#ghost telling him he loves him in every possible way apart from saying that he loves him???

[stylesispunk]

'Merry christmas, please call me' day 1/3

no outbreak! Joel Miller x f! reader

summary: one year after your breakup, joel is pleading to his phone for a call from you. 🌲

w.c: 6k>

warnings: age gap (joel is fifteen years older than reader) angst as usual and fluff with a happy ending like in the Christmas movies.

a/n: welcome to the first day of my joel's fic christmas version event. I want to remind you that i'm from south america and my christmas has always been hot because of summer, so i'm feeding my dreams. I hope you like this one and see you again on the second day of my mini event! Happy reading 💌

The smell of burn cookies made Joel nauseous. The lights of the Christmas tree in the corner of these four walls seemed to gave him a migraine.

A night like this where everyone was celebrating around a table full of food and loved ones. He was lonely with his thoughts drifting away to you. You were on his mind, day and night for the last 365 days that he had been without you.

It was his fault.

He recalled, this exact same night a year ago when he broke up with you out of the blue, due to poor excuses nor even him believed.

Your age gap, that you were childish, that you deserved someone better, he’d said. Someone whole. A ridiculous justification that even he couldn’t stomach now. At the time, he’d convinced himself it was for the best. He had no right to drag you into his mess of doubts and guilt, into his constant battle with the ghosts of his past. But it didn’t stop the ache from settling in his bones, lingering there like a wound that refused to heal.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts. It had been a year since you left, a year since the fight that had left him standing alone in the doorway, watching you walk out with tears in your eyes and a suitcase in your hand. He hadn’t dared delete your number, which now stared back at him, mocking him in the silence. How many times had he replayed that night in his head, hoping he’d wake up and find that it was nothing more than a cruel nightmare?

Call her, the voice in his head whispered.

But what could he say? What words could possibly undo the damage he’d caused?

A sigh escaped him as his head dropped back against the old couch, the springs groaning in protest. The soft hum of a Christmas song playing from a neighbor’s apartment felt like salt in the wound, each note a reminder of what he’d lost.

You were his person. You’d been his anchor through the storms, the one who never let him drown, even when he tried to push you away. And he had pushed you, hard enough to make you leave for good.

But Joel still hoped. Pathetically, desperately. Every buzz of his phone made his heart lurch, only to drop moments later when it wasn’t you. He hated himself for it, for waiting on a miracle he didn’t deserve.

Finally, with trembling hands, he let his thumb tap against your name. The call button loomed there, so simple and yet so heavy. He stared at it, his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, voice rough. The silence of the house swallowed his words. “Please call me... God, just call me.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his palms to his face. You were out there somewhere, probably laughing, surrounded by family or friends. Did you even think about him? Did you miss him the way he missed you? The unanswered questions gnawed at him, the kind of pain he’d learned to carry in his bones over the last twelve months.

When he finally looked at the phone again, he couldn’t stop himself. He typed out a message, the words simple but raw:

Merry Christmas. Please call me.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, the soft whoosh of the message sending feeling louder than it should have. Now, all he could do was wait.

You won’t reply, he thought bitterly. Why would you?

But just as he began to put the phone down, it buzzed in his hand.

The sound of laughter echoed around the room, your cousin telling some exaggerated story about their vacation as everyone leaned in, caught up in the humor of it all. You tried to smile, to focus on the holiday warmth and cheer, but it all felt distant, like you were watching it from behind a thick pane of glass.

For the last four Christmas you had had someone by your side, holding your hand and making you feel a whole in the room.

Now he wasn’t here.

Now it had been a year since he pushed you away from his life.

You excused yourself for a moment, slipping out to the porch where the cold December air stung your skin. It was quieter out here, the twinkle of Christmas lights from neighboring houses reflecting off the snow. You wrapped your arms around yourself, breathing out slowly, your breath a cloud in the chill.

And then you felt it. The buzz of your phone in your pocket.

Sliding it out, your heart stopped when you saw the name.

 Joel.

The message was simple, just four words Merry Christmas. Please call me.

You stared at the screen, your mind racing. You hadn't heard from him in months. The last time had been his birthday three months ago, a tentative text you’d sent just to say you hoped he was doing well. He’d thanked you, but the conversation died before it could have started. You thought that was the end of it, that Joel had moved on, just like everyone told you he would.

But now... this.

You sank onto the porch steps, your fingers tightening around the phone. The memories came flooding back: The past Christmas, when he’d held you in his arms by the fire, murmuring promises you’d believed in so completely. And the fight that tore it all apart, the anger in his voice masking the vulnerability he was so terrified to show.

You swiped at your screen, opening the message again.

Call him, a voice in your head urged. Just call him.

But another voice whispered fearfully

 What if he’s just lonely?

For a moment, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts. Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the button. The phone rang once, twice, each second stretching into eternity.

“Hello?” His voice was low, rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You closed your eyes, the sound of him unraveling something inside you. “Joel,”

….

You’d spent hours making everything perfect. The table was set with Joel’s favorite dishes, the candles were lit, and soft Christmas music floated through the air. The snow outside created a picturesque view through the windows, and for the first time in days, you were excited. Joel had been distant lately, his long hours at work bleeding into your evenings, but tonight would be different. It had to be.

“Joel, you’re late,” you said softly as he walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his face tired.

He barely glanced at the table as he shrugged off his jacket. “Got caught up at work.”

“I made dinner.” You gave him a small smile, trying to meet his eyes. “I thought maybe tonight—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut you off, his voice sharper than it needed to be.

Something in his tone made you flinch. You watched him sink onto the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. The weariness in his face didn’t feel like exhaustion; it felt like resignation.

You walked over to him carefully, sitting on the edge of the coffee table so you could face him. “But it’s christmas eve.”

“I know.” he muttered, but his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t the man who used to pull you into his lap and kiss your worries away. This was someone locked behind a wall you couldn’t reach. “You’ve been different lately. Talk to me. Please.”

He let out a long breath, his hands running through his hair. “I don’t know what we’re doin’ here.”

The words slammed into you like a physical blow. “What?”

Joel looked up at you finally, his expression hard, guarded. “Us. This. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”

Your heart pounded. “What are you talking about?”

He stood up abruptly, pacing the room like he needed to get away from you, as if your presence burned his skin. “You’re too young for this—”

“Don’t.” Your voice trembled, but you stood too, following him. “Don’t do that. You’ve never cared about the age gap before.”

“You should be with someone who can give you what you want, not some old man who can’t figure his shit out.” He turned, finally meeting your eyes, and his were cold, deliberately so. “Someone who isn’t afraid for what people say.”

The words hit like ice water, sharp and cruel. You took a step back, shaking your head. “Joel, that’s not fair. I don’t care about any of that. I love you.”

“Don’t,” he said again, his voice a low growl. “You’re just sayin’ that because you don’t know any better.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the truth.” He swallowed hard, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t be what you need. And you deserve better than what I can give.”

It wasn’t the words themselves that hurt the most, it was the way he said them, like he’d already decided this for you, like he’d been carrying it around for weeks, months, without telling you.

“Don’t you dare decide what I deserve,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you, and for just a moment, you saw it: the regret, the pain, the fear he was trying so desperately to hide. But then he turned his back to you, his shoulders rigid.

“Go,” he said quietly.

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I said you should go.”

The room went deathly silent except for the sound of your soft, choked breaths. Joel didn’t move, didn’t turn around as you stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, to take it back. But he didn’t.

“We had been together for five years, Joel” you sobbed “Are you throwing away?”

Joel's jaw tightened, his back still turned to you as if he couldn't bear to face what he was doing, what he had already done. His hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white as if he were holding himself together by sheer force. The dim light from the Christmas tree glowed faintly in the reflection of the window, mocking the warmth and love that should've filled this night.

“I’m tired.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t keep the crack out of your voice as you pleaded. “Tired of what? Of me?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice breaking, his shoulders drawing tight. “It ain’t just that,” he muttered, the words coming out strained. “It’s everythin’, me, us—” He finally turned to face you, his eyes dark and distant, as though he’d already started pulling himself away long before tonight. “You deserve better.”

“Don’t do that,” you snapped through the sobs, pointing at him, your whole-body trembling. “Don’t you dare try to make this about me, Joel. This is about you. You’re the one running away, you’re the one who—” You swallowed hard, the pain rising in your throat like a wave. “Who’s giving up.”

Joel's face crumpled for just a second, but he smoothed it out quickly, replacing it with that familiar mask of stubbornness. “I am tired,” he admitted, his voice low, hoarse. “Of fightin’ every damn day with the parts of myself you don’t see. I can’t—I can’t drag you into that. Not anymore.”

You shook your head, your tears falling faster now. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose you, Joel. I chose you! Over and over for five years. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t handle it, or you.”

His gaze flickered toward the floor, like he couldn’t stand to look at you. “It ain’t enough.”

Those words cut deeper than anything else he’d said. “What’s not enough?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you stepped closer. “Me? Or us?”

Joel looked back at you then, and for a moment, you thought you saw his resolve crack. You thought he might say he was sorry, that he’d been lying, that he still loved you the way you loved him.

But all he said was, “You need to go.”

Your heart shattered.

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head violently, refusing to believe this was happening. “I’m not leaving. I’m not walking away from you.”

Joel’s face hardened, though his eyes betrayed the storm inside him. He took a step back, deliberately creating distance between you both. “I already did, darlin’.”

A sob escaped you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached; your lungs empty despite the cold air filling the room. It felt surreal, like you were living a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“Fine,” you whispered, your voice ragged. You wiped angrily at your tears, glaring at him through the blur. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“I hope you know what you’re losing.”

Joel didn’t respond. He didn’t move. And when you finally stepped out into the cold December night, suitcase in hand, the sound of the door closing behind you felt like the final nail in the coffin of everything you had built together.

It wasn’t until you were gone—until the silence swallowed the room whole—that Joel let his mask fall. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as tears slipped through his fingers.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly what he was losing.

And he left you walk away with nowhere to go.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “I—I wasn’t sure if you’d...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish.

There was a pause, and then you spoke. “I wasn’t sure either.”

His heart clenched. He wanted to say a hundred things, to tell you how much he missed you, how every day without you had been a slow, aching torture. But all he managed was: “Thanks for calling.”

“I wasn’t sure I should,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “Joel, why?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because it’s Christmas. And because...” He ran a hand over his face, forcing the words out. “Because I’ve been a damn fool. I didn’t fight for us when I should’ve. And not a day’s gone by where I don’t regret it.”

The silence on the other end felt unbearable. “I know I don’t deserve this,” he added quickly. “But I just needed to hear your voice. Even if it’s just this once.”

His words cut through the cold night air, stirring something deep inside you. Joel had never been good at talking about his feelings, and hearing him now, his voice raw and unsteady, you realized just how much this call meant to him.

“You hurt me, Joel,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I gave you everything, and you... you pushed me away.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick. “I know I did. I was scared, alright? Scared of messing up, of losing you... and I ended up doin’ just that.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes stinging. “And now? What’s changed?”

“I have,” he said without hesitation. “I’ve had a year to think about every mistake I made, every time I let my pride get in the way. I’m not sayin’ I’ve got it all figured out, but... I know I can’t go another year without you, darlin’.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

“Joel,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Just tell me if there’s a chance,” he said, his voice breaking. “Even the smallest one. I’ll do whatever it takes, I swear it.”

“Are you alone?” you asked, feeling your voice trembling.

Joel froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. He exhaled softly, his breath shaky. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “It’s just me and some burnt cookies.”

Your heart ached at his words, but a small, broken laugh escaped you at his words. Burnt cookies. Joel had never been much of a baker. That was your thing. And yet, every Christmas, he’d insist on helping or more accurately, on getting in the way, while you made batch after batch of cookies.

“You burned them?” you asked softly, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips through the tears.

“‘Course I did,” Joel grumbled, though there was no bite to it. “Turns out, I’m no better at bakin’ now than I was then.” He hesitated before adding, almost shyly, “Guess it’s not as fun when you’re not here to yell at me for sneakin’ the dough.”

“Joel, I swear to God, if you eat one more spoonful of that dough—”

He grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, before scooping up another bite and popping it into his mouth. “What? I’m just makin’ sure it’s good, darlin’. Quality control.”

It was like that every single time, you’d roll your eyes, only for him to pull you into his arms and press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, tasting of sugar and butter.

You’d tried to scold him, but he always made you laugh instead, his hands sneaking around your waist to pull you close. The cookies always took twice as long as they should’ve, and more flour ended up on the two of you than in the dough. But those moments had been yours—sweet, simple, and full of a kind of love you didn’t realize you’d taken for granted until it was gone.

“Do you remember?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Joel’s breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Every second of it,” he admitted softly. “I remember how you’d get that little crease in your brow when you were concentratin’, tryin’ to make everything perfect. And how I’d ruin it all just to get you to look at me instead.”

You smiled through your tears, the memories making your chest ache. “You never helped. You just kissed me the whole time.”

“Well,” Joel said, his voice thick but warmer now, “you didn’t seem to mind too much.”

You swallowed hard, pressing your hand to your chest as if it could stop the way your heart ached for him. For all of it. “I didn’t,” you admitted quietly. “I loved that.”

There was a pause, heavy and delicate all at once.

“I miss you,” Joel said finally, his voice low and rough. “I’ve missed us. Not just the cookies, or the traditions... but you, darlin’. I miss seein’ you smile. I miss hearin’ your laugh when I did somethin’ dumb. I miss... kissin’ you in the middle of a mess we made together.”

Your throat tightened, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. How was it that Joel always managed to say the exact words you’d been afraid to admit to yourself?

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you whispered. “It makes it harder.”

“What?” he asked, hopeful somehow.

"To hate you" you said, bluntly.

Joel went quiet on the other end of the line. The soft crackle of the connection was the only sound between you, filling the heavy silence where words struggled to exist. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, as though he was afraid saying it out loud might break you both.

“I don’t want you to hate me, darlin’.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead to stop the tears. “Well, it would’ve been easier if you’d stayed away.”

“I tried,” Joel admitted.

You could picture him sitting there, in the same living room where you’d spent so many nights living together. You imagined the empty house around him, quiet and cold, without the warmth the two of you used to fill it with.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence on the line felt heavier now, like it was holding both your hearts in its grip.

“I thought—” you started, then stopped, the words catching in your throat. I thought you’d moved on, you wanted to say. But you couldn’t. You weren’t ready to admit that fear aloud, not yet.

Joel seemed to understand anyway. “There’s no one else,” he said softly. “There never could be. I—I didn’t want to make you think I was waitin’, like I was hopin’ for somethin’ I didn’t deserve. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t bring myself to move on. You’re it for me.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up as his words sank in. You’re it for me. Joel Miller, stubborn and guarded as he’d always been, was laying himself bare in a way he never had before.

“Why now, Joel?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Why tonight?”

He let out a heavy breath. “Because i'm in love with you” he said, leaving no room for doubting “And because I couldn’t let another month pass without tellin’ you what’s in my heart. Even if it’s too late... I needed you to know.”

The line went quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt heavy with regret. It felt different—like a small flicker of something you weren’t ready to name just yet.

“Get some sleep, Joel,” you murmured softly, surprising even yourself.

He chuckled lightly, a sound you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. “Alright, baby. I will. You too.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” Joel replied, his voice soft and warm.

You hung up the phone and let it rest against your chest as you lay back on the couch, tears still wet on your cheeks.

You stood up to go back inside the house and the room felt still, like the world had paused just for you to breathe, to take in everything that had happened. The faint glow of the Christmas lights cast soft, colorful patterns on the walls. It felt bittersweet, like the warmth of a memory that wouldn’t quite let go.

Your chest ached with the weight of it all. Joel’s voice still lingered in your mind, the way he’d said baby, soft, familiar, like it belonged to you and no one else. It had been so long since you’d heard it, and it stirred something in you you’d tried to bury. Something tender and raw, something that reminded you of stolen kisses in the kitchen, of his arms wrapped around you on cold nights, of the way he used to make you feel like home wasn’t a place but a person.

You wiped at your cheeks, sniffling quietly. “Damn you, Joel Miller,” you whispered to the empty room, but your voice lacked conviction. The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Relieved? Hopeful?

“Are you okay?” your mother’s voice broke through the stillness, soft but laced with concern.

You startled slightly, turning toward the sound. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the hall light, her face etched with the quiet worry only a mother could carry.

You tried to smile, to brush it off like you always did, but the tears still wet on your cheeks betrayed you. “Yeah,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from the emotion threatening to spill over. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head, unconvinced, and took a slow step closer. “Sweetheart...”

The way she said it made your composure wobble. You looked away, blinking rapidly as if that would erase the evidence of the storm swirling inside you. “It’s nothing, Mom. Just... Christmas stuff.”

She didn’t say anything right away, just moved to sit beside you on the couch. Her warmth and presence were enough to break something loose inside you, and for a moment, you just sat there in silence.

After a long, heavy pause, you finally spoke, your voice trembling. “I have to go.”

Your mother turned to you, her brows knitting together in quiet confusion. “Go? Where?”

You swallowed hard, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I... I don’t know…home?”

Her expression softened, and she gave a small, knowing nod. “To Joel?”

You glanced at her, startled that she understood so quickly, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. Mothers always knew. “I just-” You broke off, your voice faltering.

She studied you for a long moment, then reached out to gently clasp your hand. “Then go,” she said quietly, squeezing it in encouragement. “But go for the right reasons, sweetheart. Not because it’s Christmas, or because you feel like you owe him something. Go if you think it’s what your heart needs.”

You blinked at her, your throat tight. “What if I regret it?”

She smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And what if you don’t?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, one that settled deep in your chest.

You exhaled shakily, then stood, your movements unsteady but resolute. “I’ll be back soon,” you said, though you weren’t sure if it was more for her benefit or your own.

She gave you a gentle smile and stayed seated, as if she knew this was something you had to do on your own. “Take a coat,” she reminded you softly.

You nodded, grabbing your coat and scarf off the rack by the door. The cold air outside hit you immediately as you stepped out, but it didn’t slow your steps as you headed to your car. Your heart pounded, nerves swirling in your stomach as you turned the ignition and pulled out onto the quiet, dark road.

Joel sat slouched on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the Christmas tree he’d half-heartedly decorated earlier that day. The glow of the lights cast soft, uneven patterns on the floor, but he wasn’t really seeing them. His mind was stuck somewhere else—on the sound of your voice, on the quiet goodnight that hung heavier than he could have imagined.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tired in a way that sleep wouldn’t fix. It was the kind of weariness that came from missing someone so deeply it felt like it hollowed you out.

A sudden knock at the door startled him. He frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, grumbling under his breath as he trudged toward the door. “Tommy, I swear I’m fi—”

He pulled the door open mid-sentence, the complaint dying on his lips when he saw who it was.

You.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there on his doorstep, wrapped in your coat and scarf, your cheeks pink from the cold, your breath visible in the freezing air. Your wide eyes met his, filled with something he couldn’t name—surprise, maybe, or uncertainty.

Joel froze, his hand still on the doorknob, his heart thudding hard against his chest. He blinked, like he was trying to make sure you were real. “Baby?”

“Hi,” you said softly, the single word carrying so much weight it nearly knocked the air out of him.

Joel let out a shaky breath, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “What... what’re you doin’ here?”

You shifted the bag in your hands, your fingers clutching the handles tightly, like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I, uh... I brought some things to bake cookies,” you said quietly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions you were trying to hold back.

Joel just stared at you, completely still, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. The words sank in slowly, and something in his chest tightened—hard and sudden—until he felt like he might break right there on the spot.

“You... you brought stuff to bake cookies?” he repeated, his voice so low it was barely a whisper.

You nodded, a small, almost shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I figured... if it’s just you and some burnt cookies this year, maybe you could use a little help.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a shaky breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He turned his face slightly, as if trying to gather himself, but there was no hiding the way his eyes shone in the soft light spilling from the doorway.

For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, he just looked at you, like you were something fragile and precious, something he couldn’t believe was right in front of him. Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped back, his voice rough as he spoke. “C’mon in, baby. It’s too damn cold out there.”

You stepped inside, the warmth of home enveloping you, after being away for a year, this house still carried the faint scent of pine, Joel and something a little burnt, probably the remnants of his earlier baking disaster. Joel shut the door behind you, lingering for a moment before turning to face you again.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, his voice uneven, like he was fighting to hold something back.

“I know,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, the weight of your words sinking into him like a balm to every ache he’d carried for far too long. “You always know how to fix my messes,” he said, his lips curling into a small, almost wistful smile.

You gave him a look, a teasing edge to your voice despite the tension still lingering between you. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t burn down the kitchen.”

Joel let out a quiet laugh, gruff and hoarse, but real. It sounded like the kind of laugh that had been buried for too long, and the sound of it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, watching you with that same unreadable expression. “Guess someone does.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with unspoken words and years of memories. Then Joel sniffed, scrubbing a hand down his face as if to steady himself. “You still use that same recipe?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, your voice light but steady. “You’re gonna help me this time, though. And I mean actually help.”

Joel watched you for another long moment before he turned toward the kitchen, clearing his throat again. “Alright, then,” he said, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t quite hide. “Let’s make some cookies.”

The kitchen was filled with the warm, sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. A few floury handprints stained the counter, mixing bowls were stacked haphazardly in the sink, and a couple of slightly misshapen cookies sat cooling on the tray. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but it felt like you. Like him. Like the pieces of something familiar were falling back into place.

You set the final cookie down on the tray, brushing a bit of flour from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Well,” you said, stepping back to admire the messy success, “I think we did it.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. When you turned to look at him, you found him leaning against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. There was something soft in the way he looked at you, something so Joel,it made your breath hitch.

“What?” you asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

He shook his head slowly, that smile growing just a little. “Nothin’,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Just…you look even more beautiful than I remember.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping away all the uncertainty you’d been holding onto. Your heart skipped in your chest, and your breath caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily speechless. You hadn't expected that—hadn’t expected him to say that, especially after all this time.

You glanced away for a moment, suddenly unsure of yourself. The kitchen suddenly felt warmer, the space between you two too close, and yet it felt like everything was finally falling into place, as if you’d both been waiting for this moment without knowing it.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. You met his gaze again, and this time, there was something different there—a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.

He stepped forward, slowly, as if giving you the space to decide what came next. But you didn’t pull away. You stood there, rooted in the moment, caught somewhere between the past and the present, unsure of what the future held but certain that, for once, you wanted to face it with him.

“I mean it,” Joel added, his voice soft but unwavering. “You always did have a way of lightin’ up a room, darlin’. But right now… you’re more than I remember.”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t hold back the emotion that swelled within you. It was like he had reached right into the depths of what you’d been afraid to feel and pulled it all to the surface. You reached out instinctively, your hand brushing his arm, the warmth of his skin making everything feel so real again.

“Joel, I—” Your voice broke, and you paused, unsure of the words.

Joel didn't let you finish your sentence. Before you could gather your thoughts, before the words could fall into place, he closed the gap between you. His hand found your cheek, his thumb grazing the soft skin there, as if he needed to feel you, to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. His lips met yours, soft at first, hesitant, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

You kissed him back, your hands coming up to tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer as the familiar taste of him flooded your senses. It was like stepping into a memory, one you’d been holding on to without even realizing it. All the years, the distance, the pain—all of it seemed to melt away in the warmth of his embrace.

The kiss deepened, slow and tender, and you let yourself lose in it, in him, in the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be all along. There were no questions, no doubts, only the comforting certainty of him being right there, of the connection you had never truly lost.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, you gazing the floor instead of his eyes.

His hands were still on your face, his fingers brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every part of you again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Joel murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Are you going to push me away again?” you asked, meeting his eyes with some fear dancing on them.

Joel’s expression faltered for a moment, his gaze flickering with a mix of fear and hope. He searched your face, as if trying to understand what you were really asking, what you really meant.

“No. I will never do that again.” he answered, “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of not bein’ enough for you. Scared of how people talked about us. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you deserved better.”

“I never thought that,” you said softly, finally meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. “I was a damn fool for pushin’ you away. And if I could go back and fix it, I would. But I know I can’t. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking. “I just needed you to know how sorry I am.”

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if we can go back to what we had. But…maybe we can start somewhere new.”

Joel’s breath caught, hope blooming in his chest. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

The silence that followed felt different than before. It wasn’t filled with regret or confusion, but with a shared understanding—a quiet acknowledgment of what had been lost and what was still possible. You stayed close, your hands gently resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Joel finally let out a shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, like he was memorizing the feel of you again. "I’m not askin' for all of it back. Just... a chance. To show you that I can be the man you deserve. The man I should’ve been all along."

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy but hopeful. “I’m not sure what this looks like, Joel. But we can figure it out, right? Together?”

A soft, sincere smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Joel pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your face as he looked at you with love and something more vulnerable, but what was more vulnerable than love? He took a slow breath, and then his gaze shifted toward the window, the quiet fall of snowflakes beginning to collect on the sill outside.

His voice was soft, almost reverent. "Look at that," he murmured, his eyes tracing the peaceful scene outside. "First snow of the year."

You turned to look out the window, your heart fluttering as you watched the snow gently blanket the world in white, the quiet stillness of the moment wrapping around you both like a cozy blanket. It felt surreal, almost like something out of a dream, a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

Being this close to the man you loved felt like a dream.

Joel stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close again. His chin rested on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, his voice full of raw tenderness, the words wrapped in the kind of love that had been buried for too long but never truly gone.

Before you could respond, he turned you gently, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your waist as he kissed you again, soft and slow, like this moment was meant for both of you, like it was always meant to be this way. The world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of your heartbeat and the warmth of his touch, the promise of something new blooming between you two.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like home again.

[purpleph4se]

devotion

armand x reader

warnings | smut, afab!reader, dom armand, fingering, praise, possessiveness, one mention of cheating sorta kinda? (we all know louis and armand’s relationship i mean would u call it cheating if it was open idfk)

a/n | 70s armand save me, save me 70s armand. so i finished iwtv in the span of one week and i can say i forgive armand for all his crimes, he’s just a girl <3 there is such a devastating lack of fics for my botticelli angel im here to mend that !!! i know i made that little post a while ago and i finally finished the fic i hope yall enjoy <3 crossposted on my ao3

part 2 here <3

“show me,”

his voice was a purr loud enough just for you to hear. you sat between his legs, chest pressed against the handsome stranger you met at the bar who managed to lure you into his home. “please yourself for me..” he usually doesn’t play with his food but the sight of your lips hung open, and the sound of your moans, he couldn’t help himself.

mesmerized by his voice, you trail your hand over your clothed sex finding the fabric had been soaked through. you shift to slip them off, a twinge of embarrassment making your face burn. you forced your legs apart, your head lolling back onto armand’s shoulder as your hand glided through your slick cunt.

“just like that, my love, make yourself feel good for me,” he whispered as he traced the curves of your body, stopping right at the dip of your hips. his grip on you was firm, as his lips left warm kisses on your neck. his touch was so precise yet so desperate to feel as much as possible of you.

“pl-please, touch me” you begged between whimpers, your legs were trembling as you could feel pleasure starting to bubble up uncontrollably. it was so overwhelming to feel like he was devouring you with his eyes, and touch. his praises were like fire flowing throughout your body as he consumed every cell of your body.

he hummed at your words, the utter desperation that he could feel seeping out of you made him want to fuck you without restraint, but he denied himself just to torture you.

“just my fingers, nothing more..” armand offered, he felt you tremble in anticipation forcing his hard cock against your lower back. you craved to feel him inside you, and he knew. 

armands breath tickles your ear as he slides two of his fingers over your slit. you squirm a bit as he ghosts just over your clit, his voice mumbling something about you being dripping for him. 

“thank y-you,” whispered again as his fingers slowly traced your skin, until they reached your folds. you were pushed closer to him, so he could effortlessly reach your sopping cunt as he kissed the dip of your shoulder. he could devour you if he chose.

his skin was cold to touch as you laid against him. “so breathtaking” he murmured as his elegant fingers barely touched your clit, your hips buckled to meet him “so sensitive,”

when he finally dipped his finger in you, that’s when his facade cracked. the way your warmth enveloped his finger, swallowing it hungrily and clenching around it, made his breath hitch. if armand concentrated enough he could picture what you would feel around his cock.

your small whine of 'more' causes him to smile against the nape of your neck as he inserts a second finger. he drags them in and out of you, slowly and gently before increasing the power behind them.

his other hand kneaded your chest, he wanted to worship every inch of you. you, kind stranger, distracted him from the boredom that was his life, his partner once again enjoying a young vulnerable boy.

you gasp grabbing onto his forearm feeling your body bounce a little as he did so, he pulled his head back to look down at you— his golden eyes dilating in either love or something sinister, you couldn't tell. "that’s it beloved, taking me so well”, his fingers curling up to search for that particular spot you liked “like you were made for me..” you whined in agreement before letting out a sharp moan, there he thought, abusing that certain spot.

armand pumped his fingers into you relentlessly as his thumb rubbed circles on your clit. for just moment he didn’t care about anything but the way you begged him for more, the way you would tremble in his arms as he added another finger, the way you desperately chased your orgasm. he could feel the desire rushing through your veins.

your hands dragged up his body until the settled hooked behind his head, pulling him closer as you felt a third finger gently split you open. your back arched, your chest hitting his as you felt that coil, that certain feeling in your stomach rise, ready to break.

"'m gonna cum— don't, don't stop, please please." you babbled, to which he listened, telling you to cum that he was right here for you. he pressed his lips against your jaw, the sweet kisses and soft worship a distinct contrast from his onslaught on your poor cunt. and then you heard him, like he was inside your head  “cum for me”, armand invited you to let go of everything, to allow the ecstasy to eat you alive, and you did. ‘cumming', you repeated— his name being slurred as you called out to him, eyes shut tightly.

you were hit by everything all at once, your senses blurred as you could barely control your body. armand’s name was the only thing you whine out through the overwhelming pleasure that took over you. he burned the sight into his brain, warm juices coated his hand as he slowed his movements, still overstimulating you just a bit.

you slumped against his chest, your blissed out state warming his abnormally cold one, he didn’t let go of you. you were out of breath, you stayed like that for a moment before he glanced at his fingers.

your pleasure dripped all over his pads, down to his palm, and he couldn’t help but take a taste of you. he took his time savoring each finger like it was ambrosia.

"messy little thing..let me clean you up."

[the141ghost]

Johnny didn't want to leave.

It was simple, final. And yet, for some reason that Simon couldn't quite understand, his chest felt empty because of it. He supposed he'd been hoping for something more… more.

But, as Johnny stared into his eyes and told him he liked how he acted, Simon decided he was very okay with it. There didn't need to be anything else, ever, not so long as he still had Johnny. He'd sooner die than ruin what they had by throwing a spanner in the works, and that's exactly what his feelings for Johnny were. They would just create problems for them both, and everyone around them.

"I never want you to fuck off, Johnny. When the day comes that you outgrow this place? This job? I've got no fucking clue what I'll do with myself. I don't even really know what I did before we started working together."

It was true. His whole life had been static, then Johnny, and then, when he left, it'd be back to static.

Simon never wanted that day to come.

The laugh that Johnny followed his self-deprecating thought with seemed fake, and the brief quiver in his smile proved to Simon that it was. That wouldn't do, not at all.

Simon made it his goal for tomorrow to find out who exactly had been telling Johnny that kind of thing, and make them regret ever even being born. 

He hummed, moving his hands up just a touch so they sat more on Johnny's waist rather than his hips. His waist was easier to grab, but he missed the softness of his hips. He slid his hands back down to where they were, if not a little further back. They weren't placed indecently, but they were definitely getting there.

"Well, if you are too much, I haven't noticed," Simon replied calmly, once he'd caught Johnny's gaze again he gave a tender smile. "Besides, I get told I'm not enough more often than you'd expect. We even each other out pretty well. Don't we?

Look at what I just told you, Johnny. That's why I don't try to get away from you. If you'd have told me how sorry you were that I had a shitty childhood, how terrible you felt for me? I'd have punched you in the bollocks. And maybe you did want t'say how sorry you were for me, but you didn't say it. An' I can't help but thinking that's because you know me better than I know myself most of the fucking time."

Simon had no idea where he was going with this. It felt like one of those times he'd say lots of little things to build up to one big thing, but what would he even say? I'd let you bend me over this desk and use me like a cheap whore if you asked? Yeah, not a chance.

"I'm a bloody mess, Johnny. I'm sure you pieced that one together yourself. I've seen so much shit that even I'm surprised I haven't stuck a bullet between my eyes yet. And whenever you're around… it doesn't get to me as much." He smoothed out the wrinkles he'd made on Johnny's trousers with his thumbs before he gave his hips another squeeze. "It's still there, always will be. But… I think that I can handle it a little better if you're with me."

Simon paused, eying where his fingers were pressing into Johnny's hips before he looked up again, biting the inside of his lip before he spoke again. "So… no. I don't want you to fuck off. And when you do-" When. Even if Johnny said he wouldn't, he would eventually. Everyone did, and it was for the best. "-I'll wish you didn't."

For the second time in just about as many minutes, Johnny froze. He was glad he'd already swallowed the bourbon, because if he hadn't he definitely would have choked on it, the bluntness of Ghost’s question catching him off guard. Johnny was glad he scrambled to correct himself before he could start spiralling about that one.

The way Ghost’s hands squeezed his hips slightly as he stumbled over his words sent a shock up Johnny’s spine. The skin beneath his hands felt like it was screaming, simultaneously glad for the thin fabric between them and also wanting to rip it off, to feel his rough, calloused hands against his bare hips, his stomach, his-

Okay, not going any further with that thought.

“Bloody hell, Ghost, if ye wanted me t’ fuck off ye coulda jus’ said,” Johnny teased, still grinning. Without even realising, he’d rested his empty hand on one of Ghost’s arms, just casually placed there without a second thought as if it were completely natural. To him, it was.

Ghost’s words did nothing to help the blush that had permanently settled on Johnny’s cheeks. The rushed I don’t want you to go away. The way he was the one to say that Johnny probably knew him better than anyone else.

Ghost didn’t just say things like that. Johnny understood the gravity of his words. He knew he meant them.

Once he’d got over himself, he realised he actually needed to come up with an answer. Fuck.

If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up letting far too much slip, say something he would definitely regret. He doubted Ghost wanted all the mushy reasons his mind was unhelpfully supplying.

Because I don’t think you’re a prick. I think you’re funny, I enjoy our banter and your terrible jokes and insults.

Because I know you better than anyone else. I know you struggle to express yourself and open up but I know you want to. And I know you do try.

Because despite everything you’ve done and because of everything you’ve been through, I think you deserve someone who will stick by your side, someone you can talk to, someone you can lean on, or just someone you can tell your shitty jokes. I want to be that someone.

Because I think I love you.

…Yeah, definitely not that last one.

“Because I don’t want to,” Johnny shrugged easily, as if those five words could somehow encompass everything he’d just thought, condense it down and let Ghost know how just much he cared without actually having to say it.

His words hung in the air for a moment as he looked into Ghost’s eyes, eyes he knew like the back of his hand, eyes he could read even when they were the only part of his face he could see.

“And I like that you’re a prick,” he added, his tone playful, as if he hadn’t just confessed to Ghost a thousand times over in a thousand different ways inside his head.

“Maybe, I’m the one wonderin’ why you haven’t got rid of me, already,” he turned the question back on Ghost, and even if his smile was still light and playful, something in his eyes was begging to know. “I get told I’m too much at least five times a day. In not as many words, granted, but I know people are thinkin’ it,” he gave a light laugh. His smile only faltered for a fraction of a moment.

[mingtinys]

" i'm not stopping until you smile "

pairing : lee seokmin x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

a/n :still not sure how i feel about the ending on this one

Sometimes it feels like the universe is actively out to get you. Like for some reason, whatever Gods above have chosen you as the perfect target for their cruel jokes as a cure for their boredom.

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong, had.

Your coffee spilled first thing in the morning, scorching your skin and ruining your uniform. The back left tire of your car was flat, forcing you to take the morning train. Which you missed due to your coffee incident. Work was hectic, your boss on your ass about anything and everything, and for some reason, every customer came in with a personal vendetta against you and you alone. And to top it all off, some creep wouldn't stop making comments at you on the train back home.

You're so desperate to just curl up in bed and hide from the world that you forgo the thought of dinner or cleaning like you had planned all together.

For what feels like hours, you lay there. Until the sun falls in the sky and your room fades into darkness. Unwilling to move even an inch to flip a light on or check your phone. Your apartment stays dead silent. Eventually, you hear the front door open and shut, followed by the sound of footsteps approaching closer. They pause just outside your bedroom door.

"Baby, are you in there?" Comes a voice, one so soft you nearly burst into tears from the sound of it alone. "I'm coming in, okay?"

The knob turns and in comes Seokmin, illuminated by a halo of light that pours in from the hallway. He takes one look at you and frowns. "Are you okay?" He asks, setting your spare key and his phone on your dresser before sitting on the edge of your bed.

"I got really worried when you weren't answering after work," he continues. "What happened?"

"It's fine, Seok," you sigh, already feeling like a burden on him. "But it's been a long day and I just really want to handle it alone, okay? I'm sorry you came all the way here."

He just stares at you, sad eyes searching your face for some type of answer. You feel like you've just kicked a puppy asking him to leave, but it's best this way. Seokmin's heart is far too soft, ready to soak up every ounce of negative emotion it can for him to bear the weight of. And you hate seeing Seokmin sad.

"You don't have to handle it alone though, that's what I'm here for." You really wish you could return his cheery optimism and put him at ease, but instead, you simply turn in your cocoon so you won't have to face his disappointed expression. Yet somehow, that doesn't deter him.

Whereas anyone else probably would've up and left by now, Seokmin simply scoops you up into his arms, blankets and all. He starts pressing wet, sloppy kisses all over your face before you can voice a single protest. Even when you attempt to hide from the barrage of affection in his chest he doesn't let up.

"Seokmin!" You whine, palms coming up to shield your face. He just laughs and easily pulls your wrists away, looping them behind his neck before pressing two more pecks to each cheek. Seokmin leans back to examine your face.

"I'm not stopping until you smile."

"I appreciate you trying but–"

Yet another merciless attack befalls your face, this time with exaggerated mwuahs for good measure. Though every few kisses, Seokmin mutters small, sincere 'I love yous' that begin to chip away at the walls you'd so desperately tried to construct.

So when your boyfriend finally pulls back for a second time he begins to beam with pride at the lopsided smile ghosting your lips. "There it is," he coos, softly lifting your chin with his thumb. "Now tell me, what almost stole my favorite sight in this world from me?"

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

[freyito]

ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴛɪᴍᴇ

✭ pairing(s): calcharo x gn reader

✩ inspo: I'd Have You Anytime by George Harrison

★ summary: You decide your boyfriend is being too moody.

✧ a/n: I WANNA SAY THANK YOU ALL FOR SUCH THE KIND WORDS AUGHHH I'VE BEEN KICKING MY FEET AND GIGGLING IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY TwT... i've got some little event cookin up for 700 followers, don't you worry...

BUT ANYWAYS i've been chipping away at wuthering waves... it's pretty fun !! kuro games also just make banger. games. so... the character designs are sooo yummmyyyy and of course i had to write a little fic for my (second) favorite... sephir-- i mean calcharo.

🗒 cw: gn reader, short n sweet, just fluff, not proofread

✎ wc: 781

Calcharo’s not necessarily the most affectionate boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. You are the stars that pepper the sky, the calm and wholeness of a stream running within a foggy forest, the night that beckons him into comforting arms. You are his everything. And he is, unfortunately, not the best at expressing that. But he is loyal.

He tends to hide within himself, too spun up in his own thoughts to pay more attention to the world. Not that he isn’t hyper-aware of his surroundings, he has to stay alert, after all. But he tends to stress himself out quite a bit like this, worried about the Ghost Hounds, those he had sworn to protect, and so forth. It seems the only time those worries fade away is when he’s in your arms. You’ve started to notice a slight slump in his shoulders, how his face relaxes into more of a neutral expression rather than a frown, and even how his voice sounds a tad… lighter.

Today, he is rather moody, choosing to brood and pace around the house, worrying about menial things. The pacing is a little annoying, but every time he lets out a sigh or a frustrated grumble, you can’t help but feel your heart twist. There isn’t much you can do, you know that, and the man will always have his worries. It is human nature to worry, and perhaps Calcharo is more human than he likes to think.

He opens his mouth to protest again, perhaps question you as to why you’re so determined, but you shut him up real quick, cupping his cheek and pressing a quite tender kiss to his lips. That shuts his mind up quick, you can tell by the way his stern demeanor melts away, returning the kiss after a couple seconds.

When you break apart, his eyes have softened, and his body relaxes once more. He lets out a soft sigh as if this is what he had been waiting for all along. You aren’t quite satisfied with your work, though. It’s been too long since you’ve had time with Calcharo in general, so why not revel in it?

You press a kiss to his nose bridge first, lips lingering for a second longer before pressing another to his cheek, then his forehead, then wherever you can kiss him. He doesn’t move or complain or push you away, simply closes his eyes and lets a soft blush dust his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It’s such a rare sight to see this man blush, and the fact that he isn’t doing whatever he can to hide it from you is impressive.

You continue your torrent of kisses, leaving no span of skin unkissed, untouched. He lets out a low rumbling sound and a scoff, which is close enough to a laugh you can get it, and you don’t mind. Not one bit. He has no idea what to do with his hands for the next minute or so, placing them on your hips at first but then ghosts over your ribs. For once he feels… awkward. He’s barely used to you making advances, not that he necessarily leaves room for them. Given his reserved nature, he had done most of the leading in the relationship. You thought it would’ve been best to go at his pace, after all. But he had never felt awkward during these years with you.

You finally stop kissing him, pulling away to look down at him. He’s still blushing, hair just a little more disheveled than usual, and the possibility of a smile tugging at his lips. A rare sight indeed, you oughta pat yourself on the back for doing that to him.

“Too much?” You ask, your voice cracking with mirth as your hands settle on his shoulders.

“... Not enough.” Calcharo responds bluntly, despite the slight wavering tone in his voice.

The man finally understands what to do with his hands, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down on top of him. You are practically nose-to-nose with him, and can’t help but giggle, which he responds in kind with a soft huff.

© freyito, 2024 | masterlist | queue | kofi | star header by roseschoices DO NOT REPOST AS YOUR OWN OR USE FOR AI/AI CHATBOTS.

[cutielando]

we can't be friends, part 3 | l.n.

synopsis: in which he finally confesses

part 1 part 2

my masterlist

Lando had never felt as confused and at a loss as he did in the days following the kiss you had shared. 

There was this gnawing feeling that wouldn’t leave him alone, a feeling telling him that he was an awful human being for continuing to deceive you, to lie to you about the past that you two shared and the history between you two. Hiding what happened between the two of you, the deep-rooted pain that he had caused you that had been so hurtful that you had to wipe away every single memory that you had made with him.

He knew that he had got a new chance to love you, to do things right this time around, but was he starting fresh by lying to you from the very first time you bumped into each other again? Was he any better than the first time around?

He had been battling with his thoughts for a good couple of days, trying to avoid having contact with you as much as possible so he wouldn’t be distracted.

You didn’t know how to feel when Lando suddenly started interacting with you less and less as the days went by. Your brain had started overthinking everything you had done the last time you had seen each other, trying to come up with answers about what you did that scared him off.

You came up with no answer.

And yet, the feeling of something being wrong never left your gut. You had had this feeling ever since you and Lando bumped into each other in the paddock. The sense that somehow, you knew him better than you imagined, that there was something more to the two of you than just randomly bumping into each other.

You couldn't shake the feeling over the course of the time you spent together. Your body and mind felt at ease whenever you were around him, like they had known and felt his presence a thousand times already.

The first time you and Lando had seen each other ever since the ghosting period you had been forced into was a week and a half later, when he had called you over to his place to ‘have a talk about everything.’ Deep down in your gut, you knew there was something more to just having a talk, but you went either way, eager to get some answers.

When you arrived at his place and entered the apartment, there was a momentary tension in the air between the two of you.

You awkwardly stood by the entrance door to the living room, Lando sat on the sofa fondling with his hands in his lap.

“Please, take a seat” he motioned, clearing his throat.

You gave him a small smile and sat next to him, keeping a distance between the two of you. Lando noticed that, but chose not to say anything for the time being.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked, cutting straight to the chase.

The suspense had been killing you the entire ride to his apartment, you couldn’t wait any longer to find out why he had called you over.

“Right” he cleared his throat again. “Look, before this goes any further, I thought long and hard about this and decided you should know the truth before anything else happens” he started, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“What truth? What’s going on?” you shuffled closer to him, your knees now touching.

“You see, this isn’t the first time we’ve met” he said, making you feel even more confused. “We were together, a couple of years ago”

“Excuse me? You and I? Together? That’s not possible” you argued, now once again shifting further away from him.

“I know it sounds impossible, but just bear with me. We were together in the past, and we were very happy too, until I screwed things up. I started putting my career and friends above our relationship, we didn’t spend as much time together as we used to, we started fighting a whole lot when we did find time to be in the same room as each other. We were miserable because of me at the end” he said, hanging his head low.

You shook your head, your mind trying to wrap around the information you had just heard. It was just not possible, was it? You didn’t remember anything that he was saying, so how could you forget something like that?

“I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, but this is insane. You realize that, right?” you said, standing up and pacing around the room.

“I know. We broke up after I forgot the anniversary dinner plans we had made weeks in advance. I remember the moment as if it were yesterday, the hurt in your eyes still haunts me to this day. You cut off all contact with me and a couple of months after, your sister told me that you had got a procedure done to wipe your memories of our relationship and me”

You stopped in your tracks, your eyes wide. All of those times that your gut told you that you knew this man, that you had been with him before somehow, it all made sense now. You wiped your memories of him, but your body couldn’t deny the effect that he had on you still.

“I know you hate me right now, and rightfully so. The moment I saw you those months ago in the paddock felt like the universe had finally given me a chance to start over, to do better this time. I would never, ever even dream about hurting you again like I did the first time around. You deserve so much better than that and I want to give you the world. I decided to tell you this so we wouldn’t start anything based on a lie”

You bit your lip, turning back to look at him.

The look in his eyes, so desperate for you to say something to him, was the most sincere one you had ever seen. Your brain was telling you to get the hell out, run away and forget about ever starting anything with the man that had hurt you once. But your heart was doing the exact opposite: what if you two meeting again was indeed a sign? A sign that you were meant to try again, give it one more shot?

You didn’t know what to do.

Your mind and your heart were waging a war inside of you, and Lando could see the turmoil behind your eyes. He knew he had just ambushed you with so much information that you had to comprehend, and he wouldn’t blame you if you wanted nothing to do with him from that point onwards.

“Can I have some time to think it through before I make a decision?” you asked, looking at him.

He nodded immediately, getting up to stand in front of you.

“Take all the time you need. No matter the decision you decide to take, I’m going to respect it” his words made you smile sadly and nod. 

You placed a kiss on his cheek as you made your way towards the front door, leaving the apartment and a broken Lando behind.

Lando felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest, but another one, even heavier, had taken its place. He knew, deep down, that he had just done the right thing for the both of you. Then why did it feel so wrong? Why did it feel like he just killed your relationship for good?

Sighing, he couldn’t do anything else other than wait for you, make sure to give you space and hope that you decide he’s not a total creep and he’s worth your time.

Your thoughts were scattered all over the place as you walked through the streets to your apartment. The information you had just been fed swirling around in your mind at lightning speed. You didn’t know what you were supposed to believe, what you were supposed to think of the whole situation.

Does Lando deserve a second chance? Has he really changed as much as he says? Or had he just jumped at the chance to use you and the fact that your memory was altered to weasel his way into your life again? 

Was getting in bed with him after what he had done dangerous?

Maybe.

But something deep inside of you was telling you that maybe, just maybe, this is how things were supposed to happen.

You had been so deep in thought that you didn’t realize where you were. You were expecting to find yourself in front of your apartment building, ready to think about it and have a good night’s sleep.

And yet, your feet had had a mind of their own. Only explanation as to why you stood, once again, in front of Lando’s apartment door. Deep down, despite all of the things that you thought you had to think about, your heart had already decided for you. 

Knocking on the door, you didn’t need to wait for too long before Lando opened the door, standing there with a confused expression.

“Y/N?” he asked as he watched you enter the apartment, closing the front door behind him.

“I know I said I needed some time to think everything through, but the truth is I don’t need time. I don’t remember anything about us before, and I don’t want to remember. Us meeting and reconnecting again shows me that we’re supposed to try this out one more time. Forget about the past and turn over a new leaf” you explained, watching the stress leaving his shoulder and his frown turn into a smile. 

Lando let out a sigh of relief as he listened to you, his plagued mind finally being set free. He didn’t know what to say to you, so he did the next best thing he knew.

He closed the gap between the two of you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you as if his life depended on it, having been deprived of your touch for way too long. 

You gasped, the feeling of his lips on yours sending shocks all throughout your body. He felt so good, his lips on yours feeling like they were made for each other, like two pieces of a puzzle.

And then, you knew, in your heart, that you had made the right decision.

Right?

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[soapsbaby]

Goodbyes

Summary: How you and your CoD partner would spend the last day and night before they have to go off on a mission.

Characters: Simon “Ghost” Riley, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, König, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x gn!reader Rating: SFW Themes: Angst, sadness, softness, no warnings needed Word count: 1300ish

Ghost

He’ll try to push you away, as if that would make it easier for both of you.

Once he can tell that he just makes you upset, he apologizes and makes sure the two of you get to do whatever you want to, usually you prefer to just get takeout with him, stay in bed and cuddle.

To him it’d be easier to not do that, it makes him miss you even more, but he does it for your sake. He knows that if something bad happens to him that you’ll be the one who suffers most, so he makes sure your feelings are prioritized.

He makes sure to say goodbye to you at night so he doesn’t have to wake you up in the morning and make leaving even harder on his part. He tries to be stoic about it but he hates every second of it, especially if you fall asleep on top of him and he has to gently shove you off and then just leave you behind.

Soap

He will absolutely not leave your side at all, trying to make the most out of your last hours together. No matter where you go, he’ll have a hand around your waist, is constantly kissing you and showering you in affection.

He tries his very best to be as cheerful as possible even though it’s hard, but he hates seeing you worried or sad. 

Before he leaves in the morning he makes sure he has something prepared for you, he puts flowers in the kitchen for you to find, notes on the mirror. You’ll also almost always wake up to a voice message on your phone by him, telling you that he loves you and that he’ll be back as soon as possible and there’s always a suggestion on what you will do, whether he wants to take you to a fancy restaurant he heard about or some nice café.

König

He gets quiet. His anxiety almost always tells him that something terrible will happen to either you or him once he leaves and the thoughts slowly drive him insane until he leaves and his brain switches into work-mode.

Even though he doesn’t really talk to you about it, you can tell that it bothers him and so usually you are the one trying your best to cheer him up. It also helps when you plan things you will do after he comes back and not even let the possibility that he might get hurt become an option. Oh, it’ll be just a week until you’re back, I might as well book the cinema tickets right now, right? 

He has a hard time expressing it, but he is eternally grateful for how casual you are on the outside even though you are of course freaking out as well. His job is really, really dangerous and him not coming back is always unfortunately a possibility.

He'll cuddle you to sleep and kiss you in the mornings, softly telling you that he loves you.

Price

He always makes sure to treat you to a nice dinner before he leaves, to leave a good impression, as he puts it. This can mean that you go to a nice, upscale restaurant, but he also loves cooking at home for you. He loves providing for you in general but the days before missions are the ones where he goes all out, going to the market for the fanciest ingredients and making sure you have an appetizer, main course, dessert and whichever expensive wine fits the meal the most.

He’s usually in good spirits before missions and not too worried about his wellbeing which rubs off on you. He is confident that nothing will happen, so you are too. 

You get up with him so you can have an early breakfast and spend some time talking before he has to leave.

Gaz

It hits him so much harder than it hits you. Not even because he is afraid that something will happen to him when he’s gone, just because he hates being apart from you for so long. 

If he got his way you’d just spend all day in bed, his face buried against your chest and rubbing his back but you usually try to at least get him out of the house a little bit, go for a walk or grab a coffee somewhere.

He is always affectionate but those days you won’t be able to get rid of him, not that you want to. He just needs as much reassurance as you can give him.

He really struggles getting out of bed in the morning, usually he’ll roll over to you again and kiss you awake, telling you he doesn’t want to leave and how much rather he’d stay with you. It doesn’t matter whether he has to leave earlier than you, usually you`ll get ready with him, giving him as many hugs and kisses in the process and sending him off with a smile. He doesn't have to know that you break down once he has left.

Rudy

The day before is always reserved for a family party, a barbecue or some other get together. He goes away often so not his entire family will come over every time but there’ll always be someone there. His family is incredibly important to him and he also feels much more secure knowing that you have a good relationship with them so you are taken care of if something were to happen to him. 

Once it becomes evening, though, he will make sure that he can focus on you and you only. Usually you won’t do anything “special” but he makes sure to take his time to talk to you, to make sure you are alright and that there is nothing on your mind that you are not telling him. There is nothing more important to him than clear communication and making sure he is on good terms with all of the people he loves before leaving for a mission.

You’ll fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way, he would never leave before saying goodbye to you. Usually you’re still sleepy and he’ll kiss you goodbye, tuck you back in and let you keep sleeping.

Alejandro

He tries his very best to be as casual before missions as he can, going through his regular schedule and not to make too big of a deal out of it, but you can tell that he is giving you more affection than usual, being a little more touchy and telling you how much he loves you even more than he does otherwise. 

He’ll make sure that everything is taken care of before he’s gone, taking you grocery shopping before and stocking up on everything that you might need. He also makes sure you pick up extra on some items to make the time easier for yourself, a good book, some snacks, maybe a bottle of wine. 

He is a true romantic at heart but he keeps the special dates and occasions away from your last days, it feels like bad karma otherwise.

He’ll make sure you are comfortable getting to sleep and that he has told you a million times that he adores you, that he’ll be back so soon and that you don’t have to worry one bit.

Valeria

She tries so, so very hard not to show it, but she is terrified every time she leaves that it will be the last time she gets to see you. Hell, she might not even get hurt but she might get caught and go to jail for the rest of her life.

She always makes sure that she has her affairs in order before she leaves, makes sure that you have access to everything you need so you can get away safely and not be punished for your connection to her. 

She’ll be extra affectionate, making sure that you know that she loves you and also making a point that she would never be mad at you for denying any connection you have to her if she gets into legal trouble. 

She treats every goodbye like it might be your last one, kissing you like she never gets to again and spending the entire night holding you. 

[actual-changeling]

An angel and a demon walk into a bar.

It sounds like the beginning of a joke, one that would have annoyed Crowley greatly before- before. Maybe it would have been mildly amusing, were it not for the fact that it is a pub, not a bar (a mere technicality that somehow still mattered), and it is the first time in seven months that he is looking Aziraphale right in the face.

He chose the place, walked right out of the bookshop and across the street the second Aziraphale looked at him with his stupid purple eyes and opened his mouth. Same table, same drinks. New silence.

A demon leads an angel into a pub so he does not kiss him again.

Less of a joke, more like the beginning of a nightmare he has had every single time he tried to sleep, woken by whispered words either confirming his worst fears or greatest desires; both incite fear, one way or another.

The low table between them is enough of a barrier to prevent a repeat of their last interaction, it has to be, although this time Aziraphale is looking at him with violet-coloured longing and an apology on his lips, no longer pleading, no longer angry. He is asking for forgiveness, and if that isn't a deeply ironic twist of fate.

Before either of them says a single word, Crowley finishes his drink and raises his hand to order another one, clinging to the familiar sting of alcohol in his throat to burn away the questions lingering on his tongue.

An angel followed a demon into a pub because he loves him.

Aziraphale wishes he could tell himself Crowley looks like he did seven months ago, that he hasn't changed, but he is done lying to himself, to either of them. Behind his shades, dark, darker if that is even possible, he can feel his golden gaze heavy on his face, familiar and the answer to an empty longing in his chest.

His drink goes untouched as Crowley downs one, then another, and it is after the third that he finally begins to talk.

"What do you want?"

Bitter, sharp, spit at his feet with an anger he expected and yet doesn't know how to react to. Underneath it is pain—more pain than any being should ever have to experience—and instead of trying to carry some of it for him, he only added to it.

"I want to apologise."

"Fine." Crowley shoves his empty glass away and gets up. "I don't forgive you."

Reflexively, Aziraphale reaches out and curls his fingers around his wrist when Crowley tries to walk past him, blinking up at him with eyes the colour of dying Myosotis.

Forget-me-nots.

They both freeze, the point of contact a crack in the walls they have spent centuries building and seven months rebuilding, and he knows he has made a mistake immediately.

Crowley stares at him, still as stone, until he suddenly rips his arm out of his grasp, almost cradling it against his chest. With dawning horror, Aziraphale realises he is shaking, tremors running through him like waves breaking apart on a rocky shore.

"Don't you dare touch me." Panic, not anger. Pure, unfiltered panic blooming beside a mountain of fear that could outlast an eternity.

"I-" He doesn't know what he wants to say, what he is trying to say, what he needs to say to make him stay. Oh, the irony of it all.

Crowley leaves the pub, and the Supreme Archangel stays behind.

Not a demon anymore, not technically, he is done with sides, and deeds, and choices; he never makes the right ones anyway. His wrist hurts with the ghost of a kiss, and he cannot get the glint of purple where summer sky blue should be out of his head. 

The Bentley is waiting for him, providing an escape from the noise, the people, him.

Apologies instead of I'm coming back.

A sickening aura of holiness tinged with the burn of ozone instead of books and dust and soft, silly angel.

Seven months of waiting, of pleading with God, of cursing Her, cursing him, cursing the entire fucking world for taking and taking and taking from him without pause, without even a fragment of mercy.

For this.

An angel returns to heaven. Crowley curses the stars and cries.

[rynwritesreid]

The Perfect Girl || Spencer Reid.

Summary: You are Spencers dream girl, everything is perfect about you. However, there is something you can’t tell Spencer as it will put his life in danger.

Content: Reader is basically on the run from some bad people. AFAB reader who goes by she/her. It’s kind of angst and full of fluff :) Use of Y/N.

Words: 1.5k

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You were Spencer’s dream girl; all his colleagues and friends knew you were the perfect girl for him. From the moment Spencer saw you, he knew you were the one. You were smart, you could argue your way out of anything and most importantly you always stood up for what you believed in, no matter the consequences you may face. Spencer could not get enough of you. You were a light in a world full of darkness for him.

 

So, when you just disappeared, he was left confused and alone. That wasn’t something you would do; it was totally out of character for him. You would have said goodbye, whether that in person, through a text or on a note. You wouldn’t have just left him like this.

Spencer searched for you everywhere. He looked in all the places he thought you might go, the places you mentioned you loved visiting growing up or places you took him, but you were nowhere to be found. As days turned into weeks, Spencer grew more and more frustrated. He missed your fiery spirit and the way you challenged him to be a better person.

 

He had asked Garcia for help; she could track anyone down. But you were smart. You had left all belongs that could be traced in your old apartment. You didn’t use any bank accounts; you face wasn’t found on any security cameras or systems. You were now just a ghost.

 

Spencer was at his wit's end. He couldn't bear the thought of never seeing you again. He knew he had to do something, anything to find you. He spent every moment of his free time pouring over any information he could find about you. He was determined to find a lead, no matter how small.

 

He would get angry at himself, he worked for the FBI, part of his job was searching for people. So why couldn’t he find you? Then he would get angry at you, why did you leave without saying anything, were you in trouble or did you just get bored? Spencer wanted to give up, you obviously didn’t want to be found, so why should he keep searching.

 

But despite his frustration and anger, Spencer couldn't help but worry about you. He knew that you were capable of taking care of yourself, but he couldn't shake the feeling that you were in trouble. He spent countless nights lying awake, trying to think of any leads or clues that could lead him to you.

 

He knew that there was only one person he knew that could truly help him in this situation. She had disappeared before, and she was able to keep part of her history a secret. Emily Prentiss. She was the only one who could possibly understand why someone would do this, and where they would go to hide.

 

Spencer picked up the phone and dialled Emily's number. It rang a few times before she picked up.

 

"Reid, it's good to hear from you. What's going on?" Emily's voice was warm and comforting.

 

"It's about Y/N. She's disappeared and I can't find her. I've tried everything. I don't know what to do." Spencer's voice was strained, and he could feel himself starting to panic.

 

"Okay, Reid. Take a deep breath. Let's go over everything you've done so far." Emily's calm voice helped steady Spencer. They spent the next few hours going over all of Spencer's attempts to find you.

 

"Okay, I have an idea," Emily finally said. "There's a group of people I used to know. They're kind of like a... rogue organization. They know how to disappear without a trace. If anyone would know where Y/N is, it would be them."

 

Spencer leaned forward; his interest piqued. "What kind of organization?" he asked.

Emily hesitated for a moment before answering. "They're a group of people who specialize in helping individuals disappear. It's not technically legal, but they only help people who are in danger or need to start fresh for whatever reason."

 

Spencer nodded, understanding. "Do you think they'll help me find Y/N?"

 

Emily shrugged. "It's worth a shot. I can make some calls and see if any of my old contacts are still active. But Spencer, you have to understand that this could be dangerous. These people don't mess around."

 

Spencer didn't care. He was willing to do whatever it took to find you. "I'll do whatever it takes," he said firmly.

 

You were safe, you weren’t happy, but you were safe. It took all of your will power to disappear and not tell Spencer anything. You loved him, but this needed to happen.

 

You were now living under a new identity, in a small but quaint town. You had a new job and a new home, but you always had the feeling of someone watching you. You knew your past was eventually going to catch up with you, it was something you had constant nightmares about.

 

One day, you received a phone call from an unknown number. You answered hesitantly, and a voice on the other end spoke.

 

"Is this Y/N?" the voice asked.

 

You froze. How did someone find you? "Who is this?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

 

"My name is Emily Prentiss. I used to work with Spencer at the FBI."

 

You felt your heart racing. Did Spencer send her to find you? "What do you want?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

 

"I know you disappeared for a reason, and I'm not here to judge you for that. Spencer asked for my help in finding you.”

 

You felt a wave of emotions wash over you. You wanted to see Spencer so badly, but you knew that it was dangerous for both of you. "I appreciate the gesture, but I don't want to be found," you said firmly.

 

"Y/N, I know you're scared. But Spencer is so worried about you. He misses you so much, and he just wants to know that you're safe," Emily said gently.

 

Tears welled up in your eyes. You missed Spencer too, but you weren't sure if you were ready to face him just yet. "I need some time to think," you said finally. "Can I call you back?"

 

"Of course. Take all the time you need. But please, consider talking to Spencer," Emily said before hanging up the phone.

You spent the next few days agonizing over what to do. You missed Spencer more than anything, but you were still afraid. Finally, you decided.

You would meet with Spencer, but only once. You knew that seeing him again would only make it harder to stay hidden. But you couldn't bear the thought of him thinking that you didn't care about him at all.

 

You called Emily and told her that you were willing to meet with Spencer, but only under certain conditions. Emily agreed and made the necessary arrangements.

 

The day of the meeting arrived, and you were nervous. You dressed in a plain outfit, nothing that would make you stand out. You arrived at the meeting place and saw Spencer waiting for you.

 

He looked relieved and overjoyed to see you, and it took everything in you not to run into his arms. You sat down across from him, keeping your face hidden as much as possible.

 

"Y/N," he said softly. "I'm so glad you're okay."

 

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. Spencer looked at you with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

 

“I’m okay, but I am going to have disappear again after this. Spencer, I love you, and I did this for us. I was putting your life in danger and your career in jeopardy. When I was teenager, I got mixed up things, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. There are people out there who are trying to find me and well kill me.” You paused; you couldn’t let Spencer know everything.

 

Spencer looked at you, his face full of love and concern. "Y/N, I understand that you were trying to protect me, but I can't bear the thought of losing you again. Please, let me help you. We can figure this out together."

 

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. "Spencer, I can't let you do that. You have a life here, a job, a future. I can't let my problems drag you down with me."

 

Spencer reached across the table and took your hand. "Y/N, I love you. I don't care about any of that. All I care about is being with you and keeping you safe. Please, let me help you.”

 

“Spencer, if I do let you help me. You’ve got to promise that you won’t die or put yourself in harm’s way. Because if you do, I won’t ever be able to forgive myself.”

 

Spencer looked at you, his eyes full of determination. "I promise, Y/N. I will do everything in my power to keep us both safe. We can do this together."

 

You looked into his eyes, and you knew that he meant every word. Slowly, you nodded. "Okay, Spencer. I'll let you help me."

 

Spencer smiled; relief evident on his face. "Thank you, Y/N. We'll figure this out together."

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[querulousmegapode]

Just, Drumknott is such a fascinating character.

Just the way that he’s described as having no discernible character and the fact that that’s a significant part of his professional persona that he’s cultivated. Just that he’s spent time turning himself as much into nothing as anything. That he moves silently, like a ghost, or is so quiet that people forget that he’s there. That he’s expected to listen in to conversations.

Just that so often he’s there in the background, mentioned as standing or sitting while Vetinari speaks.

He’s a ghost when Vetinari requires him to, dry and deadpan when Vetinari pulls him into their double act (especially with Moist), professional and sensible in most capacities.

But then in solo scenes you realise that he has so much character after all. Picking apart grammar in an entirely casual way when faced with a threat (when you say don’t nobody move), almost rude as he cuts off William (I think I don’t have to talk to you), embarrassed after getting stabbed, enthralled with the new steam engines. Even around Vetinari you get scenes like him agonising over misfiling that all show that he clearly *does* have this discernible character.

Just that his artifice has worked so well that it bleeds into everything. His attributes are essentially never described. He has no canon appearance. His discworld companion entry just mentions his lack of discernible character. We know essentially nothing about his life outside of work other than that he lives in the palace. In terms of family, all we know is that he has a singular nephew. Even William forgetting to ask for his age means that we know very little about him beyond him being ‘young’ (and that can’t possibly still be true by the end of the series).

Of course, a lot of that is stylistic, but I still find it interesting.

I also find it fascinating to consider those times that he appears colder. Part of his position involves appearing as a united front with Vetinari and Vetinari acts in certain ways to upkeep public opinion of him as a tyrant or just generally acts in morally questionable ways. This is, of course, half of what I like about him, but I keep finding myself considering Drumknott’s part in that.

Showing Moist the newspaper headline and commenting ‘innocently’, despite knowing that it’s likely going to make him fearful for his life. Arriving at the hanging and delivering the message about the false reprieve, again just toying with Moist. Standing there silently as Vetinari tells Mr Pump to break one of Moist’s fingers.

I’d love to get inside his head in that moment. Of course, Vetinari *doesn’t* break any of Moist’s fingers and I think he might be a different character if he had. But he can be ruthless and I’d love to know what Drumknott thinks about that. I presume he correctly guesses that Vetinari is teaching Moist a lesson.

He is, of course, very loyal and genuinely believes that Vetinari is not a tyrant. Working so closely beside him he is able to see past the persona that Vetinari puts up and in a scene where he is uncertain about Vetinari’s meaning he is described as usually being adept at understanding Vetinari (paraphrased).

I think for me this is a lot of the appeal of Vetiknott as a ship. These are both such deeply odd individuals, couched in layers and layers of artifice but ultimately they both understand each other. They understand putting Ankh Morpork first and devoting yourself to a life where you will never be thanked. Devoting yourself to a city that would much rather spit in your face than acknowledge your efforts. Being deposed and poisoned and shot for your troubles. Even Drumknott gets stabbed just for being there.

This is a dangerous, thankless, unrelenting job but every day they wake up and do it and that’s what I love about them.

I think that a quote from a DictionaryWrites fic sums this up best for me.

This is the best either of them could hope for.

[phantomposting]

So this prompt is probably gonna be a bit niche and only a very specific group of angst lovers may be into it but i mean I write to itch my brand of brain rot so who cares right?

Alright so I was thinking DP x Dc but what if we have a bit of a Tokyo ghoul esque twist. Danny and Damian are twins of course cause who doesn't love a bit of family drama :3

TW: CANNIBALISM, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, STARVATION, GORE, VOMIT

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

So essentially something goes terribly wrong and Danny can't digest food anymore the only thing he can eat is human flesh like a ghoul. Not sure what triggers it wether it's a lab accident or ghost biological thing is up to the writer

Danny doesn't fully know this when things start going south tho all food makes him violently ill and he essentially starts starving himself due to not knowing what's wrong and what he can stomach. Sam and Tucker try very hard to help him but it's a bit hard to truly tell what's going on until it's too late.

Sam accidentally gets a cut while alone with him. Things are a blur. All Danny knows when he comes too is Sam is dead, and he just tore her apart. Her blood is all over him and his mouth and he's in ghost mode. Someone came to check in the screams and saw him the ghost ripping her flesh from bones. Before he can truly absorb what's happened he runs.

So on the run he has a moment of realization. He feels like he should throw up but he can't. He assesses and doesn't know what to do. He wishes he could die he wishes he could rid the world of such an awful beast and fade but he isn't sure how to even do so. Every effort just heals. So he decides to get as far away from everyone he loves as he can.

He goes to Gotham. Its the best way to hide his ecto signature to keep the others from getting hurt and there's quite literally a constant supply of corpses to keep the ghoulish side fed so that he won't black out and hurt anyone ever again. He just needs to keep moving and keep hidden so the bats don't catch on and nobody gets hurt.

While getting into a routine he tries to figure out how to stop this how to go back to normal. He's slowly losing his mind and all this is messing with his protection based core he's falling apart at the seams.

Meanwhile the bats are horrified by the new developments of what seems to bea cannibal in gotham messing with all their evidence. It's really putting a damper on all their investigations and they need to track this guy down and fast if they want to assure the citizens safety.

Joker also catches onto this cannibal and just so happens to run into the kid. He offers him shelter and a role to play in exchange he gets free food from jokers victims it's a win win really. And what a pleasant way to mess with the bats especially with this kid looking like such adoption bait for the guy.

Needless to say Danny agrees having derailed enough mentally that he figures he might aswell just be the villain at this point. He also obtains the name Ghoul or maybe even Ghoulish Laughter under jokers foot.

One night things all come to a head and there's a big fight between joker and the bats. This showdown is where Damian and Danny run into eachother for the first time. Damian is horrified to see what's become his his brother and Danny is horrified to find that he could hurt his own brother and runs.

Joker is pissed Ghoul doesn't stick around. He's gonna starve that stupid beast for his insolence. Damian is determined to find out all he can and figure out what exactly happened to his brother. Hopefully either help him or stop him from ever hurting anyone else ever again.

Writers choice of how they want things to go down from there and wether or not Danny can be redeemed or saved. There's honestly a whole world of possibilities with this one! :D

[karlachismylife]

And We Just Disagree

CW: gn!reader, hurt/comfort, mentions of arguments (no actual fighting written), reader is having bad feelings, but it's a good ending, smoking.

(Title from "We Just Disagree" by Dave Mason)

Having arguments is always hard. No matter the point of disagreement, no matter how big or small, loud or quiet, they always leave you miserable whenever you fail to find a compromise or convince someone to accept your point of view. Every fight strips all your defences clean off, right to the bare, hurting periosteum, scraped with the harsh blade of someone's animosity.

You'd rather never argue at all, but there are times where you can't just accept whatever you're given. You're not afraid to stand your ground.

But God, it never gets less exhausting. Especially with Simon.

You don't fight often, and whenever you do, you find a solution sooner or later. After sliding through the loops of the barbed wire he surrounded his six-layer walls, you found that he wasn't as bad with disagreements as one could think. He never yells, never lets offensive words spill from his lips - whenever he says something harsh, he's just beng honest. Maybe you'd preferred a little more sugarcoating, but you didn't choose this man for being easy to deal with.

Maybe that's why having actual fights with him hurts so fucking much. Because you want to be as gentle and accepting with him as possible and you know the wish is mutual, but sometimes you just bloody can't.

That's when you find yourself feeling vulnerable and unsafe in your own apartment. As if every time you lose Simon's unconditional support for whatever reason, you lose your home entirely. He stops whatever discussion you were having, pinches nis nosebridge, blond eyebrows painfully furrowed, and throws a gruff "I need a smoke" your way before slipping away to the balcony.

Outside the apartment door to smoke at the communal staircase, if he needs more time.

Going out for a whole circle around the apartment building - once, when you honestly thought you might break up over the issue.

Today is a balcony day. It's a slight consolation, but it fails to reach you as you curl up in a ball of gloom and misery on the living room couch - the balcony is in the bedroom - and feel your fingers get cold and unpleasant nausea rising somewhat up to your solar plexus. Not all the way to the throat, but it isn't any less irritating; your body knows something wrong and tries to tell you.

Stupid body that doesn't understand it's not an issue you can just resolve by puking a poisonous fruit out or cuddling up to the members of your pack for warmth. A genius and yet such a useless evolutionary mechanism.

The balcony door closes with an echo that makes you uncomfortable. Simon walks silently, a literal Ghost no matter the size, every creaking floorboard memorized without even trying, but you notice his shadow in the corner of your eye and feel the couch dip heavily underneath his mass.

He brought cigarette smell - a tangy clove aftertaste of an expensive, fashionably black cancer stick - and outside's coolness to the living room. It's the only familiar thing about a man that feels no closer than a stranger in your depressed post-fight misery pit.

"Lookin' good, love." His voice startles you, not because you weren't expecting to hear him speak, but because it sounds exactly like that - like a stranger just coming up to have a chat and hopefully learn your name, phone number and relationship status.

"You're not so bad yourself, I suppose." Your answer is a bit distant, but you accept the game. If it's strangers he wants to play, you'll be a stranger. No one said you have to be a convincing one. "I like you."

"I like your eyes," Simon retorts immediately, a small movement indicating he's turned his body towards you in an invitation. "Even when they're sad."

A tired sigh. You're tired. Your eyes are tired. Your body and mind are tired.

"I don't want to be sad. Not when I'm with you."

"I want to make you happy, then, love." He's being sincere. Just a lad offering something so simple and yet dsirable to someone he took a shine to.

Can he make you happy right now?

"I want to kiss you." It's not the solution to all problems, you know that, and yet you out your wish since it'll probably make the pathetic feeling of your own smallness go away.

"I want to kiss you too."

You finally turn to him, offering him to drown in your upset eyes, and Simon meets your gaze with the same solemn expression, a sad frown on his face right up until his big hand - smells uniquely like a hand of a man who just had a smoke - cups your face and pulls you in for a short, soft, shallow kiss.

Your stranger's kiss.

"Let's talk about it again, lovie," he whispers, resting his forehead against yours and brushing his thumb along your jawline reverently. "'M not gonna talk until ya say everything ya want, a'right? Will listen. We can resolve this, I know we can."

He's right. And he's there for you, so you can be there for him too. You clutch his loose T-shirt right under his collar and sigh, looking down as you feel warmth seeping back into your body reluctantly.

"Wanna kiss a few more. Then talk."

This is definitely not something Simon will ever argue against.

[diyasgarden]

it’s definitely head-cannon that Patrick is a certified lover boy

-he defs cuts his hoes off once he knows he’s emotionally invested in someone

People assume that he’s a fuck boy because of his high body count & the activities he’s done when single but relationship Patrick? He’s ALL IN & it lowkey hurts his feelings that people can’t think of him as a serious boyfriend or being committed to someone that he truly loves & cares for

AGREE AGREE AGREE!!! I have some thoughts on this too

I think if you’re friends with Patrick when he realizes he likes you, he gets a bit distant from you at first. His feelings are a bit overwhelming and he needs time to process what he is feeling, but he can’t do that when you’re around. When he finally feels comfortable being around you, he doesn’t want you to realize how he feels. He’s afraid that these feelings could change the whole dynamic. What if you didn’t like him back? He starts to tease and annoy you more than usual to make everything seem normal. Naturally, you find this weird itself.

If you were friends with benefits or just casually seeing each other, he also gets distant. He ends up ghosting you, and tries to get with some other people. Of course it’s not the same. He thought having sex with other people would help him get his mind off you, but It takes longer for him to get off. When he finally does he ends up saying your name and the other person slaps him for that. This happens multiple times. You’d also notice his distance in this situation.

In both situations, you’re the one who has to confront him about his odd behavior. Mostly because it’s confusing and you know something is up. And either way, his behavior kinda hurts your feelings.

He doesn’t even admit it when you do. He panics and acts like you’re overreacting, which just upsets and annoys you even more. After that, now you’re the one who starts avoiding him. This really freaks him out. He feels guilty but also scared he’s lost you completely, but he isn’t surprised. Everyone leaves him eventually. What else could have been expected from you?

If you’re not able to talk about your feelings, Patrick becomes the one who got away. (He feels the same way about, although he wouldn’t admit it)

If you are able to do so, you do end up contacting Patrick again. You guys get into an argument again. He still claims you’re the one being weird, but you maintain your position. Eventually the tension turns sexual and you end up making out with each other. One thing leads to another and you’re both in bed. He finally tells you how you feel about you when you’re laying down next to him. At first you think he may be saying it because of the sex, but you quickly realize he is being honest when you see his expression.

You both agree to try dating properly. He cuts off everyone else he was seeing without a second thought. He isn’t the best boyfriend at first, not really sure how to behave with you. If you were friends before this, he is still worried about what could happen if your relationship doesn’t work out. He’d lose you as a friend then too. If you were friends with benefits or casually dating, he is worried that you preferred just sex with him and may want to go back to something like that. In either case, he thinks losing you as a partner is very possible, and it stresses him out. It can make him somewhat clingy, which is annoying but eventually you’re able to set some boundaries (or you just get used to it). He’s also a bit self destructive, and sometimes it’s clear that his thoughts about your relationship falling apart is more of a self fulfilling prophecy than anything. He may find reasons to pick a fight with you, even when nothing is wrong. It’s up to you to deal with this.

Your friends make fun of your relationship every once in a while. It’s a joke, because they know Patrick’s past, but this just upsets him too. He isn’t one to care about what other people think about him, but this feels different. It’s not about just how they see him, it’s about how they see your relationship. He starts to wonder if everyone is just assuming is waiting for you both to break up. He rants about this to you, and again you’re left to deal with it.

You have to do a lot to show you actually love him. That your relationship isn’t just about sex (which is what he thinks he is best for). You do this by actually telling him how you feel, but also through your actions. Like showing up for his games and practice. He is also a big physical touch person, so you’re always touching or holding him in some capacity to show how much you love him and appreciate his presence. He is also constantly holding on to you in public. Holding your hand, hugging you. Squeezing your ass every once in a while. Sometimes you catch him twirling your hair around his finger. (You love it)

[ateotd-izzy]

ceilings | stiles stilinski x fem!reader

PART ONE | part two

summary: in an attempt to bring stiles back from the ghost riders, lydia, scott and malia try to help y/n to search her memories and remember him completely.

warnings: set during 6a, kissing, possibly swearing? idk how i feel about this tbh

taglist: @brvceyamada

☾

ceilings, plaster

“okay, y/n. imagine you’re in your bedroom.” lydia’s voice calmly echoed through the room. “visualize yourself in your bedroom.”

you looked around. your bed, your shelves, your desk, it was your bedroom.

“can you see it?” lydia asked and you nodded. “okay, good. can you see your shelf? the one with all your movies?”

you took a few steps over to the bookshelf, dvds filling each individual shelf and only a few books lay around.

“yes.”

“y/n, imagine each dvd is a memory of stiles. every movie is a different memory.” lydia spoke. “you need to find the correct memory. the one that’ll bring him back.”

you pulled the first dvd off the shelf and opened it, putting the disk into your player.

can’t you just make it move faster?

“what the hell?” you wiped your cheek with your hand as the boy in front of you laughed. “what the hell was that?”

he shrugged, still laughing.

you were in your kitchen with stiles, the afternoon sun spilling through the window as you went through the cupboards.

“seriously, babe, what was that?”

“it was just water.” he chuckled, dipping his fingers into the glass beside him and flicking it at you. “don’t need to worry.”

“you’re such a dick.” you rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that grew on your face as he slowly made his way over to you.

“you love me.”

“mhm.”

“go on. say it.” stiles whispered into your ear, his arms wrapping around your body from behind and his chin resting on your shoulder. “you know it’s true.”

“fine.” you spun around so you were still facing him in your arms. “i love you, stilinski.”

he smiled and leaned in, pecking your lips.

“i love you, too.”

lovely to be sitting here with you

“can you see him? can you remember him?” lydia asked.

“it was just water.” you mumbled. scott and malia exchanged a confused look behind lydia’s back.

“y/n, you need to find a stronger memory. keep looking.”

you’re kinda cute, but it’s

you ran your hand along the different dvds before stopping on one.

you pulled it out and glanced at the cover. it was blank.

they were all blank, so you knew it would be a hard search to find the right memory.

“find a stronger memory, y/n.” lydia’s voice guided you and you placed the new disk into the dvd player.

raining harder

“you guys won!” you cheered, grabbing both of stiles’ hands in yours.

you were standing on the lacrosse field at the high school, and he was wearing a beacon hills jersey.

he was number 24.

it must’ve been winter, or just cold, because it was raining.

the grass was all soaking wet, and water dripped down your face and near your eyes as you looked up at him with the biggest smile.

my shoes are now full of water

“did i look super hot out on the field?” he joked. you knew he had only been out there for a few minutes.

“totally.” you pulled him by his shoulders and kissed him on the lips, drops of water falling off his hair.

“i did better than scott, right?” stiles asked after you pulled apart and you laughed.

“well…”

the boy made a face at you and you scoffed.

“okay, well, he’s team captain for a reason.”

“it’s fine, i know i was better than him.”

“you keep telling yourself that, buddy.”

lovely to be rained on with you

“did you find a good one, y/n? something strong?” lydia asked and you shook your head.

“keep searching, y/n.” scott’s voice was just as soft as lydia’s, but she quickly shushed him.

“y/n, you need to find a stronger memory.”

it’s kinda cute, but it’s

you looked through the dvds and picked one out at random.

it wasn’t like you could pick and choose when they were all blank.

you thought, ‘better than nothing.’ and put it in the player.

so short

“again?”

“come on. please?” stiles made a sad face as he held out the star wars dvd to you. “we haven’t watched it in like… a month.”

“we just watched a star wars movie like a week ago.”

“yeah, but that was a new hope, so now we have to watch empire.”

“okay, fine, but my mom wants me home right after.”

“yes! also, don’t worry about that. i’ll drive you.” he smiled brightly as he put the disc into the dvd player in his living room then dropped onto the couch beside you. “you know, this is why you’re my favorite.”

“what?”

“scott would never watch this with me. especially not multiple times.”

“scott never watches movies with anyone. you should know this by now.” you bumped him with your elbow.

“i know, i know.” stiles slid his arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek. “you’re still my favorite, though.”

then you’re driving me home

you sat in the passenger seat of stiles’ jeep, which sounded like it was going to fall apart as he drove it, later that night.

you glanced to your side, staring at his face.

you could tell a smile tugged on his lips and he looked to you for a split second.

“what are you staring at, weirdo?” he asked and you looked out the window again.

“nothing.”

“liar. you were looking at me.” he teased. “cause you think i’m so hot.”

“is that a crime?”

“oh, definitely not. you can look at me all you want.”

there was silence between you two for a moment as he pulled into your driveway. you sighed.

he looked at you this time.

“do i have to leave?”

he chuckled and gave you a kiss. “i’ll see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“see you tomorrow…”

and i don’t want to leave

“keep pushing, y/n.” lydia motivated. “search deeper. you can find the one you need.”

“do i have to leave?” you muttered the words. “see you tomorrow…”

lydia sighed. “y/n, try searching deeper. you’ve got this.”

there was a growing stack of dvds being dumped on your bed after going through its memory.

you picked out another one.

but i have to go

“come on. you don’t need to go in there.” you pointed up at the building beside you inside the large gates. “you’re not crazy.”

“i don’t want to hurt anyone, y/n.” stiles spoke, sheriff stilinski standing beside him. “especially not you.”

“but eichen house?” you stared at him sadly. “stiles…”

he reached out his hand and pulled you into his chest, hugging you tight. he kissed the top of your head.

“i love you, y/n.”

you sighed, your arms keeping him as close as possible. you didn’t want to let him go. “i love you too, stiles.”

you kiss me in your car

“come on, stiles. breathe.” you cupped the boy’s face in your hands. “try not to think about it. think about something else.”

“like what?” he panted, looking up at you with sad eyes and a broken expression.

you were both sat on the locker room floor, he was having a panic attack.

“happy things. friends, family-” you stopped yourself after he gave you a look. “okay, not family. try not to think about your dad. just breathe.”

“i…” he hyperventilated. you adjusted your hands on the sides of his face. his eyes met yours.

that was all you could see. his eyes.

“stiles, just breathe.” you could see there wasn’t really a difference in his actions. you leaned forward and attached your lips to his.

his eyes went wide, but he seemed to melt into the kiss.

you pulled apart and he stared into your eyes, his breathing slowed down, the panic attack over.

you grabbed his hand and he intertwined your fingers.

and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before

“i kissed him.” you spoke to lydia and the others, your eyes closed as you sat at the table in front of them. “he was having a panic attack. i kissed him.”

“holding your breath stops a panic attack.” lydia nodded, explaining to the others. “now, y/n, find something deeper. something more important to you. something more important to him.”

“to stiles.”

“exactly.”

the next dvd was higher up on the shelf, you grabbed it easily.

bedsheets, no clothes

you were lying beside stiles, running your finger along his bare chest.

he pulled you closer to him with a smile, pushing some of your hair away from your face.

“hey.” he whispered.

you smiled back. “hey.”

“that was something.”

“a good something or a bad something?” you asked, still whispering.

“definitely a good something.” he rubbed his hand up your arm. “probably the best something. i don’t know if there’s been a better something—”

“alright, i get it.” you chuckled softly.

there was no need for the whispering, it was the evening and no one else was home, but you still did.

his hand ran along the side of your face. “you’re so beautiful.”

there was no way you could’ve fought off the smile on your face as your cheeks warmed.

touch me like nobody else does

“definitely a good something.” you recalled. “he said it was definitely a good something.”

“what was?”

you went quiet again, searching through the different dvds.

some memories were shorter than others, just conversations or things like that.

“find something, y/n. good or bad.”

lovely to just lay here with you

you picked out another dvd. it was blank like all of the others, but it seemed different.

you took it off the shelf because it seemed to be staring right at you, practically calling your name.

you played that one.

the memory didn’t give you a feeling that it would bring him back, but it felt like something you needed to see.

you’re kinda cute, and i would say all of this

“come on, stiles.” you whispered. “you can talk to me.”

he was ignoring you. and you had no clue why.

he sighed and your eyebrows knitted in confusion.

it was late at night and you were both lying in his bed, him with his back to you.

“can you just… drop it?” he mumbled. “i’m not in the mood.”

“what happened, stiles?”

“nothing, just go to sleep.” he adjusted himself in the bed slightly, but didn’t face you.

“stiles…”

but i don’t wanna ruin the moment

time seemed to skip and he was sitting up, facing you.

“what? do you not trust me or something?” you asked.

“no, that’s not it—” he cut himself off. “i just don’t want to talk about it.”

“stiles, i get that, but i want to know what’s going on with you.” you put your hand on his shoulder and he, quite obviously, winced. “what’s up with your shoul—”

“nothing, y/n. just leave it.” he winced again and pushed your hand off. “i don’t need your help.”

“seriously?” you scoffed as he turned his back to you again. “you know what? whatever.”

you pushed the covers of his bed off and stood up, slipping your shoes on.

“where are you going?” stiles asked, sitting up again.

“home.” you answered. “you obviously need space, so i’m respecting that. i’m not gonna push it anymore.”

“wait, babe,” he started getting out of his bed. “i don’t want you to go.”

“i’m still going, stiles.” you picked up your backpack. “we can talk tomorrow.”

“it’s late.”

“i’m aware. my car’s outside, remember?”

“please stay.”

“i’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever you’re ready to talk about whatever the hell’s going on with you right now.”

lovely to sit in between comfort and chaos

standing in your bedroom, staring at the tv as you left stiles’ bedroom, you remembered the fact that you didn’t talk the next day.

stiles just never said anything about it to you.

not until after everything with theo was practically over.

basically everyone else knew about it, but you.

he didn’t think you would understand, which was probably the most upsetting part for you because you did.

you understood it was self defence. you understood he did it because if he didn’t he would’ve died.

but it’s over

“y/n? are you okay?” scott asked, ignoring lydia as she shushed him.

you nodded. being hypnotised was weird.

lydia had taken notice of your saddened expression too.

“find a different memory, y/n. i know you can do this.”

then you’re driving me home

the next memory you found was not long after theo was literally sent to hell.

you were with stiles in his jeep. he was driving you home again. except this time going home from scott’s house.

the car was silent, but not in the usual comfortable way. neither of you had really spoken to the other since that night, only really for pack stuff.

you were terrified that he thought the two of you had broken up, and he was scared of the exact same thing.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you that night.” stiles spoke up. “i should’ve said something.”

“no, i get why you didn’t. i was being pushy and you didn’t want to—”

“i did want to tell you.” he sighed. “i was so scared, y/n. i thought there was a chance that you wouldn’t understand or something and i’d lose you.”

he looked right at you.

“i mean, scott didn’t.”

“that was theo’s fault.” you told him. “scott didn’t know the full story. you know he knows the truth now.”

“mm.” he seemed to agree, but you could tell something was still off by his body language.

you took the hand he didn’t have on the wheel into yours.

and it kinda comes out as i get up to go

“you know, i still love you, right?” you told him after he stopped and he looked over at you.

“wha— oh, yeah. yeah, i know.” he nodded, avoiding your eyes, looking outside the car.

“do you know?”

he didn’t answer for a moment, then shrugged.

“i do, stiles.” you kissed his cheek. “i love you, and that never changed.”

“never?”

“not for one moment.”

he smiled, then laughed softly, then leaned forward and kissed you on the lips.

“i love you too.”

you kiss me in your car

“it never changed.” you sniffled slightly. “i still loved him after everything. he was so scared i wouldn’t, but it never changed.”

“after what, y/n?” lydia asked, hoping more elaboration would help them bring back stiles.

“after donovan.”

scott knew what you were talking about, that was something he had remembered when he thought about stiles.

“after i knew, i still loved him, and he still loved me.”

and it feels like the start of a movie i’ve seen before

then you picked up one more dvd. you just stared at its blank cover and seemed to know what it was.

putting the disk in, you watched as you ran with stiles to his jeep in the school parking lot.

this was the last memory you had of stiles. the last time you had really seen him.

but it’s not real

“y/n, babe, listen. you’re going to forget me.” stiles’ voice seemed to echo around you as you recalled the night.

“no, i won’t. stiles, i won’t.”

“you will.” he cupped your cheeks and made you look him in the eyes. “you will.”

you shook your head as tears threatened to spill. “i won’t.”

“it’s okay, just find some way to remember me. any way.”

“stiles…”

and you don’t exist

“i was the last person to see him.” you spoke to your friends. “i was there when they took him. i saw it happen.”

that night was so long ago, but all the details were rushing back to you now.

you were starting to remember it all.

not just that night, but everything about stiles.

and i can’t recall the last time i was kissed

“i know you’ll find some way to remember me.” he squeezed your hand. “ do you remember the first time we danced at the winter formal? you were the first girl i ever danced with.”

you had gone together as friends, despite everyone knowing you had crushes on each other.

“remember how we started dating that summer.”

“the summer before junior year.” you nodded.

“yeah.” he stroked your cheek, wiping away a tear. “that was the best summer of my life.”

you chuckled. “mine too.”

“remember all those sleepovers we’ve had. remember when we’ve fought. remember every time we’ve kissed, or…” he paused and just stared you in the eyes.

the interior of the car was silent, but the wind blew violently outside.

“just remember i love you, okay?” he kissed your hand. “please just remember that. i need you to.”

then he was pulled from the car. the wind stopped and he was gone.

it hits me in the car

you sat there, curled into a ball in the passenger seat, sobbing.

you muttered over and over. “i remember. just remember. i promise.”

you hated the silence, and you hated that he was gone. you didn’t even notice that he had started to slip from your mind.

not until you walked into school the next day, anxiety overwhelming you as your brain tried to remember why it felt like you were forgetting something.

why it felt like a whole piece of you was missing.

just then, remembering what it was like when he was taken, every single memory of yours that included stiles came rushing back.

memories from when you were friends as kids, up until high school. memories from after scott was bitten, back when stiles had his buzzcut.

memories from when he was possessed by the nogitsune. memories from all the times both of you had almost died.

memories of the two of you before and after you started dating. memories with scott and the pack, memories with his dad, memories alone.

all of it.

and it feels like the end of a movie i’ve seen before

you opened your eyes and looked around. you weren’t in your bedroom anymore, you were back in argent’s underground bunker with lydia, scott and malia.

“y/n.”

lydia had tried to get your attention, but stiles’ voice played over and over in your mind.

you could see bright lights coming from outside the room, and you rushed out. the three of your friends who were still there ran after you.

you stopped in the corridor, the lights so bright you couldn’t see anything.

then you could see him.

not his face, or any defining qualities at all, but you knew it was him.

he was more like a silhouette, but you could recognize stiles stilinski anywhere.

“stiles.” you breathed out, a smile breaking out onto your face.

you were finally going to have him back. after months of the awful anxiety and feeling that something was missing.

he was like the last piece of your puzzle, and you were going to be complete.

then the light faded.

before

a/n: first post on tumblr help this is scary

[asterdisaster06]

Reunion with the 141 boys + König

141 + König x reader - separately

summary > You stumble upon an old friend - or more - that you never forgot but thought was long gone.

word count > 2.5k

a/n > probable hiatus for a bit while I get my webtoon ideas out of me and back into writing full fledged stories

ao3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Simon?”

“Shit, love,” He replies, staring at you like he’s seen a ghost. Irony that you would look back on another time.

“Where have you been all this time?” You ask, tears welling up in your eyes. Tears that you couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact emotion behind them. Hurt, relief, excitement, dread, disbelief. You take a shaky breath and stumble towards the tall figure. Your frame shakes as you reach a hand out to cup his face, almost convinced that it’s a simple mirage. A ghost haunting you all this time. 

“. . . Working,” Simon replies, placing his hand over yours. 

“Out there saving the world, huh?” 

“I wouldn’t quite say that,” He says, his eyes expressing everything that he couldn’t tell you. The deep brown eyes swirling with anxiety at the very thought of your responses. 

“What happened, Simon? Why didn’t I hear from you all this time? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?” You rapid-fire these questions at him, your voice breaking as you do so. 

“I know, love, I know. I’m so fucking sorry. There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by that I’ve forgotten about you, but I was forbidden from talking to you. I thought it was easier this way, to let you go rather than force you to stick around for someone that might not even escape alive.” 

“I sold the apartment, I moved to the outskirts of town, I adopted a dog; but I never moved on, never got rid of your stuff, called every week to see if you were even alive,” You cry out, leaning your forehead against the chest of the man you used to cook breakfast with. 

“I’m here now, I’m here. I’ll get you flowers, kiss every tear from your cheek, spend the entire rest of my life by your side if you would let me, sweetheart,” Simon whispers, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I promise.”

John “Soap” MacTavish

“MacTavish?”

“Bonnie?”

“Welcome home?” You say, tears of happiness welling up in your eyes. You’re suddenly crushed in a bear hug that left you unable to breathe in the best way possible.

“What are you doing here, sweets?” Soap asked, taking a step back if only to stare intently at your face, studying it as if it was a simple mirage.

“Your family kinda kidnapped me,” You laugh, a beautiful sound for the man so accustomed to gunshots and screams. 

“I would expect nothing less. I’ve missed you so damn much, you don’t even know,” He says, enveloping you in another hug. Similar to the kind you did around the stuffed animal - the one had gifted you before he was deployed - of yours every night.

“I think I do know, considering the fact that I’ve missed you twice as much,” You tease with a sly smile.

“Oh, I don’t think so, Bonnie. I think I missed you infinitely more than you did for little ole me,” Soap grins, a contagious thing that infected you like the flu.

“You haven’t changed one bit, MacTavish. Not one bit.”

“I think of that as a win, especially since you were so very in love with me whenever I left,” Soap says softly, his eyes betraying his regret and sadness at having to leave you for so long.

“I still am, you dafty,” You speak, cupping his face in your soft hands.

“I love you, so very much. I’m so happy to be back to you, and this time it’s going to be for a while. I promise you that. We’ll have all the time in the world to go on those little date ideas you wrote to me about, and I’ll take you out to dinner - wine and dine you if you know what I mean,” The Scotsman said with a wink at the end.

“Knock it off, MacTavish,” You say, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Alright, only if I can kiss you, Sweets,” Soap asks, always the charmer.

“Alright. . . only if you plan to make up for all the kisses you promised over the phone,” You state with a cheeky smile.

“I think we could work something out,” Your lover speaks, kissing you with all of the passion and longing that’s been ruminating across the year you had been unable to see each other. It was filled with gentle sweet nothings and a desperation that was only able to be expressed in person. It was a promise, one to make up for all of the time away. And an apology on top of that. One that you forgave quickly as you melted into Soap’s soft embrace. 

John Price

“John?”

“What are you doing here, love?” 

“How long have you been here?” You ask, deflecting his question.

“How long has it been?” He smiles sadly. It was both a question and an answer, one that ripped your heart to shreds.

“You’ve been here all this time? All these months? And you never once thought to inform me that we’ve been stationed here, on the same base?” You cry out, your calm and collected facade breaking quickly. 

“You look so different. . .” 

“John, answer my question. What happened? Why didn’t I hear from you all this time? Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been thinking you were dead, or worse?” 

“I’m so sorry, love-”

“Bullshit! I missed you so damn much, cried over you almost every night, I never thought I’d be able to see your face again, and here you are safe and sound! I wish I could be happy about that fact, but right now I’m just pissed,” You exclaim, your body starting to shake from the pure agony running through your nervous system.  

“I wish I could give you an answer that would satisfy you, soothe your pain, but I can’t,” Price says, taking a tentative step towards you. Like you were a frightened animal.

“Try, just try. That’s all I’m asking,” You plead.

“Shepherd knew about us. He offered me an ultimatum. Be charged for fraternization or go into deep cover. I considered private pain to be better than the public argument, and he promised me I could explain before I left. Obviously that did not occur, and for that I am so very sorry,” Price explained, taking another stumbling step after the other until he was close enough to cup your face in his hands. Rough hands that have killed more men than either one of you would like to admit, but also the very same hands that have held you as you slept. The very same that have held your hand to keep you from wandering off when you got too excited by distracting environments off base. The same hands that are currently wiping your tears away.

“I’ve missed you,” Is all you manage to say in response.

“Fuck, I know, love, I know. I wish I fought harder for you,” John whispers,

“I don’t blame you, not as much. I know how much your job means to you. I also know that I would do the same for you, for us,” You reply after a lapse of silence - broken only by the shaky breaths both of you shared. 

“That doesn’t mean that we had to let superiors get in the way of us - not completely at least.”

“You were sent undercover for months,” You say, mostly to yourself. Unable to believe that fact. You knew first hand what it was like based on your position and personal experience, and it was something you would have never wished upon John. Not even minutes previously when you were furious with every fiber of his being. 

“I’d prefer not to recall those times, love,” Price mumbles, rubbing gentle circles over your skin.

“What do we do now?” You ask, hesitant in your words.

“What we always should’ve done, been able to do. Fall in love and be able to express it in all aspects of our lives,” Price promises, holding you close to him. 

“You know that Shepherd will make our lives a living hell if he finds out,” You mention, your body simultaneously relaxing at the fact that Price still loved you enough to risk everything, but tensing at the fact that it truly was his entire life on the line. 

“Fuck Shepherd. He’s kept me from you for long enough, and made sure of the fact that I have so much to make up to you. Starting today, and taking it one day at a time. I swear on my life that I will never let anything get in the way of my love for you if I can help it. And if I can’t, whatever is stopping me better pray to whatever they believe in,” Price says sincerely, making a smile come across your face at his seriousness.

“There’s that beautiful smile, love. Oh how I’ve missed that. It has got to be one of the only things that kept me going all those months without you.”

“John?”

“Yes, my love?” He replies quickly, so eager to please after his involuntary betrayal. 

“I forgive you,” You murmur into the crook of his neck.

“I don’t deserve you, angel, never have,” Price speaks softly, his once forgotten voice sending shivers down your spine. 

“You always have, John, always.”

“I promise, my love, I promise that I’ll always make sure to prove to you that I do until the day I die. And for the rest of eternity after that.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, forever and always.”

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

“Kyle?”

“Love?”

“It’s been a long time since I last saw you. How are you keeping up?” You ask, nervously fiddling with the luke-warm coffee cup in front of you.

“I’ve been surviving, and you?” Gaz responds, taking a seat in front of you.

“Living to the best of my ability. It’s good to see you’re okay, Gaz. I was starting to worry you had gone and gotten yourself killed,” You say with a bittersweet smile tainting your features.

“Hell, not even falling out of a helicopter could end me, so I think I’m doing pretty alright for myself,” He says with a chuckle.

“Since when did you fall out of a helicopter?” You laugh incredulously, beginning to slip back into old, childhood habits. 

“Since . . .” Kyle starts, holding up his fingers to count, “About two weeks ago.” 

A wide grin had taken its place on his face as you started laughing at the absurdity of it all. It reminded you so much of the clumsy nature of the lanky teen you had befriended so many years ago. It had never evolved to anything beyond uncoordinated first kisses and awkward hand holding for a week after you two decided you were better off as friends. Friends you were however, the best of them all the way up to this point. You had supported his dreams and ambitions and in return you got to see the fruits of his efforts blossom into something you were both proud of. He was always there for you too, through all the ups and downs of trying to find a relationship in the dating world. Harder than you thought it would be, but you always had Kyle to fall back on. Something you were incredibly thankful for.

“Do you remember when we got locked in the mall after closing?”

“That was a long time ago, huh? I’m sure you’re still the same as always,” Gaz says with a quirk at the edge of his lips. The very same that you were currently staring at.

“I’ll have you know that I have a much better perception of closing times now, you dork,” You say, kicking him under the table.

“Oh yeah? Do you wanna put that to the test?” Gaz smiles inquisitively, almost hesitant in his words.

“Are you, Kyle Garrick, asking me out?” You ask, taking a risk.

“Are you accepting my offer?” Kyle coaxed, a warm flush creeping across his cheeks. 

“I think I’ve been waiting for this moment ever since you’ve left to go save the world,” You tease, warmth flowing through your veins.

“The idea of you, us, is what’s kept me alive all these years, love,” Kyle says softly. 

“Why don’t we make that a reality, Garrick,” You express, sending a loving look his way.

“I don’t think I could ever want anything more than I do that, sweetheart. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side, if you would let me.”

“And I you, but this place is also about to close, so I think it’s time we hit the road,” You laugh.

“Shit, love. You really have gotten better at your time management.”

König

“König?”

“Liebling?”

“I’ve missed you.”

“And I you, Schatz,” He says, turning to focus on the sight of you under the streetlamp. 

“I presume Kortac has made some contracts around here. I don’t take you guys for the type to go on vacation, especially around these parts,” You say mirthfully, a gentle smile painted across your face. 

“Ah, yes. We would be responsible for the curfew and extreme supervision. My apologies,” König replies, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Don’t apologize. If anything, it’s a blessing to have you looking over my shoulder for me. That, and how else would we have met up again?” You chuckle.

“I did tell you that I would find my way back to you,” He claims, taking a small - as small as someone of his stature could - step towards you. Oddly cautious for someone that feared nothing on the battlefield.

“That you did, König. I just didn’t quite expect you to show up this soon. Or in this particular way.”

“Are you unhappy with me being here?” Asked with a semblance of doubt, searching your features for any negative emotion.

“No, of course not. Of course not. It’s good to see you again. I’ve dreamt of this moment in my downtime, when I sleep, when I miss you. Which is a lot,” You answer honestly.

“I’ve counted down the minutes to being able to see you again, Liebling.”

“Do you remember what you promised me before you left?”

“I do recall a specific promise, yes,” König acknowledges. “It was a dinner at our favorite little place on the corner, correct, Schatz?”

“Once a good memory, always a good memory, Liebe,” You tease. He had always been the one to remind you of test dates way back when you were in school. The pet name of yours brings a slight flush to the cheeks of the Austrian man, a humorous sight if you were a bystander. 

“Would you still like to accompany me?” König asks, holding a hand out. One that you took and interlocked your fingers into his gloved ones. It was a comforting sensation.

“If you would still like to take me.”

“Always, Liebling, always.”

[kookygranger]

And He Was

Ghost!Steve Harrington x Witch!Reader

Series Masterlist

900 words

“This is crazy!”

Steve barrels into the apartment after you.

You’d spent the rest of the train journey staring at each other as Steve held on tightly to the hand that stroked his arm. It wasn’t until a grumpy late-night commuter walked passed the both of you with a muttered get a room, that his attention was lost.

They could see him.

He tested out the waters of this new revelation with every person you passed on the way back to your apartment. Smiling and waving at the ticket attendant barely paying attention, leaning down to pat a dog belonging to a disgruntled runner that was forced to stop, opening the door for a woman who lived in your building and telling her to have a good night even through her suspicious look.

Steve Harrington could be seen again. He could greet people and help them through doors. He could touch things.

But he hadn’t bothered to touch you in the 23 minutes since he’d discovered this new development.

“Yeah it–“

“I mean what the hell?!” He paces franticly around your apartment. Smiling giddily at the feeling of your records under his fingertips, chuckling when he can pick up your teapot. “Want me to make you some tea?”

“Maybe later.”

His face falls at the lack of excitement on yours.

“What’s wrong?”

Why haven’t you jumped at the chance to touch me? You kept trying to when you couldn’t, doesn’t it matter anymore? Will you leave now that other people can give you attention?

“Nothing.” You shake your head, motioning to the teapot in his hand, “I’ll take care of that. Although I don’t think it’s gonna do you much good.” You walk towards him, “Whatever this is still doesn’t change the fact that you’re–“ He stops you from taking the pot with a hand on your arm, and you swear you still feel a zap even when there isn’t one.

Steve looks down at his hand and smiles softly when he feels the warmth of your skin under his moving thumb. He puts the pot down on your table, his now free hand moving to your waist. He leans in slowly and you can feel the inhale of his chest against your arm, that can’t be right, before his lips leave a soft peck on your cheek.

You're burning fiercer than you ever have under his gaze.

“Hi.”

You barely get the reply of a h out before he’s shifting you in front of him properly, one hand enveloping the side of your jaw while the other squeezes your waist as he presses his lips to yours.

There’s a shiver that runs through your whole body at the contact, like stepping into an ice bath, but then it’s all warmth. That familiar tingle spreads through you as his lips move against yours with a desperate pull. You flinch back before you’re lost in the feeling altogether, eyes shut and head shaking.

“I feel like this is crossing a line of delusion. I can’t be kissing a ghost! This is insan–“ Steve cuts you off with another deep kiss, hands confident in their attempt to ground you.

“You worry too much.” He mumbles into your mouth and you open your eyes, breaking your lips apart.

“Shouldn’t you be more worried? Steve, you're dead.”

He smirks, “Which means I have nothing left to worry about. Besides,” your lips click as he presses quick, sweet kisses to you between talking, “I don’t feel like I’m dead. ‘Cause I can feel again, you know?” He leans back, hazel eyes searching deep within your own, “I feel things when I’m with you.” His thumb strokes your cheek softly, “I can touch you for god’s sake.” He laughs in disbelief, “Babe, you’ve brought me back.”

You frown under his gaze of awe, “Steve that’s not possible.”

“Okay, maybe not back back, but you’ve done something.”

“I haven’t used any magic I swear.” You shake your head.

“No, not with magic. I think it’s just you.” He smiles, before licking his bottom lip, “I was content with my death when it happened you know. I got to say goodbye thanks to your friend, and I saved the people I loved with my sacrifice. Then I met you and I knew I couldn’t go. That it wasn’t really my time because I would miss out on a life with you.”

“Steve.” You whisper, eyes stinging.

“I’m serious. I don’t think it was an accident that led me to you. I think it was fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate.”

He frowns, “Isn’t that a witch thing though? You read tarot cards.”

“I use them more as guidelines on what to look out for. How to avoid bad things–”

“Whatever, I don’t care.” He shakes his head, before squeezing your hip again. “I know. You’ve done this to me.”

Tears are threatening to spill over your lash line now.

“I’m sorry.”

Steve smiles at the whisper that leaves you, “Don’t be. Best thing that’s ever happened to me. Gave me no choice but to find a way to be with you forever.”

You let him lean his body into you, giving up on fighting against your own when his lips find yours again, melting against him when he licks into your mouth. Steve Harrington was still dead, but his form appeared entirely real. How? At this moment you did not know, but you couldn’t find it in you to question it.

Because, well…you’d fallen in love with a ghost.