re very easy to knock over. Ghost didn’t have that problem. Everyone settles in and relaxes again, heads and legs bopping to the music.
Soap and Gaz make conversation with your friends, which you can’t hear. The pounding bass makes talking to anyone not immediately next to you an effort. The song ends and another starts. You see your other friend excitedly start to sing along to the lyrics.
Dancing in the moonlight, gazing at the stars so bright. Holding you until the sunrise, sleeping until the midnight.
Gaz smiles at her, joining in. It’s cute. It keeps your mind and eyes off of Soap slipping his hand around to palm your friend’s ass.
There’s a shout behind you, which you almost ignore as just another part of the song or ordinary club sounds. Ghost’s hand on your shoulder, pushing you into the middle of the space you had carved out, to safety, is what scares you. Before you can turn around, Soap is launching away from the bar. A scuffle had started on the dance floor right next to you. You watch as Soap hauls a guy about to throw a very drunken punch back by his collar. You can tell they’re not just friends but a team by the way Ghost catches him from Soap, turns him around and boots him towards the door.
Gaz slams a palm to the chest of a guy that peeled out of the crowd to defend his buddy. He barks an order at him and he obeys, throwing his hands up and turning away. You wouldn’t have believed it came out of soft, funny, Gaz if you hadn’t seen it. Those two guys must have been the main cause of the fight, because the bouncers show up not long after and clean out the rest of the rabble peacefully.
“Nice work: Lt, Gaz,” you hear Soap say to his teammates, patting each of them on the shoulder before cozying back up to your friend.
If she wasn’t seduced by now, that little display sure as hell had her. The music is too loud, but you swear you hear him say something to her about “protecting their girls”. She leans over and whispers something fiery into his ear, if you can guess from her enunciation. From the look in her eye, she’s not playing coy anymore. Not a beat passes before your friend is shoving her beer into your hand as Soap pulls her onto the dance floor, her eyes never leaving his. They shove their way into the crowd, disappearing from view.
Wasted, sippin’ on that liquor, you can taste it. Girl don’t touch that drink I know you laced it. I don’t know what to say except your mine mine mine.
You sigh listening to the music and take a sip. It’s warm and tastes horrible, too hoppy for your palette. You wince at the sour taste, but knock back the rest of it anyway. Anything to keep your mind off of Gaz and your other friend practically making out against the bar not two feet behind you. She breaks away from him, probably not wanting to continue being so intimate right next to you, and heads for the dance floor. Gaz doesn’t think twice before following her, his hand quickly winding around her hip, hers joining. A signal to everyone around. He’s mine. She’s with me. Back off.
You sigh into the empty beer bottle. Yeah, you miss that. You set the bottle on the bar, leaning forward against it for support. The optimistic mood you walked in with crushed. You’re ready to cut your losses and just leave. Only the thought of the cold, lonely walk back to your apartment tempting you to stay.
“Wanna join them?” Ghost asks you, back to the bar where he had slid up next to you, him arms crossed across his broad chest.
His voice is right in your ear, easily able to cut through the music and a thousand other noises. You’re absolutely positive he saw you shiver. You look up at him, finally, and it’s too much all at once. Your stomach clenches and you feel the bile catch in your throat. Your hand flies to your mouth. You’ve drunk too much. You’re not used to it. That’s why, you try to convince yourself. You’re a terrible liar though.
The first thing you see is his sleeve of tattoos that warp around his left arm, mostly skulls and flames from what you can make out. They’re large, well muscled arms. He’s not just tall but thick too. It finally clicks together in your head. Oh, that’s what he meant when he said you had things in common. He must have seen your own skull on your shoulder.
Could have been staring at it all night.
You tear your wide eyes away from his arm to his face and it’s the worst mistake you’ve made all night. He’s too fucking handsome. He has short, natural blonde hair and dark, hooded eyes. They’re staring at you like they’re just so tired, they just want a place to rest. His whole face is littered with long-healed scars that you can barely make out. You can see a deep one running through his right eyebrow. He has a typical English face: long, with high cheekbones set against a long, crooked nose. And his mouth. Oof, you catch your bottom lip in your mouth.
He’s only asking you to dance to be nice, to stay next to his friends. There is no way, absolutely no way, he’s interested in you: just standing there, blushing like a fool, staring at his mouth and nodding your head like an idiot. He’s too hot. You’re too drunk. Your brain can’t pull a sentence together, but yes, you do want to dance.
His right hand gestures for you to lead as a whining, grinding beat starts to scream out of the speakers. Maybe you are drunk, because you feel like you’re wading through jello trying to walk away from him under his gaze. With him behind you, however, you’re able to part through the crowd to your friends. All you have to do is follow the flashes of bright red, blue, green, and white of your friend’s clothes through the jostle of the sea of bodies.
Soap and your friend are pressed against each other, chest to back, locked into a battle for dominance. They're goading each other, a slid of a hand here, a press of a leg there, neither willing to give in to the other. She pulls away, shimmying her hips so tantalizingly close yet so far away, and then he’s pulling her back. He’s mouthing the lyrics to the song as you and Ghost stop next to them.
So just when you think true love’s begun, it goes off at any second like a loaded gun.
Gaz and your other friend are more languid in comparison, not kissing anymore but pressed chest to chest, hands sweetly holding onto each other as their hips and legs flow to the beat. You see them smiling and talking to each other, but you can't hear through the music. Ghost took his usual spot behind you when you stopped. He seemed to like that position, the watchman of your little group, of his friends and yours.
You know I can take you straight to heaven if you let me. You know I, I can make your body levitate if you let me.
Your friend screeches out your name. She untangles herself form Soap to step over to you and pull you into a hug.
“So happy you came to dance!” She yells in your ear before pulling away.
Soap’s arm is possessively winding right back around her waist, resting on her stomach. His other hand pinches her hip to pull her attention back to him, a devilish gleam in his eye. You can’t hear her, but she motions for you to cut loose, start dancing, before grabbing behind her to pinch Soap’s ear.
Ghost touches your arm. You look back at him. His deep voice is in your ear again. Fuck, your faces are right next to each other.
“This okay?”
His hand is hesitantly resting on your waist. You can feel his thumb pressing against your back, reaching almost to your spine. His fingers splay from the bottom of your rib cage to your hipbone. Fuck, he’s got big hands. Of course he does, he’s a big guy. You feel like you’re going to combust.
You nod, your heart pounding in your throat, guiding his hand to rest lower on your hip. It isn’t long before his other hand does the same. You rest your hands on his and start to sway your hips to the beat. You feel the warmth from his chest bleed across your back.
Your bodies together, you guide him to move to the music with you. Funny, you think, he’s been the one guiding and watching all night. Now is your chance to do the same for him. You zone out, join the jostle of the crowd, the beat of the music. You close your eyes against the bright pulse of the lights and melt back into him. A bubble forms in your chest and it makes you want to cry. Your head rests back on his chest. You feel so protected.
The song changes and your eyes open. It slows to a remix of something more intimate and the lights follow, growing dimmer until they barely cut through the smoke. You can't even see your friends in front of you. You absently stroke Ghost’s hands to the lyrics.
Mirror on the wall, tell me all the ways to stay away-ay ya, away-ay ya, and stay away-ay ya, away-ay ya, away-ay ya.
You whine as his hands curls around to your stomach, his strong fingers pressing you to him. He can’t hear you, so your hands on his are all the communication you can give him. You wind your fingers in his. It’s your consent, your plea. Your head is swimming with emotions. Please stay. Please continue. Please touch me. Please show me that I’m just as worthy of human contact as anyone else. Please please please please.
You feel his breath rustle the hair on the top of your head. It’s a sweet feeling. The two of you are hardly dancing anymore, barely shuffling back and forth. He presses his face into your hair, right above your ear, and you swear you hear him groan as you grind your ass to his pelvis. The friction of his rough jeans against the plush of your ass in your silky leggings is deliciously addicting. It shoots a spark right through your core.
If I could paint the sky would all the stars then shine a bloody red?
Boldly, you snake your hand up and touch his face. You feel the light stubble across the bottom of his jaw. He immediately stills and melts into your palm. You assume the worst until he sinks his head back to your ear.
“Wanna get outta here,” he mumbles in a voice that makes you clench.
The way he says it, it’s not a question. He’s leaving. He’s letting you know. If you want to follow, that’s your choice.
You nod your head again, almost ashamed how quickly you’re letting this happen. You can feel all of the excuses you want to say bubbling in your head: I don't normally do things like this. Go out drinking. Or dancing. Hook up with guys I just met. Guys I’ve barely talked to.
He presses a kiss you your ear and then he’s pulling away, his hand trailing across the lace on your back as he turns. You’re ready to move immediately, all lazy, lusty haze gone. Your hand finds his again and you press close, afraid to lose him in the dark as he parts a path through the crowd.
You grab your coats and you’re back out into the cold night air. It punches at the butterflies in your stomach. You both shimmy fully into your jackets as you walk out the door, his pace leaving no time for you to do so inside. Once you’ve followed him past the flock of people hanging around the entrance: smoking, yelling, trying to hail a cab, he pulls you to his side, hand protectively wrapping around your shoulder.
Once you’ve put a block behind you, you realize how quiet it is, how quiet you both are. Your heart starts to pound. God, you’re about to go home with a guy you haven’t spoken a word to! You don’t even know his real name! You can’t help but look up at him a little afraid. This is how all those sensational murder mysteries start, isn’t it?
“Wanna go back?” He asks stopping, his hand dropping off your shoulder.
You shake your head, finally saying something. “No! I just-” you can’t help but get caught up in the moment. What a guy, he would really walk you back to your friends if you wanted. You pull your hands around yourself for warmth. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Simon” he says nonchalantly.
You smile. Simon. The bubble expands in your chest again. You tell him your name, and, almost as a force of habit, you hold out your hand to shake. He grabs it softly. You can feel the rough skin of his fingers and palms across the back of your hand as he holds it. You can feel yourself blushing.
He pulls you into his chest and gives your butt a pat with his other hand.
“So,” he rumbles into your ear, “who’s place are we headed to: mine or yours?”
-
Songs referenced:
Dancin’ (KRONO Remix) - Aaron Smith SPIT IN MY FACE! - ThxSoMch Levitate - Hollywood Undead Black Out Days - Phantogram
a/n: Feel free to tell me what an ancient, cringe-fail, writer I am for not only putting lyrics in my fic but for picking these songs specifically in the tags. 😅 I also had too much fun writing reader's friends with Soap and Gaz. Maybe more of them in parts 3 and 4? 👀
#starry writes#mw2#ghost/reader#call of duty#cod fanfic#cod mw2#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#second real and polished fic ever! 🥳#part two next week maybe? i literally just have to edit it
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hey chat
so...
idk if any of u guys r here from my dc x Spidey crossover/ao3, but if you are i have some things to say!
so uh,
1. sorry for not updating in almost two months..
2. the reasons i haven't updated is bc i was busy with school ending(+ some other stuff) and i have been meaning to go back thru and rewrite the previous chapters to make them more detailed and flow more smoothly!
3. im currently out of state and don't have my laptop w me, but im gonna try and write something tonight if im not too exhausted!
4. i have other fic ideas in mind that will also start to be written and posted on ao3 since it's summer time and im gonna have a little but more free time, but i will still probably keep updates on TSOTWCUA (my dc and spidey fic) as once a month on sporadic dates
5. im starting to get back into anime a little bit so maybe be on the lookout for that if you're interested!
6. if youre here from my merlin content, specifically my pirate au, please know that i will try and get some where with that! but im also still not too sure on what pairing to have if i even have one (i probably will)
so uh yeah that was that! if you read all of this tysm and sorry lol!
don't be afraid to send me asks btw! feel free to gently harass me if you feel the need!
i can't promise an exact date for chapter 7 of tsotwcua so js watch ur email for an update notification!
also ill try and post more on here🙏🙏😼
#fanfic#ao3#bbc merlin#spiderman#dc comics#red hood#jason todd#batman#batfam#miles morales#tsotwcua#w3bhead speaks#Jason Todd x Peter Parker#peterjay#tim drake#fanfiction#archive of our own#ao3 fanfic
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Strap In, ch 1: Surprise
AO3 Link
Rating: E, explicit
Warnings: alcohol, Tech is shy, meet-cute, kissing, makeouts, nipple play, oral sex (F receiving), squirting, handjobs, penetration (F receiving), PiV, creampie, cum eating, Dom reader, Sub Tech, enthusiastic consent | Notes: Fem reader, second person pov, present tense
This one is long overdue! I’ve had the idea since I finished “Orders” over two years ago. This first chapter has been sitting, 99% complete, in my drafts for weeks, and I finally found two seconds to finish it up and post. This one breaks the pattern of the first two in that a single chapter is over 5k words, and we got to the good stuff right away, neither of which was planned. I had to take a break midway through the final part, so you should enjoy it as much as I did. (Also using updated banners for the first time)
5872 words
F! Reader/ Tech
“When I noticed he doesn’t leer, it was a nice change of pace. He doesn’t clam up with any of the others that work here either, so I can put two and two together.”
You’ve had busy nights before, but that was on the small backwater planet you left behind, and a busy night in a Coruscant bar is literally worlds away from what you’re used to. When your manager, a pretty older Chiss woman named Jenko, had shown you around about an hour before opening, it didn’t seem so bad, just much larger than the small cantina you came from. However, almost as soon as the place opened, 79s was overflowing with clones. A few platoons of soldiers had returned to the capital earlier than expected.
It’s been an exhausting night so far. Your feet are aching, you haven’t eaten in hours, and the persistent wave after wave of men hitting on you is doing nothing to improve your mood. It had been flattering at first, but after hearing the same lame pickup line from three different people within an hour, the novelty wore off quickly.
You find a brief reprieve when your manager notices that someone isn’t taking your polite ‘no’ for an answer and quickly marches over.
“I’ve told you two times already tonight to leave the staff the fuck alone, and if I have to repeat myself again I will personally kick you out on your ass,” she says to the man, her red eyes narrowed as she steps in front of you. He grumbles something in response before drunkenly stumbling away as she shakes her head at him.
“You can’t be nice with these guys,” Jenko says, her voice stern but her expression understanding.
“Yeah, I can see that now,” you say, unconsciously rubbing your temple. Jenko asks when you last ate.
“Uh, about an hour before we opened, I think?” you say, turning from the bar and starting to wash a mountain of used glasses in a basin nearby. Your hands are trembling just enough for you to lose your grip on a heavy flagon and drop it at your feet, where it shatters. You curse under your breath and glance around for something to clean it up with. Jenko holds a steadying hand to your shoulder, stopping you.
“Go take a break in the office honey, we can handle it up here for half an hour,” she says. You’re about to protest, but a loud growl from your stomach cuts you off. Jenko turns you around and gently pushes you toward the long hallway that leads to the refreshers, supply closet, and manager's office. You sigh, but make your way down the poorly lit hall.
As you go, you’re too focused on whatever Jenko might have in her mini fridge to pay much attention to where you’re going, so it’s no surprise when you run into someone. Having walked face-first into them, you stumble backward and trip over your own feet, landing flat on your ass. You blink a few times before looking up to see who you’d run into. From your perspective on the floor, he’s very tall and almost intimidating, though he appears just as startled as you are. He hesitates, then offers his hand and pulls you back to your feet.
“Apologies, I-I didn’t see you there,” he says, nervous. He takes a step back and you know he’s looking you up and down, but, unlike everyone else that night, it doesn’t bother you. Besides, you’re doing the same, now that you can see him a little better. He’s wearing what appears to be modified clone-issue armor, but he doesn’t look like any of the other soldiers you’d been dealing with; he’s slightly taller, leaner, and most importantly, sober. His goggles, and the dark, inquisitive eyes behind them stand out most to you though, and you feel your heart beat faster when they meet your own.
He seems to realize that he’s staring after a moment, then shakes himself before taking another step back. The entire encounter has caught you both off guard, and it takes you a moment to realize that he’d said something.
“I didn’t see you either, sorry,” you say, trying not to stumble over your words as you speak.
“Are you alright?” he asks. His voice is different too, almost soft spoken, and his words are thoughtful, deliberate.
“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you say, slightly embarrassed. You don’t give him time to respond, and instead move around him before slipping into the office, leaving him in the hallway looking mildly confused.
Around an hour or so later, things are calming down as many of the men leave for the night, which thins the crowd significantly. Every now and then you’ll glance around, wondering where the guy you bumped into had gone. You eventually spot him at a round table at the back of the room with four other men. They don’t look like the other clones either, save for one, and you can’t help yourself from asking Jenko if she knows who they are.
“Oh, them?” she says, glancing in their direction from behind the bar where you both are standing.
“Freaks is what they are, fuckin’ lab experiments. Them and the half droid,” comes a drunken mumble from the patron in front of you. You look over and see it’s the same guy who’d been so persistent with you earlier. “Keep your distance. ‘Sides, I’ll take better care of you,” he continues.
Jenko looks as if she was about to tell him off, but you beat her to the punch.
“Says the guy that still hasn’t realized he’s dumped his drink into his chest plate. I’ll take my chances on my own,” you say, disgust evident in your tone and on your face.
“Aw, c’mon baby, don’t be like that,” he says, reaching for your arm. As soon as he does, Jenko grabs him by the wrist and twists his arm around, immediately pulling his attention away from you and making him yelp.
“Three strikes asshole, now leave on your own before I kick you out myself,” she spits before letting him go. He calls her a ‘psycho bitch’ under his breath, but obeys and leaves the building.
“‘Lab experiments’. So they are clones?” you say, otherwise not acknowledging what just happened.
“Yeah, as far as I know,” Jenko says as she wipes up the mess left behind on the bar. She looks over and sees you watching them. “Mind that one with the toothpick,” she continues. You make a questioning sound at her, so she keeps talking. “You definitely can’t be nice with him,” she says.
“Noted,” you say, shaking your head. “And the rest?”
“Big guy’s loud, but friendly. Other two are polite. That one with the goggles barely speaks,” she says. She straightens up and gives you an appraising look. “Why?” she asks.
“Oh, no reason,” you say, looking away from them, and her.
“I may not know much about you, but I can already tell you’re a bad liar,” Jenko says, laughing a little.
“I walked into the quiet one earlier in the back, that’s all,” you say, still not looking at her in an attempt to hide the soft flush on your face.
“Well, don’t expect to see them very often,” she says, then drops the subject.
It seems that Jenko was wrong, as you do, in fact, see the unusual clones at least once every week or two after that, which is often enough to memorize their regular orders. It eventually reaches a point where, when you see them come in through the door, you’ll have their drinks already made and bring them over once they’ve been seated. The first time you did this, the one you’d run into was nervously shaking so much that he spilled his drink when you handed it to him. Thinking about it later, you hoped that meant he was just as interested in you as you are in him.
As much as you want to go talk to him, you never seem to have time while on shift; you’ve proven to Jenko to be a dependable worker and there are other regulars that monopolize your attention. While you work, you’ll occasionally glance at the table in the back, wondering if the one you’d bumped into would ever come and talk to you. After several weeks passed and he still hadn’t made a move, you’re disappointed, but accept what you interpret as disinterest.
One night, after enough time has passed for you to be bumped up to assistant manager, the odd clone with the toothpick, whom you learned was named Crosshair, slinks his way over to where you are at the quieter end of the bar and catches your attention.
“Save it,” you say, before he’d even opens his mouth.
“Ooh, snappy little thing today,” he drawls. You roll your eyes at him.
“What do you want?” you ask, hoping he’ll just order a drink and go.
“I don’t want a damn thing from you, that ship has obviously sailed,” he says. He jerks his head over at the table. “But he does,” he continues, smirking.
“He’s interested after all?” you think, and fight to keep your face neutral. “Has he just been nervous?”
“Are you trying to embarrass him?” you ask, your tone flat.
“What if I am?” he says, watching you.
“Then you’re an asshole,” you say, exasperated, as you make drinks. “I’ve had a suspicion for a while anyway,” you say. Crosshair raises a silver eyebrow at you.
“Oh really?” he says, sounding unconvinced.
“I’m not oblivious to the way you all look at me,” you say, pausing to clean up a spill. “So when I noticed he doesn’t leer, it was a nice change of pace. He doesn’t clam up with any of the others that work here either, so I can put two and two together.”
Crosshair scoffs dismissively at you, needling you further.
“So… what are you trying to do here, talk to me for him? He’s a grown-ass man and if he hasn’t said anything to me there’s probably a reason, even if you don’t agree with it,” you say, growing impatient. “Now order something or get the hell out of the way,” you say before waving him off. He scoffs again before skulking away.
You glance over at Jenko, knowing she’s been watching the entire interaction, and she looks proud of you. You shake your head, exasperated, then she nods her head at something behind you. Confused, you turn back around and see the quiet guy getting up and heading in your direction, looking just as annoyed with Crosshair as you had felt.
“Take a minute if you want, I’ve got it for now,” she says, obviously trying not to smile, and you nod a quick thanks to her before moving to the very end of the bar, your heart pounding.
At the round table in the back, everyone watches Crosshair talk to you. You snap at him, hands on your hips, then wave him off, and he returns, grumbling.
“Ooh, shot down!” Wrecker says, laughing at him as he sits.
“Again,” Echo says, rolling his eyes.
Hunter glances at you before he says “I think I like her too,” while looking over at Tech.
“I know what you’re doing,” Tech says to Crosshair, irritated. “And I am perfectly capable of speaking to her myself.”
“Oh? Go on then. Take a shot,” he says, just as annoyed. Tech huffs and stands.
“Fine, if it will shut you up,” he says, then makes his way over to the bar. His irritation outweighs his nerves, so he doesn’t notice the way his heart rate kicks up when you meet his eyes and smile at him.
“You need a bacta patch for his wounded pride?” you ask.
“You shut him down quite effectively,” he says, and he looks impressed.
“Maybe, but he still got what he wanted,” you say, softly shaking your head.
“And what’s that?” Tech asks, confused.
“You’re talking to me,” you say.
“Oh god damn it,” he mutters while briefly hiding his face behind his palm, which pulls a laugh out of you, though it isn’t mocking.
“Took you long enough,” you say, smiling at him again.
“You say that like-,” he says, speaking slowly, as if trying to figure you out.
“Like I’ve wanted you to? Because I have,” you say, being upfront with him. He makes a startled ‘what?’ sound at you in surprise. You nod at him and rest your elbows on the bar, leaning in closer to him. He tries not to look at the way your breasts are straining against the buttons of your shirt as you do this, and his mouth suddenly goes dry.
“I haven’t had a chance to get to you myself yet,” you say, and you can tell he’s flustered, even if he isn’t saying anything.
“Although… my shift ends in,” you pause and glance at the chrono on your wrist. “About thirty minutes. Stick around?” you say, and your tone is flirtatious.
“I-if you want me to,” he says. He’s starting to sweat, just enough to be noticeable, and swallows loudly.
“I do,” you say, smiling again and watching him with your chin resting on your hand.
“That- that’ll be acceptable,” he says.
“Great!” you say, straightening yourself. He nods at you and turns to walk back to the table, but you stop him.
“Hey, by the way,” you say, getting his attention. You give him your name, and he does the same.
“Nice to finally know your name, Tech. Half an hour, okay?” you say.
“Y-yes, of course,” Tech says, obviously not expecting any of this to have happened. As he returns to the table, he is now vividly aware of the effect you have on him, and a smile cracks his lips before he can stop it. He sits back down and finds that everyone has been watching him.
“You’re welcome,” Crosshair says with a smirk.
“That went well,” Echo says.
“Yeah, I ain’t seen you this happy since we got the ship,” Wrecker says, and Hunter doesn’t say anything, much to Tech's relief. He glances back and finds you watching him. When you see that he’s caught you, you blush and busy yourself elsewhere.
A half hour hasn’t felt this long since you were back in school. Time seems to crawl past, and you’re getting antsy, restlessly wandering up and down the bar. Every now and then you’ll glance over at Tech, and he’s often doing the same to you. Jenko notices this and calls you over.
“Go ahead and count out your till, you’ve only got five minutes left anyway,” she says. You’re about to protest, but she chuckles and stops you. “It’s fine. Your mind is clearly elsewhere,” she says.
You fail to hide the smile on your face as you say thank you, and try not to rush through your task. Once that’s done, you spend a few seconds fretting over yourself in the mirrored back of the bar.
Jenko nudges your side, getting your attention. “You look fine honey. Besides, the others are leaving. Don’t keep him waiting,” she says, giving you a little push. You take a second to compose yourself and find that, yes, Tech is still in his seat while the other four make their way to the front door. Crosshair shoots you a smug look as they pass.
“You’re still an asshole,” you say, and though he doesn’t respond, the big guy loudly laughs at him.
You call Tech’s name to get his attention as you approach, though you don’t need to; he’s been watching you since you passed his brothers. You sit and settle in on his right, rather than across from him, but you can see that his body has stiffened, and he’s noticeably uncomfortable.
“Oh damn, am I too close?” you ask. He doesn’t verbally say anything, but the way his posture relaxes when you move further back from him tells you enough. “Sorry,” you say.
“You don’t need to be,” Tech says. “You’re the first to ever ask; it’s appreciated,” he says without looking directly at you.
“You’re not like the other clones I’ve met,” you say casually, turning your body towards him. Tech cocks an eyebrow at you.
“You’re just now noticing?” he says dryly, and you laugh a little.
“Oh haha. That’s not what I meant,” you say.
“What do you mean then?” he asks, his head tilting slightly to one side.
“Well, the obvious aside, you’re so much more respectful, for one,” you say. “It’s nice to not be stared at or hit on. I’m willing to bet that you’re more intelligent than the other guys too,” you continue, gesturing at the men around you. You notice how his posture subtly shifts as you speak; he’s turned his upper half toward you and moved slightly closer.
“You would win that bet,” he says, clearly trying not to smirk.
“There’s no tactful way to ask this,” you say apologetically, “but why are you and your squad so-,” you say, but he interrupts without realizing it.
“Weird?” he says, sounding exasperated.
“Different,” you say, gently correcting him. “I don’t think you’re weird.”
Tech meets your eyes and when he sees your sincerity, his breath catches in his throat. He takes a moment to adjust his goggles before launching into how he and his brothers, minus Echo (the one with the cybernetic limbs) were genetically engineered to enhance specific traits and minimize others. You’re paying close attention to his every word, and neither of you notice how you’ve been subtly moving closer to each other. Tech suddenly stops and seems to deflate.
“S-sorry, I’m rambling again,” he says, looking away from you and slouching. You feel a pang in your chest at this; clearly he’s been told to shut up by people he respects multiple times.
“Oh, no you weren’t! I’ve always wondered about cloning and Kamino, it’s fascinating,” you say. He blinks at you for a few seconds, taken aback by your interest, before continuing to talk as if he hadn’t stopped and gradually sitting up straighter again.
As he speaks, you occasionally ask him something or make an observation, and he asks if you’re familiar with certain concepts or ideas. He’s consistently impressed when you already know most of them.
“I have to ask,” he says, adjusting his goggles as he looks at you. “What are you doing working at a bar? You’re clearly smart enough to do something else,” he says.
“‘Something else’ was too restrictive for my taste,” you say with a shrug. “The drunks aside, I enjoy this a lot more, and I read plenty in my off time. I will admit the conversations aren’t this stimulating though.”
Tech doesn’t comment but you pick up the way he seems to be studying you before getting the conversation back on track. Once he does, you both talk for so long that you only realize how much time has passed when Jenko switches the lights on and starts mopping the floor by your table.
“Oh damn, have we really been here that long?” you say, surprised, glancing at your chrono.
“It’s been a few hours, yes,” Tech says.
“Well, it certainly didn’t feel like it. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself with someone like this,” you say, your cheeks getting warm.
“Agreed. I know I’ve never had the pleasure of such good company before,” Tech says, sheepish.
The two of you suddenly realize how close you are, and when you meet his eyes, you can see that he’s noticeably relaxed, which is a relief. You then notice how he seems to be glancing from your lips to your eyes. You start to lean in, then remember that you’re technically still at work, so instead back off and clear your throat. You look away for just a second while you recompose yourself, then sigh softly and get to your feet, Tech following you.
“I guess I should get home,” you say, disappointed.
“Is it far from here?” he asks.
“Maybe ten blocks down,” you say. “Walk with me?” you ask, giving him a pointed look. Taken aback, he stumbles over his words.
“Y-you really, um, want me to?” he asks, flustered.
“I really do,” you say, surprising him yet again that night. “Just give me a second to grab my bag, okay?” Tech nods and you speed walk behind the bar.
As you sling your purse onto your shoulder, Jenko stands next to you and nudges your upper arm. You look over at her with a questioning sound.
“Think you’ll be late tomorrow?” she says with a knowing expression. Your face flushes, and you glance over at Tech, who is now waiting for you by the door.
“To be blunt, I want to be,” you say, making her laugh. “But that’s not entirely my decision,” you continue.
“Well, when he’s here and you’re not, he always looks disappointed,” Jenko says. You don’t verbally answer but she can hear the small ‘aw’ sound you make.
“Regardless, if you won’t be on time then I need you here at least two hours after we open and no later,” she says, using her ‘boss voice’ even though her face is relaxed.
“Yes ma’am,” you say, followed by a soft but nervous laugh. You take a deep, steadying breath, then move back around the bar and meet Tech at the door.
The two of you step outside and Tech watches you take a deep breath of the ‘fresh’ air. There’s a small satisfied smile on your lips. They look soft, and he can’t help but wonder what they would feel like on his own.
“Tech? You coming?” you ask. You had moved a few steps ahead of him and he didn’t notice. He shakes himself and quickly catches up with you.
Neither of you say much, having already talked for so long in the bar, but the quiet is comfortable. As you walk, Tech keeps getting distracted by the way the multicolored lights of the city reflect in your eyes. He already finds you attractive, but something about you tonight is just-
“Beautiful.”
“What’s that?” you suddenly say, confused.
“What’s what?” Tech says, also confused.
“You just said-? You think I’m beautiful?” you say, your voice soft and disbelieving, and Tech realizes what happened.
“No, I d-,” he says, but you cut him off.
“You don’t?” you say, more confused.
“No! Wait, I mean, I-I do, I just didn’t-,” he says, stumbling over his words and getting flustered again. You come to a stop before a small door, watching him. He shuts his eyes and takes a moment to compose himself.
“Tech? Are you alright?” you ask, your voice still soft. Maker, he loves the sound of his name on your lips. He thinks about how close the two of you had unconsciously gotten to each other back in the bar, and before he can stop himself, he takes a step closer to you, cups your cheek, and softly kisses you.
You’re startled by this, and reflexively pull away, an unreadable expression on your face; Tech immediately regrets it.
“I am so sorry, I-,” Tech says, starting to apologize, but you cut him off by moving forward and kissing him back, decidedly less softly.
It takes a moment for him to process what’s happening, but he quickly relaxes and pulls you closer, resting his hands on your hips. You link your hands behind his neck and press your body against his, humming softly. He shyly swipes his tongue across your bottom lip, and when you open for him, his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. You taste each other and he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tightly.
A passing speeder blares its horn and the two of you are rudely reminded of where you are. You break apart and both take a step back, breathing heavily and staring at each other for a tense moment.
“Well… um, this is my place,” you say, gesturing to the door. Neither of you say anything else as you unlock your it, and Tech clears his throat.
“I should be going,” he says. He’s about to walk away when you suddenly grab his hand. He looks back at you and says your name, confused. You pull your hand back and fidget with the topmost button of your shirt.
“I…” you say, then pause, swallowing loudly.
Although he doesn’t have heightened senses like his brother, Tech can tell by your breathing and wide eyes that your heart rate is going up. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’ve never done this,” you say, unfastening the button without noticing.
“But?” he says, taking a step closer.
“But, I-,” you repeat, undoing the second button, this time fully aware of your actions. “I want you, Tech,” you say, undoing the third button, then the fourth. The swell of your breasts, slightly exaggerated by your heavy breathing, is uncovered the further down your shirt your fingers move. You step closer to him, and he can see the red and black lace of your bra in the dim light.
“You want me? For what?” he asks, his own breathing becoming heavy as he also moves closer, waiting to see if you’ll say what he’s hoping to hear.
“I want you to stay with me tonight,” you say, your face now only inches away from his.
“A-are you sure?” he asks, in complete disbelief for the second time tonight. In response, you suddenly kiss him deeply while taking him by the shoulders and moving him with you as you step through the door. Once you’re both past the threshold, you break apart.
“I’m sure,” you pant, your voice high and breathy. “But only if you want to,” you say, taking a step back and leaving it up to him.
“Oh god, yes,” Tech says, with no hesitation. He shuts the door behind him, sweeps you into his arms, and kisses you feverishly.
His hands return to your hips and he pushes you against the door which has barely shut, his lips never leaving yours. His gloved fingers fumble with the remaining buttons of your shirt, and you take the lead by grasping either side of the garment and yanking it apart, popping the remaining buttons off before freeing yourself from the sleeves and dropping it to the floor. Tech uses his teeth to pull his gloves off, and when you feel his hands travel upwards, you arch your back and press your chest against his.
Your hands also roam his body, but you struggle with the straps and snaps of his armor as he has an equally difficult time with the hooks of your bra. The two of you break apart after a few seconds and huff in unison as Tech shakes his head.
“Apologies, it’s been a long time-,” he says, unable to look at you. You cup his cheek and turn him to face you before softly kissing him.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve never had to deal with all this before,” you say, gesturing at his armor as he takes a step back.
“Really?” Tech says, methodically shucking off his kit.
“You sound surprised,” you say, laughing a little.
“I suppose I am; with the attention you get at the bar I assumed you could have whoever you want,” he says, being blunt.
“Well, you aren’t wrong,” you say as you reach behind yourself and quickly undo the hooks of your bra with a single hand.
“Then you have before?” he asks, freezing midway through lifting off his chest plate, and you can hear a trace of insecurity in his voice.
“I think you misunderstand,” you say, taking the large piece from him and respectfully setting it down on a nearby dresser. “I can have whoever I want, yes, but I haven’t wanted anyone else,” you say. As you speak, you slip your arms out of your bra straps and let the thing fall to the floor with your discarded shirt. You step forward and hold either side of his head as you pull his mouth towards yours, crushing your lips together.
Your tongues meet again, and when you finally break apart for air Tech is panting for breath. You can see the ‘are you serious’ in his eyes before he even says it and simply nod at him with a wide smile. He shakes his head, in disbelief once again.
You slip your hands underneath his compression shirt and feel your way up to his chest, making him groan when you experimentally drag the pad of your thumb around one of his nipples. He whips the shirt off, and you touch him the same way with your other hand. His hips jerk forward and he curses under his breath when you grind against him. His hands grab your ass and pull your body even closer to his.
You move a hand from his chest to the back of his head and pull his face down enough for you to kiss him again. Tech closes his eyes and moans into your mouth, and you take this opportunity to slide your other hand downwards, gripping his belt and pulling him behind it as you take a few steps back towards your bed, stopping when the backs of your knees bump into the mattress.
Tech unhands you long enough to drop his belt and codpiece to the floor, but before he strips any further, you’re already palming his cock through his blacks. He groans, then reaches up to rub his hand against the very wet crotch of your panties, thankful that you wore a skirt.
With a gasp and a quick movement, you’ve managed to free his cock from its confines, then spit in your hand and steadily jerk him off, relishing in the sensation of his heated breath in your ear as he moans your name. You kiss him again and your tongues dance as Tech steers you downward onto your bed. You flop onto your back and hike your skirt up over your hips. You’re about to slide your panties down when his hands stop yours from moving.
He takes you by the wrists and pins them above your head into the mattress singlehanded, then uses his free hand to pull your soaked panties to the side before slipping his digits into you. His long fingers quickly find a spot deep inside that makes you whine and arch your back as he rubs tight circles into it. After a few seconds of this, he changes tactics, suddenly pulling his fingers back out and freeing your wrists as he moves downwards past your waist.
He holds your legs open and dives face first into your dripping cunt. Your hands grab the sides of his head as he lavishes your clit with his strong tongue, his movements making you shiver and gasp. Your fingers tangle into his short brown curls and you don’t miss the way he whines when you tug at them. He slips two fingers back into your wet cunt while continuing to work your clit with his tongue.
“Oh fuck, Tech, just like that, so fucking good,” you pant, your words a gasping jumble of praise and curses. You pull at his hair again and he whines against your pussy; the vibration of his lips around your clit finally pushing you into your first orgasm. All the while, he never slows down, continuing to finger you through it until he overstimulates you into coming a second time with a loud cry of his name as your body spasms and you soak his face.
You don’t even have time to catch your breath before he’s suddenly sliding the head of his cock between your folds. He’s teasing you, but you can tell he’s barely holding himself back. You grab at the sides of his head again and yank him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on him as you shift your hips around in an attempt to get him inside you. Catching on, Tech pauses long enough to yank your soaked panties off and position himself against you.
“I’ve wanted this, wanted you, ever since we met. Please let me have you,” he says, refusing to move any further.
“Take me, Tech, I’m all yours,” you purr, and he pushes himself into you as soon as the last word has left your lips. You gasp as you stretch around him and hook your hands around his shoulders to keep yourself grounded. He waits just long enough for you to adjust to his size, and once you nod at him, he drags his hips backwards before snapping them forward into you with enough force to rock the entire bed.
The furniture thumps against the wall in time with Tech’s movements, and the noise seems to spur him into fucking you even deeper. With a particularly strong thrust, you see stars and barely contain a shout.
“I’ve waited too long for you to hold back on me,” Tech says, then grips your jaw and holds your mouth open as he repeats the motion, all but forcing the sounds out of you this time, loud enough to make your ears ring.
You wrench yourself free of his grip and clash your mouth against his. You greedily swallow up each other's moans and cries of deepest pleasure, your lips never separating for more than a second at a time as his hips stutter and you feel him fill you. His muscles lock and you hold tightly onto him, wrapping your legs around his hips as you both come at the same time.
After about a minute, Tech’s body relaxes again and he shakily sits back, his softened cock slipping out of you as he moves. You sit up and feel his load leaking from you, and you maintain eye contact with him as you flex and push a little more out. He makes a kind of strangled sound at the display before suddenly diving face first back into your hot cunt, taking care to clean you up as much as possible while eating you out. You shiver, then push him off of you and onto his back, and he seems to snap back to his senses.
“Oh fuck, did I-?” he starts, but you shut him up by crashing your lips against his again. You break apart to strip yourself completely, and he follows suit, leaving his armor in a pile at the foot of your bed next to your own clothes.
“If you’re going to make me come a fourth time, it’ll be around your cock, got it?” you say, smirking at him.
“Y-yes, whatever you want,” Tech says, eyes wide. You pull him into a sitting position and meet his eyes.
“No, it’s whatever you want. Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” you say, speaking firmly. Tech says he understands, then returns to where he was, laying on his back.
“So you’re still okay with this?” you say, watching him carefully.
“Yes. Yes, please,” he says, his voice steady but needy, his cock hardening again. Your eyes gleam.
“Good,” you say, moving to straddle him. “I’m not done with you just yet.”
Taglist: @madameminor @kaminocasey @jennamelinda12 @arctrooper69 @the-cantina @jedi-hawkins @bitchyglitterfox
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GOOD MORNING EVERYONE
So the Trinitarians brain worm is back and Morning Glory is now longer and biting the dust as far as my focus goes.
But like, I genuinely want to talk to anyone who's invested in what's to come as far as part two goes. SO PLEASE. I IMPLORE THE FOUR OF YOU WHO PERPETUALLY TAKE NOTICE OF MY SCREAMS INTO THE VOID.
We're all aware that Trin is a time loop fic. That is confirmed.
BUT THE PROBLEM IS HOW I'M GOING ABOUT DOING THAT. AND I NEED INPUT FROM PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT ME AS FAR AS PLEASES AND SPARKLES GO, YES?
Because like sure I'm writing it and like fuck everything else, let me tell my story. But it's the how of it all like if I'm gonna throw another 200 give or take hours into this I would at least like one person to be having a wonderful time drinking and driving (I have since remembered this is not a common phrase, I do not mean this in a literal sense, it's an expression) with me right?
Part two is going to be 50 chapters, give or take. (Part one is about 37 for reference.)
So the plan for part 2 rn is (ROGUHLY):
(1-10) is the second timeline. There are a lot of importants and I cannot just glaze over it all more than that. But we're also working in a bit of a shorter time period than the original events of the story and introductions do not need to happen again, right?
(11-40)ish would be me running through the next timelines in a set up structure -> what changes -> the results of said changes and then inevitably what sends our looper backwards. It wouldn't be running through all the timelines but the more notable ones in kind of a four chapter structure, I am not fully sold on four, but rough estimate yk.
And then 41-50 would be the finale of part two. It's literally the last timeline in its glory and then the epilogue which kicks off part three.
COULD AT LEAST ONE OF Y'ALL SIT THROUGH THAT OR DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY NOTES AT ALL BECAUSE LIKE
I personally kinda like it but if not a soul is reading this I am throwing myself on the curb with the rest of the garbage LMFAOOO.
I NEED THOUGHTS. OPINIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS. ANYTHING.
Anyways, I'm going to work. I have off tomorrow and I broke the ff investment seal for today so insanity and updates will be here tonight and homework will be tomorrow.
HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GOOD DAY <3
(9:30) I am literally falling asleep as I lazily write this angel based on Danse Macabre. Expect all of maybe one more update tonight if the tacos I am abt to receive don't wake me up LMFAO.
Also, I am almost saddened by not having something to post tm. Anyone want an early chapter of something that isn't Genesis/Desolation bc they're both on Monday?????? (I am feeling like a menace rn)
(10:19) tacos and the absolute yap session I just had did wake me up a bit. MAAAYBE might write some more. Idk I slept like three hours last night and went to work I'm kinda dead. But we're at 98.2k!!!!!!🥳
(11:06) okay we made it to 99.6k everything besides the flashback for 31 is done. I'm about to relax and watch something and figure out mechanics of some of this because god this series is A BEAST. Like, I still have six planned chapters left.
Pure insanity. I love it here. I hate it here.
Holy shit wait I just came to the realization that I started this fic exactly one month ago. I have belted out 99.6k for THIS FIC ALONE. (Moreso if we're including future shit that hasn't happened yet)
IN ONE MONTH.
THAT IS FUCKING CRAZY WHAT HTE FUCK LMFAOOOO
I may or may not be cooking we’ll find out in 6-26 business hours
(5:28) So I just had a very interesting past few business hours. I read a fic I've been waiting ever so patiently to finish. That's cool, right. I go for a walk at 4 in the morning because I'm insane. Fantastic. I get home at five and I'm like ohhhh well what do I do now it's not sleep time yet. Oh write I'm supposed to be drawing.
Nope I reread the epilogue of morning glory and realized Tweek's first address is for my morning glory and Craig's last sign off is your morning glory and now I'm ready to throw myself on the curb with the garbage as I sob. Someone call a trusted adult for me thanks.
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