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peachetteprice · 6 months ago

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Driving Habits | TF141

Disclaimer: Some of these are UK specific, including the style of car, manoeuvres, terminology, and gearbox. That's what happens when the boys live and work mostly in England! Also, I am almost taking my practical test in September, and I need to rant about certain habits. Sorry in advance to Soap and Ghost. Love you both, boys.

Credit to @soaps-mohawk for giving me the inspiration to explore this headcanon! It began with an exploration into what cars TF141 might drive! You can see the original post that inspired this here.

+ Including interactions when driving with an S/O!

Notorious one-handed driver. The other hand is either on the gearstick - just resting, contemplating - or mediating between the gearstick and your thigh. He loves a good reverse bay park. (He's an absolute beast at it, too. No need for minor adjustments. He just... knows the space. And he will make fun of you when you can't park as perfectly as him). Helps to get the shopping in better, because at least you can get to the boot! Has been known to swerve a little bit for birds in the road, but that's because he's an avid watcher, and the poor things get enough grief as it is - he wants to still be able to watch Robins and Thrushes in the trees on the weekend!

Captain John Price:

He does, however, neglect rabbits, foxes, badgers, squirrels, and rats. And the... occasional deer in Scotland? Not out of malice - not at all - but they're not worth swerving over and potentially causing a collision for. He might, only if you're with him - because you'll squeal if he doesn't and positively become harrowed by its body popping beneath the rear tyre - but it's much safer for a driver to simply ram it into the gravel than to mess around with the safety of himself, other drivers, and - of course - you.

Takes extra care around vehicles with stickers that denote that the occupants of said vehicle - bar the driver or secondary passengers - are animals or children. He will be extra sure to check his mirrors, touch on the brakes if need be, and will actively scan for dangerous drivers that he can shield the car from. His duty is to protect, after all, in whatever capacity.

That being said, in his youth, he was known to drive... a little faster than required. Only on country lanes does he still retain some of his more... reckless habits. He may go a touch too fast around corners, and ignore the chevrons that indicate the severity of a turn (one arrow, two, three), and if the road opens up to a sprawling range, whereby speed control for tight corners and blind junctions is not an issue, he will... perhaps... occasionally - only rarely if you're in the car with him - let her rip.

Begrudgingly drives your shuddering little Fiat 500 or itty bitty Hyundai i20 (hey, what do you mean, tiny, it's perfect for the city, John! Pay no mind if your boys giggle and point when you turn up at the base in it...), though much prefers the Triumph Spitfire, 1979, mint-condition, that he bought in 2008 for three grand and fixed up over a ten-year period (when he wasn't deployed, that was) which is now worth £18,000. That is his profit! But he won't let another soul touch it, drive it, or so much as look at it - unless it's you, on a good day - until the day he dies. It's in stunning condition, but God help you if you reverse into the driveway without him watching like a hawk, wiggling his hand as if it were the paddle of an aeroplane conductor, telling you to move closer to the wall and risk scratching your car just to protect his darling baby. It... oh no... it might be the only thing he loves more than you...

But those roads are his home, that's all!

Always, always, always over-revs the engine to get out of a junction. He can't help it! He's used to manoeuvring through rough terrain with a car the size of a military tank - he's bound to forget to treat a normal car with a normal amount of strength. He comes flying into and out of roundabouts for that exact reason! He has to get on and off them quickly enough - don't you know, they're deathtraps, they are!

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He's also prone to checking his side mirrors and rear view mirror an inordinate amount of times for a twenty-minute pop to the shop. He is convinced that the Kia Sportage behind him is right up his tail - he's sure it's stalking you in the passenger seat, especially with your bumper stickers on the rear, the nasty perverts - no matter how many times you explain to him that the mirrors are convex! They will make everything seem closer than they truly are! Now, however, he does not and will not ever brake-check a car, but he will sure as hell give them the dirtiest stare if they decide to overtake him... or until they back off a few more feet behind you.

The poor man gets impatient at lights. He does. And crossings, too. Train, tram, pedestrian, any and all of them. Despises them all. He'd rather a set of traffic lights for people to cross at, than have those silly zebra, pelican or toucan markings along the road that he has to pray Grandma Doris won't divert her walking cane in its bilateral direction. Oh, and he bounces his leg like there's no tomorrow. Again, he can't help it! He isn't used to waiting in cars. He's used to tumbling down roads in Middle Eastern deserts as the crow flies. None of those silly turns and re-routes into estates because he took the wrong turn at a junction. He wouldn't have messed up had he had time to think! Had there been no traffic! And, oh, Christ, the traffic. Simon does not like traffic. He does illegal U-turns as soon as he sniffs there being a road closure - that's how much he dislikes waiting!

You'll never forget the day that he wrenched the handbrake up way too high, and you had to get your father to re-tighten it. You're sure there aren't any more notches he can lift it to. You're rarely ever on a hill that warrants it. He'll crank it up six times just to stop at the traffic light before the Tesco. It's bloody Tesco! It's not Mount Kilimanjaro!

Never gets the bite point consistently. Never gets the damn bite point. Always too low or too high. He doesn't over-rev it like Ghost does, but the amount of times he stalls the bloody car, thinking he's in another one of those tank-sized vehicles that has a brand-spanking new bite point - or dare he say, an automatic gearbox that doesn't even require a clutch - is incalculable. You'd think the man has only just learnt to drive!

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Notoriously speeds through built-up areas. Often commits to doing 45mph in a 30mph zone. Only when there isn't anyone around, like at nighttime! He consistently zooms past speed cameras in his BMW. His poor 3L engine is just too powerful for those dinky little roads. And, promise, he doesn't do it on purpose! He just routinely forgets to glance at his speedometer (and his mirrors, but that's another issue), and he drives for himself and himself only. In fact, he often hums to himself and forgets you're even there, beside him, clutching onto the internal handle on the roof in case he veers too suddenly to either side. His object permanence doesn't prevail unless he has one hand on your inner thigh, and if he doesn't, well, you can kiss safe driving habits goodbye.

(Oh, and he always sits on the brake. And bite + gas. The handbrake is too cumbersome, and his feet are strong enough, Goddamnit!)

Alright, that isn't to say he's an... unsafe driver. He's only slightly inconsiderate. He brakes too harshly, too late, too suddenly, he coasts on the clutch around corners, he never feeds the steering wheel, and he sometimes forgets to check his mirrors before turning into a junction (but he's never T-boned a cyclist... yet... you can give him a tick for that one). But he hums and whistles a nice tune to himself - he prefers it to the radio, and that's not to say he prefers quiet so he can hear the sound of the engine, no, no... never... not at all - and he always makes an overt point to note every field of cows, sheep (especially horses!) as well as every cat he sees lurking along the pavements. Never dogs. Doesn't like the bastards. Got bit once. That was enough to turn him right off.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Beautiful driver. Test-accurate. He could re-take it today and pass with flying colours. What a brilliant driver. The only bad habit he's picked up is driving with one hand (he tends to bite his fingernails on the other when he drives - helps with the stress of commuting in London), and never feeding the steering wheel through his hands. He does the wipe-on, wipe-off manouvre, mostly because he looks hot when doing it, though he tries not to. Mama Garrick always swats his hand whenever he does it because that's how drivers get into accidents, baby!

Car-shares with his mother, whether it's in her duck-egg blue Kia Picanto or his lime green Ford Fiesta - it has failed its MOT three bloody times, and he's revived that girl from death's vice grip more times than he can count, it has the mileage of a postal worker in the 1700s, nearing 200k - but this gentleman always remembers to bring the seat forward and upright after he's finished using it, so that her feet can touch the pedals, and to, naturally, reduce her back pain. He does the same with the headrest, too, because if there's anything he cares about more than his job, it's the safety of his family and friends!

Tends to drive on the cautious side. The only minor fault he'd get in a test would be hesitance because he simply doesn't trust any other driver but himself. His mother drilled that into him. She said that there's nothing worse than watching a car flash its headlights and signal you to go, with caution, as always, because the flash is not universal for 'go', only to pull in front of you and trigger you to emergency brake. Or, God-forbid, a pedestrian puts their hand up at you before they've even crossed the bloody road, and he has to slam on the brakes like he's Speedy Gonzalez at a traffic light. Lordy Lord.

Never mind the fact that he waits too long at pedestrian crossings because there could be somebody shrouded by that tree on the corner there. Do you see it? Over there! No, behind the sign, love! There could be someone - oh, whatever. He has to wait to make sure it's clear - otherwise, Grandma Doris is getting bumped in the legs and thrown fifty feet along the road! And he cares about the elderly!

Always nervously bites the insides of his cheek at roundabouts. Which is the most bewildering part of all, because he's so good at them! He always signals onto the roundabout. Never cuts lanes. Always follows directions perfectly, and if he doesn't, well, I guess you're taking a different route until you can turn around in a safe place. He always signals off the roundabout, too - even at mini-roundabouts - but he'll scrunch his face up every time, huff, and mutter:

"Yeah... botched that one."

...Regardless of how many times you tell him that he's a gorgeous driver! It's sexy, too, how he abides by the Highway code and gives way to more cars than he really should - no, except he really should stop doing that, actually, they're starting to take advantage of his kindness and he doesn't realise it - and how he's so... so... so fucking smooth with gear transitions. Going from stationary to a comfortable 20mph? He'll pop that sucker so fluidly into third (or second, if it's his mum's car) with such prowess that you barely notice the engine take the gas he's giving it. There's no jolt between first and second. He plays those gears like he's bowing a violin. How delicate his fingers are. How gentle his touch. It's mesmerising to watch.

And, you're about ready to give him your hand in marriage when you notice that every time he comes to a stop - on a hill, at a traffic light, in crawl traffic, waiting to turn into a junction, he puts the handbrake on, then takes his foot off the foot brake, then knocks the gearstick into neutral, then takes his foot off the clutch, and waits patiently like the darling man he is. Unlike someone else, he never sits on the brake...

Gaz even brakes in ample time, and you thought he couldn't be more perfect! That's what really gets you going - he gives the car behind him just the right amount of time to slow down that it's almost a waltz, and he's the conductor of traffic. Though... maybe don't let him get trapped at a stalemate on a mini-roundabout where all cars are turning left and are subsequently blocked by the need to give way to the right... his poor brain will short-circuit! If he does, give him a pat on the thigh and let him wait for someone else to make the first move - he hates decision-making when he's off-duty.

Bonus Round - Road Rage!

Captain John Price:

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Road Rage? You mean, showing a healthy amount of anger and vigour towards a bloody idiot driver? You mean... baring his teeth and swatting a hand at them, occasionally honking the horn past eleven-thirty, even if people are sleeping, or pulling out one of his anger-insurance cigars? That's what road rage is? Well... Christ, he must be terrible for it. Don't tell his boys that... they think he's the most level-headed man on base.

He's slightly oblivious to the technique of cars around him. He drives like he's the only driver in the world, because usually he is - except for those fuckers behind you who won't back off - but if something does happen, and if it isn't too much of an issue, he'll grunt, clench his teeth, grip the steering wheel and let out a muttered 'bastard'. If, however, something really irritates him - especially if another car puts you in danger - he'll honk the horn and flail his hand at the windscreen in the hopes that the driver sees his frustration (even if you're the one driving, he'll reach over and honk the pad for you, even though you've told him not to!)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Well... he certainly knows a lot of Gaelic, doesn't he, your boy? You've hardly a monkey's bottom of what he's saying, but the vitriol in which he says it - he's not known for bottling his anger very well - makes it clear to you that he needs a hug and de-tox before bedtime. If the accused does anything on the defensive or antagonistic, he has been known to pull up beside them on a two-lanes-go-straight-on road marking, even if it isn't the right way to your destination, just to glare at them and give them the... stern finger. Maybe... maybe a word or two about precious cargo.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Gaz is a simple guy when he's off-duty. He will sigh, tut, shake his head, and mumble 'nutter', or a very hushed 'oh, you absolute...' (bonus: he never finishes his sentence!) It's what his mum does! If another car puts you in danger, he may groan and roll his eyes - but he always asks if you're okay as soon as, and apologises for the sudden violence of his attitude! What a sweet man.

| Masterlist |

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hoonieyun · 21 days ago

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score: love!

secret admirer

pairing: lee heeseung x reader "y/n"

warnings: profanity, cheating allegations, not much but always 18+

ignore time stamps and any possible typos lol - this chapter is partially written, please make sure to read the written portion to fully understand the story!

wc: 1352

heeseung nervously walked out of his car and towards the decelis lounge. the automatic doors whirring as he enters, taking a gander at the lounge to see if he could find jinsoul and sure enough, there she was sitting towards the back; already staring at heeseung who stood at the entrance looking like a deer in headlights.

“heyyyy, jinsoul. how are you?” heeseung asks, awkwardly wiping his sweaty hands on his shorts. jinsoul urges heeseung to sit and although he was reluctant, jinsoul urges him that she’s not there to yell at him. this instantly calms heeseung down and just before the two are able to have their talk, a waiter asks what heeseung would like. he opts for an iced peach tea as he watches jinsoul sip on a cup of hot green tea.

“so, what did you wanna talk about?” heeseung asks and jinsoul lays it out simply. she’s worried about yn and heeseung knew where this was going. “look, i know i fucked up and im trying to fix it-” heeseung says but jinsoul cuts him off. “that’s not what i’m talking about. i’m confident you guys will fix your issues but i think someone is trying to fuck with her…” jinsoul explains and heeseung is confused at her words.

“fuck with her? like eric?” he asks and jinsoul shrugs. “i’m not sure. someones been texting her these weird messages and at first we thought it was just a prank, it’s starting to feel a little targeted. it has some stuff about the two of you.” jinsoul says, pulling her phone out to show heeseung the screenshots of the text messages yn had been receiving.

heeseung is shocked at the messages and he couldn’t believe that there was a photo of him and chaewon when she cornered him into being late to practice, the whole reason why you weren’t talking to him right now and was so upset at him for. “wait… this number looks familiar.” heeseung says, pulling out his phone to see if the number was in his contacts but it didn’t match with anyones.

“this is fucking insane. who the fuck would do this…” heeseung asks and jinsouls shrugs. she explains that you’ve been going through it lately and these text messages are only making things worse. not to mention that argument the two of you got into because of missing practice.

“that wasn’t my fault! i know i blew up on her but chaewon was the reason why i was late. she cornered me before i could leave my house and parked in front of my driveway so i couldn’t leave.” heeseung began to explain while jinsoul listened attentively.

he explains his history with chaewon; heeseung has always known who yn was. she was the promising and upcoming tennis prodigy when they were teenagers and as jake’s best friend, they were bound to know each other. as yn got better and better and found more opportunities to play tennis, heeseung couldn’t help but admire her and her talent, but her beauty as she played tennis, it was something different. something ethereal and majestic.

heeseung had developed a crush on yn that only jake knew about but as time went on, you had become unattainable because you just seemed so out of league. at some point, you had started dating eric and to suppress heeseung’s feelings for yn, he started dating chaewon.

the two pairs later became rivals in the mixed doubles tennis scene and the incident that led to your hiatus due to your injury. heeseung was gutted knowing how much he had hurt you, physically and mentally. he felt a level of guilt that he had never experienced before and knowing how much chaewon loathes you, he felt even worse.

the year before your return, heeseung had started secretly sending you flowers and letters filled with positive affirmations and words of encouragement. jinsoul’s face shifts from intently listening to shock when she realizes that the flowers you had been receiving was from heeseung the whole time. you and your friend group would often make jokes or guesses on who your secret admirer was and now that jinsoul knew, she felt like things were falling into place.

chaewon at one point caught heeseung dropping off the flowers at the hospital because her sister had worked there and this led to a big fight between the two. chaewon claimed that heeseung was cheating on her and her hatred for you only grew from there. there was no other reason behind chaewon’s anger towards yn besides the fact that she felt you took the success she deserved. yn never understood this because the two of them trained together and maybe if chaewon focused on her training instead of her hatred for yn, she’d be at a better place than she was now.

soon after your injury, eric had dumped you because you were no longer of use to him. he had said that he couldn’t keep you around because you were “dead weight”. this only added to your constant pressure and weight of not being good enough which only fueled your anger towards heeseung: the cause of your injury.

heeseung never stopped feeling guilty, even when he would fight back on you and claim it wasn’t his fault, it was only his ego speaking because deep down heeseung wishes it was him instead of you that had to deal with the pain and agony.

chaewon had threatened to breakup with heeseung if he ever did anything like that or even looked in your direction and because heeseung couldn’t afford to lose his girlfriend and tennis partner, he ultimately stopped and pushed his love for you deep down into the depths of his heart. like it was simply a candle that was constantly fighting off being inevitably blown out.

the day before registration for this year’s tournament, chaewon had caught heeseung scrolling on your twitter when you had announced that you were returning to competitive and professional play and chaewon blew up. yelling obscenities and accusations at heeseung and not even letting him get a word in before ineveitably breaking it off and leaving heeseung stranded and alone without a tennis partner just one day before registration. chaewon knew this would only lead heeseung back to her but it inevitably backfired.

although heeseung admits that he did only want to be your partner so that he could get chaewon back, he eventually realized that he truly wanted to be your partner because he wanted to get closer to you and show chaewon that he doesn’t need her.

“so that’s where i am now…” heeseung says, finally finishing his drawn out timeline of how he got to where was now.

“holy shit… god what is wrong with straight people…” jinsoul says.

“wait… you’re gay?” heeseung asks and jinsoul looks at him like he had just said something stupid. “oh if you thought i was straight you are highly mistaken…” she says but heeseung quickly moves on from the topic.

“look, i appreciate you wanting to talk; if this in anyway helps me fix my issues with yn, i’ll be grateful. i don’t expect you to tell her everything and fix it for me, but just know i want to fix this just as much as i want her to win.” heeseung confesses.

“don’t you mean, as much as you want the both of you to win?” jinsoul asks and heeseung shakes his head. “no… i want her to win, i don’t care about winning unless she wins.” he says, taking a sip from his peach tea and standing up to walk away. heeseung glances at his watch and sees he’s got to be at practice soon so he heads to his car to grab his gear and makes his way to the court.

jinsoul watches as heeseung gets further away, although she used to be as angry as you in regards to heeseung, she definitely has a better idea of what was happening. this could only be the start of something great, she thought. smiling to herself as she pulls her phone back out and opens the groupchat.

masterlist - backhand - forehand

tennis commentator: finally... FINALLY. heeseung has confessed and it seems that yn is quite smitten as well. now the questions is: who is behind the unknown number?

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

taglist: @jiiyen @pshbites @rairaiblog @fgumi @heartheejake @silquids @who-tf-soddhi @manaah02 @vhuteryh @17ericas @firstclassjaylee @noirvedette @starry-eyed-bimbo @lonelylandofan @sirens-dreams

#kiki diaries #enhypen #score: love!#en-diaries #kpop #kpop au #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #enha #fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen smau #enha smau #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader

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wosoobsessed · 11 months ago

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“Your sick baby”- Leah Williamson x Female reader

Request:

Would you do a Leah x Reader fic where Leah is sick. She refuses to admit in the morning because she’s stubborn but it becomes noticeable during training especially when she throws up. Reader and Leah go home and reader just takes care of her and makes sure she feels alright.

A/N: hope you enjoy I love this one 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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You woke up to the sound of your girlfriend getting dressed in the corner of the room. Your eyes fluttered open, expecting to see your girlfriend in her her normal lively self but instead was met with Leah struggling to pull her jersey over her head. It had been a hard year for your girlfriend with her acl injury last year, you had been there for her no matter what through the anger, tears and denial. All you wanted for her was to be happy. As you looked at her you could see the pain on her face as you sat up against the headboard of your bed it broke your heart to see. Indulged in your own thoughts you missed when Leah crouched down on the floor with her head in her hands.

“ lee what’s wrong” you said concern clear in your voice. “Nothing nothing!” She said almost too quickly to be believable, standing back up and continued to get dressed.You assessed every part of her as you stood up and looked into her eyes. “ lee… if your sick you need to rest” you said cautiously not wanting to anger or upset her. She immediately looked at you like a deer in the headlights the defensiveness coming back to her.

“ Y/N I’m fine” she lied imediently. Your concern deepened and Leah noticed this and immediately her eyes softened as she looked at you. “ baby seriously I’m gonna be fine I’ve got to go” she says before breaking into a coughing fit. You look at her unconvinced but you know how much training means to her so you give in. “ fine but I’m driving you there and back” you say swiftly making your way over to your wardrobe,throwing on jeans and a top, trainers and your puffer jacket before grabbing your car keys and following Leah into your car before making your way to the training park.

You could tell something was wrong. Her pale white face and the way she stumbled as she ran after the ball. She was not well. You sat in the stands watching the session as Kim little looked Up at you with an equally concerned look, you simply just sent her a thumbs down to show that you were also concerned about Leah.

After the session you walked down to the pitch to meet your girlfriend who looked even worse then she did before you left the house. She looked at you with guilt on her face she knew she should of stayed home. You wanted to be your stubborn self and say I told you so but the pain in your girlfriends face broke your heart. You immediately grabbed Leah and her bags and rushed into the car just wanting to get her home. During the car ride home you looked over to Leah as she suddenly gags in her mouth her face now as white as a ghost. You have never drove so fast probably breaking multiple laws but for one you did not want sick in your car and two you wanted Leah to be at home comfortably. As soon as you reached the driveway of your house, Leah rushed through the door immediately taking a b -line for the bathroom, you walked in behind her closing the door and dropping your bag on the floor as you rushed into the bathroom as Leah emptied her stomach into the toilet. You rubbed her back and she continued to throw up, when she had finished she sat up against the bathroom wall and you immediately sat I don’t of her. “ you okay baby” you cooed as she wiped her mouth with a piece of tissue. “ i feel better now” she said quietly. You helped Leah up the stairs into bed and then went to grab her a glass of water, as you walked back into the bedroom placing a bowl and a glass of water on Leah’s bedside table. “ thank you baby” she said croakily “you welcome hunny” you responded softly “ I’m just gonna go unpack your training bag” you said, Leah immediately protested “ no come get in bed y/n/n” she said trying out shout but failing as her voice broke. “ bub I’ll be two seconds you won’t even know-“ she cut you off with the sound of her groaning. “ please baby just come here” she said desperately. she looked like she was on the verge of tears and this made you crumble you gave in and climbed into bed next to her. It was gonna be a long couple of days and you were probably gonna catch all of the germs that she was carrying but you didn’t care your girl needed you and you was gonna be there.

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A/N: I’m so sorry this is kind of shit but This has been in my drafts for a long time 😭😭😭😭😭

I’m taking requests but it depends on what the request is. ❤️

#leah williamson #lionesses #woso community #leah williamson x reader

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mediumgayitalian · 11 months ago

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Blue, blue, blue eyes, wet and red-rimmed. White knuckles clenched around worn canvas. Salty cheeks and bitten-bruised lips.

“I’m running away.”

Echoes in a too-large room, quiet breathing in stale air. Freezing toes on marble floor. Struggling lamplight, gaunt shadows.

“Gimme a minute to pack a bag.”

———

“Shh,” Nico hisses, clamping a hand over Will’s mouth to muffle a shriek. A too-warm hand clutches his hip, scrambling for balance. The rickety wooden lattice creaks under their weight.

The freeze, for one, two, three seconds. Nico strains to hear, watching the crystal-clear, freshly-polished Jalousie window.

No light.

They let out their breath at the same time, Will’s exhale making Nico’s cold hands tingle. At Will’s glare, he removes his hand, wrapping it back around the rung.

“Be more careful, you clumsy fuck.”

“I’m trying!”

To his credit, he really is. He checks and double checks before putting his full weight on the lopsided strips of wood only meant to hold up vines. He doesn’t let go of the rung above him until his feet are firmly planted, and he doesn’t stray far enough from Nico that he couldn’t catch him. He knows the drill.

And, yet.

(Truly, Nico has no idea how he climbed up by himself.)

Thankfully, they make it to the soft lawn in one piece. Will stumbles into a hydrangea bush the second he lets go of the lattice. Nico lands with much more grace, snickering.

“This house hates me,” he whispers, pouting. There are several blue flower petals tangled in his hair; Nico decides not to tell him. “Like, actively.”

“You and me both.”

They sneak quickly across the lawn once Will’s upright again, booking it to Nico’s Jeep. Will takes their bags, tossing them in the back, then slides behind the massive, creepy gargoyle-thing that sits between the garage doors as Nico opens the driver’s door as quietly as physically possible. Once he’s seated, he glances over at Will, waiting for his signal — hand held up in wait, four seconds, five, six — then a rapid shooing motion, eyes trained at the security camera. Fast as he can, Nico shifts into neutral without starting the car, craning his neck to watch out the back window as he peels out of the driveway and onto the street. Once safely behind the massive pine tree that marks the edge of the property, he parks, turning the car on and wincing at the noise.

Two minutes later, Will comes barrelling down the driveway, nearly tripping over untied shoelaces.

“I fucked up, they totally saw me, go go go!”

Nico doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s in drive and racing down the empty street before Will has the door closed.

For a while, he lets their heart rates settle back into something normal. The headlights are dim, no streetlights to make anything brighter, and he squints through the windshield, tense. If a deer jumps out, they’re fucked.

“So,” he says, relaxing as they turn onto familiarly torn-up roads. No street lights here, either, but he knows the woods on either side of the road are a farce. Hardly more than a copse of trees — nothing but farmland for hundreds of acres. No risk of death by Cervidae, thank God. “Running away?”

“There’s a rest stop an hour east,” Will says instead of answering, face buried in a map. “We can sleep there and keep going in the morning.”

Go where, Nico wants to ask, but he knows better than that. There’s a tenseness to Will’s jaw, and something transparently pleading in his eyes.

“Okay,” he finally relents. Will’s obvious relief eases his discomfort. “You gotta direct me, though. And, I swear to God, if you get us lost again, Solace —”

And Will laughs, finally, and it’s small and stilted and there are still tears drying on his cheeks, but it’s real, and stars shine brighter, brighter, brighter.

The two hours to the rest stop pass quickly. Nico is used to long drives, and thankfully he’d filled up a couple days ago, so all he worries about is staying awake and watching for cops. There shouldn’t be any, really, because he’s been the only car on this road the entire time, but Nico isn’t going to chance it. Not again. (He doesn’t have Piper to talk them out of trouble, this time, although Will could possibly manage.)

(Maybe.)

(Well, never say never.)

“How prepared are we to run away?”

Will is quiet for several long, telling moments.

“Well,” he says finally, and Nico sighs. “I think there’s still blankets and pillows in the trunk from last time.”

“Christ alive, William.”

“It’s June! We’re – sheltered! We’ll be fine.”

“Christ alive, William.”

“Oh, can it.”

He bites his tongue, grinning. He doesn’t actually mind – it is June, and they have blankets, and their certainly not going to succumb to the elements in the Jeep. Will, too, is like a goddamn space heater; if anything, they’ll wake up in the morning with the windows fogged.

“I suppose I’ll manage,” he says, watching with interest as a flash of bare skin as Will leans over the seat, sweatshirt riding up his arched back as he digs around for the blankets. He turns back right before Will does, huffing dramatically. “Since there are no other options.”

He fully expects the pillow to the face.

“You’re a dickhead.”

“Dickhead with a license and a vehicle, Sunny Boy, so maybe count your blessings.”

“...Lou Ellen has a car. So there.”

Nico snorts, thinking of the piece of shit Bug that broke down for the twelfth time this year in her driveway, earlier this week. Likely story.

“And, yet.”

“And, yet,” Will agrees, voice significantly softer. He’s fully burrowed in his blanket when Nico looks over; seat reclined as far as it’ll go so he can curl up, knees to chest, all six two of him compressed to something small, delicate. The pillow smushes half his face, and the blanket is pulled up to his nose, and Nico swallows, roughly, because his eyes are bright in the moonlight, and his hair fans, frizzy and damp, slightly, out onto the pillow, and Nico doesn’t need to be a poet to compare his freckled forehead to the starry sky. There is a fragility in him, one he keeps firmly locked inside the deepest parts of him, and as Nico watches it he can see it spilling, pouring, bleeding out of him. In the car, in the dark, in front of Nico. “Goodnight, Nico.”

“Goodnight,” Nico says hoarsely.

By the time he gets the courage to look at Will again, his eyes are already closed, breaths slow and even.

———

“Neeks. Neeks. Nico. Hey, Thanatos. Anubis. Gerard Way. I got more, man, I made a list –”

“Will you stop fucking poking me,” Nico groans, peeking out from his blankets to glare at his aggressor. He regrets it immediately, hissing as the sun burns his retinae.

He can feel Will smiling. “Up and at ‘em, Sunshine. It’s road trip time.” He pauses. “And, also, I’m starving. I packed granola bars for us but I ate them all already. Sorry.”

“Fucker.” Reluctantly, he tugs the blanket fully off, sitting upright and stretching his arms above his head. His back cracks satisfyingly. “Don’t suppose you know where the nearest Dunkin’ is, then.”

“Uh, no.” He looks back to find Will’s eyes snapping back to his, face flushed. “We’re just outside of Arcadia, though? So. I’m. Sure there’s one –”

“Are you good?” Nico asks, squinting. “It’s too early for you to be a weirdo, Will, it’s only –” He checks his phone – “Oh, you motherfucker, it’s like six thirty in the morning! Why the hell are we awake?”

“Road trip!” he says. His face, no longer all screwed up and blotchy, returns to its usual blinding beam.

Great. Now there are two things trying to blind him.

“C’mon, you dork,” Will says again, laughing. He tugs the blanket from Nico’s grip, tossing it haphazardly in the back and pestering him until he scowls, biting out a “Fine, you prick, Jesus,” and rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

He’s still not all the way awake, but he dutifully sits up, buckling his seat belt and starting the car. “Nav,” he mutters, tuning out Will’s chatter.

He loves the guy, but, fuck. It’s six thirty in the goddamned morning. He hasn’t seen six thirty in the morning in a long ass fucking time – even before he graduated at the end of May, he was late to homeroom every single day, without fail. Six thirty is an absurd time to be awake.

“Left here, straight for a bit, and it’ll be on the corner.”

“You’re pointing to the right,” Nico says, patiently, not bothering to fight the smirk cropping up on his face. "Am I turning right?"

This, he’s used to.

“I meant right,” Will sulks. “...I said right in my brain.”

“Sure,” says Nico generously, grin widening.

“Fuck off.”

“What? You try very hard, Will. I’m very proud of you.”

“Choke.”

“Few more years, and you’ll be caught up to the kindergarteners.”

“That’s it, di Angelo –”

He laughs, batting away Will’s smacking hands. “Hey! Hey! No hitting the driver, do you want me to crash –”

By the time Will is done trying to beat him up, Nico has long spotted the sad-looking Dunkin’ Donuts, pulling into the empty parking lot and peering inside.

“Is it even open?” he asks, frowning. The lights are on, but it looks…more soulless than usual, somehow.

“Yep,” Will chirps, clicking off his seatbelt. “The chain opens at five. There's a location in Omaha that's open at 4:30, but as far as their policy goes, five is go time.”

“Nerd.”

“It’s okay, Nico. I’ll stay friends with you even if you get dumber than you already are.”

He grins wickedly. “Least I know my lefts and rights.”

He cackles when Will slams the door, stomping to the Dunkin’s entrance. He’s not really mad – he gets quiet when he gets mad – but it’s good to know that he’s won. (Not that it’s hard. Will is witty, sure, and wicked smart, but his buttons are just a smidge too easy to press. Great fun for Nico, who has raging ADHD and could not resist the allure of a shiny red button if it was going to blow up the Earth with him on it.)

Will is nowhere to be found when Nico gets inside, so he assumes he’s in the washroom and walks up to the counter to make their order. A bored girl a couple years younger than him flips a magazine behind the register, nodding as he comes up.

“I’ll have a black coffee and a…” He squints. “God. A butter pecan swirl signature iced latte.”

“With whipped cream and caramel drizzle?”

Nico sighs, resisting the urge to physically wince. “Yes.”

“Anything else?” says the girl, smile pulling at her lips. “I can put sugar in a cup to go, if you want.”

“He’d probably take that, too,” he agrees snorting. “But nah. Just a couple breakfast sandwiches, if you don’t mind.”

“‘Course.”

She rings him up, letting him know it’s gonna take a minute as the machines boot up. He wanders while he waits, curiously observing a wall of what appears to be scrawled pencil graffiti. Nothing talented, but he has to fight the urge to walk out to the payphone he saw outside and call a few of the numbers, just to see what would happen.

“Hey,” Will says, startling him. He’s changed his shirt and tied his hair back, looking a million times better than last night. Nico finds himself relieved, shoulders slumping imperceptibly.

“Hey.”

“D’you order for us?”

“Got you your morning milkshake monstrosity, don’t worry.”

Will grins. “Drinking black coffee doesn’t make you cool.”

“It does, actually. At any given time I am forty-seven percent cooler than you. More, if you’re wearing cargo shorts.” He glances down. “It’s a forty-nine percent day, apparently.”

“Go wash your face,” Will laughs, shoving him. “I’ll get the food, then we can look at the map.”

He doesn’t take nearly as long as Will did. He brushes his teeth, splashes water on his face, decides his hair looks awesome the way it is – of course he didn’t forget a brush, why would he be a big enough dumbass to forget a brush and also more than one pair of socks – and walks back out. He finds Will tucked in a booth in a corner, chewing on a pink straw, eyeing their giant map intently.

“So,” he says as Nico approaches, handing him his coffee, “I did some math.”

Nico notices a napkin scrawled with ink that he could not read even if he wasn’t dyslexic.

“Geek.”

Will chucks his balled up straw wrapper at him. “We can go five hours-ish on a full tank of gas, and you’re a bit above a half tank, so we got maybe three hours before we need to stop.” He circles a little dot about a quarter way into the state, letters too small for Nico to read. “And since going anywhere near Orlando in the summer is asking to stick us in bumper-to-bumper traffic, that puts us in Anthony.”

“I did not know there was a town named Anthony,” Nico says sagely. “That’s a shit name for a town, if I’m being honest.”

WIll shrugs. “Welcome to Florida. Anyways. Want me to drive? You drove last night.”

“Barely,” Nico dismisses, waving his hand. He likes driving – it’s just scattered enough that he doesn’t get antsy. It’s being a passenger that kills him, although he’s sure they’ll switch on the way back so he can rest. “I’ll drive.”

“‘Kay.”

Will turns his attention back to the map, tapping his pen against the table in between bites of his breakfast sandwich. Every so often he returns to the napkin, scribbling something down and making little hums of concentration.

Nico begins to notice the route he’s drawing extends a ways past state lines.

“So,” he says carefully, eyes trained on his best friend. “Running away.”

Will tenses, again, at the mention of it, although this time he looks more stubborn than lost. Good.

“Road trip,” he corrects. “It’s our last summer, Nico. I turn eighteen in a couple months, and then…” He trails off. Nico waits out the silence, seven seconds, eight, nine. “Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? One last huzzah, road trip around the nation, or whatever?”

“Did you happen to tell your mother about this road trip?”

Will shrugs. “I left a note.”

Nico hums. “Sounds an awful lot like running away. I would know. I’ve been picked up by social services in three separate states.”

“Road trip,” Will corrects again, stubborn set to his brow.

Nico decides to let it go for now.

“Road trip,” he agrees. Will looks at him gratefully. “Where to?”

“That defeats the point of a road trip.” He rolls up the map, looking at Nico like it’s obvious. “Duh. Journey, not the destination, et cetera, et cetera.”

Privately, Nico bets that by tomorrow, Will be be restless and guilty and they will be on their way home. Outwardly, he says, “You have seen a truly disgusting amount of movies,” and Will laughs, and Nico follows him to the Jeep, and knows, as he always does, that he will follow him regardless; across the world, across the country, even back to Shit Fuck, Florida.

———

next chapter

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mp0625 · 1 year ago

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Pass the Cranberries

Oscar Piastri x reader

Taglist. Masterlist.

A/N: To everyone that voted Oscar you were correct! Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate!!

“So I’m meeting your parents today?” Oscar asked, looking at you from the passenger seat.

“Yes, and my brother and sister, my grandparents on both sides, my aunt and uncle from my mom’s side and my great aunt and uncle will be there Thursday.” You list keeping your eyes on the road watching for deer as you wind down the country road.

“How much farther?” He questions after you hit another pothole.

“We are here!” You said as you pull off the larger dirt road onto a smaller one lane dirt road.

“So this is where you grew up?” He looked over at you questionly.

“Yup, born and raised.”

“When was the last time you were here?”

“Weekend before Vegas, while you were at the factory Zac let me go home early, I was able to do most of the work from home.” You said as you go farther up the driveway, as you pass a barn you mention. “That barn is one my great grandpa built, that we used to house cows. But now my mom wants to fix it up and create an air BnB.” As you pull up to the house you put the car in park, and you pop the trunk. As you are getting your suitcases out of the car you hear the front door open.

“Y/N” “Come hear I missed you!” Your mom is now standing on the front porch.

“You saw me two weeks ago.” You said as you walked over to give her a hug.

“Oh, me and your dad saw you on TV, they showed the analysts on the McLaren pit wall and we recognized you.” Your mom said holding you at arm's length. “Come inside, it’s chilly out here. Can I get y’all a drink?” She said opening the front door. As Oscar comes up the stairs behind you carrying your bag.

“Thank you.” Giving him a kiss on the cheek, you grab your bag from him and head inside.

The next morning, as you are drinking your coffee on the front porch. You hear mom call, “Y/N, can you run up to the gas station and grab a couple bags of ice? Please.”

“Yes ma’am.” You said standing up finishing your last sip of coffee. “Oscar, do you want to go with me? It’s about a 20 minute ride there and back.”

“Sure, let me grab my jumper.” He said heading into the house.

Once y’all were on y’all way back Oscar broke the comfortable silence by saying. “I didn’t realize you grew up this far out of town.”

“Yeah it was a little hard to do sports and stuff, but I loved it and wouldn’t have it any other way.” You said with a smile.

Once you pull in and get the ice unloaded. Your mom asks Oscar. “Can you help me with the mashed potatoes by peeling the potatoes? Please.”

“Sure.” He says coming into the kitchen. After a few minutes he asks. “Hey Y/N, am I doing this right?” Showing you a half peeled potatoe.

“Yeah, it looks perfect.” You said.

Thursday morning Oscar woke up to absolute chaos, you and your mom running around putting pots on the stove and turning crock pots on and firing up the smoker, even though y’all did most of the cooking yesterday. As you were putting the green beans on you heard someone pulling up the gravel driveway. You hear your dad shout from the front porch, “They’re here.” After everyone comes in and says hi and gets hugs, y’all settle on the couch and catch up while your aunt puts her food in the oven to keep warm.

In the middle of dinner You and Oscar were talking about one of the races from earlier this year, to your aunt. You hear your sister start up. “They Shouldn’t have done that, that's what caused him to crash!”

“You're just saying that because he’s your favorite.” Your brother shouted back.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not.”

As they continue to get louder you start to call their names but they aren't listening so you have to resort to. “Will you please pass the cranberries?” “Will you please pass the cranberries?” “Please pass the cranberries!” You said hitting your hands on the table after every word.

Taglist: @studioreader @honethatty12 @slafgoalskybaby @swissboyhisch @topguncultleader @wondershells @cixrosie

#f1 imagine #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #hockey girlies discord #mp0625 writes

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piss-pumpkin · 9 months ago

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🌓 waking nightmares⚡️

(Older) Dipper pines x reader, Douce amere chapter 15 ~3.6k words, masterlist Prev

“Y/n!” Dipper hollered, one hand on the car door, the other on the centre armrest, all for balance. “Did you fucking forget how to drive since this morning?!”

Bill laughed, and it sounded maniacal in your voice. “Maybe!” He said.

Mabel was, maybe for the first time, dead silent. Eyes wide and sitting straight up, she too held into the car door handle for dear life. Don’t hurt them, please.

And you were reeling. If it was possible, given your condition. Bill kept your eyes on the road, at least. It seemed he didn’t have the intention to kill all of you at the current moment, since he had plenty the opportunity.

Bill nearly rammed into the mystery shack when he parked, and Dipper and Mabel sighed in relief when they finally opened the doors. Dipper practically fell out. “Y/n, what the fuck was that?” He asked, shooting you crazy eyes.

…You’re not being subtle with them, you thought tiredly. They know I wouldn’t drive like that. They’ll figure you out.

“The sun was going crazy,” Bill said, stepping out of the car. As he turned you caught a glimpse at Mabel, who was leaning on the trunk for support, shifting her balance from one foot to the other. “I was half blind that whole time.” He gestured at your sunglasses, tapping the sides of them.

Dipper shott you a more than quizzical look, his brow furrowed in exaggerated distain. He leaned down, resting his arms on the car roof and poking his head in the open door. “You know,” he started, rolling his eyes. He seemed to lose the will to fight you, and pushed off the car. “Come on,” he said, gesturing for you to come.

Bill shook your head. “Nah, I gotta get back home,” he said.

Dipper looked disappointed, his face falling slightly, despite your nearly killing him today. You were almost brought to smile by it, his sadness at the thought of you leaving. It was cute. “Okay, text me when you’re coming next,” he said.

Bill, nodded, put it in reverse, and pull out of the driveway. “You’re too sappy, it makes me sick,” Bill said, speeding down the road.

…Fuck you.

“Oh, don’t be so sullen,” He laughed, swerving across the yellow lines. “I like having somebody to talk to.”

A deer jumped in front of the car, and Bill swerved nearly into the ditch. The bottom of the car scraped the dirt as Bill got back on the road.

Wonder if the car is gonna be okay. You watched at the trees melted into the small town scene as you approached your aunts house. Wait a second. Did we just steal Stans car?

“Sure did!” Bill sang.

He’s never letting me take that car again, is he?

”You won’t have to worry about that,” Bill casually hand waved. What? He was coming up on Susan’s house now, and you weren’t trying to think about anything at all.

Luckily she was working. Bill parked messily across the driveway, blocking any other car that could try to pull in. He didn’t bother locking the door behind you, and he tore through the halls walking like marionette doll, bouncing between the walls as he crashed around as if on misguided puppet strings. Ouch. That might hurt later.

“No matter how many time I try it, I’ll never get used to human pain,” Bill laughed, coming to the kitchen. “It’s so neat!” He went through all the cupboards, eating several strange and old foods Susan had in the very back. The standout was a can of maple beans from the fifties. That could hurt later too.

He went through all the drawers, running your fingers over the serrated edges of butter knives and at the prongs of forks. His eyes lingered on a meat cleaver for longer than you’d have liked. But he didn’t grab for it.

He ran your hands under cold water for a minute, then hot, seemingly taking in all the sensations. Your hand was red and tender by the end of it.

When he got to your room, he went through all your things that he hadn’t yet seen through your eyes. All the clothes you hadn’t worn yet, everything on your laptop you hadn’t opened while he was with you. This is excessive.

“I want to know everything I can about my little host body,” he laughed. “And anything here that could kill Pine tree.”

Oh. Kill him? I don’t think I have anything that could do that, you thought dejectedly.

“Better to be sure!” He chirped, scrolling through all your messages, apparently looking for some confession or secret that could destroy your boyfriend. It’s not like I talk shit about him, or something. This is fucking stupid.

“Hey, it’s worth a try,” he said, putting your hands up in the air in defeat. “You seem clean, good for you!”

Fuck off. Bill laughed. The fucker.

He sat on your bed invading your privacy for a while. You hadn’t even realized it was dark out, and had been dark for hours. The mental exhaustion had already blended your brain into mush. But Bill was slowing down. Long blinks that lingered on the dark, sluggish hands as he typed through your documents. “I’m not a fan of this part,” he muttered quietly.

Going to sleep?

“No,” he said, nearly nodding off hunched over.

Please lay down or something, you’ll give me back problems. It’ll just hurt you tomorrow.

He hummed. “You might have a point, little host,” he said, leaning back, laptop still on your legs. He laid your head back on the pillow, and your vision went dark as he closed his eyes.

You could at least move my computer, so you don’t break it. Silence. For once Bill didn’t have a comment, and sluggishly put your laptop on the floor beside the bed.

Hello? You asked, seemingly into the void. No answer. Just dark. Your eyes were still closed. This is probably the closest to being dead that I’ll ever feel. Until the real thing. No sight, just dark, the sensation of laying, but without the ability to move. Yes, this did seem a lot like being dead. Billy? Hello?

To no response again. Okay. Workable, now you could formulate a working theory, take stock of your situation. Maybe he was asleep. If Bill had control of your body, maybe he was subject to its limits. He finally made you pass out. But you’re still awake, as tired as you are. So maybe when he sleeps, the body sleeps? Or he’s in pre-sleep, where the brain is still technically active?

Even if you were alone with your thoughts for the first time in what felt like forever, you still had no idea what to do. Like you were living a puzzle, and you couldn’t seem to find all the pieces.

“I’m still…” Bill muttered, covering your ears. “…Here.”

Shut up and go to bed. Dipper always said Bill made deals by shaking hands. You did shake his hand… sort of. Fuck, that was dumb. Your statue friend Billy, you did shake his hand way back then. That’s when the nightmares started. Fuck he was totally doing that. Could you give him nightmares? You didn’t know how, if it was possible.

”You can’t, little host,” Bill mumbled, waving your hand in the air as best he could.

Bill said something about the shack. The nightmares stopped in the shack. There was something there, you could tell. But your brain was foggy enough to miss the punchline. Fuck, you were exhausted. Even without a body, just mentally, you felt more than dead.

Dipper said that when he was possessed, he was like a ghost out of his body. That’s not what you’re on, clearly. Ugh, it would have been nicer, you’d at least be able to move.

Sleep was odd when you didn’t have a body. You were alone in the universe, completely in the dark, and as exhausted as you felt, there was nothing you could do. Mental tiredness be damned, you were still thinking. Until you weren’t, when the body fell asleep completely, you and Bill were knocked out.

…

Bill was mortified by the human bodies tiredness upon waking, complaining how many years it’s been since he inhabited Ford, and even his body was better at waking up. That’s rather rude. But Bill didn’t think much of it.

If you could have, you would have shuddered as you saw Bill pull out your phone, and text Dipper. Would have froze when he responded right away, and would have died when they made plans to meet in the woods and go on a ‘mystery hunt,’ suggested by Bill. Alone together in the woods. That’s not good.

He laughed, slipping your phone in a pocket and putting on a sweater. “You’re observant!” He chirped, jingling Stan’s car keys. At least he was returning them. “Eh,” he shrugged, not bothering to lock the door behind him. “If I feel like it.” Your sunglasses were all he carried in your back pack. Well shit.

Hmm. Bill drove a little more careful this time, and parked a few blocks away from the shack. Like hiding? Why? He didn’t answer, wordlessly walking to the tree line where Dipper was waiting, slipping the glasses on.

Your lovely boyfriend. Dipper waved happily at Bill as you got close, and wrote a note in his journal. Maybe he was writing all his suspicions and reservations about you, and he already knew you weren’t yourself. Bill snickered as he jogged up to him. It wasn’t that much to hope for, don’t laugh, you thought sadly.

“Hey,” Dipper said, closing the book to devote all his attention. He’s too nice for this. You can’t do this to him. “You said you found something good?” He asked, starting to walk.

Bill smiled, mimicking the way you spoke and moved with precision. He’s been watching a while, huh. Studying. Your hands swung at your sides the way they always did, and your feet hopped over roots with the same spring you always had. The disguise was perfect. “Yes!” Bill proclaimed, walking ahead of him. “It’s a little ways in though, we’ll get there when we get there, I guess.”

He talked like you, laughed like you, held Dippers hand like you did, raising no suspicion at all. You watched like a film how the two of you hiked around, noting and taking photos of all the oddities and silly creatures you found. And you could almost pretend you were in control with how good of a job Bill was doing. Hearing all your thoughts does that, you supposed.

Your camera roll would be cursed with pictures from before Dipper knew. Or his last moments, that he spent with his killer. That thought got a laugh out of Bill. Unfortunately.

He led Dipper through the woods, teasing you with the way to your special clearing, where you first met Bill. That had to be the final destination. Bill laughed under your breath a moment, confirming your suspicions. This dumb fuck was edging you.

Bill laughed, much to Dippers confusion. And he was quick to recover, pointing down the path you’d walked alone before, and down it you could see the sunlight of the clearing. The weather always turned sour when I went there before. Why’s it have to be sunny for you? “Down that way,” Bill said, starting the trail. “We’ve found it!”

Dipper followed, smile on his face as he idly clicked at his pen. “Okay, you’ve led me on enough, what the fuck did you find, Y/n,” he laughed, not a hint of distaste in his voice.

Bill grinned, almost manically, just for you and him. Dipper couldn’t see from behind. “Oh,” he said dramatically, “you’ll see.” You’re a dramatic cunt.

You heard dipper scoff, with a little smile on his lips, you could tell. Even with your back to him. The clearing was growing closer each step. You couldn’t yet see the stature, your little Billy. If Dipper saw it first, maybe he could get away…

Bill shook your head, and stopped just short of the little field. The grass was tall, brushing up against your ankles, and a few daisies poked through the blades. “Okay, it’s here,” Bill said enthusiastically, spinning around to face Dipper. “And I’m gonna have to ask you to close your eyes.”

Dipper raised his brow. “Alright, if this isn’t like, the coolest thing I’ve ever seen I’m gonna be disappointed, you’re hyping this up too much,” he said, shaking his head with a smile. “Fine.”

Dipper closed his eyes. Dude. Come on. Bill snickered, and took Dippers hand, pulling him. “Okay, don’t open your eyes until I tell you, okay?”

You could see the statue, its familiar outstretched hand beckoning you closer. And you could feel Dippers hand too. Too many hands. All around you. Dipper laughed, “yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Bill just smiled and nodded, maybe forgetting that Dipper couldn’t see. He stopped in front of his stone self, smiling down at it happily. Maniacally. Maliciously. Dipper still had his eyes closed as your hand slipped out of his, and suddenly there wasn’t enough hands.

Bill stood behind him, hands on his shoulders. “Okay, don’t open your eyes, but we’re here.”

”Dude, my balls are blue enough,” he snickered. “Can I just see?”

”Wait wait, not yet.” Bill savoured the moment. A gentle breeze ran through Dippers and your hair, a few birds chirped. It was a nice summer day, all things considered. Bill pulled out your phone, and took a selfie with Dipper, the statue, and you behind his back. That’s just cruel.

“I know,” Bill said.

Dipper didn’t know he was talking to you, “What?”

“Okay, you can open them,” Bill said, words cutting through the air like knives. And you had to watch, a little glad you that his back was turned. That way you didn’t have to see his face.

“Alright, here goes nothing,” Dipper laughed. But he stopped fairly quickly, freezing in place. The birds didn’t stop chirping, and you could even hear a few crickets. Dipper was silent enough for a lot of forest sounds to come through. You couldn’t even hear his breathing. If he even was.

He stood for a few beats of your heart, hands frozen at his sides, until you noticed the subtle way his fingers rubbed and scratched at his thumb. Please don’t turn around.

Dipper started to turn around. Very slowly. There was a slight move of his head to the right, and then a stop. And when he started again his hands were fidgeting with his pockets.

Bill, I’ll kill you for this.

You didn’t want to see his face, but it was the first thing to turn. And you couldn’t avert your eyes if you wanted to. Bill wasn’t nice enough to let you look away. Dippers brow was furrowed in concentration, his jaw clenched but lips parted. More confused them anything, at a glance. “Y/n, what-“

And then he saw your face, the way Bill was grinning. And you saw each stage of grief pass on your boyfriends features. He was frozen for a moment, just a single one, and then he stepped back. It was an awkward, shaky step, but it was better than you could do. He grimaced, one hand touching his backpack as if to check it was still there. “Y/n?” He asked, voice laced with concern first, suspicions second. He took another step back, and his foot knocked the statue.

”Nope,” Bill grinned gleefully, shaking your head. He took a step forward, cornering Dipper against the statue. “Try again.”

And then, if you had to guess, is when you’d say Dippers blood ran cold, maybe stopped in his veins, and his heart stopped pumping. His breath caught in his throat, and he tried to step back, but caught on the outstretched hand. “You’re not-“ he said, stumbling to regain balance.

”That’s not a guess.” Fuck you. Fuck you.

”Dude. He’s dead,” Dipper said, starting confident but losing it partway through. “This is kind of fucked up, Y/n, take those off,” he hissed, pointing at your sunglasses. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Bill stepped closer again, “Will do, Pinetree!” And then he did. He flipped them on top of your head, and it seemed like Dippers heart stopped a second time. He went pale. Your pupils didn’t look right. Suppose that was the giveaway. Isn’t that what he asked you when you first met? That was the telltale sign? Dipper scrambled backwards, putting the statue between him and Bill. Dipper… if you had any control… better not to think about what you would do.

Dippers eyes were wide like that of a prey animal, darting to different holes in the tree line for a potential escape. His voice was too level, giving away too much. Everything he was doing to keep calm, and you knew how panicked he really was. “Where-“ he started, stepping back. “Where’s Y/n?”

Right here, Dip. “Right here, Pine tree,” Bill said, tapping your head. “Been a real complainer this whole time.”

Fuck you. Fuck you.

“W-what?” Dipper said, brow furrowing. He clutched his back, swinging it off his shoulder and digging around in it while he kept his eyes trained on you.

“They’re still here, not in the mindscape or anything,” Bill shrugged. “Y/n, you can say hi if you want, anything you wanna tell him?”

Fuck you. Tell him… what was there to say? I guess that I’m sorry. Yeah. Fuck you. I’ll kill you.

“They say they’re sorry,” Bill laughed, shaking your head. “Among other things.”

“I-“ he started. He quickly lost the track, but pulled his journal out of his bag. Maybe he had a solution in there. “Y/n…”

Yes? I’m right here. Right here. Still here. Bill kept getting closer, side stepping his statue, and giving it a flick on the hat. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Pine tree,” he started as Dipper stumbled back. He was flipping through his journal aggressively, searching desperately for something, anything. Please find it. “And this time you don’t have that memory gun, do ya?”

Please do something. Dipper, please. But you were begging to the void. Bill was done letting you talk, and Dipper was as worlds away. As trapped as you were in your mind, he seemed to be locked in his, frantic and running out of places to go, nearly the edge of the clearing as he kept walking backwards, and Bill kept closing in. If you leave me here you’ll be okay, you wanted to say. Or if you fight me off.

But did he have it in him? There was a thin sheen of sweet on Dippers forehead. He wasn’t finding whatever he was looking for, and Bill was closing fast. And Dippers legs were shaking. And his hands. Please fight me.

And maybe he heard your prayers. Dippers hands clutched the journal with white knuckles, the pages bending under his fingers. Heavy and ragged were his breaths, but his jaw was tight in a sneer and glare. The stance of prey, but the teeth of a predator. Fight or flight. Yes. Yes Dipper. Don’t hesitate.

Suddenly there was hope. A sliver of it, anyway, because Dipper still stumbled back and tripped to the ground when Bill lunged forward. And you were given the Birds Eye view looking over him as he scrambled back, hanging onto his journal like a lifeline. Don’t hesitate. Fight. Choose fight. You could feel Bills grin on your lips.

Dipper held his book to his chest, and with one hand frantically grabbed at the grass behind him, trying to pull himself away.

Bill snickered, and raised his knee. Don’t you fucking hurt him. Don’t you fucking do it. I’ll kill you for this. You’re gonna be dead. If you could, you’d be sobbing blind with rage, it’d stop you from seeing this. Bill stomped down on his wrist, and Dipper winced, groaning in pain.

“You’re not gonna hurt this body, are you,” Bill gloated. Fuck you. Fight him off. I’d forgive you. I’d hate you if you didn’t, you have to know that. Dipper, he’ll kill you. “Only way to get rid of me now is to get rid of them,” he laughed. “And you’re not gonna do that.”

Dipper gritted his teeth, but he had no objections besides a breath sucked in hastily and laced with pain as Bill pressed your foot down harder on his wrist. Just pick fight. Before you get hurt, you pleaded. Appealing to Bill was a scream into the void, but in some sense, Dipper might hear you. Across the universe. Right in front of you. You could practically feel his pulse pounding through your shoe. His hand was starting to blue.

“That’s what I thought,” Bill said smugly, leaning down your head close to his, and you could feel his shaky breath on your face. What, you read fucking yaoi or something? The fuck is this?

The hand clutching the journal was shaking. He tried to clench the hand Bill was suffocating, but all that happened was a twitch of the fingers.

“I’m going to kill you now,” Bill said, raising a hand tediously slowly.

But before it could clamp around his throat, punch his face, dig into his chest, or whatever else Bill had planned, Dippers journal was flying towards your face. Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah. His eyes were wild, but he was doing it. One clean hit to the jaw, and you were out.

I wrote this one while so sick lmao. Ig I did my first proofread while sick too cuz I caught some horrible errors 💀

Anyway I got war flashbacks to dipper x bill shit from the 2010s, can you tell?

Taglist: @dead-esque @cipheress-to-k-pop

#x reader #my writing #dipper pines x reader #douce amere #gravity falls x reader #dipper pines #dipper x reader #gravity falls

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stonecreationslongisland · 27 days ago

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Cambridge Pavingstones with ArmorTec - 2015 Digital Brochure

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paulsaladino · 11 days ago

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Merry Christmas 2024 by Stone Creations of Long Island Pavers & Masonry Via Flickr: Merry Christmas 🎄 from our team to yours. Here’s to continued success in the year ahead. As we celebrate the season, we’d like to express our heartfelt gratitude for your trust in us. Warmest wishes for a Merry Christmas! Thank you for your continued support. #merrychristmas🎄 #stonecreationsoflongisland #pools #patios #outdoorliving

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tyler-t0t · 1 year ago

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Crowns and Secrets

Established Wanda x Vision, cheating, sub!Wanda x dom!reader, reader w/ pen!s, no gendered pronouns, spanking, unprotected s3x, p in v, daddy kink, cream pie, implied impreg

Word count: 1.9k

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Wanda had never really loved Vision. To be honest, she doesn't know how she ended up dating the android, but they've been together for 3 months. She found herself sitting on his couch watching an old war documentary even though Wanda tried convincing him to watch a RomCom or an animal documentary. He claimed those programs were, "boring and overly staged," despite knowing they were Wanda's favorite.

Bored of the droning war documentary, Wanda pulls out her phone to scroll her various social media feeds. Upon opening one particular app, she sees that you've sent her several posts. Wanda shifts on Vision's couch to subtly turn her phone away from him, although he's more focused on the documentary than the woman sitting in his couch.

She taps the icon to open your app conversation to see a series of 7 rather lewd posts. Some are detailed fantasies while others are images of doms and subs in compromising positions. She subconsciously bites her bottom lip as she takes in the posts before her, feeling the all too familiar heat grow between her legs.

Just as Wanda was about to set her phone down, she feels her phone vibrate, alerting her to a new text message. Eager to talk to you, she wastes no time in opening up the new message, only to be met with 2 words: "come here" followed by a photo of a black metal crown on the foot of your bed.

The brunette sputters a little, knowing exactly what that crown meant. She stands and starts gathering her things. A simple, "I need to get home" all she says to the android as she strides out the door. Once inside her cozy SUV, Wanda's speeding off to your house, roughly 5 miles away. After parking in your driveway, she takes a moment to look herself over in the rear-view mirror.

She steps out of her car and smoothes out the crimson skirt she'd decided to wear, opting to leave her jacket in the car as well. When Wanda gets to the door of your home, she pauses, giving herself a moment to prepare for whatever you have planned. She pushes the door open to find the house in almost complete darkness, the only light coming from a candle set in the center of the entryway. On the table, beside the candle, is a note that reads, "as true as her beauty, the princess remains loyal to the crown."

You've always been a bit cinematic when it came to Wanda, but you knew how much she loved the sappy romance stuff, even amongst the filthiest of nights. You had built a simple wooden throne, even applying the upholstery yourself, shortly after your hookups with Wanda started, so you had a chair for your little witch to worship you on. That throne is where she found you, sat in the living room waiting for your little witch to come running at your call.

Wanda stood in the living room doorway like a deer in headlights as she took in your intimidating presence: dressed in black slacks and a black dress shirt with the top buttons left undone to reveal your heaving chest. Your hair is neatly done with your shimmering black crown, and your cold gaze is blown black with lust. You absolutely loved the particular skirt Wanda had worn because it hugged the swell of her full ass and thick thighs. Just the sight of her in that skirt had your cock jumping in your pants.

You calmly place your hand on your clothed erection and as you give it a long, heavy stroke, you tease her out of her trance: "you gonna stand there, little doe, or you gonna come do something about it?"

The bashful little brunette steps forward and sinks to her knees. She eyes your erection as she licks her lips before looking up at you through her lashes. She keeps her gaze steady with yours as her hands release the buckle of your belt. Her nimble fingers slip the button of your slacks open before she slowly slides her hands along your thighs with a mischievous grin. With a sudden surge of boldness, the young witch leans forward and takes the zipper in her teeth, slowly undoing your pants as she sits back up. The sight of her using her teeth has you releasing a deep groan as your cock twitches in anticipation.

With your slacks now out of her way, Wanda brings a ringed hand up to stroke your thick cock. After only a few strokes she sees a wet patch forming in the fabric of your boxers. Needing to taste you, she leans in without hesitation, and starts leaving open mouthed kisses along your clothed cock. The sensations leave you craving more.

"Enough teasing, Doll. Do it properly."

She looks up through her lashes once again, giving you an irresistible doe eyed look, as she gently removes your throbbing length from the confines of your boxers. At the release of pressure, you breathe an airy sigh that quickly distorts to a guttural moan as Wanda wraps her warm, lush lips around your cock. Having had many nights snuck off to your place, Wanda's become familiar with the way you love her tongue running along the slit of your cockhead. The way her mouth expertly works over every inch and ridge has your head thrown back in bliss, which only increases as she moans around your girth.

You gently weave your hand in her hair, gripping the base of her ponytail, and start guiding her head up and down your shaft. It doesn't take long before you're shoving your entire length down her throat, her throat fluttering as she chokes around you. Tears flow down her cheeks, but you gently cup her face and use your thumb to wipe away the tears. Finally, you allow your little witch to come up and breathe. You silently watch as she gasps for air, her own drool dripping over her large chest. As her breathing gains a rhythm once more, you lean back in your chair. She eagerly jumps to her feet, slipping her thumbs into the waistband of her skirt before you stop her.

She pauses, giving a curious look as she slowly pulls her hands away from her skirt. You smirk at her obedience and give your lap a quick pat. Catching on, she giggles and straddles your lap. As she lowers herself you slide your hands up her thighs, under her skirt, to find no panties. At your discovery, you chuckle. She'd normally be shy and flustered, but there's something different tonight. She doesn't feel the need to be reserved, so she let's her need take over and grinds her bare pussy along your length. At the friction, you both release a long moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me," you chuckle, grabbing at her soft hips and guiding her motions. Under the grasp of your strong hands, Wanda leans back while she grinds, allowing her hands to delicately trail up her torso, taking her shirt with them. She cups and squeezes at her large breasts as moans spill from her lips. She's putting a show on for you, and you enjoy every bit of it. As she rubs herself along your length, you decide to slip two fingers into her mouth, which she sloppily sucks on with vigor.

Your ringed hand is coated in her warm saliva and your cock is dripping, just keening to go where it belongs. With your hands both firmly on Wanda's hips, you lift her up as if she were nothing, allowing your cock to line up with her drenched enterance. As you bring her back down, your cock sinks into her wet sex. She whines as your girth splits her open, which quickly turns to a screamed out moan as your bulbos tip bumps her cervix. Once at the hilt you both pause, panting for air as you reground yourselves.

The brunette hardly has time to breathe before you're thrusting up into her, each vein on your cock dragging along her silk walls. Finally, she grips the back of your throne and starts bouncing on your cock. Each one of her downward thrusts met with an upward one of yours to drive you as deep as possible. The constant abuse at her cervix has Wanda quickly approaching her peak. As her whines get higher in pitch, you lean forward to kiss along her collar bone. Each contact of your lips sends shivers down her spine until, finally, you bite at her pulse point.

Her delicate fingers weave into your now messy locks, pulling your face against her hot flesh as her body convulses. Her back arches as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. With your head pressed against her neck, you have no choice but to continue your assault on the soft skin. Once she's again able to form words, she's chanting in your ear, begging you to cum for she can feel your cock violently throbbing inside her sensitive pussy.

The thought of finally getting to cum inside her makes you feral. She'd always made you pull out so neither of you get caught.

With the new allowance, your arms restrict around her midsection, effectively pinning her petite frame against your chest as your hips piston with new found fire. Your renewed vigor brings about a whole other round of screams from the overstimulated witch. With her pinned to your chest, you easily start a trail of hickies across her bare chest. Releasing her chest with a pop, you groan, "bout to cum, baby. Fuck you feel so good." At your words, Wanda clenches around you, drawing a long, deep moan from your chest.

Noticing how you reacted, she intentionally clenches down even harder, begging, "please please, Daddy fill me up. Need your cum, Daddyyy." Your hips falter a moment, shock hitting you like a wall. "What'd you call me, Darling?" You question with a dark tone. Embarrassed, the young witch shakes her head. Your hand comes down on her ass with a harsh slap. "Say it again. Fuck, say it again, Princess." Drunk off your new title, you slam her hips down on your hard cock at the same time your rigid teeth sink into the soft flesh of her collarbone.

That final thrust forces the tip of your cock to slip past her abused cervix. The new pressure on your cock sends you growling as you paint her insides white. The screamed out moan that rips from her chest is borderline inhuman as she crashes through the most powerful orgasm of her life. Her clamped walls force your hips to a standstill, milking every drop you have.

As you both come back to reality, Wanda slumps against your shoulder, her body still shuddering from the intense aftershocks and her breathing ragged. You smile and rub her back soothingly, muttering praise and compliments. Finally, Wanda's eyes meet yours, but your gaze quickly dart to the dark trail of marks you've left on her. "Well, fuck. Gonna have a hard time covering those up. I'm sorry, princess." She giggles and gently puts a finger to your lips. "I'm done hiding. Let him see, so he realizes he didn't treat me how I needed." Your expression softens, a loving smile spreading across your features. "Besides, I have a feeling there'll be bigger conciquences to our night," she adds as she gently guides your hand over her stomach.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #x reader #sub wanda maximoff #dom reader #smexy #marvel fanfiction #creamp!e #first fanfic #smut

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midnightsmusings · 1 month ago

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The first chapter of my first Ghoap x AFAB OC fic...purely self indulgent retirement AU.

Also pasted below for you to peruse and hopefully also find comfort in...may we all feast good this day.

-Chapter 1: Just neighborly things

*Disclaimer* While I think Simon is actually adjusted well, I think it's funny (and creatively interesting) to write him like this.

Also: I'm a silly little American girl..doing my best with Google and accents.

The morning was quiet save for the occasional ruffling of leaves in the wind. If it decided to pick up any more she'd have to move inside, the howling and subsequent rattling windows made nerves stir in her gut.

Even seeing the trees sway with the breeze now made her want to give up and go back to bed knowing the layers of quilts would be much warmer yet, this morning was otherwise calm.

She noticed the air getting cooler, a particularly frigid gust blowing by making her hands clutch the warm mug tighter as she stubbornly sat on the porch. Ignoring the cold biting at her fingers she breathed in the air deeply, wanting to savor the comforting routine of watching the sun rise every morning. Of seeing the deer wander the yard. They were far too used to the lone woman by now to be wary of her home. Comfortable bringing their young around in the early morning to graze on the lawn.

Nothing ever happened way out here, the mountains providing a sense of security that she relied on.

"Gonny no dae that!" A loud voice rang out, accent just as unrecognizable as the words themselves.

The abrupt noise sent the deer scattering, making her frown she stood and looked around. The voice sounded close but her property was bordered by trees so her view was partially obscured. Feeling her pulse quicken as she heard another voice, lower and deeper this time, a second man responding.

"I'm not frail Johnny I got it" it said, he sounded fondly irritated with the other man and her nerves carefully turned into curiosity as she set the warm mug down.

Wrapping her jacket tighter around herself she resolved to take a peek, heading down her porch. The dew in the grass seeped through her slippers but she barely noticed as she walked to the edge of the driveway and looked through a gap in the line of trees.

A pickup truck was parked in the driveway of the house nearby. The matte black paint was chipping, yet it looked otherwise well taken care of and it was neatly packed with a small collection of boxes in the back. She was shocked to see someone apparently moving in, the house has been empty for years before even she had arrived.

Her brows furrowed as she watched the two men. One was short yet broad with an overgrown mohawk of brown, messy hair. He seemed to be the one who just shouted, his hands moving wildly around as he spewed more words she couldn't understand while stomping to the other side of the truck.

The other man towered over him, a black medical mask covering the lower half of his face making her inch closer, trying to get a better peek at him. He had dirty blond hair and looked outright terrifying.

She could see tattoos peeking out from his rolled up jacket sleeve and his hands, covered with fingerless black gloves gripped a box. An intimidating sight, she mused, if he wasn't fighting with the other man over the box, the two wrestling it back and forth like a game of tug o war.

They looked to be close, the taller man ruffling the brunettes hair once he finally relented and let go with a huff, eyes trailing after him as he walked up the porch and into the house.

She snapped back to herself, realizing just how creepy she probably seemed, jumping back behind the tree when she made eye contact with the brunette on his way back down the porch.

Quickly she rushed back to her own home, face a flaming red and coffee long forgotten on the porch.

A couple hours of stress baking and overthinking later she stepped back, groaning at the mess of flower and sugar coating her kitchen now. Her mind whirled with the possibilities of what the man who saw her would be saying to the other. Fearing she already made a horrible first impression after being caught snooping like a nosy neighbor.

Assuming they were done unpacking due to the lack of loud boisterous laughter, probably from the brunette man, she packed up her offering into a container and carefully wrote a note that read "unpacking fuel" on top incase they weren't home.

Hesitating, pen hovering over the paper as she thought before shrugging and drawing a small smiley face at the bottom.

Nervously wiping her sweaty palms on her pants she grabbed the warm container, breathing out a heavy breath and heading out her door determined to make a better impression this time.

They were the only people for miles, she thought, resolutely not thinking about how attractive the men were.

"Just neighborly things nothing else" she muttered to herself, closing the door behind her.

Hesitating once more at the edge of her driveway for a moment she considered what she was doing before shaking her head, grumbling at her anxieties and walking quickly up the stranger's driveway. Her eyes trailed over the now empty pickup and looked up at the property, shocked they moved with so little considering the size of it.

The house stood at just one story, yet it was large and expanded farther back into the woods than her own two story home did. Wide windows covered the top half yet the wraparound porch gave it a more cabin feel than stuffy and modern.

She could only imagine what the inside looked like. Wondering as she walked up the driveway, mind picturing a wide stone fireplace, the type that you have to cut your own lumber for. Those large men out back every winter, chopping away...

Huffing she shook her head of the thought, clearly she's been alone for a little too long. Steeling herself she gently knocked on the door, the porch wood creaking under her as she heard no footsteps on the other side. There was a soft, abrupt click and then the door opened a crack before the brunettes head peeked out.

"Uh, hi" she greeted, smiling awkwardly and holding up the container in her hand for him to see, shuffling her feet in place as she was met with a blank stare.

"Saw you guys moving in." She paused, head tilting as her eyes searched for the other man behind him.

"Wanted to say hi um...bring over some food" she finished, voice trailing off at the end as she held out the container and watched as he fiddled with something behind his back before fully stepping out of the doorway with a wide smile now splitting his face.

"Aye, thanks hen that's sweet of ya" he said his smile warm and accent friendly, so accepting of her already.

She breathed out a subtle sigh of relief that he wasn't put off by her earlier snooping, perhaps he hadn't seen her after all.

"It's uh crumble..apple" she murmured head nodding towards the container in his hands, her own fumbling now that they were empty "oh! And I'm Wren. Your only neighbor for miles" she chuckled hand waving around the area behind her.

His presence was easygoing, and soothed her anxieties quickly. Her eyes wandered over the man now that she was seeing him up close, she thought his soft tanned skin and brown hair made him classically handsome.

Her eyes caught on a chain peeking out from under the collar of his shirt.

"Crumble aye...Si! Got us crumble here!" He shouted, head turned to look into the house, voice unapologetically loud.

She heard a grumble from behind him, the large man from earlier appearing silently. His deep voice lightly scolding as it said "m'right here Johnny" before a broad hand landed heavy on his shoulder.

The man looked over his head to her, eyes cold and calculating as the lower half of his face was still covered with the black medical mask.

"Who are you?" He asked, tone more blunt and more unwelcoming than his counterpart, nerves twist angrily in her gut at the tone. She noticed he had an accent as well, distinctly British, making her wonder how they both ended up here.

"Be nice ya bampot, this is Wren" the shorter man said, holding the container up for the other man to see, a look on his face as if he was scolding a grumpy toddler and not a grown man.

"Hm, thanks" he said, nodding stiffly as his hand squeezed the brunette's shoulder, sharp eyes seeming to size her up. The scrutiny made her nervous habit of popping her knuckles reappear, eyes flicking between the two men as she tried to think of something to say.

"Can call me John" the softer words snap her back from the taller man's heavy gaze.

She smiled thankfully and nodded at the offering before letting her eyes flicker back up to the man behind him briefly.

"That's uh.." John faltered, grin falling for a brief moment as he glanced behind him, making her frown a little in confusion at the hesitation. They had a silent conversation, raised eyebrows communicating something important before John turned back around while the man behind him uttered a curt "Riley" then he turned and walked away, not sparing a glance back.

John clicked his tongue, before the bright and easy smile slipped back on his face.

"Only neighbor for miles you say?" He asks, snapping her back from Riley's abrupt nature, something hidden in his tone.

Nodding she gestured around her as she answered "Ah, yeah we're the only two houses out here" her hands clasped tightly behind her back now as she tried to quell the anxiety rising up her throat.

"It's a pretty secluded area" she murmured finally taking a small step back from him and looking to the side, pointing "I'm just right over there, if you need anything."

Their lawn was overgrown, weeds and roots stretching and covering the dirt path that used to connect the two houses but you could clearly see her mailbox from here. He hummed in acknowledgement, looking in the direction she pointed before turning back to her.

"Ah, thanks lass, we'll be seeing ya" he said, offering a small wave before closing the door.

She blew out a deep breath as she heard the lock click in place. Shaking her hands out she started walking back to her home, telling herself it could have gone a lot worse.

She also hoped, foolishly, that if they were dangerous maybe they liked baked goods enough to leave her alone.

#ghoap #cod mw2 #cod #retired!ghost #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soap cod #retired!soap #domestic fluff #ghoap x oc #ghost x oc #soap x oc #cod x oc #cod modern warfare #ghostsoap #soapghost

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