#but she ghosted me like 6 years ago

[sunflowergirl522]

An ex friend messaged me today and all I saw from the preview is that shes apparently meant to reach out for a while now and how she has a lot to apologize for and I don’t know if I wanna open it

[dykedivorce]

the first 4 episodes of Frieren have all made me ugly cry at some point 😵‍💫 the brevity of a human life from an immortal being's perspective keeps getting to me

[kneworder]

i have all these draft documents of half finished fics full of lines i love but that are so fundamentally flawed i can't figure out how to finish them and can't kill my darlings mercilessly enough to get past the roadblocks so i just reread them over and over and think damn this is kinda fire. wish it was anywhere near shareable.

[deebris]

Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of his irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 6

Warnings: Stress in the nest, angst

Fear engulfed Felix as he ran to his omega's side when Hyunjin let go of her. Her body fell limp in his alpha's arms. "Y/N." Felix's voice croaked as he held her frail little head. "Felix-ssi, take Y/N into my room and make sure she doesn't go into a sub-drop while me and Hyunjin deal with Jisung," Chan whispered, before leaving him with his omega. "Felix it is alright. I will take her. You go and clear this up." Minho offered as he slowly picked up the small omega knowing Felix was in no fit state to look after her. "Hyung?" Felix whined, trying to pull her back. "I've got this. I will look after her until you come." Minho stated as he nudged the blonde wolf before heading up the stairs into his alpha's room. "Those idiots. He's going to kill them." Minho gasped as he looked at the state of Chan's room. The king-sized bed had been pulled away from the wall into the middle of the room with the headboard ripped off, and small pieces of wood covered the floor. The wardrobe had completely changed sides of the room with half of his clothes falling out of it, even Chan's shoes looked as if they were ready to escape the madness of this room. Bundles of blankets and pillows had engulfed the once-neatened bed. Sweet scented candles flooded the room. It was pure chaos. He could tell the two betas were in distress but he didn't expect them to shake up their alphas room. 

Carefully Minho dropped her on top of the mattress before getting a washcloth to wipe the blood from her new mated marks that were branded into her skin. Minho noticed as he ghosted his fingertips over Chan's mark that Hongjoongs mark underneath was slowly dissapearing along with the other twenty so marks across her body. He wondered how long it would take for her body to repair itself from the physical trauma that was across her skin. Minho shook his head and gingerly wiped the blood from her neck before going to Hyunjin's mark. Minho had to snicker at the mark on her ass because he knew there would be no way Hyunjin would ever mark her ass let alone in general at this current moment. Like himself, Hyunjin too had a difficult background but they were both very different. Minho was very grateful to Chan for finding him all those years ago. He would always owe it to him, for the rest of his life if he had to, hence why Minho would never challenge Chan. Hyunjin and Jisung were the most defiant wolves. Jisung more so than the rest since he was the first wolf Chan had chosen when he created Straykids. Jisung was presented as the second beta and second-ranked to Minho. Jisung's firstborn seniority complex made him act better than everyone else, particularly when his wolf felt out of control. It was similar to his alpha-beta complex, but Minho would never admit that to anyone. Of course, Chan knew about it and how he felt about not being alpha but Chan never held it against Minho or questioned his feelings, it wasn't worth it to Chan. It was also the same reason why Minho never questioned Chan's weird obsession with having a soul-mated omega. He didn't understand it but he would never question Chan's actions, only supporting them quietly. Still, Minho wondered how Chan was truly feeling about all this. About having their omega here. She was quite different, understandably, as she did come from a commune that bred omegas religiously, however, her attitude towards alphas was quite distrustful and hostile, that was something Minho was still trying to figure out.

Minho knew who Ateez were. They were a group of demonic werewolves who sold their soul to dark practitioners to become the most powerful and cultivated werewolf group. He knew they lived in Wraithwood and no one could enter unless Hongjoong allowed them. It was rumoured the place was surrounded by the spirited wolves that he killed, whether it was true or a messed up story he didn't know. What Minho did know was Y/N had lived there and survived their treatment, but how did they let her escape? Minho couldn't quite put his finger on it and it bothered him. Chan had stolen Hyunjin from Ateez. Did Hongjoong steal Y/N from Chan before he got to her?  Minho's thoughts were going round and round in circles as he thought about the time they encountered Hongoong, but how would he have known? Aish, I'm going to have to ask Jeongin for help.  "Chris!" Minho shot up as if he had been caught doing something illegal. "What in the seven hells has happened to my room," Chan growled as he looked at his broken nest. All his stuff was scattered everywhere and left in a disorganised manner. "I think Seungmin and Changbin were stress nesting." Minho sighed out. "They have their own nests!" Chan growled. His alpha inside of him was clawing at the surface, ready to break out and fix his nest. It was the worst thing to do to any wolf who had perfected their nest. It was like destroying someone's grandmother's urn and scattering her ashes across your bedroom. It was annoying for any wolf and it could sometimes make the wolf disorientated, especially if an outsider destroyed it. "I know hyung! I will speak to them, they were anxious." Minho tried to assure, but it seemed Chan wasn't calming down anytime soon as he dragged his armchair over to the bed like a sour puppy. "How is Jisung?" Minho asked. "I told Hyunjin to break his leg for preventing me from saving my omega. He will shift fifty times a day until I say stop." Chan growled, his eyes fixated on his omega's heartbeat. "Is Jisung aware of why-." "Of course, he isn't. Jisung is too cocky for his own good sometimes." Chan snapped before taking in a breath. "He needs to realise that pulling me away too quickly could have killed her. If she died Min a break of a leg would have been nothing. I couldn't lose her while I just got her." "I know Channie." Minho carefully walked over and rubbed his shoulders, "I think she is a lot stronger than we think. I think she is going to be a little bit of a firecracker when she feels comfortable. There is no doubt about hyung." "I agree, but at the moment I do worry about you, Hyunjin and Jeongin. Especially Jeongin, all of these emotions are confusing him and I'm worried all his training will be thrown out the window. He doesn't know whether to rut her or attack her." Chan said as he ran his hands through his brown hair.

"Can I speak honestly?" Chan waved his hand out to give his permission. "Do not worry about me. You know I get over things in my own way. At the moment I do not feel comfortable with her around, I have just got comfortable with having the eight of us and zero problems in a long time. I just want to clarify I do and my wolf does recognise her as our mate, I am not ready to trust her or adapt to this new environment, yet. My concern is, and I say this with good intentions, I don't think it is a good idea to let Jeongin near her for a while or at least not without another alpha present. Jeongin has only been presented over a year ago and he has just gotten the hang of new smells, new emotions, hell, he even had his first rut which nearly took us all out. Jeongin is extremely volatile at the moment and I know Hyunjin has been helping him with controlling his anger. The issue is that Jeongin has learned as a mechanism to rely on other emotions in the home to ground him which worked fine until Y/N arrived. Not only that Jeongin has never been around an omega. He was born from an alpha pack. Look, I don't want our maknae to get himself worked up and explode when he's been doing so well."

Chan listened attentively to Minho's words. It was a lot to think about. Chan knew Minho was right about Jeongin, it was too soon for him to be around Y/N but at the same time, he didn't want to push either of them out. They both would need him. "hey, don't worry too much. You know all of us will help out and Jeongin knows how eager you have been to find your mate. He will understand that making her comfortable is the biggest priority and even if you have to spend time with Jeongin, I am sure Lix and Bin would love to spend time with her. Bin more so than Lix because Jisung told him she bites." Chan snorted at Minho's words, he wouldn't be surprised if she did nip one of them. "I know Minho. Thank you for your words of wisdom. You always know what to say." Chan expressed. "Oh and Hyunjin. I don't know what to do about him. Hyunjin is Hyunjin. What I can suggest is to let him come around and try not to expect too much from him and Y/N. I doubt that is going to happen anytime soon, but he is not happy about it." Minho added. "I know Hyunjin is still difficult. He isn't fully comfortable since what happened with him. Hyunjin did promise he wasn't going to reject her but feels his choice has been taken from him." Chan sadly stated as he thought back to Hyunjins cold words 'I'm not going to reject her. It's not like I can anyway, but you forced me to do something I never wanted to do.' Admittedly, Chan did feel incredibly guilty about asking Hyunjin to mark her but he was in a state of sheer panic and there was no way Jeongin was ready to have that responsibility or pressure. Chan didn't even want to think about Jeongin marking their omega anytime soon.

The two wolves sat in silence with their thoughts watching their omega sleeping peacefully for a few moments when Chan announced he was going to check on Jeongin leaving Minho alone with her. It was only when Minho pulled the blankets over her that he truly noticed her. Minho noticed how peaceful she looked as she slept. Her dark brown hair came down to her shoulders, slightly sticking to her face as she slept. Her face was less blotchy and the colour had started to come back to her cheeks. Minho couldn't deny she was beautiful but there was a uniqueness to her and he wasn't sure if it was because of her wolf or temperament. You and Han Jisung are going to be a menace together, aren't you? Minho thought to himself as he thought about the two running wild around the house. He could feel it. What they faced may not even be the full extent of her defiance and there would be a lot more to unwrap as time progresses.

[cleolinda]

The Scariest Movie I Ever Saw in a Theater: The Ring

I'll tell you up front that the story I'm going to tell you is about "The Ring (2002)," in the sense that it is about The Ring in the year 2002.

See, I don't know what The Scariest Movie Ever is. A quick google says that the consensus is The Exorcist (I haven't seen it, because I never felt like scheduling a day to freak myself the entire fuck out). But horror is specific, and not just to a person, but to a time and place, even. When I saw The Shining as a teenager in a well-lit living room with other people, I didn't even really flinch, but I bet it would play very differently to me now. I don’t think The Ring is at the top of anyone’s list, but twenty years ago, I had a personal interest in it—at the time, I was running a dinky little Geocities site devoted to movie news. Links curated and compiled from all the other, bigger sites I followed—basically, it was the linkspam format I have used on multiple platforms, including here on Sundays. And so, as someone who followed theatrical releases pretty closely for two or three years, I saw the trailer for The Ring, and I immediately knew it was going to be huge.

To locate you in time, this was just after three self-satirizing Scream movies and the Overcomplicated Serial Killer films of the '90s. The Ring was something completely different: chill aqua-blue color grading a good 5-6 years before Twilight; a mournful Hans Zimmer score; no jokes, no quips; and a slow, inexorable sense of doom. Grief, even, given that the movie begins with the death of the main character's niece. What immediately struck me about the first trailer was 1) the melancholy of it, and 2) how much it doesn't explain. Onscreen, you get the title cards,

THERE IS A VIDEOTAPE IF YOU WATCH IT SEVEN DAYS LATER YOU DIE

Concise! Understandable! A woman (Naomi Watts) is freaking out upon discovering that her young son has just watched it! Admirable job setting up the premise and the stakes of this entire movie in thirty seconds flat, without even any dialogue. That's all you need to know, and thus, the remaining minute of the trailer can do whatever it wants, and what it wants to do is be fucking weird. Echoing voices, TV static, a closeup of a horse's eye, ladders, a girl with dark hair, people reacting to things we don't see, drippy doorknobs, rain. Characters don't give us the whole plot in convenient soundbites of dialogue (like they do in a later trailer); we just hear lines, overlapping, murmured out of context—

did you see it in your head? she talks to you... leading you somewhere... showing you the horses... you saw it. did you see it in your head? she shows me things. Everyone suffers.

That you saw it has lived in my head ever since, and not once have I charged it rent. But the "best" part is Naomi Watts screaming at the end, because you don't hear her voice; you only hear this heartless telephonic beeeeeeep. It's 2002 and I'm watching this trailer, thinking, I have no idea what the fuck I just saw. This is going to be huge.

And it was, to the tune of $249 million on a $48M budget.

At risk of recapping what you might already know, Ringu, aka Ring, is a media franchise that spiraled out from a trio of Koji Suzuki novels into Hideo Nakata's film Ringu (1998), a landmark of Japanese horror, plus several other movies, some TV series, many comics, and even a couple of video games. The overarching story is about a murdered girl/vengeful ghost named Sadako Yamamura whose rage and pain have created a cursed video tape, you watch it and you die unless you pass the tape around like a virus, seven daaaaays, etc.

The "ring" in question is the rim of a well. Keep that well in mind.

The movie I saw is the U.S. remake, which itself had two sequels. (The iconic Sadako is now named Samara Morgan. Keep her in mind, too.) Director Gore Verbinski moved from The Ring to Pirates of the the Caribbean (!), and so Hideo Nakata himself would direct The Ring Two. I... honestly have only seen the first one. And I was right, it was huge, and it kicked off the American J-Horror Remake genre, for better or worse. But what gets forgotten about The Ring is its marketing campaign, which I followed pretty closely for my doofy little news site.

It was inspired.

The story of The Ring is partly the story of the sea change in the media landscape—how we watch movies. And the story of its marketing is a picture of the very last years before social media changed the wilderness of the internet into something that feels so big, like a billion people could see anything we say, and yet so small—only a tame handful of places to say it, owned by three or four companies, and corraled by algorithms.

Back around 1997-1998 or so, I worked at a video store (Movie Gallery, where the hits were there then, guaranteed) for about a year and a half. By the time I left, we had started adding DVDs to the VHS tapes on the shelves, but we hadn't replaced the entire stock. Video stores might have transitioned fully to DVD by 2002, I'm not sure, but people still commonly had both VCRs and DVD players in their homes. And I remember that The Ring was sold in both formats when it eventually hit home video. Which is to say—you know the analog horror genre today? Marble Hornets, Local 58, The Mandela Catalogue?

Analog horror is commonly characterized by low-fidelity graphics, cryptic messages, and visual styles reminiscent of late 20th-century television and analog recordings. This is done to match the setting, as analog horror works are typically set between the 1960s and 1990s. The name "analog horror" comes from the genre's aesthetic incorporation of elements related to analog electronics, such as analog television and VHS, the latter being an analog method of recording video.

Okay, but this is just what home media was like, and 2002 was at the very tail end of that—boxy black VHS tapes that degraded with time and reuse were just how we lived. At the same time, I'd been using CDs for music since about 1991, and all our software installs came on CD-ROM discs; a "mixtape" by that time had shifted to mean a rewriteable CD rather than a cassette tape. In college, I—well, I'll plead the Fifth as to whether I downloaded mp3s via Napster, but I was also taping Mystery Science Theater 3000 on VHS over the weekends. It was Every Format Everywhere, All At Once, and we kept half a dozen kinds of players around for them. Here in 2023, we stream and download everything invisibly, unless we choose to engage in format nostalgia. (I've already run into the problem of Apple Music deleting songs I really liked, due to this or that licensing issue, because I was really only renting them.) The year The Ring hit theaters was the edge of a last shimmering gasp of physical media where iTunes had only come into being the year before, and iridescent discs were still mostly what we used, but cassettes, both video and audio, were still viable. And so, people did not think it was terribly weird when they started finding unlabeled VHS tapes on their windshields.

Movieweb, quoting TikTok user astro_nina:

"Their marketing strategy was essentially 'let's get this tape viewed by as many people as possible without these people being aware of what this is, sort of raising intrigue," she says. One way they achieved this was by airing the tape, which allegedly marks its viewers for death within seven days, as a commercial with no context. The video would air between late-night programming "with no words, no mention of a movie, for like a month...so people would run into it and it would just go on to the next thing, and people would be like, 'what the f--k is this?'"

I remember seeing the Cursed Video as an unexplained ad at least twice, by the way. That TikTok also indicates that DreamWorks straight-up sent copies of the tape to Hot Topic stores, as well as planting them under actual movie theater seats. While running my movie site, I heard at least one story of someone finding a tape on the sink counter of a restroom at a club. Did the marketing department actually plant tapes in bathrooms—or did a freaked-out recipient leave it there, hoping to dodge the "curse"?

(I haven't embedded the Cursed Video here, by the way—but I could have. If you'd like to see the American take on it, you can watch both the full version and the shorter variant that appeared in the movie itself. A text description of what the fuck you're even looking at is here [content note for both: blood, insects, animal death, body horror, and suicide by falling]. The original version from the Japanese film is shorter, and it's eerie rather than gruesome.)

BUT WAIT, THERE WAS MORE: DreamWorks had something of an alternate-reality campaign going with a handful of in-character websites. This was only a year after Warner Bros. ran the groundbreaking "The Beast" ARG for A.I.: Artificial Intelligence: "Ultimately, fifty websites with a total of about one thousand pages were created for the [A.I.] game." (I lurked in the Cloudmakers Yahoo group.) Marketing for The Ring did not go anywhere that in depth, nor did it need to; it was both a smaller film and a smaller story. I saw at least two “personal” websites (seemingly amateur and a little tacky, like my own), but the one I particularly remember was about someone who owned/trained horses? I'm not sure if it was meant to be the actual Anna Morgan character—Samara's mother—or maybe someone who had noticed that the Morgans' horses were disturbed? I'm not even sure anyone even remembers this but me. Reddit users dug up a few other archived websites, but they're about Sadako, the curse and/or videotape; they aren't as subtle or character-oriented as the site I remember. (Honestly, I wonder if weird shit like "What Scares Me" or "SEVEN DAYS TO LIVE" were made by fans rather than a marketing department, but who knows.)

[The “About” page from Seven Days to Live on the Internet Archive.]

[The entirety of An Open Letter on the Internet Archive. “UPDATE” is a now-blank pop-up. I would bet $5 that it was originally a pop-up of the cursed video.]

I need to point out here that Facebook did not exist in 2002. It would not exist for another two years, and Twitter wouldn't exist until 2006. Even MySpace was not a thing until the next year. I didn't start my Livejournal until October of 2003. What we had, for the most part, were independent forums and blogs. We also had Creepy Internet Fiction like "The Dionaea House" and "Ted the Caver"; their use of the blog format, of people out there seemingly living their lives until something fucked up went down, gave the stories the shape of reality. And it helped that these blogs had comment sections, sure—sometimes more story unfolded there—but for the most part, an author could "abandon" a blog, and you'd just find the story there via word of mouth. Like the Ring blogs I remember, it wouldn't seem strange if no one replied to you, whereas today, you'd have to hire a writer to sit on Twitter, or Reddit, or even Tumblr, and interact with people in character. Could you do something like The Ring's mysterious, weird-ass blogs today? Would anyone even notice?

So: It's 2002, my head is full of Alternate Reality and eerie images and you saw it, and I'm hype as hell to go out and see The Ring. I'm perfectly happy to go see movies by myself, so I went in the early afternoon (best time to get a good seat). The movie ended up being a sleeper hit, and the first weekend, the public was still sleeping on it, so there were only 7-8 other people in that theater, grouped in maybe two clusters. I was off in my own little pool of darkness in the upper right quadrant. Functionally, once the lights went down, I was alone.

Despite some middling reviews at the time, The Ring is something of a horror classic nowadays. If you want a scary movie this Spooky Season, check out The Ring. Or don't, because it nearly killed me.

We're at the last, I don't know, third of the movie? And Our Heroine has tracked down the origin of the Cursed Videotape to some creepy mountain motel or whatever. SPOILER, it turns out that it was built over the Cursed Well (everything in this movie is cursed) that Our Villain was thrown into—that's why Sadako/Samara is a vengeful wet murder ghost crawling out of TVs now. While investigating this decrepit hotel room, intrepid journalist Rachel and her, who is it, her ex-husband? her kid's dad, idk, discover the well under the creaky old floorboards. And then, wouldn't you know it,

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE WELL

NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE FUCKING WELL

THAT'S WHERE SAMARA'S BODY IS

[The rather slapstick moment when Rachel falls into the well. Does not include what actually happens next.]

I go absolutely rigid in my seat. Naomi Watts is splashing around this dark-ass death swamp of a well and I know, with as much certainty as I have ever known anything in my life, that Samara is about to pop up in all her pasty, waterlogged glory. All the sad creepy dread, all the desperation to figure out what the fuck all that shit on the tape was and stop Samara from killing Rachel's son, all the horrible contorted victim faces, all the alternate reality I’ve been soaking in, it has all come to this. I have to leave the theater. I cannot be having with this. I have to be gone from this place. My legs do not work. I cannot feel them. I am frozen. I want nothing more in this life or any other to get up and leave this cavernous pitch-black room, and I cannot. I start praying for death. I want you to understand that I am not trying to be flippant or humorous. This is genuinely what went through my head. I was too scared to even think, "You know, you could just pray to pass out or for motion to return to your limbs or something." No, I sat there in The Ring thinking, Please for the love of all mercy just let me cease being.

You know that scene in Mulholland Drive (also starring Naomi Watts)? Winkie's diner and the EXCRUCIATING tension? It was a little like that, except I wasn't watching it, I was experiencing it, and Samara was my dirt monster out behind the diner.

Except that the jump scare didn't actually happen. I mean, yes, Rachel finds Samara's body down there, but—I don't remember exactly, please don't make me go watch it again to tell you what actually happens. It's played more sympathetically on Rachel's part, as I recall, and she and her ex get Samara's body out so that she (Samara) can have a proper burial.

And then it turns out that this is not the end of the movie. It turns out that Rachel has Fucked Up.

I think I was relatively okay through the rest of it, although the climax is Samara emerging from a TV in her full glitching swampy glory to scare [SPOILER] to death. I don't recall praying for death twice. There's a point when you're so exhausted from fear chemicals that you're like, yeah, this might as well happen. Bring it, Soggy. I did have a hard time prying myself out of that seat afterwards, though, and my mom says that when I got home, I had the classic thousand-yard stare. How was the movie?

"It was great," I said, and I meant it.

I've seen things that were objectively scarier (I watched much of The Haunting of Hill House from behind a pillow, to be honest), and it's not like I've never experienced fear in real life. But I respect when a movie that can make me feel so intensely, and there's something weirdly precious about the way horror is a safe roller coaster, as it's often been said. So I love telling the story about The Time The Ring Nearly Killed Me—a movie that actually made my body stop working—and I love thinking of how embedded in a specific time and place that movie was for me. The last gasp of VHS when the Cursed Videotape still seemed plausible; the way the internet was still wild and weird and free; where I was in my life, keeping up so avidly with all the movie news, and finding myself in such a little pool of darkness early one afternoon. It's the scariest movie I saw in a theater; that's the alchemy of circumstance.

[rileyslibrary]

Be gentle, man!

Synopsis: You and the team go undercover to a dinner where high-profile guests are invited. You need to acquire vital information while acting posh at the same time. Good lord, help you all.

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader, Task Force 141 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,519 (approx. 6-7 min reading time)

Notes:

This is the second (and final) part of the story but you can read it as a oneshot. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.

No warnings; casual read with platonic relationships.

———————————————————————

The Athenian Palace: You’ve heard of the place a few times, mainly through the news, but never had the chance to visit. And why would you? Are you the president of a country? A diplomat? A wealthy businessperson with significant influence over government decision-makers? No, you are just a soldier among the many considered expendables. Your duty is to protect your country with your life—the same country that many attending the event have a vested financial interest in.

But today, everything is different. Today, you’re supposed to act like someone who comes from money.

For the past month, you and the rest of the team have undergone extensive training in formal dining, conversation, walking, and dancing. Everyone has adapted to their undercover personas somehow, except for Price, who couldn’t accompany you since he’s been undercover in a similar instance some years ago and poses a threat to the mission if he gets recognised.

Gaz required the least training among the four of you. You haven’t yet determined if he was naturally suited for this role or if his assigned persona was more straightforward than the rest. Nevertheless, he seemed comfortable conversing about the tech industry and acting like James Sinclair, the alleged tech entrepreneur.

On the other hand, Soap was the complete opposite of Gaz. Your etiquette instructor, Lady Theodora, struggled to mould him, but he always found a way to break free. Eventually, she found the tipping point to channel Soap’s extravagance to benefit the mission.

“What would you do if you were a trust fund child?” She asked, to which Soap replied that he would be “poised and all” but at the same time act “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.” And that’s how Maxwell Vanderbilt—or “you can call me Max,” according to Soap—was born: with a mohawk, a loose-fitting suit, and an unchallenged attitude. You hated to admit it, but he was the most authentic and convincing among the four of you.

As for you and your Lieutenant, you were still adjusting to your role as a couple, particularly with the required intimacy. Yet, with Lady Theodora’s help, you managed to get closer, even if that involved a few unorthodox ways of doing things. One day, for example, she duck-taped your hands together and ordered you to spend the entire day together. She taught you how to dance, touch each other in public, and show, without telling, how you and Ghost— or Sir Ethan K. Wood—would infiltrate the facility and gather vital information as a couple.

He hated the name. “Why should I pretend to be fucking Ethan?” He asked, but Lady Theodora explained that it was a name forged by Laswell and she could do nothing about it. And when you told him you were named “Constance”, he spitted out his drink and immediately became grateful to Sir Ethan K. Wood.

Arriving in a Maserati Levante, you were greeted by a team of three people, two opening your doors and one guiding your hand as you stepped out of the car.

You wrap your arm around Ghost and approach the entrance.

As you walk through the imposing double doors, the room reveals itself in all its glory—a high ceiling decorated with murals stretch towards the heavens. The ballroom’s walls are draped in exquisite fabrics of gold and burgundy while crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, illuminating the space and creating an inviting and elegant atmosphere.

The ballroom’s focal point is a large dance floor. It invites guests to dance while a live orchestra, hidden in a corner, fills the room with melodies. Surrounding the dance floor, elegant tables decorated with crisp linens showcase elaborate floral centrepieces, while towering candelabras provide additional illumination.

You look at the guests; men wear tailored tuxedos, and women glide in flowing gowns and sparkling jewellery. Your gaze shifts to Ghost, who looks dashing in a three-piece navy suit, a matching tie, and a white handkerchief in his chest pocket.

“Are you ready, my dear?” You ask with fake confidence.

“Ah, my love,” Ghost replies, “in for a penny...”

“... in for a fucking pound.”

“Language, Constance.” He corrects you sternly.

“Apologies, darling.”

You enter the crowd, mingling with the elite. Ghost introduces you as his wife, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch on your back. Engaging in conversation, you discuss the land you supposedly own, the inflation—that most people in the room are the direct cause of—and collectively sorrow over the economy’s current state. All this while sipping champagne from crystal glassware that’s worth more than your annual salary.

Among the guests, you spot Soap conversing with a group of Wall Street figures. He appears relaxed, holding a glass of whiskey with an orange peel garnish.

“Ah, what can you do?” You hear his Scottish accent echoing in the room. “It’s a self-regulating market, after all.”

Lots of things baffle you in this world. Soap, talking about self-regulating markets with a bunch of Golden Boys who nod and agree with him just added another paradox to your list.

“Darling,” Ghost says, with his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers, “dinner will be served shortly; let us find our table.”

You approach your seats, and Ghost pulls out a chair for you. As you settle in, you look around at the surrounding tables, searching for familiar faces. Gaz, sporting a suit with no tie and fake glasses, is seated at the table next to yours and talks with the people around him.

The evening unfolds with a symphony of courses served with artistic precision. Each dish arrives like a work of art—a culinary masterpiece. You apply Lady Theodora’s training and indulge in the exquisite feast while engaging polite conversations. You observe and listen closely to the guests’ discussions, hoping to obtain any valuable information that might aid your mission.

With dinner concluded, everyone moved to the ballroom for the entertainment segment. Ghost discreetly signals for you to follow him. Excusing yourselves, you navigate the corridors of the Athenian Palace, with the music and chatter fading as you reach the server room.

“This is it,” Ghost whispers as he approaches the servers. “The information we need should be here. You need to get to work.”

You nod and navigate the complex digital landscape, leveraging your technical expertise to penetrate the encrypted files. Meanwhile, Ghost maintains a vigilant watch and stands guard, ensuring no unexpected disruptions throw a wrench into your plans. Each creak or distant voice makes him reach for the gun in his inner jacket pocket.

Minutes pass like hours. Suddenly, your face lights up.

“Got it!” you shout, and Ghost brings a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.

“Got it!” You repeat, this time in a whisper.

“Good girl,” he replies softly, “now let’s go find the others and get the fuck out of here.”

You begin your return to the ballroom, but things feel strange this time. The calm conversations surrounding the place have turned to screams, and the music sounds somewhat different than when you left the hall.

Ghost puts a hand in front of you and stops you.

“What’s going on, Constance?” he asks, concerned.

“Let’s find out, my love,” you reply, loading the pistol strapped to your thigh.

You run through the corridors, but there’s no one there—it sounds like everyone has gathered in the main hall.

Just before entering the ballroom, you compose yourself, adopting the poised stance Lady Theodora taught you. You enter the hall to uncover the reason behind the change in atmosphere.

Soap stands on a table in the centre of the ballroom, flipping his mohawk from left to right in sync with the rhythm of “Macarena”, played by the orchestra. Ties are now worn as headbands, and champagne glasses have become shots.

Dumbfounded by the spectacle unfolding right before your eyes, you approach Gaz.

“Ga-James, what’s the deal with all this?” You ask while looking at Soap dancing on the table.

Gaz chuckles, adjusts his fake glasses, and points towards Soap. “This fucking genius had a brilliant plan to create a diversion while you two were working your magic behind the scenes.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow. “So, this whole… thing is Soap’s way of keeping the spotlight off us?”

Gaz nods. “Exactly, mate. Soap figured throwing a wild party would divert the security’s focus from their employer’s safety.”

You look at Soap, who has now started a conga line. “If their employer is too drunk and occupied, they won’t care about outside threats,” you utter.

“Indeed,” Gaz says, “they have a whole other worry; their employer not getting any more shitfaced.”

“That audacious, brilliant motherfucker,” Ghost shakes his head in awe, “he just created the perfect cover for our mission.”

Soap notices you looking at him and raises his hands triumphantly. He looks so proud of his achievement. He brings his thumbs to his chest and mouths something.

“What is he saying?” You ask, confused.

Ghost’s lips curve up, and he leans towards you.

“He says,” he whispers in your ear, “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.”

———————————————————————

[bidisasterevankinard]

"Soulmate 3s au where Tommy accidentally tells Buck about Daniel"

I'm *sat* and listening

ok so here's a little pasrt of the main scene of the fic

“Hmmm, I’d said a broken shoulder for Tommy around two years ago. It felt so bad I cried for hours and it wasn’t even my pain,” Evan says, frowing his pretty face.

Tommy nodded remembering how bad it felt. He was hiking with a friend, till he saw a kid and danger and rushed to help. He did of course, but managed to fall from the three, breaking his shoulder. 

“I’d really wish to be here for him,” the smile that Evan sends him makes Tommy swallow so many words he wants to screen from roofroped but he’s not sure Evan is still ready for it. He’ll ask. Soon. For now just having Evan in his life is enough.

“And now the most interesting part of our program today, let me bet, it was the truck that literally was on your boy’s leg,” Howie winks and Maddie nudges his shoulder when Evan throws a napkin at him saying “too soon man”.

“Nuh, first you said the worst  pain when we weren't around. I was there helping to save him and all the rehabilitation,” Tommy says and everyone nods. He knows it's the perfect opening and he goes for it. Because he needs to be absolutely sure Evan is fine after what happened to him when he was 6 months old. And he just needs to know what exactly it was. He can’t live without knowing anymore.

“But it’s definitely his worst pain since he was 6. But no, I’d wish I was there for him when he was 6 months old and going through the worst pain that any baby should never feel. Can I know what it was by the way? Were you sick and needed some kind of treatment?” he looks at Evan who looks shocked at him. Everything is silent while Evan tries to find his words.

“To-Tommy, what yo-you talking about?��

“About the awful pain in your leg for a long time and aches for days after. I was 7 but still remember how I was crying in my nonna’s hands for hours.” Tommy says not seeing any recognition on Evan’s face.

“I was in the hospital when I was a baby just for check ups and vaccinations. Tell him Maddie” Evan turns to Maddie who looks like she sees the ghosts. “Maddie?” Evan’s voice changes to suspicious and his eyes go red. “ Do-do you know anything about this?”

Maddie puts her glass that she was holding not moving, turning to look at evan with her lip bitten and Tommy already knows he should have never asked. Because the truth seems too big to know. But at the same time? He is happy he asked. Evan deserves to know.

“You were in a hospital for your checkups and vaccinations, but not only,” Maddie swallows with tears in her eyes. “You were a healthy baby, but,” he voice cracks, and next thing she whispers if not the silence in the loft no one could have heard it, “Daniel wasn’t. He was our brother, Evan. He … he had leukemia. We-we basically lived in the hospital.”

[kaleldobrev]

Jennifer Love Hewitted (6) — The 15 Year Problem Series

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Feat. Character(s): Reader, Dean Winchester, Joey Baxter (Ghost!OC) & Dr. Falko (Ghost!OC)

Series Summary: Needing help on a poltergeist case, you ask fellow hunter Sam Winchester for help. Despite having a broken arm, Sam agrees to help you. But, just as he’s about to head out and meet you, Dean tells him that he’ll take his place and help instead.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (2x), Age Gap (15 years), Emotional Bonding, Vulnerable Dean, Vulnerable Reader, Misogynistic Comments & Sexual Tension

Authors Note: Get ready for some traumatic reader backstory of why she got into hunting | One more part after this guys! | Takes place a few days after Dean is cured from being a demon in 2016 (please read this post for reasonings why it’s 2016, not 2014) | As always, thoughts are in italics and the “POV’s” switch between Dean & Reader | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

⋆ The 15 Year Problem Masterlist ⋆

⬸ Go Back & Read Chapter 5

Dean took over driving for you, as you looked out of the passenger side window; tears still slightly in your eyes. You were almost done telling the story of how you started hunting, but yet, there was still so much to tell. But even with the small amount you had told Dean, it was an amount that people rarely got — it was basically the extent of the knowledge your parents were given.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean asked, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, and nodded. “Of course.”

“It’s about Joey,” Dean began. “And I’ll preface this now, you don’t have to answer. I just wanna understand.”

“What about Joey?” You asked.

“Is the reason your speciality is in poltergeists, is because Joey was one?” He asked, and you felt your heart almost sink, and your face slowly dropped into a frown.

“Y-yeah,” you mumbled. “Yes,” you answered again, but more prominently. “His…his spirit was attached to his dog tags but…not anymore. I um…I was able to put him to rest.”

“Without burning them?” Dean questioned, slightly intrigued. “Huh,” he said, tilting his head.

You nodded. “When his parents got his dog tags and the flag, they told me that if I ever wanted to come over and just sit in his room, I could. And for the longest time, I just…I couldn’t do it. I felt like if I did, I would break down, and I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to just sit in his room and stare at all the pictures of him and reminisce about all the memories we had together. But, that changed when I overheard his mother talking to my mom about how things in his room wouldn’t be where they used to be. Or how randomly certain objects would be broken.” You sighed, thinking back. “I asked her if I could sit in his room for a while, and when I did, it felt…weird. Weird in the sense of, there was this energy that was there that was confused.”

“And that was Joey?” Dean asked, and you nodded in response.

“When I was sitting in his room, I…saw him. And, it’s weird because…I wasn’t scared. I would have been I mean, normal people get scared when they see ghosts but…not me…I was…happy in a way because I didn’t properly get to say goodbye to him.”

5 years ago…

As you sat on the floor thinking about all of the memories you had with Joey, and the moments that you knew would never happen with him, your heart felt crushed, and your stomach felt like it was in knots. You had lost a person you had known practically your entire life, someone that you had loved with all of your being, and you never got to say goodbye to him; and never got to tell him how much he truly meant to you. Yes, Joey knew how much you had loved him, but he (at least you thought), didn’t know the extent in which you did.

Your parents and his would often joke that the two of you would end up together; and what started out as a joke, was something that sounded like a strong and real possibility to you, it was something that you didn’t dislike by any means. He was kind, funny, and made you feel safe. He was someone that you could talk to about anything, and would always listen to you ramble on about anything. You loved him, and even now, you weren’t entirely sure if it was romantic or platonic love — you just knew that you loved him, and loved the idea of spending the rest of your life with him, no matter what that looked like.

“Oh Joey,” you mumbled, hugging your knees close to your chest, staring down at the floor.

“I miss you so much,” you heard a male voice say; the voice sounding scarily similar to Joey’s. “I wish you could see me.”

You felt like you should be scared hearing his voice, but you weren’t. Everything in your entire body was giving the exact opposite — you were glad, glad to hear the sound of his voice.

As you started to look up from the floor, you noticed brown boots with legs attached to them, that weren’t there previously. Your heart was rushing, but you felt calm at the same time. When you had looked up, the legs that were attached to those boots were Joey. He wasn’t solid, but he was solid enough that it felt like he was actually standing there. “Joey,” you said, and smiled briefly, trying to contain the tears in your eyes.

“You can see me?” He asked, his tone mixed with happiness, confusion and relief.

“Yes,” you nodded. “And I miss you too.”

Present Day…

“I was able to put him to rest by telling him that I loved him.” You stopped picking at your cuticles and looked up at Dean, who was now looking back at you. You couldn’t tell what look he was giving you, but it was far from pity; and you were extremely thankful for that, because the last thing you wanted was for him to pity you. “And I think that’s all he wanted to hear, because as soon as I said that, he said he saw a woman that wanted to take him.”

“He saw a reaper,” Dean stated.

“He did,” you replied back. “And that’s why my specialty is in poltergeists, and why I got into hunting the way I did. I wanted to be able to not only help people but…monsters that might have lost their way.”

“You’re the only person besides me that knows the full story,” you stated.

Dean didn’t know what to say, but he was intrigued to say the least, hearing how you got into hunting so young, and how you viewed monsters compared to other hunters he had met over the years. When he first started out, he didn’t view it the way you had viewed it, nor did he view the way he did now. He was raised to believe that hunting was black and white and there was no gray area. There was either good or evil. But over the years, he had come to realize that hunting wasn’t as black and white as his father had led on; that there were so many gray areas he didn’t realize were there. And besides Bobby, brother, and Garth, you were one of the first hunters to have that point of view. It was refreshing.

“Thanks for telling me,” Dean said. “I know it must of been hard to. Getting into this line of work ain’t easy, that’s for sure.”

“It sure isn’t. My parents didn’t want me to do this obviously but, they know that there is nothing else I’d rather do than this,” you said, and he could hear a slight smile on your lips. “I feel, I feel like hunting is what I was meant to do.”

Dean couldn’t help but agree, as much as he wanted to disagree. For years, he had mixed feelings about hunting. He’s loved and hated it on and off. At times, he felt that this was the only thing he could see himself doing, but at others, he saw himself doing a variety of other things than this. Mechanic, firefighter; those were his top two. Hell, even rock star at one point.

Multiple times, he had tried to have a normal life away from all this; but each and every time, he always managed to get roped back in. He knew, that as long as he was alive, this is what he was going to be doing, whether he liked it or not. He was meant for this like you were.

Arriving at the university, Dean didn’t pull into the lot as when the two of you were doing some reconnaissance on the place, you had found that the university parking lot (mainly the medical building) had a crap ton of cameras; and the last thing either one of you wanted was to have your truck or his Baby tracked by the police. You have never been on the police’s radar, but Dean on the other hand, had been on the FBI’s Most Wanted list more times than he could count at this point — an impressive yet not so impressive feat in itself.

Walking to the back of the building, you managed to find a dumpster that was conveniently below a window that the two of you could jump on and use as a way to get in. “Jack pot,” you grinned. “Lift me up?” You asked Dean.

As Dean lifted you, you couldn’t help but notice how gentle he was weirdly being; and you weren’t quite sure why. “Now’s not the time to be gentle,” you said, and you heard Dean let out a small chuckle.

“Kinky,” you saw him wink, and you rolled your eyes at his response.

Getting on top of the dumper, Dean followed you up, and you opened up the window; thankful that it was weirdly not locked, and shimmied your way in; followed by Dean, who had a little bit more of a struggle getting into the window than you did.

Compared to your graceful fall to your feet from the window, Dean on the other hand…not so much, as he practically fell almost face first onto the floor. Hearing the loud thud, your heart started to beat wildly, praying no one else was here that could have possibly heard that. You turned to Dean, who was currently getting up from the floor, wiping his jeans off as he stood up. “You okay there Spider-Man?” You joked, smirking at him.

“You okay there Spider-Man?” He mocked, mumbling.

Finding the medical instruments was the easy part, but the not so easy part was them being behind some glass. “Okay MacGuyver, you have anything to break this?” He asked. “Because the only way I see breaking this glass is with my gun.”

You gave him a confused look. “Shooting the glass is your first instinct?” He shrugged. “Interesting,” you said, tilting your heard. “I have this.” You went into your pocket and pulled out a large hunting knife, handing it handle first to Dean. “Would you like to do the honors?” Dean looked at the knife for a moment, eyeing it up and down. “Take it, it won’t bite,” you said.

Taking the knife from your hand, Dean held it in his for a moment. “This fit in your pocket?” He asked. You were intrigued that, that was what he was most interested in, not the fact that you had a large hunting knife like that in your pocket to begin with.

“Yeah. You can never be too prepared,” you said, shrugging.

“Couldn’t agree more,” he grinned, as he started making clean cuts on the glass.

He was impressed by how sharp this knife was, and how easily you had managed to fit this in your jacket pocket given the length. What impressed him even more was the fact that you didn’t even have anything covering the blade; it was simply just protected by the pocket inside your jacket.

The more time he spent with you, the more he didn’t want to spend without you. In the short amount of time he had spent with you, he had felt a sense of peace and comfort; something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Yes, he felt a sense of peace at the Bunker, and sometimes around Sam and Cas; but, with you, it was a different kind of peace and comfort, like he could be more himself around you. And he guessed that you may have felt the same way, as you told him the story about Joey, a story that you never really told people, but had told him. You even cried in front of him.

Holding you in the truck while you were crying, he didn’t feel bad for you, and he didn’t pity you; he understood the hurt that you were feeling, and understood the kind of pain that you were feeling. So many times in his life, he has had to say goodbye to the ones he loved; and it always felt like a knife to the chest or a bullet to the heart. It reminded him of the feeling he experienced when the Hell Hounds ripped him to shreds before he went to Hell.

Once Dean cut the glass, he handed you back your knife, and he started to remove the instruments one by one. The both of you exchanging looks of confusion. “Why does this feel like it’s too easy?” You asked him.

“If it’s too easy, we’re probably missing something,” Dean suggested. “It’s never this fucking easy.”

As if that was some kind of cue, Falko appeared in front of you. The look on his face wasn’t one of anger, it looked almost confused. “What are you doing?” He asked, and you and Dean exchanged looks again before looking at Falko.

“Please tell me you’re seeing that too?” You asked Dean.

“I sure am,” he said, continuing to make eye contact with the spirit.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” Falko said, this time, his tone was angrier; his hands behind his back.

Dean looked at you, and gave you the look. “What?” You whispered to him.

“Do the thing,” Dean half whispered.

“What thing?” You whispered back.

“That poltergeist sixth sense shit you did with Joey,” he said.

“What makes you think it’s gonna work on him?” You whispered through gritted teeth.

As if Falko was tired of you and Dean going back and forth, he snapped his fingers, and both you and Dean were on the other side of the room, pinned against the wall. “I don’t like when people touch my equipment,” he said calmly. He tried to touch his own equipment that you and Dean had removed from the glass, but it was useless, his fingers just went through them. “All I want to do is finish my work, and I can’t do that if people keep taking what’s mine,” his voice was starting to get angry now.

“Are you sure you can’t do the thing?” Dean asked, looking at you, the two of you still pinned to the wall.

You rolled your eyes. “No Dean, I can’t do the thing.”

“Can you try?” Dean asked, his voice almost begging, but not fully; it almost sounded a tad desperate.

You rolled your eyes again. “For the love of,” you mumbled. “Hey doctor Falko,” you said, and Falko looked at you. “I know how you can finish your work.”

He tilted his head and walked toward you; the smell of blood and rubbing alcohol hit your nose. “How my dear?” He asked. “Are you going to let me continue my work on you?” He reached out his hand toward your hair, and much like the instruments, he couldn’t touch you.

“No, but, I can do you something better,” you began. “You may not like the sound of it but, it’s the only way you’ll be able to finish your work. You just have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” He asked, and he let out a small chuckle. “But you’re a woman my dear. Why should I trust anything a woman has to say?” Wow, misogynistic much? You thought, trying your best not to roll his eyes.

“Fine don’t trust me. Then you’ll never know how you can continue on with your work,” you said. “Your life’s work, might I add.”

Falko looked between you and Dean, and it seemed as though Falko was starting to get frustrated with you. You were teasing him, and his ego wouldn’t allow someone like you to do that to him. That’s when Falko looked over at Dean. “Do you know what she is talking about?” He moved close to Dean, and it was his turn to smell the rubbing alcohol and blood in his nose now. “Huh, what’s this?” He asked, and reached out toward Dean. Part of his sleeve had fell down his arm, revealing the Mark. “Never in my years have I ever seen such a thing.” Again, Falko couldn’t touch what he wanted, and both you and Dean were starting to see him getting more and more frustrated.

“I’ll make you a deal —” Dean began.

Falko chuckled. “You’re in no position to be making deals with me, son.”

“Fine. Don’t make a deal with me. Then you’ll never know what this beauty can do,” Dean teased, grinning at the doctor.

“The both of you are infuriating,” Falko mumbled harshly. “What’s the deal? I need to finish my life’s work. I’ll do anything to be remembered.”

Jackpot, Dean thought. “I’ll tell you what this can do if you listen to her first. If you don’t listen to her, then no deal.”

“I could always just kill you both,” Falko said, as he started pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.

“You could but, then you’ll never know the things that him and I know. We’re the only ones that can tell you how you can finish your life’s work without interruption and all of the resources you could ever dream of,” the words you spoke rolled off your tongue with ease. How many times have you done this before? Dean wondered.

Falko was starting to get more angry, items in the room you were in were starting to shake, and shake violently. “Last chance doctor,” you said. You had no fear in this situation, and Dean was impressed at how calm you were right now. The items kept shaking violently, and you were still calm as could be. “Five…four…” you started to count down, and the more you counted, the more violent the shaking got. “Two…”

“Okay!” Falko shouted, and everything stopped shaking, you and Dean fell to the ground. “Tell me,” he said, as he stood over you. Dean couldn’t help but start to tense up, seeing how close the doctor was to you. He didn’t want anything to happen to you; he would never be able to forgive himself if something did. But he knew deep down, that you could handle yourself — he needed to trust you in this moment like you’ve trusted him this far.

You got up, and the doctor towered over you. “May I?” You asked him, his facial expression not happy in the slightest. You were the last person he had wanted to trust right now, but he nodded.

You walked over to his instruments, and picked them up, placing them in a small metal bowl on the table. You made sure to keep eye contact with the doctor so he could see every single one of your movements. You bent down just enough to grab the rubbing alcohol from below the table and started to slowly pour them onto the instruments. Falko was about to open up his mouth, but you started talking before he could say anything. “I’m cleaning them. Once I clean them, I’ll be able to show you,” you reassured him. His hands quickly turned into fists. “I’m going into my pocket to grab my lighter.” You slowly went into your pocket and grabbed your lighter, Falko watching your every move. You didn’t know how this was working, but for a doctor, he was incredibly naive.

Quickly, fire appeared from it, and you placed it into the bowl, Falko’s face changed instantly. “What…” he mumbled. And he looked down; flames starting to appear at his feet and moved upwards towards his torso. “What did you do? You stupid girl!” He screamed.

You smirked. “Showing you how to continue your life’s work. I thought that’s what you wanted?” Your smirk continued as both you and Dean watched Falko disappear into flames, listening to him scream in an agony that you were strangely used to when it came to a salt and burn.

Within minutes, Falko completely disappeared, and the instruments started to blacken. “You full on Jennifer Love Hewitted him,” Dean said impressed.

⤑ Move Forward & Read The Epilogue (Not yet available)

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[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: stalker/ unsuccessful kidnap, violence, depictions of blood and assault (let me know if I should add more)

Chapter Word Count: 2318

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sooooo I’m sorry it’s not spicy like I said it would be… But I absolutely promise the next one will be! Chapters 5 and 6 were supposed to be just one chapter but it got too long so I had to split it… And again please let me know of any errors because this is only proof read by myself.

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Please Read the Below First:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

I’m Not You’re F*cking Maid

Chapter 5

After thorough interviewing of the staff and regular patrons; long searches through copious auction records and meticulous studying of the items in the shop we narrowed our search down to one item: an old jade hairpin. The hairpin belonged to a young lady who was given the gift as a wedding present, however when she found out on her wedding night that her new husband was having an affair, she stabbed him to death with it before jumping to her own demise from their third floor balcony. That was just over a century ago, and she was still wreaking havoc on unfaithful men to this day.

“I mean I get where she’s coming from,” I shrugged as we walked back to the motel. Both brothers turned to look at me with concern smeared over their features. “OBVIOUSLY I don’t agree with all the murder,” they breathed a sigh of relief, “but you can’t hate her for being mad. I would be too.”

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows a little and holding his hands up. I gave him a look of bewilderment.

“What side do you think you’re on, Dean? Because this,” I gestured between us, “isn’t my good side.” He mumbled something incoherent as we got to the motel so I chose to ignore him completely.

“So what’s the plan? It’s getting late and we can’t really do anything now until that charity event taking place at the auction house tomorrow. We’re already pretty clued up on how to get rid of ghosts so there’s really not much to do except to get both your names on that guest list,” Sam patted his laptop, looking at both of us.

“Food?” Dean and I said at the same time.

“Food sounds good,” Sam nodded. The boys turned around to leave when I stopped them.

“Just whilst we’re still at the motel, I’m just going to freshen up real quick.”

Dean rolled his eyes, “really?” I flipped him the bird.

“I can just meet you there? There’s like only one diner in this town and I know the way. I won’t be long.” The brothers looked at each other for a few seconds before Sam looked at me and smiled.

“Sure ok, we’ll get a seat in the window so we can see you coming.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” I grinned at the younger Winchester before turning away and letting myself into my room.

I had the worlds quickest shower and threw on some clean underwear and a clean top, feeling better after getting the grime from the day off. I pulled on my jeans, socks and boots, applied a small amount of eyeliner and mascara and tidied my hair the best I could before slinging on my jacket and applying some perfume to my wrists and neck. It was one of my favourite scents: I’d bought it from some lingerie store a year or so ago and it’s apparently one of those aphrodisiac perfumes, however I have no idea if it even works or not. It’s probably a scam, nothing works that well in real life.

After I’d finished sorting myself out - which took no longer than half an hour - I grabbed my phone and keys and left the room, locking up before making my way towards the diner. Night had descended, the air turning cold against my warm skin and the usually busy streets now lay deserted and car-free. It was only about a five minute walk or so from the motel and I was now only about a minute away when I noticed that I wasn’t alone. I’d caught a glimpse of a figure dressed from head to toe in black in the reflection of several shop windows, and they were following my exact trail. I sped up, walking faster down the empty main road and hoping it was all a coincidence as worst case scenarios started to race through my mind. It wasn’t long until the diner was in sight and I breathed a sigh of relief, however the relief was short lived when those footsteps were getting closer and closer, quicker and quicker right behind me. It dawned on me that this wasn’t a coincidence at all - I was definitely being stalked. I started to run, my legs moving before my brain had kicked into gear and I was only inches from the front door when the stranger caught up, slamming me against the wall of the building and putting a knife to my throat, covering my mouth with a gloved hand.

“Don’t make a fucking noise - you’re coming with me,” he said aggressively yet quietly. I could feel the blade of the knife pressing against the soft skin of my neck and I couldn’t help but feel tears well in my eyes, my breath turning shaky as my heart hammered in my chest. I couldn’t even get any words out as his hand was too tight over my lips.

I wanted to cry out for help so badly it hurt.

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing that this was all a bad dream. My cheek was pushed into the rough brick which grazed my skin, and I silently prayed for my attacker to just let me go or for some hero to come and save me. At that very moment I heard the door to the diner and my eyes shot open, instantly connecting with Deans. I watched as surprise turned to horror which then turned to pure feral rage on his face and before I even had a chance to blink he was gone from my line of sight - but so was the pressure keeping me pinned against the wall. I spun around and I watched Dean throw the stalker to the floor with more force that I thought he could muster and tower over him. Dean didn’t say a word, but the stranger let out a sharp cry of pain as Dean instantly brought his boot down on his ribs. There was a CRACK. He did it again.

And again.

And again.

And then he got down and pinned my attacker flush against the tarmac before he brought a closed fist down on his face over and over and over again, cracking his jaw and breaking his nose. Dean didn’t stop until the man was totally unrecognisable and unresponsive. Standing up off of his limp body, he looked over to me, his furious, almost animalistic stare softening instantly, even through all the blood that now painted his face. He took one step towards me before my feet worked on their own and carried me straight to him. I put my arms out to reach for him and he grabbed my hands and pulled me into his chest with zero hesitation, his arms circling me and his blood-soaked palms gently stroking my hair. I sobbed. I sobbed from the fear I felt, I sobbed for feeling like such a victim and I sobbed for the relief I now felt flooding my veins as Dean held me, not saying a word. Listening to his heartbeat with my ear to his chest, I felt so safe and secure that it made me want to sob even more.

*

Dean ended up taking me straight back to my room - he called Sam to tell him what had happened as he wasn’t going to be returning to the diner. I had my second shower of the day as soon as we returned, wanting to scrub everywhere that horrible man had touched. Whilst I was washing, Dean had headed back to his own room to shower off the layer of blood coating his skin. After I was satisfactorily clean, I dried myself and dressed in that old T-shirt I wore the night before, pulling on some fresh underwear and perching on the end of the bed. I picked up the remote and started mindlessly flicking through channels, hoping to find something to distract my racing brain.

I’d been sitting in the same position for around ten minutes when there was a gentle knock on the door. I held my breath as I got up and walked over, looking through the peephole. It was Dean. I released that breath as I opened the door and let him in. He’d changed from his usual gruff attire to something way more comfortable - a plain white T-shirt and a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. He smiled at me. A kind smile, nothing like those teasing and sly ones we’d been throwing at each other since yesterday. This one was genuine, and it made my chest feel warm. He locked the door behind him as I padded back over to the bed and climbed on it, sitting right in the centre with my legs crossed. I pulled the T-shirt down to cover my dignity as Dean placed a carrier bag in front of me. I peeked inside. It was full to the brim of all different types of snacks and I grinned up at him.

“You sure do know how to treat a girl, Winchester.”

He let out a soft laugh and looked down at the floor before taking residence beside me.

“You’re the first one who thinks so”.

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s a long line of women who definitely think otherwise,” he smiled a slightly sad smile. We both paused before I continued.

“Well if it means anything, what you did for me today, I-” he held a hand up to stop me as he saw the look of fear flit across my features again, the horrid memory bubbling to the surface.

“It was the least I could do,” he said softly before his brows furrowed, “but to be honest I should never have let you out of my sight.” The almost protective tone of his voice made my heart flutter a little, but It was my turn to reassure him as I placed my hand on his shoulder delicately.

“Dean, none of us knew that would happen. I know you wouldn’t have left me alone if you genuinely thought I was in danger - after all, you DID promise to keep me safe from my own shadow,” I flashed him a grin which he quickly returned, chuckling. We sat for a few moments in a strangely comfortable silence before there was another knock at the door. I went to get up to answer it but Dean beat me to it, swinging it open to show a very concerned Sam stood in the doorway. He looked at me with those big ever-worried eyes and I shot him my best ‘please don’t worry’ grin.

“I’m fine, Sam” I called out to him as I tried to listen in on the hushed words Dean was speaking. They conversed for a while, occasionally throwing glances at me as I rustled around in the bag of goodies Dean had supplied. Growing bored of not being involved with their conversation, I scooted back on the bed to lean back on the headboard and proceeded to flick through dozens of channels until I found something decent to watch. A few more minutes had passed and I’d munched my way through almost half a bag of Doritos when I heard the door close and it was just me and Dean again. He had a paper bag that Sam must’ve passed him, which he held up and pointed to.

“The blood stains came out of my clothes, although Sam said the people in the laundromat were giving him strange looks,” he laughed slightly, those striking eyes of his looking down into mine as he took a few steps closer. I laughed slightly, only imagining Sam’s awkwardness in that situation. I broke my gaze away from Dean for a few seconds, looking down at my hands before looking back up. I could tell he was hovering now, just waiting for me to say something.

“Dean I’m fine, you don’t have to stay.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying for a bit longer if you need me to” his hand ran over the stubble on his chin, his eyes not leaving me.

“Really, I’m ok. I’m probably just going to sit here and watch whatever this is-”

“It’s obviously Men in Black,” Dean scoffed. I smiled, finding comfort in the familiar snarky remark.

“Obviously - I don’t live under a rock Dean,” I rolled my eyes as I stood up, placing my hands on his chest. He was so warm to the touch that it was almost enticing me not to let go. The gentle thrum of his heartbeat was so soothing. But I did let go, and I spun him around to start ushering him to the door. As he was leaving, I grabbed my half eaten bag of chips and started munching again. He opened the door, stepping outside.

“Go back to your room Dean. I promise I’m ok. I don’t want you both hovering over me constantly making sure I’m fine; that will just make me feel worse,” I said as he spun to face me, nodding his head.

“Back to normal. Got it.”

“Great,” I said, sucking the tangy chip dust from my thumb. Dean suddenly reached out and snatched the half-eaten bag from my hand before quickly walking away.

“I’ll see you in the morning!” He shouted back at me before shovelling food into his mouth.

“You ass! I was eating those!” He shrugged in an overly animated fashion, not bothering to turn and look at me as he continued towards his room. I sighed, closing the door and locking it, sliding the chain across this time too. I padded back towards the bed and climbed in, pulling the covers up to my chin. As I started to drift off, the buzz of the movie still playing in the background, I smiled a little to myself:

Fucking Winchester.

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Up Next:

Chapter 6

[victormcdicktor]

Hello everyone, I'd like to remind you of another campaign

Noor (currently @noor-yashour) is trying to save the life of her son Muhammad. They are both fighting to survive the conditions of this horrible genocide, but Muhammad is especially in in danger due to his disability. He was born with a condition which requires that he receive regular physical therapy sessions and that he takes medications to treat it. Due to the conditions forced upon so many families in the Ghazza Strip, Muhammad is unable to resume his treatment, putting his life at immediate, dire risk.

Please help Noor and her child by donating, sharing their campaign, and following Noor @noor-yashour. She has told me how little interaction her account gets, which is horrible given the direness of the situation.

Their current amount raised is £3,622 /£80,000 with their last donation being 6 hours ago; before that one, all other "recent" donations are from 2 days ago or more.

SHARED BY 90-GHOST

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 5

'Twas Past One O'Clock

Summary: You find a ghost in your house. Words: 2.2k

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

T’was past one o’clock and you were ready for some alone time. By the time you got back to the house Simon and Joey would be off to the football and you could just chill out after delivering 250 iced biscuits for a wedding that had taken you all your sanity to get done in time. You knew the two of them would have left the house spotless for you. Simon insisted when he was home he handled the majority of the cleaning and Joey being the fantastic kid that he was always wanted to help.

You desperately needed to lie down. The morning had taken it out of you and you felt run down and a little nauseous from all the running around.

Maybe after you could finish off the album you had been working on for Joey’s birthday. It was all Johnny, the story of who he was and your relationship with him. The more time went on the less scared you got about telling your son about his dad. You couldn’t help but send a quick thought up to wherever Johnny was, a sheepish apology for waiting so long with a promise that you and Simon would make sure his son knew him.

It came as a surprise seeing Joey sitting on the front step rather than at the game. You were out of the car and rushing over when you saw the look on his face, like he had seen a ghost. 

“Are you ok? Are you hurt? Where’s dad?”

You were on your knees checking him over, frowning when you saw he had turned off his hearing aid and rapidly signing your questions instead. He only ever turned it off when he was upset and had very little hearing without it which always worried you. It was valid of him to want quiet when he was having big emotions and you never wanted to force him to keep it on if he didn’t want it, but as a mother you also wanted him to always be as safe as he possibly could be and that meant being able to listen for any danger.

“They were fighting. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“Who was fighting?”

“Dad.”

“Who was dad fighting with?”

“Dad.”

“What do you mean? Is dad ok?”

You felt your heart squeeze tight. It had been years since Simon had had a bad episode. He still had mild ones now and then, still had nightmares, but he hadn’t hurt himself or anyone else in such a long time. He worked as a trainer now, not spending much time away from home. That had happened 4 years ago when he was offered a promotion up to Captain and chose to instead come out of active duty. Eventually he had told you that it didn’t feel right being anything but a Lieutenant. He never had to say out loud that it was to do with Johnny, but you knew that’s what it came down to. If Johnny couldn’t call him Captain, then he’d stay as LT.

“Which dad? Because they’re both in there. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You searched Joey’s face. He was angry, sad, frustrated. It was in his expression and the way he signed. You tried to understand what he was telling you with your heart pounding and your mouth feeling painfully dry. You didn’t know what to do. Leaving Joey on the step was against your instincts, but now you were terrified for Simon. What on earth was going on? Was he ok?

You jumped when you heard a car door slam and turned to see a very serious looking John Price coming towards you.

“John? What’s going on?”

He looked from you to Joey to the house. 

“Is he here?”

You wanted to ask who he was talking about but Joey beat you to it. The kid was a pro at lip reading.

“He got here when we were about to leave. Punched dad, broke his glasses. I got told to wait outside for mum.”

You didn’t understand what was going on. Who punched Simon? It at least had to be someone he knew, more accurately someone he trusted. He would never have sent Joey to sit outside if not. If someone dangerous was in the house, Simon would have sent Joey straight to the pub down the street that Eyitayo ran. She was a veteran who had worked with Simon before and he trusted her to get you and Joey safe in the event of someone tracking him down. 

The fact that Joey was sat right here meant it wasn’t someone that was a danger to him. But also someone that would punch Simon. And someone that John knew was here. 

“I was going to tell you.”

You knew the look John was giving you. Guilt. It was a look you had become accustomed to from him, a look you got anytime the topic of your deceased husband came up. 

“Going to tell me what John? Who is inside my house?”

You knew. Who else could it be? You looked at John, waiting for him to say something, say anything that meant there was not a ghost in your house. Instead he looked shamed and in pain, knowing as well as you did by this point that your life was about to fall apart again. 

Perhaps a better mother would not have walked into the house and left her son sitting there. You were not better. You loved your son more than anything, but in that moment you felt dissociated from everything and everyone, the only sound the rush of blood pumping around your body which floated forward without your conscious effort. 

You saw Simon first. His glasses were broken, one lens a spiderweb of cracks and the frame warped but still valiantly clinging to him. There was dried blood at his nose, a streak from where he must have wiped it away. The beginnings of a black eye. But it was his eyes. You had loved this man for most of your adult life and you had never seen him look so broken. Not when he came home from a bad deployment needing you to take control. Not when the anniversary of Johnny’s death came and went with each passing year. Not when Joey screamed at him once that he didn’t need to listen to him because he wasn’t even his real dad (God he was so like Johnny with how his temper flared and he picked the most hurtful thing to say that he could before immediately regretting it).

The other man was sat on the sofa, head in hands. His hair was long. He looked older than he should be you thought. There was such a great tension in him that your disconnected body gave a sudden thrum between your legs, remembering what this man turned into when he came home from a bad deployment, angry and violent with nothing to turn it into but aggressive passion. But it was a wasted effort of your biology as your brain processed who was sitting in your living room and your stomach gave an almighty lurch, sending you with a stumble to the small toilet off the side of the living room to empty it.

There was swearing coming from the men. A rough hand brushed your hair away from your face while another rubbed your back. 

“Cap told me tae stay put but ye know me. Should’ve warned ye rather than scaring ye like this. I just… I couldnae wait bonnie. I just wanted tae see ye.”

He sounded like himself but not. His accent was a bit twisted now, something slightly wrong about the tone, something more Slavic now. But my God it was him. Older, harder, a little worse for wear, but it was your Johnny. Your John MacTavish. There was a hand on his face, fingers shakily tracing the changes. It took you a moment to realise it was your hand. He leaned into it, his eyes intense on yours. It had been a decade and this man still burned for you the way he had before he died. 

How you wished that he didn’t feel so strange despite it all. But then, who wouldn’t become a stranger after a decade apart?

“You… you died…”

“I’m so sorry. It wisnae supposed tae be so long. A few months, just tae make the world a safe place for our family.”

You couldn’t think properly. You felt so ill and so tired and it was overwhelming. You looked through the open doorway and tried to find Simon but even if he was there you weren’t sure you could get your vision to focus enough to tell. Your eyes were swimming you realised, tears blurring everything. 

“Did he know?”

“Aye.”

Your heart had barely broken before Johnny was making a choked sort of noise and pressing his forehead to yours.

“Fuck. He didnae know. Simon never knew. I shouldnae have said that, I just… you’re married to him.”

You didn’t think you would have survived if Simon knew this whole time. It was too severe a wound to ever hope for recovery. It was so like your Johnny, that knee jerk reaction when he was hurt that he immediately regretted. You were so unused to it now. Simon wasn’t like that, he was careful with what he said even when he was angry or hurt. Honestly you had wished sometimes he was a little more like Johnny because it made it hard to even tell that he was angry or hurt when he so rarely let it show. 

“You died. You died and I wanted to die with you.”

“I’m here now. It’s going tae be ok bonnie, I’m right here. We can move wherever ye want, ye liked it up North eh? Start again.”

It was like your consciousness all slammed back into your body at once. The bone deep exhaustion was tempered only by the sudden alarm at his words. 

“I- no, I… Johnny, I have a family.”

Oh, you had not meant for those to be the words you gave him. You had not meant for it to cause him to look like he had been shot. Although you supposed Simon must already know what that actually looked like. You wanted to throw up again. His hand on your shoulder gripped tighter, almost painful. When you flinched his face fell and he let go, backing up out of your space with his hand going to tug on his own hair. 

“I ken… I couldnae expect… if it was anyone else I’d be happy for ye. Naw him bonnie. It cannae be him.”

“But it is.”

You tried to wordlessly plead with your first husband, to have him understand. You could no sooner stop being entirely in love with Simon Riley than you could stop your own heart beating. Your solid and steadfast Simon who was outside comforting your son, who left you with the first love of your life because of course he would. He had been firm with you long ago in his belief that you would never leave one another, not with how tangled up you were. You had split up once and that had ended within 12 hours with you being fucked in the neighbours shed at a party for the cup final. How could you ever live without him?

It was as incomprehensible an idea as living without Johnny had been once upon a time. 

“Is everything ok?”

You saw the hurt in Johnny when you relaxed at hearing Simon coming back in. 

“Joey?”

“Gaz came to pick him up. He’s… as ok as he can be.”

He eyed Johnny warily as he pushed into the bathroom to gently help you up. You were so tired and you let your weight sag against him. 

“She needs to get cleaned up and rest a bit.”

“Aye I’m naw fucking blind Si.”

“Could’ve fooled me MacTavish given that you had her on the floor.”

“Fuck all the way off Riley!”

He was alive. He was alive and here and him and his best friend were at each other's throats. It was your fault wasn’t it? If you hadn’t fallen in love with Simon this miracle could have been met with only happiness. God you wanted to sleep. You wanted to be clean and to brush your teeth and sleep. You wanted to wake up and be able to hold Johnny, to prove to yourself he was here and real and alive. 

“P-please…” you choked out, not entirely sure what you were asking for. 

There was silence for a moment and you could only stare at the floor, swaying a little with how woozy you felt.

“...ye have that hippie tea?”

“Top right cupboard, I’ll…”

“Aye. Don’t you worry bonnie, I’ll have it hot and ready for ye.”

He ran a hand over your head, bringing it to your cheek and then your chin to tilt your head up to look at him. 

“I love you. So much” he said, voice rough with emotion as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and walked away. 

You barely remembered the shower. All you knew was that you were tucked into bed with your favourite tea and your exhaustion took you under fast enough that you couldn’t follow the conversation happening outside of your bedroom.

[ofherpinkways]

I҉̡̯̺̜̅́͋̃͢͜n̸͐̈́͟͟͝ M̶̶҉̳͈̺͟͢͠͠ͅȳ̸̵̩̜͔͍̔́͟͟͢͡ R̴҉̷̨̖̮̉͑ͯ̑̋͟͠o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝o҉̢̡̲͇̌͗̀͢͝m̴̵҉̸̲̗̰̼͗͌̃̇͟͟͟͠͞͠

( My friends and I giggle about how the "Love ", "In my room " part sounds like Stewie Griffin singingI tried my best yall - 🤍🩰🧸)

cod men x fem reader fic based off the song(Warnings blood,gore,violence,please beware of the lyrics as they may cause triggers)

*tap* *tap* *tap* "Are you gonna let me in ?*tap* Hello? Hello ? "

You died two years ago on a mission , just "simple" way to go , getting caught in the across fire. "Just the wrong place,wrong time" they said

2:45 and the bell went off,thank God

Many people think i'm odd

He hasn't acted the same since, how could he ? You were the love of his life. The small flame of hope in his darkness and trauma. Now you're gone 6 feet under the below rotting way

But I talk with no one and I walk alone

And I avoid sunlight with a chalky tone

I get home and I don't say hi,it ain't no one there

He stopped talking to everyone completely , shutting everyone out as he rebuilt the walls. The walls that you were helping him break down. Instantly going to his dorm after every mission without saying anything

I don't care,I walk and go right up the stairs

To my room,get in bed and I just wait for dark

He sits in his dorm for hours on end lost in dark thoughts

Because that's when the real show starts

(Tap,tap) tap,tap on the glass go the piece of ass

He eventually started seeing things , YOU. He started showing up about year after your death

So young and pretty ,it's too bad she passed

There you stood again pale and cold

But she comes to my room and we talk at night

You've been showing up every night for about two months now

She's demonic and bloody but she holds me tight

Obviously it wasn't actually you. You stand there lifeless with glossy eyes and a sinister,stomach turning grin .(like the one smiles in Smile 2022) He didn't care

In my bedroom,with her,I'm never alone

And I kiss her cold lips until the morning comes

You guys spend the nights in heated make out sessions

Then she gone,I can still hear her voice loom

But she only exists in the dark of my room

Love,I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

He became obsessed

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

I try and smile a lot but I'm always frontin'

But I do love a ghost and at least that's somethin'

She don't talk much and when she does,it gets cold

3:00 am now and the whole Base grows cold , nothing feels right

Usually we just lay there,where we hold we each other

We're lovers, we don't need others

The two of you stay snuggled against another

One of my mother's cats jumped up on the covers

And it scared my baby,'cause she don't like pets

The k-9's started to bark loudly outside of the barracks not liking the dark eerie presence in the air , causing you to leave him

So I twisted its fuckin' head off at the neck

"Look baby,it's bloody,it's gone,it's doomed

"please! come back to the room"

"I'll do anything for thee,don't ignore me"

This is more than a sick love story

There he sat begging and crying for you to return

Without you,I'd bring a shotgun to school

And I will if you want me to,for any reason

I hate that you leave when the lights come on

And if I had it my way the fuckin' sun would be gone

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love, I do adore you

In my room

Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

He just wants you back

Sometimes I kiss her,I start shakin'

Your demonic self has him on a choke hold

She slips me the tongue and it tastes like bacon

There the two of you sit kissing in the dark,footsteps are near by

Uh-oh,something's wrong, baby's upset

you pulled away from him,your frown shifting to smirk

She told me she was spotted by the neighbor's kid

She can't come back now.'cause they know our secret

Unless I can make them keep it

One of the other guys "saw" you

If i do, she may come back to life

Now I'm in their yard with a shotgun and knife

Cut the screen,went and sun the kid

Blew a bowl of spaghetti in the side of his head

He got up and out of the dorm,pinning his own teammate,his own friend to the wall bashing his head against the brick wall in fit of rage

Then the daddy was next,next runnin down

He went after everyone else

I shredded his throat and he was quick to fall,tossed the Mossberg and gribbed the knife

Started stabbing the shit of his wife

One by one he got to everyone

Went home a bloody mess with a job well done (tap,tap)

Wash up and wait for my baby to come (tap,tap)

He cleaned himself up and sat in his bed waiting for you

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

Love, I can't ignore you

In my room

Do anything for you (tap,tap)

Love,I do adore you

In my room

(Tap,tap go the piece of ass) you and I

There he sat waiting

I waited two, or three days, four days

Waitn' for the tap tap like always

Days passed and you still haven't shown up yet

I waited and hated this

I created a bloody mess

Guilt started to hit him

I waited for two, or three months, four months

Waitn' for the tap,tap just for once

I waited two, or three days, four days

Waitn' for the tap tap like always (where is she?)

I waited and hated this(why isn't she comin' back ?)

I created a bloody mess (tap,tap)

Worry started to hit him

I waited for two, or three months, four months(I fuckin' killed those people!)

He killed his teammates, his friends

Waitin' for the tap,tap just for once ("where the fuck is she ?")

I waited and hated this (tap,tap)

I created a bloody mess(why isn't she coming back?)

(Love) I waited two or three days,four days

GUILT

(In my room) waitin 'for the tap,tap like always (I can't believe I did)

WORRY

(Love) I waited and hated this

GUILT

(in my room,you and I)I created a bloody mess ("I killed them")

WORRY

(Love) I waited two or three months, four months

(in my room) waitin' for the tap,tap just for once ("where is she")

GUILT

(Love) I waited and hated this

(In my room you and I) I created a bloody mess

He went insane

[multi-fxndom446]

Stay

Alejandro Vargas x Reader

Summary: you are taken into custody after working with Valeria and Alejandro practically begs for you to give him a reason why.

Warnings: angst, talk about blackmail, fluff at the end, a lil spicy at the end by not to much. my absolute shit show of Spanish (my resident Spanish speaker took 6 hours to respond and I don’t trust google.) IS THIS MILITARY ACCURATE OR POLITICALLY ACCURATE? NO BUT LEMME LIVE.

Word count: 5.1k

Also the very end was completely unnecessary and you can skip it if you want but I feel like it add another little happy ending cushion😗

Whaaaat another one so soon??? Crazy.

Genuinely this seemed better in my head but hopefully y’all still like it.

Now where did this come from? Idfk don’t ask my I was gonna write for Gaz next 😭

Your wrists hurt.

That was the only thing you tried to focus on as you stared blankly at the wall in front of you as if looking through the multiple men standing in the room with you, interrogating you.

They had your wrists zip tied together behind the chair. You couldn’t help but rub against the restraint from how tight they were, your skin becoming raw.

It made you wonder if they cuffed you tighter than was necessary. No, you knew they did. Maybe it was because it was Alejandro who restrained you and he let his anger for you bleed through slightly.

“You’re really not gonna talk?” Alejandro demanded, his hands splayed on the table separating the two of you. If you looked in his eyes you knew you’d see the anger he harbored for you but that’s not what you were scared of seeing, you were scared of seeing the confusion, the hurt that would also be there. “Why did you do it?”

He’d been asking you that for the last half hour and yet you still haven’t given him a reason for doing what you did. You didn’t give him a reason as to why you betrayed him and Rudy all those years ago. And why you did it again not even a week ago.

You were taken into custody with Valeria, who was in a separate room from you awaiting her own interrogation but for some reason they really wanted answers from you.

“Let's go. She won’t talk.” Ghost had finally said after a tense moment of Alejandro trying to get you to look him in the eyes but everytime he did it was like you were staring straight through him. “Maybe Valeria will talk.”

Maybe she would. Just to torment you further.

“C’mon Ale.” Rudy muttered softly patting him on the shoulder as he walked out of the room with everyone else.

Alejandro stared at you for a moment longer and in a split second of weakness your eyes flitted up to meet his. His breath caught in his throat but he forced himself to look away and follow the others out.

He was the last to enter the shipping container holding Valeria and after they got the information they needed from her some of the men left. Leaving him, Rudy and Price alone with her.

“Why did she do it?” Alejandro asked her but she tilted her head in mock confusion, legs crossed like she didn’t have a care in the world. “Don’t play stupid Valeria. She wouldn’t have done that on her own accord.”

Finally Valeria snapped, a humorless laugh leaving her lips. “And how would you know? You don’t know anything about her.” Alejandro just glared back at her.

“Can someone please explain to me the relationship between all of you?” Price finally piped in and it was then Alejandro realized he never really explained how he knew you.

Alejandro held his glare on the women before him for a moment longer before turning his head to glance at Price. “Y/n was part of Valeria’s squad. One of the closest friends Valeria had.” Valeria sneered in response.

“Maybe that was why she decided to join me. Ever think of that pendejo? Maybe she wanted to.” Alejandro just shook his head, he could feel his anger rising the more he spoke to her, he knew he had to calm down if he was going to get the answers he wanted. “She was practically my right hand man y’know? Did everything I asked without question.”

“There has to be a reason for it. She wouldn’t have just done that.” Rudy finally spoke up. “She was also my friend in the military. I did know her, she wouldn’t have just done something like that for no reason at all. She wouldn’t have betrayed us-“

“Twice?” Valeria finished, laughing when all three pairs of eyes snapped back to her. “You hear quite a few things when stuck in here. Did you ever think maybe it’s just in her to betray you?”

Alejandro scoffed. He clenched his jaw as he shook his head in disbelief, “no.” He stated as he slammed open the door and walked out.

Time was running out for you to confess your reasons to him. TF141 was already gathering supplies to take off shortly to go after the last missile and Hassan. He needed to know why before he put you in a prison so far away he would never even see a glimpse of you again.

You were still staring off blankly rubbing against your restraint when Alejandro came in again. So loudly it did cause you to glance at him but this time he held your gaze as he walked in closer.

“Explain to me.” He demanded his fists clenched tight. “Explain it to me! Why did you do it?” Your heart hurt at the way his voice had a hint of begging.

When once again he saw your lips were sealed tight he flung the only other chair in the room against a wall. “Puta madre!” He yelled but you didn’t move not even when Rudy and Soap rushed in at the commotion.

Soap had a hand on Alejandro’s chest to stop him from advancing which he just shook off. “Alejandro, maybe you should take a minute to calm down.” He said softly but Alejandro just shook his head.

He opened his mouth to respond when your voice stopped him in his tracks. “I won’t speak to you.” You said it with such conviction before nodding to Rudy. “I’ll only talk to Rudy.”

Alejandro looked between you and his best friend with a look you could almost decipher as hurt or betrayal. Maybe both. “What?” He muttered his gaze still flying back and forth before he took a deep breath and leveled you with a harsh glare. You wouldn’t talk to him then whatever happened to you was no longer his fault. “You don’t get to call him Rudy. Not after everything you’ve done. It’s Rodolfo to you.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, “fine I’ll only speak to Rodolfo. No one else.” Then you went quiet again and shifted your gaze back to the wall. All three men looked at each other before Rudy looked to his friend, almost in question on if it would be okay for him to talk to you.

“Hijo de la puta.” Alejandro shoved soaps hand away as he put an arm out again. “Fuck!” Finally after a few more moments of him cursing under his breath he nodded to Rudy before he quickly made his way out, soap following close behind.

Rudy watched his Colonel go, he knew how much this was hurting him. It was hurting him as well. You and him were pretty close when you served together, you told him everything and he you, so he truly couldn’t believe you would betray them without good reason.

“Alright,” he picked the chair up from the floor and set it down across from you, almost surprised that you met his gaze head on. “Explain.”

“I already know I’m dead Rudy.” He titled his head in confusion, choosing to ignore the way you called him by his nickname. “Either i get killed or i'm going to prison for the rest of my life, I have no reason to confess.”

“Other than to give us peace of mind!” He leaned forward. Rudy was never one who was able to hide his emotions easily, especially around people he cared about. But you were honestly getting tired of the pleading that was in the depths of his and Alejandro’s eyes. “There had to be a reason. The you I knew back then would’ve never left without-“

Suddenly he cut himself off almost like a realization hit him square in the face, chest caving slighty he took a deep breath. “Y/n..”

You could see it on his face, the knowledge he had just come upon. Your shoulders sagged as your cold eyes finally broke to reveal just how tired you were. “They threatened someone I care about Rudy.” Silence engulfed the room while he waited for you to continue. “Someone I love. If I were to ever reveal their plans it’s not my life at risk it’s his.”

“After all this time you still-?” His gaze and posture both softened almost immediately as the answers were slowly being revealed to him.

“Everyday.” You swallowed thickly. “I was never worried about my own life.”

Rudy shifted slightly to bring himself closer to you as if the two of you were gossiping. “Dime.” He all but whispered “Everything.”

You shook your head, “I can’t. The ones threatening him are still alive. I can’t.” You denied, your wrists rubbing tighter against the restraints as you grew more and more anxious.

“Valeria and Graves?” You nodded “y/n. Valeria is going away and graves is dead they won’t get to him.”

You shook your head again a little more forcefully, “I didn’t see Graves with my own eyes I don’t know that he is. And you don’t know Valeria, Rudy. Not the way I do. She has people on the outside. I can't risk it. So kill me, do whatever you want to me just keep him safe.”

“You know I can’t do that.” You could see the way his heart was breaking at even the thought of killing you. “I can protect you, we both can. Just trust me enough to tell me.”

You shut your mouth tight, already making up your mind that you were done with this conversation but Rudy wasn’t going to let you do that. Not after he just started getting answers.

“Fine. I’ll go speak with Valeria, tell her you told me everything.” Your eyes shot open at his words. You pulled tight against your restraints as he stood up.

“No!”

“No?” You shook your head. “Then tell me.”

You searched his eyes to see if he was really going to do what he said but you saw nothing but conviction in them and it made you realize one thing. He had no reason to make promises to you when you broke all of yours.

Sighing, you deflated in your seat. “Valeria, that day on the mountain, already had our squad on her side. I was the last to know because she knew when I found out I would tell you and Ale. She was my best friend. I had no reason to suspect her of anything. Until she held a knife to my throat and told me she would kill him if I didn’t join her. I told her to go ahead, that I would never do it.” The pain of recalling the moments of your betrayal was almost unbearable. “The one person I loved longer than I could remember. His life was in my hands. So the choice was obvious to me. Even if you both hated me in the end at least you both would be alive.”

Rudy took a deep breath as he took in all your words. “And Graves? Why did you side with him?” You gave him a look as if telling him he should already know.

“Come on Rudy.” You scoffed, eyes burning with unshed tears. “You know why. He took me into his custody soon after Valeria and I were arrested. I had information he needed and when I refused to talk he told me what he did to you and everyone else.”

You looked at him again, shaky breaths falling from your lips. “He had him, Rudy. I couldn’t just let Graves hurt him. So yes I told him what I knew in exchange for Alejandro’s safety. I don’t care if that makes me weak, I don’t even care that it means he hates me now. He’s alive. That’s all that matters to me.”

This time when the silence engulfed the room he knew you were well and truly done speaking. Your posture straightened as you sat back against the chair, your gaze back to staring at the wall in front of you.

Rudy let the silence settle for a minute before he rapped his knuckles against the table and let out a deep breath. He pushed his chair in and left without another word, knowing you well enough to know he wasn’t getting anything else out of you.

As soon as he was out of the room, questioning eyes were on him, piercing into his very soul. “Well? Did she say anything?” Alejandro asked frantically, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. But when Rudy stayed silent Alejandro’s shoulders fell. “She really won’t talk? She told you nothing?”

“That’s it Alejandro. We have to load her and Valeria up.” Ghost muttered while the colonel stared at Rudy for another moment, hoping he would say anything. But when he again didn’t he let out a long sigh before nodding his head.

“Sí, I’ll help you.” Alejandro and soap were the ones to go in and get you. Rudy watched from the doorway as the both of you seemed to put a brick wall between you. Neither one acknowledging the other as Soap yanked you up.

You winced slightly when your wrists rubbed against the zip tie again.

Rudy was going to leave it alone. He really was. But then he saw your eyes quickly scan Alejandro as if checking for injuries when he wasn’t looking. Then how Alejandro was still gentle when he grabbed onto your arm to escort you out.

“Colonel, wait.” Your eyes shot over to Rudy who couldn’t seem to keep your gaze. “She did talk. Can we speak privately?”

“Rudy.” You gritted out roughly and Alejandro’s hand tightened its hold on you. “Don’t.”

“Please Ale it’s important.” You swear if looks could kill Rudy would be so far underground. Alejandro looked between you, Rudy and soap before gesturing for soap to let go which he did. Alejandro sat you back in your chair and the both of them followed Rudy out.

“Rodolfo! Don’t you dare!” You screamed after him as the door clicked shut behind them.

You felt like you were going to be sick, after everything you’ve done to keep it a secret it was gonna be exposed just like that because you trusted Rudy. Which in hindsight maybe wasn’t the best idea but after so many years of not seeing a face you trusted your gut just told you to speak to him.

It was so quiet now in your cell. You were so tired, there was no more fight left in you. You followed Valeria around like a puppy on a short leash, doing anything and everything she asked you even when your morals told you it was wrong. One click of her phone had you scrambling to do what she asked.

You learned very early on of all the connections she had. If she wanted something done or someone killed all she had to do was press a few buttons and things would be done.

Alejandro’s life loomed over you even after all these years. Even after all the time you started losing sight of yourself, your anchor was keeping him safe. Maybe that was why it was so easy for you to give in to Graves. Like a good puppy trained, one threat and you were spilling everything.

It made you sick. You were trained harshly in the military to not give information so easily. To either get rescued or die. But..you couldn’t even consider yourself as part of the military anymore not after going with Valeria.

You could still feel the presence of Graves like he was still right behind you interrogating you. Like your hands were still tied to the chair, breathing through any punches they threw at you until you saw Alejandro being roughly escorted by the room you were in. He didn’t notice you but you noticed him and Graves noticed the drastic change in your eyes.

It took him less then a minute to finally understand what made you tick and immediately he switched his way of doing this. Any time you refused to talk, he would send one of his men to Alejandro’s cell just a few doors down. You’d be able to hear very clearly when he would grunt in pain or when he would fall to the floor and it made your heart ache.

You lasted them doing that only a few more times before you finally gave Graves everything he wanted. Then he left you there for dead, stuck in a room in between 141 and shadow company as both sides shot at each other. The stray bullets landing somewhere near you.

You hoped that one would bounce just right and take you out. But unfortunately the world wouldn’t be so kind and in the next moment Alejandro rounded the corner, stopping short when he saw you.

He had clenched his jaw tight then and grabbed a zip tie he found somewhere. He cut you loose but immediately cuffed your hands together and you couldn’t even put up a fight as he grabbed your arm tightly and started dragging you down the halls with them.

That’s how you ended up here you suppose.

You weren’t even sure how much time had passed since Rudy decided he was going to reveal everything to Alejandro but a few minutes later the door opened quietly and the man himself walked in, lips sealed shut much like yours.

He didn’t say anything as he walked over to you and pulled out his knife. You watched him carefully as he came closer and closer and just when you were about to be worried he cut the zip tie and let your hands loose.

You immediately brought them up to your chest so you could rub away the soreness and keep a close eye on him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze instead he stopped at the door, “make sure she doesn’t do anything. We’re taking Valeria into custody. We'll be back later tonight.” He informed one of his men who nodded sharply.

“Rudy told you everything?” You finally asked and Alejandro turned his head slightly to acknowledge that he heard you but never did respond. Just continued out the door which closed softly behind him. “God damn it Rudy.”

—

When he had said he was going to be back later that night you didn’t expect that to mean some god forsaken hour of the night. You waited as long as you could, pacing your small room after finally being let free but after a while there really was nothing to do but sit and wait.

And you waited. And waited.

Until your eyes couldn’t wait anymore. You rested your head on the table for what you told yourself would just be a short nap but then your eyelids continued to grow heavier and you slept until Alejandro returned.

When he did finally return he sent his own men to bed when he noticed the tired look in their eyes. He really needed to give them a day off soon. “You want me to come with you?” Rudy asked when the last of the men were gone.

Alejandro glanced between him and the door before shaking his head softly. “Nah. This is something I have to confront on my own. Get some rest.” Rudy gave him a short nod and parted ways while Alejandro quietly entered the room, noticing your sleeping form immediately.

It made his chest squeeze to see you so vulnerable. It made him wonder how long it’s been since you felt comfortable enough to even do something as simple as falling asleep.

He quietly moved the other chair closer to you and leaned his head against the table just so he could admire you in peace for a little longer. You really never changed in his eyes.

He watched silently while your eyes fluttered open, taking a minute to adjust to what was in front of you before your eyes widened and you sat straight up. Very much wide awake.

Alejandro let out a sigh as he slowly sat up as well, the once soft expression now wiped from his face. You glanced at him every few seconds as the silence consumed you.

He just watched you and you were starting to wonder if he was ever going to talk. After a long silence that seemed almost like a challenge you finally broke first when you could no longer take his piercing eyes burning holes into you.

“Why didn’t you take me into custody with Valeria?” You knew you could usually hold out longer but it was him staring at you. It was easier to ignore when more of the men were in here because that way you could feel all eyes on you. But his alone was starting to hurt.

Alejandro crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Because I’m not taking you into custody. Rudy did tell me everything.” You looked away from him, nodding. “I can’t accept what you did even if it was you protecting someone you love.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion slightly at his choice of words. “What?” You muttered softly.

“The things you did. Do you think the person you loved would forgive you if they learned you did all of that in the name of protecting them?” Your throat dried as you stared at him. “You killed innocent people.”

“I never killed anyone.” You snapped and his eyebrows raised. He uncrossed his arms to lean against the table again, motioning for you to continue. “Valeria had men for that. I was in charge of moving the shipments. To keep her identity safe.”

Alejandro was quiet and you could see the way he was trying to process your words. “I was put on the front line, my life was at risk but I never killed anyone. How little do you think of me?” At this he glared at you and opened his mouth as if he was going to argue but he just shook his head and stood up to make his way to the door.

“I’ll be sure to let Rudy know.” He stated while he reached for the handle.

“What the hell does Rudy have to do with this?” You demanded as you stood abruptly from your seat. “Did he not tell you everything?”

He paused, “he told me you were doing it to protect someone you loved, he didn’t tell me who. But you only wanted to speak to him so I put two and two together.” You stood there in utter shock. You felt like wringing his neck.

How clueless could he be even after all this time?

“It wasn’t because of Rudy I did all of that.” You clenched your hands tightly at your sides and Alejandro finally turned to you again but didn’t say anything. Another challenging silence fell between you before your anger got the best of you. “How stupid are you Alejandro?”

“Que?” He rounded on you quickly gripping onto your wrist when you tried backing away. He cornered you against the wall closest to you, caging you there as he leveled you with a harsh glare. “You think you can talk to me like that?”

You were almost positive your heart may just stop beating all together. He had your wrist in one hand pressed against the wall and his other gripped your upper arm making sure you stayed there.

You opened your mouth to respond but no words would come out. “Come on, you had so much to say just a few minutes ago.” He sneered, bringing his face closer to yours to where you had no space left. His entire body was practically pushed against you and you could feel every muscle on his body.

You only stood in shock for a second more before you returned his glare. “Yes because what makes you think it was Rudy?!” You felt his hold loosen just ever so slightly but his glare never let up. “Why for all these years have you continued to be blind?”

“Then help me see. Just fucking tell me the reason.” He pushed against you slightly like he was trying to shove you into the wall more

“Rudy already told you everything.” You spat bringing your face just that much closer. “I can’t help you see something that’s been right in front of you this whole time!”

Alejandro tsked before his body was gone and he was already several steps towards the door again but he didn’t pause at the handle, it looked almost like he needed to put distance between you both.

“I want to hear it from your mouth!” He shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Why is it so hard for you to tell me? Haven’t you trusted me before?”

“This has nothing to do with trust.” You rubbed at the wrist he had in his grasp. “I’m doing it to protect-“

“Protect who?!” He took a few steps closer to you again

“It doesn’t matter-“

“Who did you do this for?! Who did you throw your whole life away for?!”

“I did it for you, pendejo!”

Your breathing was heavy as you stared at him. The confession was like a bomb going off in the middle of a battlefield. Something that was so loud it left your ears ringing from the aftermath.

Before you could even register, Alejandro had crossed the space again in a few steps. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you into him while his other hand went to cup the side of your head, hands entangling in the strands of your hair as he brought you to him.

He kissed you heatedly, keeping you tight against him when you made a noise of surprise. Even still you couldn’t help but notice how kissing him in real life couldn’t ever compare to all the dreams you’ve allowed yourself to have.

You felt the roughness of his beard against your own face as you brought your hands up to his chest where you could feel his heart beating just as hard as yours.

He pushed you back against the wall as he moved from your lips to leave heated kisses down your neck forcing you to arch into him with a moan. The hand on your waist wrapped around the small of your back to keep you in that arch against him. You could feel the heat of his palm through the layers of clothes you had on and it made you want more.

“Ale.” You whimpered and immediately felt him stop. He pulled away slowly to look you in the eyes which you were sure were hazy from the moment. “What?”

He had a look in his eyes you couldn’t place. Something so much deeper than you were expecting. He took in a shaky breath, “I didn’t think I was ever going to hear you say my name like that again.” He whispered almost breathless.

The hand in your hair moved down to cup your jaw softly while the two of you kept eye contact. “Rudy told you everything didn’t he?”

Instead of answering he kissed you again this time softer before pulling back only an inch to mutter his next request against your bruised lips. “Stay with me. We can protect you.” He felt you take a sharp breath. “I can protect you.”

“Ale-“

“Let me protect you mí amor.”

Your hands clenched against his chest and looked away from his intense gaze. “Your higher ups wouldn’t allow that to happen.”

“If you’re worried about 141 and Sheperd don’t. Shepherd is AWOL he can’t tell me shit on what to do with you.” He informed and you could feel his hand start rubbing your back soothingly. “You gave up everything to protect my life. Let me do this for you now.”

You searched his eyes looking for anything that would tell you he’s lying but there was nothing but love. “Okay.” You said softly and could practically feel his grin before he closed the gap once again and brought you to him.

~~

Months later you would find yourself in his room on base while he was away training. He practically forced you to stay with him and by that you meant he held you tight in his embrace anytime he was with you and it made you never want to leave. And he never made you.

You found out that Alejandro loved you as well, since the beginning. You remembered when you finally broke down in his arms one night when he admitted that he never stopped loving you.

You apologized over and over but he just cradled you in his arms and whispered sweet compliments in Spanish until you calmed down and he carried you to the bed you shared and held you even closer for the rest of the night.

He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to protect you. He did everything in his power to protect you even from your own mind.

It’s all you could think about as you roamed his room, wearing one of his shirts while you cleaned. You were so lost in thought you didn’t hear his door open and close softly until arms wrapped around you and you were pulled into a sturdy chest.

“Hola, mi amor.” Alejandro kissed your neck softly, smiling when he felt you melt into his arms. “Is this my shirt?”

You felt his hand grab onto the hem of the shirt while he continued kissing you neck. You titled your head away to give him more access and gave him a small hum in confirmation.

“You should wear it more often.” He murmured against your neck while he laid his palm flat against your stomach to pull you closer to him. His lips traveled up to the shell of your ear where he whispered, “come to bed with me. I’m so tired.”

You laughed softly. This whole thing felt like a dream. You didn’t know how you got so lucky for him to let you stay like this.

Though it was a slow process and he was still working through forgiving you for everything and you were working through everything you had been through you truly don’t think you have ever been happier.

“I’m cleaning.” He groaned when you started unwrapping his arms but he just grabbed your waist and twisted you around so you were facing each other. “Ale.”

“I’m just relishing in your presence Princesa.” He smirked while trailing his fingers down the side of your bare thighs.

You chuckled again and kissed his lips shortly, smirking when he chased after your lips for more. “Well you can relish in it still by helping me.” You stepped away and he groaned.

“Okay okay.” But he still couldn’t keep his eyes off you the whole time.

[bookworm551]

Take the Edge Off | Part 9 | Stitches

Summary: After a failed mission, Miguel needs to patch you up.

A/N: well, new year, new chapter (finally). I’m getting real close to finishing up this series, maybe 2 more parts. This took forever bc I needed a filler and had no idea what to do, and this is also the longest part so far. At least I know where to go from here, so I should have the next part up relatively soon 💀

Warnings: smut (duh), canon-typical violence, wound care

10.2k words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10

You had grossly underestimated how difficult catching Ghost would be.

The main issue was finding him. He was smart, and he seemed to realize that anytime he spent too much time in one dimension, you and the team would pounce, and like water in your hand, he always managed to slip away. The closest you came to catching him was about three weeks after your bet, and it was an absolute shit show.

"Fuck me," you grunted under your breath when another explosion knocked you into the wall. Ghost came from a universe with hammerspace, and every new dimension he traveled to, he managed to store away more and more dangerous equipment. Now, you were there in some alleyway, half your team missing, fighting off a barrage of missiles, bombs, and sharp projectiles.

Across from you, Ben was tangled in a net trap, and Malala was groaning on the floor as she recovered from an intense electrical shock. Clenching your jaw, you leapt off the wall at Ghost. You were getting aggravated by how difficult this was. Why couldn't he be a regular villain and let you catch him?

Anticipating your move, Ghost jumped out of the way. You webbed him and yanked him toward yourself. Rather than fighting your pull, Ghost flew at you and pounced on your form, knocking you flat on your back. He drove his fists into your ribs, and you cried out as electricity coursed through your body. He held his fists, adorned in makeshift gauntlets, to you as you lay paralyzed by pain.

"Where's the big guy?" He asked you, his voice low and silky. "He's always a good time." You weren't even able to breathe from the shocks pulsing in your ribs, but before you would've been able to answer him, your attention was captured by the sight of a yellow portal to your right.

For one dreadful moment, you thought it was Ghost's escape. His slippery nature was due to the watch he had stolen from Ben all those months ago, and it seemed almost impossible to keep him in one dimension long enough to catch him.

To your tremendous relief however, Miguel's muscular form flew out of the portal, knocking the anomaly off of your body. You took a ragged breath as the two men tumbled to your side. "Oh! Here you are!" Ghost laughed, pushing himself off the floor to face Miguel. "We were just talking about you."

Miguel turned his head for a moment to assess your form still gasping for breath. "You're late," you wheezed to him as you rolled onto your side to stand up again. You'd been here fighting alongside Ben and Malala since the alert from Lyla had gone out, and Miguel was only just now showing up. You didn't even know where Jess and the others were.

Seeing that you were well enough to give him sass, Miguel turned back to face Ghost, shooting a web that Ghost easily avoided. "You missed," he teased, but he was quickly eating his words when Miguel yanked the dumpster he had webbed instead and slammed it into the arrogant anomaly.

While Ghost was still recovering from his hit, Miguel threw his containment unit device at Ghost’s form. It slid right next to him, but a microsecond before it deployed, the anomaly rolled away, causing the orange force field to envelop nothing.

"Interesting," Ghost stated, sounding genuinely fascinated as he observed the glowing orange cage. You huffed in irritation, finally managing to sit up now that your muscles weren't spasming anymore. As much as you usually enjoyed banter with your enemies, you were not in the mood.

Miguel lunged after Ghost, who pulled another weapon seemingly out of nowhere and fired a spray of spinning razors at him. Miguel began twisting through the air, managing to evade every blade with expert precision.

Unfortunately for you, your screaming muscles weren’t able to move quite as fast as you needed. You leapt through the air to try and dodge the razors, but midair, one clipped you right in the shoulder, cutting deep from the front of your shoulder down almost to your back.

You cried out in pain, slamming hard into the ground as you fell. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, and you lay there struggling to breathe while hot pain blossomed in your shoulder.

Hearing your pained cry, Miguel froze, his body automatically turning to find you. You lay there a moment before moving to roll onto your good side. You pushed yourself up with a groan, and you were surprised to find Miguel at your side and pressing you back down to the floor. “Don’t move,” he urged as he gently held you down.

Even though his face was hidden, you could see he was examining your wound. “I’m fine,” you grunted, moving to sit up again. Miguel must’ve seen that you weren’t too terribly wounded and watched you carefully while you sat up off the ground before finally saying, “Okay.”

Together, you turned back to face Ghost. He was standing with a curious look on his face and an unsettling smile on his lips. “Now, that is interesting,” he said. Before either of you could move at him, Malala came swinging in a blur and knocked the anomaly off his feet. “I’m getting real tired of his gabbing,” she muttered, sounding as aggravated as you felt.

Ghost didn’t stay down for long. “It seems I’ve overstayed my welcome,” he observed. He quickly typed something into his watch, and a portal opened up beside him. “No!” Miguel snarled, leaving your side to lunge after him. You also stood up, grinding your teeth in pain as you leapt after him.

To buy himself time, Ghost threw down two small capsules that flashed brightly, making you balk. When the sun spots faded from your eyes, there was still a thick cloud of smoke around you, causing you to cough weakly. Your eyes scanned the alley for your rival, and you found him scooping up the containment unit device Miguel had thrown.

You flung yourself at him, trying to web the device from his hands. Hitting his arm, you pulled him forward with all your strength. He flew at your body, but when you raised a hand to hit him with your bad arm, pain flared from your shoulder and caused you to stumble, and you only managed a weak punch.

Seeing your pain, Ghost pulled a knife out of who-knows-where and severed the line between you. Scrambling away, he jumped for the portal and fell inside it just as Miguel tried to catch him, and within a breath, the portal to an unknown dimension closed.

“No!” Miguel shouted in frustration, his fist punching the wall where the portal had been mere seconds ago. You let out an aggravated breath. This was the closest you had ever been to catching Ghost, so frustratingly close that it made your chest burn in anger.

There was a tense second where nobody spoke. You could see that Miguel was breathing hard. At your side, Malala stood up with a heavy sigh and moved over to help Ben who was still entangled in a net.

Miguel whirled on you. “What happened?!” Miguel shouted at you. You gaped at him incredulously. “You’re asking me?!” You shot back angrily. “Where the hell were you when the alert went out?”

Miguel’s mask retracted to reveal his scowling face. “We had him!” he snarled, ignoring your question and directing his anger towards you.

Your frustration boiled in your chest. Not only had Miguel been late to the call, but his accusatory words were some of the first that he had spoken directly to you since he added you to the team. It had been weeks since you had spoken to each other. It seemed as though since your last encounter, he had been avoiding you. Your interactions had been brief and relevant only to the mission, and you hadn’t even spent any time alone together since you had been added to the team.

“Yeah, we had him,” you repeated angrily, your own mask retracting. “We had him until you stopped going after him.” His face contorted into a scowl, and his figure towered over you. “You had plenty of time to incapacitate him,” he argued.

You scoffed. “Yeah, I had plenty of time waiting for you to show up,” you shot back. “And as soon as you do, you turn your back on him.”

“You were hurt,” he stated sharply. His eyes fell to your shoulder, and you thought that some of his anger dissipated from his face. “You are hurt,” he corrected himself, his voice still sharp but a bit less angry.

You almost scoffed again, but when you looked down at your shoulder, you grimaced. Your suit had retracted around your cut, exposing the deep slice in your shoulder. In your adrenaline-fueled state, you had only briefly felt it, but now, seeing it slowly oozing blood, the pain was suddenly very noticeable.

"Shit," you sighed under your breath. You were used to dressing your own wounds, but this one was in a spot that was going to be difficult to treat. "I'll be fine," you said dismissively.

Miguel seemed to compose himself a little bit. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh before looking back at your shoulder. "You need stitches," he said.

You rolled your eyes. "I said I'll be fine," you repeated firmly. "Don't be stupid," he replied in a flat voice. "And don't try to tell me you can do it yourself." You closed your mouth and huffed. That's exactly what you were about to say.

"Fine, I'll get Jess to do it," you stated in exasperation. "Happy?"

"Like hell you will," he muttered, typing something into his watch. A portal opened beside you, and Miguel looked back at you, irritation still evident on his face though perhaps not so much as before.

"What?" You asked expectantly. He shot you an impatient look. "Go," he told you sharply. You shifted your stance defiantly, stubbornly remaining where you were. "I don't want to go with you," you argued. He sighed in exasperation. "Would you stop being so damn stubborn and go through the stupid portal?" He snapped.

You stared up at him in contempt. His demanding tone and harsh mannerisms made you feel resistant to accepting any of his help. After ignoring you for weeks and snapping at you during this failure of a mission, he was the last person you wanted seeing you in pain.

You both continued staring at each other, each refusing to look away first. You felt blood oozing down your back, and the pain was really starting to radiate in your shoulder. Miguel stared at you with a deadpan expression, knowing it was only a matter of time before you would give in.

You realized with a wave of aggravation that he was going to win your staring standoff. With a sigh, you grit your teeth together and looked down in defeat. "Fine," you muttered sourly. Pushing past him, you walked into the portal and didn't bother looking back to see if he was coming.

You weren't quite sure what you were expecting on the other side of the portal, but you were somewhat surprised to find yourself standing in Miguel's room. It was just as you remembered it from weeks ago— simple, neat, and barely used.

From behind you, Miguel stepped into the room, not even sparing you a glance before heading to the bathroom. You hesitated for a moment before reluctantly following after him. He pulled out a large black bag onto the counter space filled with all sorts of medical equipment. He was laying out materials for suturing as you walked in.

"Sit."

You scoffed in annoyance. "I know you know how to say please," you grumbled. He didn't respond, turning to his sink to wash his hands rather than answering you. If you had been in a pettier mood, you wouldn't have moved until he asked nicely, but you were in pain and ready to get it over with, so you pushed yourself up onto the counter by the sink and waited for him.

Miguel pulled a pair of gloves over his hands and inspected your wound carefully. "Your suit," he said flatly, indicating that it was in the way. Sighing, you let your suit retract just enough to reveal half your torso for him. It didn't matter that this man had seen you completely naked on several occasions, you weren't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you undressed now, even if he was only going to stitch you up.

Miguel began with wiping away the blood from the skin around your wound. You flinched hard. The pressure he used was light but still painful, and you closed your eyes to fight the grimace that was trying to show. It took you a second to realize that this was the first time he'd touched you in weeks.

Despite your irritation towards him, you couldn’t help but notice how closely he was standing to you. From the corner of your eye, you watched his face as he worked diligently to take care of you. His eyebrows were slightly scrunched as he focused his attention on your skin, and there was only the sounds of his soft, steady breathing in your ear.

When he was satisfied with how your skin looked, he sprayed antiseptic on it before asking, “Do you want something for the pain?” You considered it for half a moment before shaking your head. You had managed stitches before, and it wasn’t as painful as some other shit you’d experienced before.

He waited to see if you’d change your mind before lifting the threaded needle with his forceps. Despite your resolution against painkillers, you ground your teeth as the needle punctured your skin. "Sorry," Miguel murmured softly as he pulled the suture through your skin. He was obviously trying to work as gently as possible, but pain was inevitable with suturing.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you tried your best to ignore the pain, but with how slowly he was going and how thick the tension was, you knew you were going to need a distraction.

"Are you sure we couldn't have just used butterfly stitches?" You asked sourly as he pulled the thread again. "Yes," he replied firmly. "This is deep. You got lucky, too. If it had been just a few inches over, the blade would've hit your neck, and you'd need a lot more than sutures."

"It wasn't luck," you replied pointedly. "It was skill." Miguel gave a disbelieving snort as he pulled the thread tight. "If you really had skill, it wouldn't have hit you at all," he mumbled.

You huffed indignantly. "Oh, please," you began, "don't pretend like you haven't had to take a few hits before. It's practically in the job description."

Miguel didn't reply as he pierced the needle through your skin again, causing you to wince at the pain. You thought he was going to make some sharp bullshit retort about how he didn't get as hurt as you, but instead, he just sighed.

"This was too close," he murmured at last.

Your defensive attitude softened considerably at his words. Studying his face closely, you realized that he wasn't being critical, he was being protective. With your new understanding, you almost felt bad for being angry at him.

"I've had closer," you told him wryly. He frowned. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He asked in a dull voice. You gave a small huff in amusement. "It's supposed to show you that you don't have to worry about me," you explained earnestly.

He didn't say anything to you as he continued sewing up your cut. The sting of the needle caused you to wince again, and you tried to think of something to talk about to distract you from the pain.

"At least I don't have to fix up my suit," you said at last, hoping he would pick up the conversation. Miguel hummed before replying, "It's almost impossible to destroy unstable molecule fabric."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Well if it was impossible to destroy, wouldn't it protect me from even getting cut?"

"That's not how it works," he told you flatly.

"So then how does it work?"

He gave a short sigh, indicating to you that he was not in the mood to entertain your curiosity. Nevertheless, he did. "The molecules work almost as a form of energy," he explained. "They assess the host molecules and change with them. The suit learns your body and reacts with it."

Another stitch was added, but you didn't feel it quite as much as before.

"When you were cut, it didn't destroy the suit," he continued, "it interrupted it. Your skin was damaged, and the suit left it exposed because your wound isn't the default for the molecules."

You studied his face as he spoke, a smile slowly growing on your lips. When he had finished explaining the science of the suit, he seemed to feel your stare and glanced down at you, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Nerd," you said at last.

That seemed to pull him out of his grumpiness somewhat, and he turned his attention back to your shoulder. "You asked," he mumbled, but the sharp edge that was in his voice was gone.

"So then how does the suit retract into my web shooters?" You asked, genuinely interested in knowing more about the fascinating technology you wore everyday, and it definitely helped distract you from the pain.

"Since the suit can take on an energy form," he explained, "it can be stored in the web shooters as a form of data." You stared down at the web shooters on your wrists. It was amazing that such an unsuspecting piece of technology housed such powerful energy.

"They look just like my old pair," you noted. Miguel nodded, his eyes never leaving your shoulder as he worked. "I know, that's what I was aiming for," he said, "but I was thrown off by the web cartridges you use."

You smirked. "Pretty cool, right?" You said proudly. "I built a system that condenses the water in the air and converts it into a hydropolymer to supplement my web supply. It's not as strong as my original formula, but it saves me from having a web block."

Miguel's eyebrows lifted somewhat as he listened. If you hadn't known better, you could almost say he was impressed. He must've noticed your staring because he turned his eyes to meet yours, and his face softened.

"Nerd," he said.

You smiled in return and rolled your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled playfully. His lips widened fractionally, and his eyes returned back to your shoulder. You felt more relaxed now. The anger and irritation you were feeling before had disappeared as soon as you saw him smile.

"How's it looking, doc?" You asked after a moment, trying to turn your head to see his progress. “Don’t move your head,” Miguel said and nudged your face with the back of his wrist. "And you're not going to be doing any swinging for the next few days.” Your eyes snapped up to look at him. "It's not that bad," you argued weakly. "I'll be fine."

Miguel gave you a stern look. "In your shoulder, it is that bad," he said. "If you tear this, it's going to scar even worse than it's already going to now."

You rolled your eyes again. "Well, you know better than most that this isn't my first or worst scar," you argued, "and it probably won't be my last." It was true. Your body was covered in scars large and small, old and new, and this was just another addition to your collection.

Miguel didn't reply to you. He had worked steadily from the back of your shoulder to the front, but the closer he got to your neck, the worse the pain felt. You did your best to remain neutral, but you couldn't help the small grunt of discomfort that sounded in your throat. Miguel heard it and asked gently, "Do you want something for the pain?"

You shook your head in response. "I have my own stuff," you told him before a crooked grin pulled on your lips. "But you know what I've heard is a natural pain killer?" You added slyly.

Miguel heard the mischief in your voice, and he looked back at your face with suspicion. "What?" He asked carefully.

In a sweet tone, you answered, "Kissing."

Miguel gave you a disapproving look, but you caught the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I told you not until we get the anomaly," he said pointedly.

You weren't discouraged by his assertion. "I just want to see if it works," you told him innocently. "It's an experiment."

"With an ulterior motive."

"The motive is to get rid of the pain."

He still wore a skeptical look, so you tried again. "It's for science," you explained, batting your eyes at him. After weeks of not touching him, you longed to feel his body against your own.

Miguel was unconvinced. He gave an unimpressed hum and pulled his needle through your skin again. It seemed he wasn't going to budge. Heaving a large sigh, you continued, "But if you don't want to participate, maybe I'll find someone else who does."

Miguel pulled his stitch tight, making you wince. "I bet you think that's funny," he said in a flat voice.

"I bet you don't," you shot back.

"Because it's not."

"Well," you began slowly, hesitating as you wondered if you should even start this conversation with him. You’d thought a lot about him the past few weeks, and barely seeing him for weeks now had made you realize that being a casual fling wasn’t what you wanted anymore. "I know you've expressed many times that this isn't a relationship,” you said carefully, “so I don't really see what the issue is."

Your heart was beating a little faster now. Your words opened the door to a conversation that you were both eager and terrified to have. You wanted desperately to know how he felt about you, about whatever this was between you. You were also nervous that he didn't feel what you felt or want what you wanted.

At your words, Miguel's face darkened. He stayed quiet for a second before he resumed suturing. "If that's what you want," he muttered at last.

There was a tense silence that settled between you. You stared up at his hardened face, trying to determine what he was thinking.

"It's not," you replied quietly, "but being on this break got me thinking."

"About?"

"About how I feel about this whole arrangement."

The tense silence returned. Miguel's eyes were fixed determinedly on your shoulder, and his eyebrows furrowed as he listened to what you said.

"You want to end it?" He asked, his voice level and neutral.

"No," you said a bit too quickly. "It's just..." you trailed off, trying to think of the best way to tell him what you wanted. Doubt nibbled at your mind, and you wondered if this was even a good idea at all.

Miguel noticed your apprehension, and he stopped sewing your wound to give you his undivided attention. His dark eyes met yours, and he was so close to you that it caused your heart to flutter.

You looked away to regain your thoughts. "I know that this is supposed to be a casual thing," you began slowly. "And I know what you said about time and relationships. I just..." you sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the counter. "I don't want to be just a diversion for you, a mindless distraction that you can pick up or put down as you please."

Your face burned as you spoke, and you couldn't bring yourself to look at his face. Miguel murmured your name softly, and you closed your eyes to keep from seeing his reaction.

"If that's still what you still want, that's fine," you continued quickly. "I'm not trying to force you into something you don't want." You sighed as you opened your eyes again. "That's just how I feel," you finished quietly.

Silence enveloped you, suffocating, nerve-wracking silence. After a couple heartbeats, you forced yourself to look up at Miguel. He was still staring at you, but instead of wearing an awkward or even condescending expression as you had expected, his face was soft, almost thoughtful.

You stared at each other quietly for a moment longer before he finally turned his gaze back to your shoulder. Picking up his hands again, he began working on your sutures without reply.

Your stomach tightened anxiously at his silence, and you felt a wave of disappointment wash over you. You didn't feel the pain of your wound anymore now that your mind was racing with what you just said and Miguel's utter lack of response.

"It's not that I don't want it," he said at last. "Because I do."

Your eyes shot up to his face as he spoke. His gaze was still fixed on your stitches, but you could see clearly that he was thinking about what you just said.

"Then what is it?" You asked quietly.

Miguel took a moment to respond, his hands never ceasing their work. "I built my whole life around what we're doing here," he began slowly. "When I say I don't have time for a relationship, it means I can't give you the time you deserve." He glanced over at your face briefly before returning back to your shoulder, his eyes growing distant.

"The last time I let myself get close to someone, I hurt a lot of people," he added quietly. "More than I could ever make up for." He paused for a moment and sighed. "I just don't want to see that happen to you," he said softly.

Your heart ached. You remembered what he told you, how his actions triggered the destruction of a universe. The burden of his past still clearly weighed on his conscious, and you didn't know what to say to him to comfort him.

In the silence following, Miguel tied off the last stitch. With a pair of scissors from the kit, he snipped the line. You looked down at the neat row of sutures that held your cut closed. His work was precise, and you knew it was miles better than what you could've done by yourself.

Miguel was cleaning up his materials, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with you as he did. You watched for a second before taking a deep breath.

"You know, I've learned a lot of things since I was bitten by that stupid spider," you began, breaking the silence around you. "First, pain is unavoidable." You pointed to your shoulder's fresh stitches. "Case in point," you said wryly.

Miguel didn't react to your weak joke. He continued packing his materials away, but you could tell he was still listening to what you were saying.

"My second lesson," you continued, "was that I would always be alone."

Miguel paused, and his eyes turned back to your face. "There was nobody who knows what it's like to be me," you explained. "Nobody who knew what I've sacrificed. I had nobody to trust with this secret life, and the longer I did this, the more I regretted being Spider-Woman."

You stared down at the web shooters adorning your wrists as you contemplated your own words. You had never told anybody this before, not even the other Spiders. You had suffered so much by yourself, and only now for the first time did you feel like you could share your life with someone.

"But when I came here," you continued quietly, "it all changed. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people who did understand, who also felt how I did." You paused again, and you finally looked up at his face. His eyes were watching you with a look of understanding and sympathy that made your throat tighten unexpectedly.

Your eyes broke away from his stare again, and you stated quietly, "When you offered me a place here, I wasn't alone anymore."

Miguel nodded softly. "That's what I wanted," he replied. "A community for people like us." You tilted your head up at him and studied his countenance. "Then why do you still act like you're doing it alone?" You asked.

He sighed uncomfortably, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the sink counter. "In a lot of ways, I am doing it alone," he stated quietly. "Everyone here enjoys doing the missions, seeing all the new dimensions, and meeting new Spiders. I'm the one who has to do all the damage control, the recruitment, the dirty work." He sighed again and muttered grimly, "I don't always like what I have to do."

You raised an eyebrow at his melodramatic statement. "You know, it would probably be more enjoyable if you actually interacted with the other Spiders," you told him with a pointed look.

Miguel huffed a short breath. "I'm not trying to get close to anyone," he stated firmly. That made you pause and tilt your head in interest. "Then what am I?" You asked, a curious smile pulling at your mouth.

His gloomy expression lifted somewhat as he looked at you. He uncrossed his arms and planted them on the counter on either side of your body, and he stared at your face thoughtfully. You stared back, waiting for an answer.

"You," he began slowly, "were a distraction to take the edge off." You hummed thoughtfully in response, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer. "And now?" You prompted, your eyes falling to his lips.

"And now," he echoed, "you're the person I bring back to my room to stitch up because I don't trust anyone else to do it."

You smiled at him, and your stomach fluttered at how close he was to you. You wanted so badly to kiss him. Your lips yearned for the feeling of his mouth against yours.

"I guess that makes me pretty special," you replied smugly.

A glimmer of reluctant amusement shone in his face, and he tilted his head in mock consideration. "I think 'special' is a stretch," he stated coolly. You placed a hand over your heart dramatically. "Ouch," you gasped. "And you wonder why I joke about going to other people."

He raised an eyebrow at you. "I don't wonder," he stated. "I know exactly why you do it."

"And why is that?" You asked coyly.

Miguel shot you an unconvinced look. "Because it gets under my skin, and you know it," he replied. You smirked, unable to deny the truth in his statement.

"If that's true, then that would make me a horrible person," you told him.

"You are a horrible person."

Your smile widened, and with your good arm, you raised your hand to his chest and let it slowly wander up to wrap behind his neck. "Then why do you like me?" You asked innocently.

Miguel was looking at your lips now, and there was a hint of playfulness in his face. "'Like' is a strong word," he said thoughtfully. "I think 'tolerate' is more accurate."

You rolled your eyes with a smile. "Damn, is there anything in the first aid kit for a broken heart?" You joked. He couldn't stop himself from smiling softly at your theatrics. "You're ridiculous," he said.

You hummed, pulling him closer to your face. "You love it," you insisted. His nose brushed against yours before he repeated, "I tolerate it." You chuckled and gave a careful shrug. "Same difference," you said before pulling his lips down against yours.

You couldn't resist smiling against his lips as you kissed him for the first time in weeks. You were savoring every sweet second of his body against yours. His mouth moved slowly against your own, and he snaked an arm around your torso, making your face glow with a faint blush.

His words echoed in your head. It's not that I don't want it. So, he did feel the same way you did, or at least, to some degree he did. The thought alone made your stomach flutter, and you ran your fingers through his hair while trying to memorize how his lips felt against yours.

When you finally broke apart, you still wore a smile on your face as his forehead rested on yours. "Oh wow, that does help with the pain," you commented. The pain had subsided considerably when his mouth was pressed against yours.

Miguel chuckled and kissed you again briefly. "Consider your experiment a success," he said. You hummed thoughtfully. "I would be an irresponsible scientist if I didn't repeat my experiment to prove its validity," you argued, earning a smile from him before you pressed your lips to his again.

It felt so good to kiss him, especially after the shitty failure that was today's mission, and the warmth of his body melted all your troubles away from your mind. You didn't care about the mission or your injury. He was here with you, everything else could wait.

With your fingers still running through his hair, you grabbed a fistful of jet-black strands and deepened your kiss, pushing your tongue into his mouth with a sigh. His hand on your waist tightened while he grunted softly into your mouth.

Breaking away from your lips, Miguel murmured your name in a low, warning voice. "Hmm?" You replied innocently, looking up at his dark eyes through your lashes. "We had an agreement," he said.

"Yeah, when I was on the team," you told him. "But you just said that I need to lay off for a few days..." you gave him a pointed look, "...which means I'm technically off the team for a few days..." you pulled his face back down to yours, "...which means that our agreement is null and void."

With that, you pressed your lips to his in a deep kiss before he could argue back. It was a weak argument, and you knew it, but you didn't want him to challenge it. You wanted him to want you.

His grip around your waist tightened as he pushed against your tongue with his own. You couldn't help the small moan you gave as his passion began to show, and all the longing you'd been feeling for Miguel the past couple weeks began welling up inside you.

Your lips separated for a moment. "Treacherous," he murmured breathlessly against your skin. You hummed, blinking your eyes open to look at him. His face looked restless, and you knew he was hungry for more.

"So I've been told," you replied smugly as you moved your lips down to his neck. Miguel gave a deep sigh at the feeling of your kisses on his sensitive skin, skin that felt warm and soft to the touch.

In your growing desire for him, your teeth gently nipped his bare flesh. Miguel sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, his fingers gripping your waist tightly as he whispered your name again. You smiled deviously as his reaction, and your legs wrapped around his hips to bring his body flush against yours.

"Give me more," you mumbled against his skin. Miguel took a second to respond, his breathing ragged as he tried to keep his composure. "You're hurt," he argued weakly. Based on his strained voice, you knew he had all but given in to the craving of your touch. You raised your head up so that you could look him in his dark, restless eyes, noses brushing gently as you were both panting lightly in anticipation.

"Then make me feel better."

That was all you had to say before he kissed you with the hunger of a touch-starved man. He pulled you off the sink in one swift movement, holding you upright with your legs still wrapped around his waist, and walked out of the bathroom to where his bed was waiting for you both.

Finally, you thought. The tension between you these past few weeks had been torture. Seeing each other around HQ after your last encounter and not saying a word in passing was aggravating, and you had been longing for the moment when you could wrap your arms (and legs) around him again.

When his legs hit the side of the bed, he lowered you carefully down onto it. You still had your good arm wrapped around his shoulders, and when he placed you on the top of his bed, you hissed in pain and clung to his body. The edge of your stitched-up wound had touched the comforter, making it sting. 

"Maybe not like this," you said with a light chuckle.

A flash of concern crossed Miguel's face when he realized your pain, and he moved to roll off of you. Still holding yourself close to his body, you rolled with him and found yourself straddling his lap.

With a smirk, you hovered your face over his. "Much better," you stated smugly. Miguel was still assessing your face for any traces of discomfort. "Are you sure you're up for this?" He asked. You shot him a look. You would've thought he was trying to find a way out of it if it weren't for the fact that his fingers were unconsciously trying to move your hips against his hardening cock.

"I've been craving you for weeks," you whispered against his lips. "It would take more than this to keep me off of you." His face gave way to a smile at your words, a true smile that filled his whole face. Fuck, he looked so good. The way he lit up with you knocked the wind out of you, and you could've stayed there forever just admiring the beautiful smile he had before he raised his head to kiss you.

You leaned into him, growing hot with desire. Your suit, so attuned to what your body wanted, retracted all the way back to your web shooters. Miguel's hands traced across the skin of your torso as his tongue slid against yours, and his suit also disappeared from his body.

Feeling his skin against yours set your heart racing. His fingertips felt electric as his hands wandered up your back to unclasp your bra. Careful not to hit your new stitches, he removed it from your body, taking in the sight of your bare body with a lustful expression before lowering his head to take one of your breasts in his mouth.

You sucked in a sharp breath as he moved his mouth sloppily over your skin. Leaning into him, you ran a hand through his dark hair and grabbed fistfuls of the strands. You missed this, the feeling of him exploring your body. It was so much more than taking the edge off now. It was almost like a form of worship.

"Feeling better?" He murmured, tilting his head up to watch your enraptured expression. "Mhmm," you hummed, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. "But don't you dare stop."

Miguel smirked. "Wasn't planning on it," he replied in a low voice. As he spoke, his hands slid down your body and began pushing your underwear down over your ass. Leaning forward, you lifted your legs to allow his hands to remove your last piece of clothing.

You were breathing hard in anticipation now. You placed sloppy kisses on his chest, his neck, practically any of his tanned skin that you could reach. From his throat, the softest little moans sounded in response to your touch, and each fueled your desire. In your desperation, your teeth grazed his skin again.

His breath caught in his throat, and his fingers dug into your skin. You smirked, enjoying his reaction to your teasing. "You like that, don't you?" You observed slyly. Before you could give him the opportunity to respond, you bit down on the muscle at the base of his neck, not enough to be painful but enough to leave a mark.

He moaned loudly, an unrestrained sound that demonstrated the power you had over him. You released the skin between your teeth before moving them up his neck and biting him there, gentler than before. You were fairly certain he stopped breathing for a moment as you bit down on his soft skin. When the moment passed, you let go again, moving your mouth up and nipping his earlobe.

Miguel was practically paralyzed by your touch, and you could feel his heart racing wildly under your hand. He was completely at your mercy, unable to stop you even if he had wanted to.

But you knew he didn't want you to stop.

Still holding a fistful of his hair, you pulled firmly and tilted his head back to expose his neck to you. Letting his earlobe slip out of your teeth, you moved your mouth to his jaw, placing a kiss on the skin there before gently biting it.

He groaned your name. There was a desperate edge to his voice that made your cunt ache for him. When you moved your lips up to his, he kissed you with such fervor that it was less like he was kissing you and more like he was trying to devour you, like being completely pressed against you wasn't close enough.

"I need to...be inside you," he gasped, his lips still trying to kiss you as he spoke. He sounded as breathless as you felt, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, his eyes were hungry with his desire for you.

Maybe if it hadn't been so long since you'd been together, you would've prolonged the teasing, exacerbated his frustration, but you found that you were also desperate to feel him inside you. Every inch of your body burned for him, and you knew he burned for you, too.

Settling back down slowly on his lap, you allowed Miguel to guide your hips to his cock. Your forehead rested against his, and you gave a small gasp when you felt the tip tease at the entrance of your pussy. Giving Miguel another messy kiss, you lowered yourself down his length.

God, he felt good.

Your head lolled back as he stretched you out so perfectly for the first time in weeks. Miguel released a hot breath against the skin of your neck, his hands holding your hips tightly as he slid into your tight cunt.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered. "I've missed this."

If you had been in a clearer state of mind, you would've pointed out it was his own damn fault for making the stupid rule in the first place. But right now, the only thing on your mind was that you needed to move your body against his.

Raising your hips up again, a loud groan spilled from your lips. You'd almost forgotten just how big he was. His cock was buried deep inside you, setting every nerve on fire. Every muscle in your body tightened with the feeling of his dick sliding out of you, and your hands, one still in his hair and the other holding onto his back, curled tightly as you clung to him.

You moved back down again, your eyes closed tightly with the sensations of riding him. Miguel's hands gripped your waist tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as you moved slowly up and down the length of his cock. His breathing was shaky, and so was yours. Neither of you said anything as you took the time to reacquaint yourselves with the feeling of each other's bodies.

You soon grew impatient with the slow pace you were keeping. You raised your hips off of his lap with greater need, grinding your pussy down hard against him as you did. Miguel's reaction was immediate, and you heard a growl deep in his throat. His hands encouraged your pace and eased some of the effort off of your knees.

The sound of your ass smacking against his lap filled the air, and combined with the sounds of his heavy panting, it only fueled your lust-crazed mind. Blinking open your eyes, you looked at Miguel and found that he was staring up at your face. A shimmer of sweat gleamed on his forehead, and his lips were parted as he breathed hard.

Your eyes locked with his dark gaze. Even as you continued to move along his length, you couldn't help but feel utterly paralyzed by his stare, so brazen and intentional, completely in awe of you. It made you feel powerful, revered.

Loved.

You managed to break out of your paralyzed stupor and crash your lips down on his. Now, you were the one who felt as though you couldn't be close enough to him. Even with his cock pumping in and out of you with ever-increasing speed, you wondered if there was anything that could satisfy your need for him.

Your pace was uncontrollable now. Small, whining moans escaped your mouth with every rise and fall of your hips. Miguel's fingers dug into your waist tightly, and he grunted as he pulled away from your lips.

"Wait," he gasped quietly.

Your eyes snapped open, and you froze. Was something wrong? Were you doing something he didn't like?

Miguel's face struggled to compose itself. "You need to slow down," he finally said. You stared at him for a second before you understood what was happening.

A wicked grin grew on your face. "Why?" You asked deviously. Miguel shot you a glare, his chest heaving. "You know why," he grunted. "Just slow down."

Still wearing your devilish smile, you started moving your hips again. "I don't want to," you told him, your words sounding almost childish as you choked back a whine. Miguel cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he fought against the pleasure your cunt brought him.

"Wait, wait," he groaned again, trying to hold you still. Now, this was a power trip if you'd ever felt one. You knew you were only a few moments away from causing him to unravel. Now, he was begging you to ease up because he knew he couldn't last against you.

You grabbed his jaw in one hand, forcing his face to look up at you. "Why should I?" You demanded to know. He was panting hard, and his eyes seemed hazy and unfocused.

"I need to take care of you first," he managed to breathe. You huffed an amused breath. He never failed to get you off, and despite the fact that you were more than happy to finish him off in record timing, you were inclined to let him take over for you.

Miguel placed a soft kiss to your lips. "Let me take care of you," he pleaded in a whisper. "Let me taste you."

The thought alone of what he could do with his tongue was enough to make you moan. Instead of replying, you kissed him hard before lifting your hips up off of him entirely. You felt a twinge of regret from the loss of his cock inside you, but when he slowly rolled you over, the rush of anticipation quickly replaced it.

Miguel pulled you to the edge of the bed, careful not to cause your stitches to hit the comforter. With your good arm, you were propped up by your elbow while he slowly moved down your body. He placed tantalizing kisses on your throat, your collar, your breasts, your stomach, practically every inch of your body he could see. With every kiss, you felt like your body was slowly being set on fire, and you moaned impatiently as he slid off the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms under your thighs the way he loved to do.

When his mouth finally landed over your pussy, you nearly fell back against the bed. A cry of pleasure tore from your throat. The hand you weren't leaning on came up and grabbed his hair while you squirmed in his grip. His lips were sealed over your pussy. He was alternately sucking at your clit and circling it with his tongue. You struggled to breathe as he continued working at a careful pace.

"Miguel," you gasped, your thighs flexing beneath his hands.

Miguel moaned against you, his movements growing faster and faster. His head pressed firmly against you. Your heart was pounding furiously in your chest as you tried to keep your arm from buckling. His tongue moved expertly against you, lapping hungrily at your swollen clit. You tugged at his hair as you tried moving under his arms, but his grip kept you in place.

Your head fell back with a long whine. You knew at the rate he was going that you weren't going to last long. He was all too familiar with the way your body worked, and he knew exactly where to focus his efforts to get you off.

Lifting your head up again, you blinked your eyes open to look down at him. Half of his face was blocked by your arm, so you released the hold you had on his hair, letting your hand trace the edge of his face. His dark eyes were gazing up at you intently, watching your every reaction.

Letting your hand fall away from his face, it rested on your thigh as you let out another high-pitched moan. Without stopping his tongue, Miguel released his grip on your leg and took your hand in his. You looked down at him and squeezed his hand while he continued swirling his tongue over your pussy.

"Don't stop," you panted, your stomach tensing from his movement. He tightened his grip in two quick pulses, and even though his mouth never left your cunt, you could practically hear the words he was thinking—I won't.

Your legs were shaking now, and you barely had the strength to keep yourself up off the bed. Pleasure was taking over your body and coiling at your stomach. Miguel knew you were close by the quickening of your breath and the tightening of your grip, his tongue maintaining its steady pressure.

Finally, with a loud cry, your body began trembling under his touch. You squeezed his hand hard as you came against his mouth. The feeling of ecstasy burned in every part of your body while you struggled to breathe from the pleasure that had now completely overwhelmed you.

Miguel eased his pace to lazy circles, his eyes alight with smug satisfaction. You writhed under his mouth, growing restless from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel. "Oh, fuck," you gasped, moving your hips to escape his warm tongue. He let you move away from his face, releasing his grip on your hand and thigh.

Miguel pushed himself off the ground and began crawling over your body. "See?" he said in satisfaction, sounding out of breath. "I'll always take care of you." You moaned again, still trying to recover from your high. "Careful O'Hara," you managed to say. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

He smirked down at you, his lips and chin glistening with your wetness. Pushing forward, his body forced yours down. You wrapped one arm around his shoulders, clinging to him to keep from laying on the bed. "Not like this—my stitches," you whispered.

Miguel froze for a second before placing a hand behind your back to help you up. "How do you want it?" He asked quietly. You took a second and bit your lip as you considered the myriad of ways he could fuck you.

"Like before," you decided finally.

His subtle smile returned, and he rolled off of your body and onto the bed. Pulling yourself up, you straddled him again, though perhaps not so fast since you were still hazy from your orgasm. His hands guided you back down to where his cock was waiting for you.

Miguel rested his head on your good shoulder as you lowered yourself slowly back down on him. His hot breath fanned against your skin as he groaned at the feeling of your wet pussy around him. You let out a strangled gasp, feeling yourself stretch out again for him. You moved slowly, still halfway stuck in the stupor his mouth had left you in, and everything was still so sensitive for you.

Gradually, you began moving again. Miguel's arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing his body up against yours. His skin felt like fire—burning, consuming, enthralling. You rested your head against his as his strong arms helped lift you up and down his length.

"You feel so fucking good," he grunted quietly against your cheek. "You don't understand...what you do to me." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulder as he spoke. The movement of his cock inside you made it difficult for you to formulate a response, but you managed to choke out, "Tell me. Tell me what I do to you."

He groaned softly. "You drive me fucking crazy," he muttered. "I can never focus when you're with me—," he groaned again, "—but I can never stop thinking about you when you're not." His arms were moving you up and down faster as he spoke, and you could tell he was fucking out his frustration. "The way you smell," he continued breathlessly, "the way you feel, the way you look when you're cumming all over my cock."

You gasped sharply, the combination of his words and his increasingly desperate pace rendering you speechless. "I want to have you every second...of every day," he murmured in your ear. You were panting hard against his skin while his cock continued driving deep into your aching cunt.

"Then have me," you whispered so quietly that he wouldn't have heard it over the lewd sounds of your fucking if it hadn't been said directly in his ear. "Have me every day."

He groaned, and turning his face, he captured your lips in a kiss. The taste of your pussy still lingered on his mouth, and you moaned softly against his lips. Everything felt so good, and when you broke away from your kiss, you looked deep into Miguel’s eyes and whispered, “I’m yours.”

And just like that, Miguel's body tensed, and with a long moan against your skin, he came inside you. You stilled as he held you tightly against his body. Beside the sound of your heart beating furiously in your ears, there was only your heavy breathing to fill the silence between you.

You could've stayed like that forever, feeling his strong arms wrapped around your body, hearing his breath against your ear. Your body still buzzed with pleasure, and there was nothing in your mind except that cursed phrase you fought so hard to ignore, the one that whispered to you constantly in the back of your brain every time you looked at Miguel.

I love you.

Over and over, it echoed in your mind, begging to be spoken. You'd heard it nagging in your heart for a while now, and you had tried your best to ignore it. Even after weeks of next to no contact, your feelings hadn't wavered for him.

Now, as you sat there wrapped in each other's arms, you felt those words ringing louder than ever, and for one dreadful moment, you thought you might say it out loud.

No—no, you couldn't. A bolt of fear yanked the words off your tongue. You couldn't jeopardize this. It was too precious to you. Even if this was all you could have, the occasional fuck, sleeping together knowing that he would always have to leave for something more important than yourself—wasn't it better than nothing? Wasn't it better than before when you were all alone? Especially now that he admitted to feeling something real for you, you couldn't ruin it with those three words.

Miguel finally moved when he turned his head toward yours. Your noses brushed against each other for moment as you both gasped for breath before your lips pressed down on his. You moaned against him softly. Still holding your body to his, he leaned back against the bed, bringing you down with him so that you lay on his chest.

After your breathing began leveling out, you shifted, allowing his cock to pull out of you with a groan. You slid off his chest onto your good shoulder with your body still pressed against his. You lay there like that for a while in comfortable silence, enjoying the feeling of each other's warm skin.

"It's been too long," Miguel sighed, finally breaking the silence. You smiled. "And whose fault is that?" You asked as you looked up at him. A small smile formed on his lips. "You were the one who swore you'd catch Ghost," he pointed out. "Is it my fault for believing you?"

You scoffed. "It's your fault for making that stupid rule in the first place," you argued. There was a quiet chuckle that rumbled in his chest. "It's called compromise, sweetheart," he said smoothly. "I can't let you have everything you want."

You tried to keep a straight face, but his snark caused your lips to quirk upward. "And why not?" You demanded to know, propping yourself up onto your elbow to look deep in his eyes.

Miguel looked at you with a subtle smile still adorning his face. "Because then everyone is going to complain about how I favor you over everyone else," he replied evenly. "And then, one by one, they'll all leave until it's just you and me."

You hummed thoughtfully. "That doesn't sound so bad," you said, settling back down next to him. "Just you and me against the multiverse."

He hummed as well. "Just you and me," he repeated, and in his voice, you could hear him imagining it, the two of you together across every universe.

You had imagined it before, too. You and Miguel, together, always, through everything. It was such a sweet dream, and yet the truth was the bitter chaser that always followed your longing—different dimensions, different lives. What future could you have together?

If Miguel was thinking the same thing, he didn't say it. He seemed content to just lay with you in silence while his fingers gently caressed your arm.

After a moment, you sighed. You could feel Miguel's head turn to look down at you in curiosity.

"You know, I meant what I said before," you told him softly.

"Hmm?"

"About being more than just a fling you can ignore outside of the bedroom," you explained.

"Ah."

You felt his head turn back up to stare at the ceiling, but his fingers still brushed against your skin. "I mean, is that what you still want?" You asked, lifting your gaze to look at his face. "Be honest."

There was a beat of silence before he quietly answered, "No."

You waited, hoping he would say more. He sounded almost reluctant in his reply, so you could tell there was more to it.

It was Miguel's turn to sigh. "I don't—I don't want this to be casual either," he began slowly. "I want it to be real, but I can't give up my work here. I won't. And one day, you'll hate me for not putting you first."

You scoffed lightly at those last words. "I could never hate you," you told him. There was a slight pause before he muttered, "Don't be so sure."

It could've been a joke, but the way he said it was so serious, it made you pause, and looking up at his face, you found there wasn't any traces of humor. You pushed yourself up a bit to face him better. His eyes moved back to you, and you held his stare for a moment.

"I could never hate you," you repeated in a soft, earnest whisper. Miguel didn't respond, he only watched you carefully before a tiny, sad smile pulled at his lips, looking as though he wanted to believe you.

"Careful," he murmured. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

You smirked at him and leaned in close. "I'll try my best not to," you said before closing the gap between your lips. He kissed you gently before pulling away to say, "And I'll try—about what you want, I'll try."

Your heart leapt, and there wasn't anything you could do to contain your smile. "Thank you," you whispered before kissing him again. You could feel him grinning against your lips, and his arms pulled you close. When you broke apart, you settled back down next to him.

"If they all start complaining though, I'm blaming you," he said. You chuckled. "Fair is fair," you replied. "If they don't like it, they can leave." He huffed in amusement. "Until it's just you and me?" He asked.

"Until it's just you and me."

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader - The match-maker (Pt. 1)

AN: A few months ago (oopsie), someone requested that I write about Y/N meeting Callum Turner through Austin Butler, a common friend. TW: none except maybe drama regarding past relationships. No smut.

I've changed the set from L.A that was originally requested to New York but it's only to squeeze in gowns and a red (pinkish?) carpet. Part 2 will be up very soon.

If you have any requests, do send a message, I love receiving them. I take requests on Hozier, Callum Turner and Robert Pattinson mostly but feel free to contact me for whoever :)

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Y/N could count on Austin to get her through ups and downs. Ever since they had met in primary school back in Anaheim, they had grown a strong relationship. They had been through so much together and considered each other to be like brother and sister. When Y/N was not at Austin’s, then it was Austin being at Y/N’s house. 

If at some point, they had thought of getting together as they knew each other so well and had grown out to be beautiful young people besides being beautiful souls, they had abandoned the idea as they cherished their friendship too much for any of the drama. That being said, they LOVED talking about their more or less chaotic experiences when it came to the subject of relationships. Austin had far more luck on that one than her as, after being with Vanessa Hudgens for so long, he had found his significant other responding by the name of Kaia Gerber. 

Kaia was great to her best friend and Y/N sensed that she was ready to commit to such a relationship as she noticed the two blooming. For years, Y/N had nourished disastrous relationships with men, between those who cheated on her, those who needed a nurse rather than a lover and those who just ghosted her. Austin had always been there to support her through break ups and was ready for her to meet someone new that she could trust. It pained him to see her feeling less and less self-confident because of the attitude of some jerks.

*** On the set of Masters of the Airs. Newland Park, February, the 14th of 2022 ***

Austin had begun working on an upcoming TV show in which he was fulfilling one of his boyhood’s dreams of becoming a pilot. It was one of many perks of becoming an actor and he had the chance to fulfill that dream with his colleagues that he had learnt to call his friends. Among them, he mostly loved working with Callum Turner.

He had seen him in productions such as War and Peace and Emma but never had the opportunity to work with him, nor to meet him. Since the beginning of the show’s filming, the two of them had become good friends, sharing most of their time on and off set together.

They found themselves to have many shared interests but what Austin liked the most about his colleague and friend was his integrity. He had not met a humble actor like him in a while and it was a fresh view for him who had gotten used to obnoxious people in the industry. 

Austin did not think of Callum to be a great match for Y/N from the beginning, nor in fact did he think of taking the role of a match-maker at all. But it struck him on a strange day, in February of 2022. Well, to put some context there, it was Valentine’s Day and Austin hated not having the opportunity to spend it with Kaia. He grunted all day about this missed chance to which Callum, always so light-hearted, made him aware that he could be happy to have a Valentine to wish it to.

Callum was not the sort of man to talk about his personal life to anyone but he had known Austin for the past seven months. He felt as though he was ready to share more information about him, such as his traumatic past when it came to dating. And of course, that resonated with what Austin was hearing from Y/N. 

By 2 pm London time (6 am L.A time), Austin was trying to comfort Callum about the fact he had no Valentine to celebrate while by 9 pm London time (1 pm L.A time), Austin was receiving a text from Y/N complaining about not having a boyfriend to go on a date with. It did not take much thinking for Austin to come up with a plan.

In the next few weeks, he tried to convey some hints towards Callum, letting him know that his best friend was the greatest person he had ever met while simultaneously texting Y/N about how excited he was to be playing with no less than Callum Turner.

Mind you, Y/N had already heard of that name somewhere. It rang a bell but she did not know much about his filmography and quite frankly, did not bother looking any further than that. She was just happy that her best friend could play with someone that he apparently was fanboying over.

And Callum… What is there to say? He was completely oblivious about those hints that Austin made more and more obvious. It was as though he did not think to be worthy of her if she was as great as Austin described her to be.

Austin was convinced that the two should give it a go as Callum expressed interests for things Y/N was crazy about or that time when he mentioned that he had a dog that was looking just like Y/N’s childhood dog. And yeah, lots of people have a dog growing up and like music and photography but Austin was a sucker for a good love story. Screw that, he would be a match-maker, he decided as the Met Gala was near. He had to do something about it.

*** Met Gala. New York, May, the 2nd of 2022 ***

Finally, Austin had gotten back from the set of Masters of the Airs for a stay in New York. He was determined to enjoy his night at the Met Gala along with his girlfriend and had insisted that Callum join him, letting him know that it would do him good to go on a trip and forget about yet another date gone wrong.

It did not take much convincing as Callum was tired of staying in England for so long and had not seen New York in years because of Covid. Though he was not invited to the Met Gala, he was more than happy to attend it vicariously through his friend and his friend’s girlfriend. 

It was somewhat more difficult to convince Y/N to come to New York as she was a girl from the West who only came to the East in case of an emergency. The Met Gala surely was no emergency from her but Austin could not let go of his plan that easily. 

If there was something Y/N cared truly about, it was Austin of course but also her career as a photographer. And though she personally had no intention of following the Met Gala, Austin had made calls here and there to squeeze a spot as one of the official photographers of the event.

Y/N had repeatedly asked Austin not to go full-on nepotism with her as she saw him getting famous. She wanted her career to be defined only by her work and not by the people she counted as friends so when Austin told her the opportunity he had ahead of her, she first scolded him for that but it also was clear that she had no job offer as huge as this one. 

She made him promise that it would be last time he interceded in her career while thanking him for the occasion. She packed her suitcase and left to the airport.