#heather's one here does make me chuckle

[baronessvonglitter]

America's Favorite Pastime

dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 2.3K

Summary: your dad invites his best friend Joel over to watch the baseball game, with no clue that Joel's been sneaking around with you. Being a feisty little brat, you make a risky move while the three of you watch the game.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (Joel is mid forties, reader is late teens or early twenties), secret relationship, fingering, hand jobs on the sly, basically getting away with smutty stuff while your dad's nearby

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Your Uncle Joel's comin' by for a bit, gonna watch the ballgame," your dad tells you one warm June evening. Uncle Joel.. you keep your smirk to yourself as you think on the nickname you've known your dad's best friend by all these years. It's especially inappropriate now that you've been hooking up with him since spring break.

And right on time, Joel shows up at your door, jeans snug in all the right places, a heather-gray shirt clinging to his chest, drawing your eyes to the biceps peeking out from beneath his sleeves. There's a few salt and pepper streaks at his temples and in his beard, which when you've pointed out to him, he's laughed off. His eyes dilate at the sight of you, giving you a once-over before he fixes his expression to be one of sociability. "Hey darlin', where's your dad?" he drawls.

"He's on the warpath, can't find batteries to replace the ones in the remote." You let him in, noting the way he brushes against you casually, as if on accident. His hand gently cups your ass, a quick feel before you settle into your roles as family friends. "I'm used to seeing you come through the back door.. or through my window," you murmur, watching his eyes darken with lustful remembrance. "Dad, Uncle Joel's here!" you shout upstairs.

"Damn it, I gotta find some more batteries," Ray calls out from the second floor. "Make yourself at home, buddy!"

Joel chuckles softly at Ray's outburst, his eyes twinkling with playful amusement, and he turns to you with a mischievous smirk. "Looks like we've got a little privacy for a minute, darlin'," he murmurs huskily, his hands sliding down to your hips.

Your panties are already damp at the feel of his large hands on you, fingers playing at the smooth skin between the bottom of your shirt and the top of your shorts. You reach up and run your tongue along the seam of his lips while you put his hand down the front of your jean shorts.

Joel's eyes darken with desire as you guide his hand, his own breath hitching with pleasure at the feel of your warm, wet flesh. "Jesus, Little Miss Eager.. darlin', you're gonna get us caught," he mutters gruffly, his voice husky with need.

"That's part of the thrill," you whisper as he presses you against the back of the sofa. His fingers slide over your slick folds, teasing you, daring you to cry out or whimper.

He grunts softly as his fingers circle your clit, wishing he was nibbling on it the way you love. "What's wrong? Didn't get enough last night? Drivin' me crazy, even with your daddy right upstairs," he whispers back, his voice taut with desire. "Does your daddy know how dirty you are?"

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," you reply, breathing rapidly at the feel of his invading fingers.

His fingers explore you, teasing you enough without actually giving in to what you want. "You naughty little thing," he whispers against your ear. "You like takin' the risk, don't you? Lettin' me touch you like this even though your daddy could walk in."

"I am naughty.. your naughty little girl.. your naughty little dirty girl.." your voice breaks, gasping.

Joel grunts softly. "Damn right you are," he growls hungrily, his fingers delving further inside you, curling to find the spot that drives you wild.

"Yes! Yes!" You gasp as quiet as you can, one hand supporting you on the sofa and the other digging your nails into his shoulder. Joel's thumb brushes over your clit in a daring response as his eyes gleam with excitement. "Oh you like that, darlin', don't you?"

"Joel you're gonna make me come.." you tell him, your voice dripping with desperation, the pleasure uncoiling in the pit of your stomach, waiting to be released.

His fingers move faster, generating more friction with your touch. "You gonna come for me right now, with your daddy in the next room?" His voice is taunting and seductive, a dare in and of itself.

"Yes.. yes.. yes!" you squeak out as you come hard around his fingers.

Joel whispers praises against your ear as your pussy grips his fingers, drenching them in your sweet juices. "That's it, darlin', give it to me.. just like that.. good girl," he whispers. "You're so damn beautiful when you come for me like that." His voice is low, husky, full of admiration, and his eyes are full of love and desire.

You whisper his name as you come down, enjoying the little aftershocks of pleasure.

Ray's voice booms out from above. "Hey, what's that noise down there?"

Joel curses under his breath, quickly removing his hand from your shorts, his body tensing as he listens out for Ray's next move.

"We're looking for the batteries, Daddy!" You call back upstairs, taking Joel's wet fingers and licking your juice off them.

Your dad grunts a reply upstairs.

"You little vixen," Joel grins, a lustful expression on his face as he watches you lick his fingers.

"But you like me this way."

"Oh I do. I like you like this way too much, but right now I have to put some space between us before you dad comes down or he's definitely gonna see somethin' he doesn't wanna see."

You pout but he's right. "Don't worry," he mutters, "we'll make up for lost time later. I promise." He goes to wash up quickly, wishing he could keep your scent on his hands.

Your legs are still shaking but you get some beers and soda from the fridge and help Joel set up. Your dad soon comes back down with fresh batteries. "I think we missed the first inning, but that's okay," he replaces the batteries and sits down next to you on the sofa, Joel on your other side. Joel's expression is schooled into neutral politeness as he cracks open a cold one and watches the game. You purposely keep your eyes off him, because honestly if he looks your way you're a goner. The TV generates a soft glow in the relative darkness of the living room.

Sipping your diet soda, you lean against your dad to get comfortable while he explains the rules, even though you've seen a thousand baseball games before. You smile and kiss his cheek as you rest your head on his shoulder, forever his little girl, until someone else comes to take you away. Joel uses his peripheral vision to watch you, comparing your affection for your father with the licentiousness Joel himself has brought out in you.

After feeling Joel's eyes burn a hole through you, you at last give him some attention. "Uncle Joel, who do you think's gonna win? The Rangers or the Red Sox?"

"I'm gonna say the Rangers, sugar. They got a lot of momentum this season, and their batting has been pretty impressive." He takes a sip of his beer, watching you with an appreciative gaze.

"I don't know.. their best pitcher is out for the rest of the season, and they can't hit for shit when they're playing away games." You stick your tongue out at him in a playful ,manner and all he can think of is where he wants that tongue later.

Joel grins at your sharp observation, impressed by your knowledge of the team. "Well damn, darlin'. Sounds like you know your baseball better than I do. I guess we'll just have to see who's right in the end, won't we?"

You chuckle, giving him a flirtatious look as you rise from your seat. "We'll see. Let me get y'all some more beer." You pick up his and your dad's empty beers and take them to the trash.

His eyes don't follow you but his mind is filled with you.. "Damn, she's somethin' else," he mutters.

"You say something?" Ray asks, eyes on the game.

Joel snaps to attention, his heart racing as he realizes he spoke out loud. "Oh, uh.. just sayin' how that third baseman has a hole in his fuckin' glove," he corrects himself.

"They shouldn't have traded for that guy from Detroit. Ridiculous move," Ray shakes his head.

Joel's relieved the conversation is smooth. "Yeah, definitely a tough trade. They really need a consistent lineup."

You return to the living room with ice cold beers. "Here you go, fellas."

Joel's fingers brush against yours a brief moment as you give him his drink. "Thanks, darlin'." His eyes lock with yours before he quickly turns his attention back to the game.

You sit between him and your dad again, pretending to be absorbed in the game. Every now and then your arms or thighs graze one another's. The tension is palpable until, in the semi-darkness of your living room, you place your hand on Joel's thigh, moving upwards to cup his crotch as you innocently turn to your dad to ask him about the game.

Joel clenches his jaw, keeping a vigilant watch on the TV, barely cognizant of the conversation you and your dad are having.

"What's that honey?" your dad asks. "Oh, it's an automatic double when the ball gets hit against the far wall," he explains.

"Hmm, I see.." you continue to caress Joel on the sly, just out of sight of your dad.

Joel shifts in his seat a bit, his face a study in nonchalance. "Yeah, hitting is all about precision and strategy," he chimes in.

"And the bat?" Your caress is bolder, palming his semi-erection while he can't do anything about it. "Does the bat have anything to do with it?"

Joel clears his throat gruffly, soothing the roughness you've created in his voice. "Oh, the bat is absolutely essential.. the right bat can make all the difference in the world.. especially when you've got the right swing." His eyes gleam with unspoken hunger as he holds your gaze, the double entendre obvious.

"Daddy, you played ball with Uncle Joel in high school.. what was his swing like?"

Ray glances up, a nostalgic smile on his face as he recalls the memory. "Oh, your Uncle Joel was a hell of a batter," he grins, shaking his head with admiration. "He had a natural talent for it, a natural sense of timing and coordination. He could knock the ball out of the park with one swing. His whole body would snap into it with this powerful, fluid motion, and you just knew it was gonna be a home run."

"Sounds like nothing's changed," you whisper to Joel, smirking as you watch him writhing under your touch. Taking it up a notch you unbutton his jeans dip your hand inside, finding him growing harder, cock poking through the hole in his boxers. His eyes flutter shut.

You brush your thumb over the tip of his cock and he swallows hard, his features taut with struggling to control himself. "You're toyin' with me, darlin', and you damn well know it," he whispers lightly to you. "Don't make me do somethin' I'll regret in front of your daddy."

"I'll call your bluff." With that, you stroke him faster, turning up the volume with the remote to cover your sounds. Joel's body jerks, his low growl turning into a stifled moan of pleasure. "Damn it, darlin', you're gonna make me lose it," he says through gritted teeth.

"You all right there, man?" Ray asks, eyes glued to the game.

Joel tries to maintain his composure, clearing his throat before answering your dad. "Yeah, I'm fine.. just a lot of excitement in the game," he adds with a strained laugh.

"Shit yeah. This guy scores, the Rangers win." Ray shakes his head and swigs his beer.

Joel takes the opportunity to look down at you, his eyes dark with warning. He shakes his head silently for you to stop teasing before he loses control, but you're having too much fun with this. A slight raise of your brow, your tongue wets your lips and you whisper, "Come for me."

His body tenses at your whispered command, and he does his best to restrain the deep, guttural moan that tries to escape his lips. His hips jerk once against your touch as he spills his release inside his jeans. Luckily, Joel's groans are covered by your dad's shouts of victory as his favorite team wins. Ray leaps from the couch, oblivious to the both of you.

Meanwhile Joel's body is still vibrating with the intensity of his orgasm. He closes his eyes, trying to gather his wits and collect himself before anyone can notice the dampness in his jeans. When he opens his eyes again his gaze lands on you and his stare reads sultry. "You're gonna pay for that, darlin'."

You're shocked at yourself, at what you've caused, but the surge of power is delicious. You remove your hand from his pants and, eyes on him, lick up his cum from your palm. Joel's breath catches in his throat at your bold and suggestive move. He growls softly under his breath, his eyes glued to yours as he silently communicates just how much trouble you're in with him.

"I'm gonna go out and get some more beer," your dad announces, collecting his wallet and keys. "Joel, you okay here? I'm just goin' around the corner."

Joel's in no position to get up without it being evident that's he's come in his pants. "I'm good here," he says mildly, forcing a smile.

"I'll take good care of Uncle Joel," you tell your dad, your smile holding the tiniest bit of mischief. You share a glance with Joel, who for a millisecond looks like he would fuck you on the couch the instant your dad leaves.

"It's no problem, Ray," he assures your dad. "Y'know you can trust me."

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[floshav]

part 2 to my last rodrick fic which u can read here !

part 3 out now !

summary: Rodrick proves his likeness for y/n through a spontaneous kiss leaving her smitten and dazed. However, thoughts of Heather still lingered in her mind, constantly being reminded of the blonde girl whenever she passed by. "Does Rodrick still like her?" "Does he even like me?" What happens when Heather suddenly takes interest in Rodrick after ignoring him for years just because she can't let y/n get what she wants.

wc: 2k plus

warnings: allusions to smut, heavy make out

2 weeks later...

the kiss, no not just the kiss but the two kisses rodrick and y/n shared that night resulted in their relationship. She had been left smitten and the feeling was one of those that even if you wanted to forget, you couldn't. The heart racing, blush inducing feeling of getting kissed on by rodrick the boy she'd been crushing on for years, with his rough boy lips which still managed to be soft and plush because well, he was Rodrick after all.

It was now a plain old Monday and she was lost daydreaming in her Calculus class, or was it english? She couldn't bother to take notice.

"Alright, take out your calculators and flip to page 56. We'll be grinding through the workbook today class!" Ms. Smith yelled whilst her big buggy glasses fell down the tip of her nose bridge, stopped by her finger which shoved them back in place. Y/n couldn't care less. Her mind was swarmed with what happened 2 weeks ago.

His lips grazed hers one more time, this time softer and one might say more lovingly if she was in a state of delirium. She felt his slender hand creep up the side of her hip brushing it against her shirt so so gently. He broke off the kiss and his face was so close to hers she felt as if she might faint right then and there. The boy who was rough, impatient and borderline rude crumbled in-front of her. She'd never seen Rodrick like this before. Each freckle, each fine line, each perfect imperfection visible to her now. She'd imagined this image thousands of times before, but never had she imagined it to come true. Rodrick hesitated before saying his next words "I- I really like you y/n. And- and i just want to set that clear before you try showing up to my house drunk silly again. You were being so wreck less you know that?" He chuckled dorky-ly ever so slightly which made her heart pound just a little harder. Her heart fluttered at how he cared for her.

"M'sorry I-i just, m'just so jealous." She slurred as her eyes began to tear up with a mix of happiness, jealousy, anger and most of all, sadness. "Why? You know i'm here for you and you only, stupid." Rodrick whispered so softly against her lips but y/n's mind swarmed with confusion. "B-but you always *hiccup* talk about Heather." She sighed as she let herself fall into her hands. "Makes it *hiccup* hard to believe" She said again. "I-" He moves further back and a familiar ache rises to her chest, one of abandonment. "She was just someone I was infatuated in. Nothing more. Fuck. If i really liked her, would i have kissed you back? Let alone kiss you again?" He said making eye contact this time. He looked absolutely illegal. The way his hair was his usual mess, his blown out eyeliner smudged beneath his fox eyes. His puffy lips. Everything about him made her feel unreasonably hot in the cool weather. "S-so no more feelings for her?" "No. no more." he said so seriously it made her scared. "In fact, she's an asshole and i don't want any part of her in my life." He said whilst memories of what Heather did earlier fled his mind. Rodrick plants a kiss at the corner of y/n's lips and this time she knows it was meant lovingly. Still, at the back of her mind, the one aching question lingered, didn't he say he loved her?

"Y/n?" "Ms y/n?" She blinked and the memory was interrupted by an annoying voice. "Do you care to open your workbook? Or do you intend on staring at the cover for the next hour?" Ms Smith's breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck waking her from her daydreams of what happened that hazy night.

"Yea, sorry ms smith." She smiled tightly before flipping to page 66 or 57 the page number was was a blur to her, but an open book would do.

He planted a soft kiss at the crook of her neck.

suddenly her mind wandered to what happened later that night.

Hand riding up under her shirt. "is this okay?" His voice was earnest and soft against the skin of her neck.

her thighs clenched together unintentionally and she felt ashamed for imaging such lewd things. She'd been daydreaming about that night for the past few weeks. Each week making her crave for more until she felt sick. Rodrick hadn't made a move like that on her ever since, and she was just too shy to even ask so images in her mind would do for now.

He unclasped her bra in one swift motion and it made her question if he'd done this before, with... Heather? No, can't be, she doesn't even care for him. Right?

The kissing started to turn into making out and y/n felt his breathing falter when she brushed her pinky against his crotch by accident.

"Fuck do you even know what you're doing right now-"

"Ms. y/l/n!" Just as quickly as it started, her daydreaming had come to a halt.

"I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes. Care to share your answer to the whole class? I assume you didn't even hear the question number i gave you. Number 5! Now." Ms. Smith tried to hush her yelling down to be more precarious.

"Sorry Ms." Y/n sighed before making her way to the black board with a dumb empty mind filled with Rodrick.

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

The same could be said about Rodrick. His usual sleepiness that was met with classes vanished ever since that night. Instead of sleeping, he was putting his pretty dumb brain to use by thinking. Thinking about y/n. Every night, everyday, every moment. He'd be lying if he said that she was the only girl he'd ever gained feelings for, because Heather Hills did exist. But it was true when he said he didn't like her anymore.

"Mmm- Aaah- R-rodrick p-please not my neck."

"Shhh, just one more kiss y/n, please."

"F-fuck!"

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUC-"

Before Rodrick's dream could get any steamier he was awoken to the sound of Heather cursing just beside him, clearly to get someone's attention.

"FUCK! how am i going to do this!!!" Heathers voice was painfully exaggerated and Rodrick couldn't help but cringe. Was this the girl he was smitten by before?

"Oh- Hey Roddy!" Heather smirked as she twisted her body to face him.

Rodrick's head was rested on his arm and he couldn't help but look at her with dead eyes, clearly annoyed.

"You.... you play the drums right?"

"Mmm" Rodrick groaned as he scratched his temple, he was surprised at how much he didn't care for THE Heathers presence anymore.

"Was wondering if.... You'd wanna play a gig at my birthday party?"

Rodrick's eyes lit up. A gig? That was a once in a blue moon occasion to rodrick's ears. But reality struck him when he remembered it was Heather who was asking.

"Mmm sorry Heather, don't think i can." Though it ached him to decline the gig, he knew you wouldn't like it so he sucked it up. Rodrick felt a sense of pride when he realised he didn't stumble over his words around her anymore.

"Awwww but why! I'll pay you 50 bucks an hour, and you know my parties last long." She feigned a girly voice as she batted her long eyelashes which icked Rodrick out.

50 bucks an hour..... The offer was tempting but, you were even more tempting.

Before Rodrick could answer, you walked in the class with a goofy smile, ready to see your Rodrick with..... Heather.

Heather shot back daggers through a fake soft smile. The type she'd give to a teacher after almost being caught doing something.

"Oh... Hello there y/n! Sorry, Rodrick was just telling me about how he'd love to play drums at my party. Isn't that right Rodrick?"

"Wh- No?" Rodrick scoffed out, eyes squinting at the mischievous blue eyed blonde.

"Oh c'mon, don't lie to y/n just because you pity her! You're a man! Act like one." Heather said as she got up from her chair slightly agitated at the fact Rodrick didn't play along.

"See you there Roddy." Heather said before smirking and popping out her ass dramatically.

roddy... That nickname made y/n's blood boil and she never wanted to hear it again.

"I swear! I-I did not agree to any of the shit she just yapped about." Rodrick panicked whilst stumbling over his words like a nervous teenager, that familiar feeling rising again but this time towards y/n.

"Hard to believe Rodrick. Or should i say Roddy... God! i shouldnt have been so naive. I'm so stupid! I thought you were over her." Y/n lashed out before storming out the classroom in a hurry, not thinking straight.

"Wait! Fuck. That fucking bitch Heather." Rodrick sighed out as he reached for the class door.

You found yourself slanting against a crusty brick wall beside a half broken vending machine. You don't know why you overreacted so fast without even bothering to hear Rodrick's explanation but maybe it was because you were so stupidly insecure. You quickly fumbled around your pants pockets to find an old packet of ciggs you remembered you left there. There were 2 left so you lit one up and breathed in the pure comfort. It felt nice to not care just for a second with the cigarette around. When it could have gotten more peaceful you heard a set of obnoxious dorky feet approach you.

"Hey." Rodrick said lightly as he squatted down to your eye level, lanky hands hanging by each sides of his knees.

It made you jump a little and your facade of wanting to remain mad slowly revealed itself. You couldn't help but suppress a tight smile from leaking out.

"What" You said as you blew a whiff of smoke away from his face. His heart fluttered at the small gesture.

"I really did not agree to what Heather told you." He said seriously which was a rare look on Rodrick.

"Are you sure? Cuz it seems like you two are getting along just fine" Y/n sighed as she pushed her hair back, Rodrick's heart beat pounding harder by the second.

"Please, believe me I- I really did not agree to anything, I-I really want you to believe me please." Rodrick was pleading which was something she only saw when he was lovesick. At that moment she knew he couldn't harm her emotionally.

"Alright. Fine, I believe you." Y/n said with a tired voice, though deep down she was glad she could read Rodrick like an open book.

"Im so sorry." Rodrick sighs before nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck, still a nervous wreck whenever he handled her.

She releases her cig and reaches in to hug him back tightly and lovingly before breathing in the intoxicating scent of him. Far better than a cig.

Just around the corner was a cheeky little Heather, listening in to every single decibel of the convo. Heather tightly rolled her eyes and scoffed before it turned into a smirk. Something clicked in her head. She knew what she had to do.

She was going to fake it till she made it.

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

lol i feel like this story deserves a pt3 so if this does well i will continue it! I know this has been a long times worth of progress but i've been procrastinating writing like crazy lately and i've only started getting back into it. Anyway please do request because i'm always bored and free !

[steveseddie]

pity hand-hold

for @steddie-week day two “hands”

rated: t | cw: none | wc: 1,7k | tags: post vol. 4, pre-relationship, hand holding, steve is curious and eddie is happy to help

click here to read on ao3

Steve doesn’t know for how long he’s been staring at Eddie’s hands as he paints his nails. But it’s enough that by the time Eddie is already applying the second coat, Steve is still on the first page of the comic book he picked to pass the time. 

The problem isn’t the comic book- it’s not particularly boring or anything like that. It’s just that watching Eddie is more entertaining. From his focused expression, mostly obscured by his hair falling like a curtain over his face, to the delicate movements of his hands as he moves the small brush over his nails. 

He’s painting them black like usual, but it’s the first time Steve is there to watch him do it. He didn’t know Eddie was such a perfectionist- working slowly and carefully so he doesn’t get nail polish on his hands. And he didn’t think Eddie could keep his fingers still long enough to not smudge the freshly painted nails. 

Eddie rarely sits still for long, and if he does, he’s always moving his hands- wringing his fingers together, playing with his rings, picking on his chipped nail polish. 

Not that Steve spends a lot of time paying attention to Eddie’s hands- just a normal amount. They’re nice hands, that’s all, and right now Steve is taking advantage of how still they are to study them closely.

Eddie’s fingers are long and thin and Steve spends some time trying to figure out if they’re bigger than his. He knows Eddie’s hands wouldn’t be soft like all the girls’ hands he’s held over the years- they’d be calloused from playing his guitar and from occasionally helping Wayne work on his truck. They’re also scarred- a demobat bit a chunk of his left hand and the skin didn’t heal properly, there’s also a long, thin scar across his palm from when he cut himself while trying to open a can using a knife (“Can openers are a thing, you know?” Steve told him in a bitchy tone the day he told him about that one.)

Steve finds himself wondering what it would feel like to hold them- Eddie’s hands or just a guy’s hand. He wonders how different it would be from holding Nancy’s hand or Heather’s or Kelly’s. Steve’s fingers itch to reach out and grab Eddie’s- find out if he likes rough hands as much as softer ones, if he likes long fingers as much as smaller ones, if he likes short chipped nails as much as long perfectly manicured ones. 

It’s not the first time he’s thought about it. It’s not even the first time he’s thought about it while staring at Eddie’s hands, but unlike those other times, Steve actually brings it up.

“Have you ever held hands with a guy?” He asks, breaking the silence they’ve been sitting in for a while. 

His voice startles Eddie, who jumps and knocks over the nail polish bottle. Steve quickly gets it upright again before it can spill over the sheets.

“Whew! Thanks,” Eddie chuckles. Steve holds the bottle still so he can stick the brush inside, already done with the second coat. “Have I what now?” He asks, bringing his fingers close to his mouth to blow on them. 

Steve blinks his eyes away from Eddie’s pursed lips after a few seconds to repeat himself. “Have you ever held hands with a guy?” 

Eddie’s hand freezes. He blinks at Steve, his cheeks going pink. “Uh, no,” he mumbles. 

“Never?” 

“Nope,” Eddie says, biting his lip. 

“Why not?” Steve asks, genuinely confused. Eddie has very nice hands- it doesn’t make any sense that no guy has ever wanted to hold them.

Eddie snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement as he resumes blowing on his nails. “Well, for starters, most guys in this town would punch me in the face if I tried.”

Oh. “Right,” Steve agrees. That does make sense even if it sucks. “What about girls?”

Eddie screws up his lips, eyes narrowed as he thinks. “Maybe when I was a kid? Before everyone thought I was Satan’s spawn, but not recently.”

“Hm.”

“Why?” He asks, making grabby hands at the nail polish bottle so he can apply a final coat. Steve uncaps it and holds it still for him. 

He shrugs. “Just that I’ve been wondering what it’s like to hold a guy’s hand,” he says and watches as Eddie’s hand twitches and the brush misses his nail, leaving a black stain on his sheets instead. 

“Shit,” Eddie mutters, grabbing a cotton ball and some nail polish remover to try and clean it up. “You- uh, you want to hold a guy’s hand?” He asks, keeping his eyes down, not meeting Steve’s.

“I don’t know, maybe. I want to know how different it is from holding a girl’s hand. I’ve held plenty of girls’ hands but not a guy’s.”

Eddie gives up on the stain, tossing the cotton ball away and picking the brush back up. “Uh, well, I don’t think I can answer that for you. Sorry, man.”

“No,” Steve agrees, but then he perks up with an idea. “But you can let me hold your hand.”

Eddie squeaks, his hand slipping again and leaving a bigger stain this time. “Motherfucker!”

“Dude,” Steve chuckles softly, shaking his head at Eddie’s clumsiness. 

He decides two coats of nail polish is enough and screws the cap back on the bottle. Then he narrows his eyes at Steve. “You want me to hold your hand?”

Steve nods, his eyes darting down to where said hands have started fiddling with his rings. Steve has held hands with girls who wore rings, but they were all small and dainty. Eddie’s rings are big with skulls and devils and horns. Steve wants to know how they would feel against his fingers. Cold probably. “Uh-huh.” 

“For how long?” Eddie asks, narrowing his eyes further. 

Steve snorts. “What? Are you afraid I’ll give you something?”

Eddie’s lips twitch into a smirk. “Maybe. You did say you’ve held a lot of girl’s hands. Who knows what they gave you.”

“I think you’re safe, man. The last time I held a girl’s hand was-” He trails off, trying to remember when that was, and when he does, he gasps. “Right before Spring Break actually.” Right before he met Eddie and they were thrown into yet another interdimensional crisis. 

“Damn, Harrington, you’ve been striking out lately,” Eddie sniggers.

Steve makes a non-committal sound. Truth is he hasn’t been trying hard enough to consider it striking out. He’s been busy- saving Hawkins at first, then taking care of Eddie as he recovered, and then hanging out with Eddie as they grew closer. Among other things, of course.

“Is that enough to make you hold my hand out of pity?” 

Eddie chuckles. He shifts closer to Steve on the bed, careful to avoid the nail polish stain, until they’re sitting next to each other, their backs against the headboard. 

“Sure, Stevie, I’ll give you a pity hand-hold,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. 

Steve feels heat climb up the back of his neck. “How do you make that sound dirty?”

“It’s a gift!” He says with a smirk. Then he holds out his left hand with his palm up on the bed between the two of them. “There. Go nuts, big boy.”

Steve gives a fond shake of his head before he looks down at Eddie’s hand. Knowing he’s about to hold it, he feels nervous all of a sudden, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. 

He subtly takes a deep breath and places his hand on top of Eddie’s, palm to palm. The touch sends blood rushing through his ears, but he thinks he hears Eddie inhale sharply at the same time. 

For a few seconds, he just rests his hand there. Then he finally intertwines their fingers together and just like that he’s doing it. He’s holding hands with a guy. With Eddie. 

Right away he realizes that it’s different in all the ways he thought it would be. Eddie’s hand is bigger than any other hand Steve has ever held, his fingers are longer than Steve’s but thinner. The callouses on his fingertips are rough against the back of Steve’s hand. He can feel the scar on Eddie’s palm against his own and the one left behind by the demobats under his thumb. 

But it’s different in other ways too- mostly in how it makes Steve feel. Eddie’s hand being as big as Steve’s makes something hot burn low in his stomach. His fingers being so long makes Steve wonder what they would feel like somewhere else. Eddie’s calloused thumb rubbing over Steve’s knuckles makes his cheek flare bright red.

“So?” Eddie asks and Steve jumps a little as it snaps him out of his thoughts. 

“What?”

Eddie holds their hands up with an amused expression. Steve’s eyes zero in on them just as one of Eddie’s metal rings catches the light filtering through the window. He thought they would feel cold against his skin, but Eddie’s hands kept them warm. They feel nice against Steve’s fingers, he bets they would feel nice somewhere else too, around his throat maybe-

“What’s the verdict?” Eddie asks, and Steve has to shake his head to stop that train of thought. “Is it different than holding a girl’s hand?”

“Yup. Yeah. It sure is.” He never thought about Nancy’s tiny hands wrapping around his throat, that’s for sure. So, yeah. Different. 

“Bad different?”

“Nope.”

“Huh, so you like it- holding hands with guys?” Eddie asks, and there’s something off with his voice that Steve can’t quite pinpoint. 

“I do,” Steve says because he does. He likes this. He just doesn’t know if- “Or maybe I just like holding hands with you.”

Nervous laughter tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “Ha! Well, I’m happy I helped,” he gestures vaguely with his other hand, “satisfy your curiosity or whatever.”

Except Steve’s curiosity isn’t satisfied yet- he answered one question, but he’s still left with many more. There are other things he’s done with girls that he doesn’t know if he’d like to do with guys. Or with Eddie at least. 

Steve feels Eddie trying to free his hand from and he tightens his grip. 

“Steve?” Eddie asks, big brown eyes blinking owlishly at him. 

Steve’s eyes drop to his lips. His pink, slightly chapped lips. Much like with holding hands, Steve finds himself wondering if it would be different to kiss a guy. To kiss Eddie. 

For the second time that day, he perks up with an idea. “Hey Eds?” He says, his eyes finding Eddie’s again. He gives him a cat-like grin. “Have you ever made out with a guy?”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 131 (The Gold Medallion)

Heather and Spencer were both grateful when the antidote arrived by morning. Spencer met a local merchant near the cantina for the medicine while Heather stayed in bed to rest. Once she drank it she felt better, if still a little nauseous, but after lunch the girls decided to venture to the museum.

They set up a few dig sites and found a few relics, but when the sun got too hot, the women changed into sundresses.

Finally, the sun was so hot they gave up digging and took shelter inside the museum. Walking through different rooms to view the priceless artifacts on display, Heather stopped when her phone beeped with an incoming text.

Suri keeps talking about getting married after her Aunt Elsa's death and I think she's going to propose to me. What should I say?!?

(I know that's not what the pop up says, but if I make these canon, they can't all be the same scenario as a ring in a bag!)

Heather was surprised to learn Hazel and Suri were already thinking about marriage, and she didn't feel equipped to offer advice one way or another.

This is a big decision and you should decide this for yourself, Dandelion. Love you.

She thought her answer more than sufficient, but Hazel was clearly upset and texted back quickly.

I thought I could really rely on you for life advice, sis. If I knew what to do, I wouldn't have to ask.

Heather frowned. That definitely could have gone better.

"Hey Heather, come in here. Come look at this."

She put her phone away and found Spencer in a stone-walled room, standing before a diamond-studded gold medallion inside a glass display. A plaque on the wall revealed the medallion's inscription - found deep inside the Selvadoradian jungle decades earlier, the medallion was inscribed "A gift from Malcom A. Landgraab to Lady Victorine Goth."

Spencer chuckled. "A Lady Goth and a Landgraab? That's a wild combination."

Heather froze. "Lady Victorine Goth and Malcolm A. Landgraab? How old is this necklace?"

"They think it's from the early 20th Century," Spencer read. "Malcolm A. Landgraab was a rancher out west, and Lady Victorine Goth was Lady Ravendancer before her marriage, one of the world's most powerful spellcasters who published a book of spells. But both were married to other people and there's no evidence they ever knew each other."

"Other than this necklace," Heather mused. "I should ask Mortimer Goth about it. Maybe he knows something about them."

"Do you think it'll have something to do with the curse?"

Heather shrugged. "Hopefully there's no curse, but if there is, and it does have something to do with it, I have to know more for Ash's sake."

Despite taking the antidote, Heather still felt feverish and fatigued. They headed back to the rental so she could take a nap, and Spencer took the time to analyze some of her new artifacts.

By dinnertime, Heather was feeling peckish, so they returned to the square for a nice evening in town with the locals. Heather remembered Conrad's fear that they could run into members of Los Tigres de Selva, but she was feeling well enough to really enjoy herself and didn't want to waste the opportunity.

The night was warm, so they both dressed accordingly. On the way into the square, Spencer made an offering to the statue of Madre Cosecha, a Selvadoradian custom.

"She helped settle this place during a time of great famine," explained Spencer. "A true hero. Hopefully she can help keep us safe on our temple dig tomorrow."

Heather smiled. "We should stock up on more supplies, anyway. She would want us to protect ourselves and I don't need another spider bite."

They enjoyed arepas under the lights and chatted proudly about their kids. "Violet gets into everything, and she's got her older brothers wrapped around her grubby little fingers."

"She sounds a lot like Lavender. One minute she's sitting quietly looking through a book, and the next minute she's tearing through the bookshelf. And Ash has me convinced I could design an adventure game featuring stray pets. I even reached out to a philanthropist who loves to help game developers as a hobby named Cal Anthony, Jr. Suri actually recommended him - he's married to her mother's cousin, Olivia - but he said this was totally doable and he'd be happy to mentor me anytime. I think I might actually do it. I even have a name - Furever Friends: Stray Valley. I couldn't decide which I liked better so I added a colon to use both!"

"That sounds amazing, Heather. I'm sure my kids would love to play a game like that! How are things with you and Ash's dad these days?"

"As good as they've ever been, probably. Even when we dated. It's sort of strictly professional between us, but Ash comes home happy from spending time with Malcolm's family, so I can't complain. I guess they just got a new puppy, too."

"The kids won't stop trying to convince us to get another dog," Spencer moaned. "I think we're hoping to change their minds with a hamster, if anything."

When they finished eating, they moved to the cantina, where Heather decided to autonomously mix drinks at the crowded bar. Spencer danced the Selvadoradian rhumba in the courtyard while she talked Omiscan mythology with the locals. She was an expert in Selvadoradian customs after all her time spent in the temples and among the people, and she never tired of talking about the secrets of Selvadorada's past.

Their night continued until Heather began to feel feverish and fatigued again. Though the antidote had seemed to work, the women didn't want to take any chances and called it a night.

As long as Heather was feeling well enough, they had a temple to explore before returning home. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

Landgraab Curse you say?! More on that, here, if you want to know more.

A massive shout out to @opalsimmer and @berrysims-lp, whose sims Lucia, Silas, Neve, and Terrell first saw this medallion inside the Selvadorada museum! I recreated it in my game with @opalsimmer's help and intend to explore this mysterious Landgraab/Goth lore. (Uncovering some family secrets, of course!)

And thank you @oimygiblets for letting me make Calivia Forever canon even though your story takes place about three decades before mine!! And @opalsimmer and @matchalovertrait for naming Heather's video game! 🙌🙌🙌

[dumbslvtforethan]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do an imagine where it's Ethan and Reader rehearsing for Heathers and their doing the song "Dead Girl Walking". Please and Thank you🫶

🎧ྀི DEAD GIRL WALKING ethan landry

warnings: dry humping, making out, no smut just plot. lmk if i missed anything 1092 words

navigation

IT WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE the opening night for "heathers" a musical you were participating it. ever since you got the role of veronica you've been thrilled, having the lead role was a pretty big deal to you but for ethan who got the role of jd?? he was not only thrilled but euphoric, he was acting out with the girl of his dreams. everyone had already left and it was late but you were re reading anxiously your script rehearsing every line in the rehearsing room. "The demon queen of high school has decreed it She says Monday, 8 a.m., I will be deleted" you sang quietly looking at your script "hey" ethan said scaring you "hey, you scared me, what are you doing here?" stalking you of course, pathetic. "i was gonna rehearse but ill give you some space" he sighed walking out

"stay with me please?" you grabbed his wrist and pouted. you two decided to rehearse your scenes together and after "freeze your brain" you two decided to get some water "okay, what's the next one?" he said "it looks like its dead girl walking" you said looking at the script, ethan's eyes widened. it was weird but you two never actually rehearsed that song together, the teacher would always do your parts separetely so that you could "focus on your movements". "lets start from the part were veronica goes into jason's room" he layed down on the floor preparing for what was about to happen "got no time to knock im a dead girl walking" you sang quietly "wha-veronica what are you doing in my room?" he said standing up, a smirk planted on his face

"shhhh" you gave the smirk back "sorry but i really had to wake you, see i decided i must ride you till i break you" You gazed at him with wide, innocent doe eyes "cause heather says i gots to go, your my last meal on death row" he raised his eyebrows "shut your mouth and loose them tighty-whities" you approached him very closely "come on" you opened your blouse "tonight im yours im your dead girl walking" he put his hands around your waist "get on all fours" you sang as you commanded him to lower down, he landed on his knees "kiss this dead girl walking" now you looked directly into his soul "lets go you know the drill" his hands travelled up your skirt resulting in a chuckle from you "im hot and pissed and on the pill" you rolled your eyes "bow down to the will of a dead girl walking" your doe eyes hipnotyzed him "and you know you know you know, its cause your beautiful" you got on your kness facing him, he was so tall that he was still towering over you "you say your numb inside, but i cant agree so the world's unfair, keep it locked out there, in here its beautiful" you took off your blouse completely "lets make this beautiful" you whispered closely now feeling his breath on your skin "that works for me" he said with a smirk. he grabbed your face and kissed you heatedly "your not acting anymore, are you?" you said in between breaths and kisses "i never did" he said pulling you to straddle his lap, you took off his shirt, and gasped at his naked abs, you kissed him more and more trough his body

"full steam ahead, take this dead girl walking" you sang in between kisses "how'd you find my address?" ethan said "lets break the bed, rock this dead girl walking" you said, smiling "i think you tore my mattress" ethan said, kissing you once more "no sleep tonight for you, better chug that mountain dew" you sang as you rolled your eyes "okay, okay" you two breathed heavely.

"get your ass in gear, make this whole town disapear" you nodded "slap me" he slapped your ass "pull my hair" your chuckled at his unexpected and unscripted action,

"touch me there andthere and there" he got a hold of your breasts and opened your shirt revealing your bra "and no more talking" you put your finger on his lips "love this dead girl walking" you started to hump on top of him, he moaned at the sight and started to kiss you more and more, you sped up your movements.

a/n- i watched heathers for the first time for this 😭😭

- @jchampionsgf on tumblr

[lanawinterscigarettes]

What about smth for JD (heathers) with an s/o who's equally as possessive and protective over him, maybe even more so?

I fucking love it when the reader perfectly matches the characters energy omg

Jason Dean with an s/o who's just as possessive/protective as he is

Warnings: gender neutral reader, both the reader and JD are possessive and protective to an unhealthy extent, JD and the reader are a match made in hell (which means they're naturally perfect for each other), codependent relationship to the max here, swearing, dark humor, mentions of murder/death, mentions of gun use, some smutty/nsfw stuff

As much as JD likes to mess with you, he actually does appreciate just how much you seem to love and care for him. Far too often has he been in relationships where it seemed as though he was the only one who was putting in any effort that he eventually began to lose hope he'd one day find someone who loved and worshipped him as much as he does for them

Then you showed up, and everything in his life seemed to get ten times better. He actually started attending school more often just so he can see you, especially if he knows you won't skip

However- that doesn't mean that he won't push your buttons, because he absolutely will. Believe me when I say that he's going to have at least a little fun at your expense

He'd never actually cheat, as he's way too clingy for that (unless he got really pissed off and wanted to teach you a lesson or something, but even then he'd probably end up killing the person afterwards) but he does find it amusing to see your reaction to him flirting with other people

It doesn't even have to be anyone he actually likes, in fact, he purposely goes out of his way to flirt with people he hates and actively talks shit about in front of you because he knows how mad you'll get. He's an asshole, what can I say

The look of silent rage that appears on your face whenever you see him walk up to any random guy or girl gets him chuckling everytime. He'll stay over there and flatter said random person until you storm over and drag him away from the conversation

Don't think that just because he flirts with other people that you can, that'd be crazy. How dare you talk to anyone other than him? What do you have, a death wish or something? (You flirt with other people anyway because he's not the boss of you and you can do what you want)

It's all in good fun though, because neither one of you would ever let anyone else lay their hands on the other, whether that be in a violent or sexual manner (or both). In fact, you guys even joke that if one of you ended up cheating on the other all three people involved would die, because there's no way the cheater or the person they'd cheated with would be allowed to live and the other couldn't live knowing their beloved was gone (it's actually not that much of a joke, but since you guys are so attached to each other that would probably never happen)

Speaking of committing murders, you guys do! All the time! :D (I don't know why I'm saying this like it's a good thing lol) Anytime someone does something to piss either one of you off, the two of you turn it into a date where you both kill the person, frame it as a suicide, then go back to your house for sex while the adrenaline is still pumping fast through your veins

Jealousy sex/make-up sex happens fairly often, by the way. You two may love each other, but because your personalities are so similar they're bound to end up clashing at some point, which leads to explosive arguments that typically end in "hate sex" (it's not really hate sex since you guys still love each other but given how much you both curse each other out and literally say "I hate you" during it I guess it could qualify)

Neither one of you really have any friends, not that you'd need them when you have each other. In fact, the only time you ever hang out with anyone else is when you're purposely trying to get JD riled up, and vice versa

I know he acts pretty aloof but I like to think that deep down he's actually really flattered to have someone who's crazy over him the same way he is over you. To someone as clingy and obsessed as him, it's almost like the highest honor, y'know?

End notes: I'm finally working on old asks yippeee

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Heathers masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @caplanreblogsfics

[captainlunaxmen]

Panic 2.0

Dodge Mason x fem!reader x Ray Hall

Chapter 2

This is a rewriting of my old series on @lunamadhatter99 , I decided to rewrite it because the series wasn't completed, and I didn't like it that much anymore.

Let me know what you think and also if you want to be tagged in the next chapters❤️❤️

Chapter summary: first challenge.

Warnings: none that I can think of.

Tag list

@stuckinthesmalldoor @once-upon-an-imagine @idontevenknow1359 @queensunshinee @daughterofthemoons-stuff @avengersheart @aleemendoza2425-blog @jensenrossing @ninaaaa9 @igotmajordaddyissues

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

The next day I'm not the first one to arrive at work, when I enter I find Dodge already cleaning the tables.

"Did you leave something to do for me too?" I joke.

"No, I did everything. You can go home" he says jokingly.

"Nah, I'll stay so I can pretend to work and earn my checks" I reply.

"Ooh smart" he says looking at me.

"As always" I wink at him.

I go change and get back to tidy up behind the counter and check the coffee machine.

"How was the party?" He casually ask while he re-fills the sugar jars.

"Eh.. a party. Not really my place, but Natalie insisted all week for me to go" I answer with a small chuckle, "so I couldn't exactly say no."

"So nothing interesting happened?"

"I might have made a bet" I mutter under my breath.

"You.. you made a bet?" He asks, holding back a laugh.

"Yeah..."

"Don't tell me" he's really trying not to laugh.

"Ray challenged me... if he wins panic I'll be his girlfriend" I explain.

"Oh god" he fully laughs now.

"Don't laugh" I tell him, holding back my own laugh.

"We're gotta make sure he doesn't win then" he says, casually.

"We? Would you help me?" I ask, feeling warm at his offer to help me.

"Sure, I won't let you ruin your life with a dick like him" he jokes, though his smile is almost embarrassed.

"You're a lifesaver" I say, as I finish cleaning, just in time for the clients to start to come in and order.

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

As I'm preparing a coffee to bring ti an onld lady at the table I see Heather coming in.

"Hey" I greet her. "What's that defeated face?"

"I got fired." She simply says.

"What?" I'm actually surprised. "But you're-"

"The only one who actually does anything? I know"

"I'm sorry to hear that, screw them you can do better," I sternly tell her as I bring the coffee to the client, "can I get you anything?"

"Just a coke thanks" she answers, I can feel the defeated tone in her voice.

"Coming" I say grabbing a glass.

As I'm putting the ice in the glass Dodge comes out, starting to pour the coke for me.

"Hi" he says "You're Heather, right? Dodge"

"Yeah, I know who you are. You're the new guy" she answers lightly.

"Well, it's been year" he looks at me, laughing softly and I smile at him, shrugging and serving Heather the coke.

"Everyone here has known each other from diapers, so the new guy is pretty big news" she explains and I chuckle knowing it to be true.

"Told you, nothing happens around here" I agree."Carp is actually the-"

"Capital of nothing. Nothing happening, nothing changing" Heather finishes for me, to which I nod, then I turn around to clean the cups the customers left before.

"What about panic?" Dodge asks, casually.

"There is no such thing" Heather says, but I can sense her eyes on my back.

No one talk about panic. No one wants to. No one can, actually.

"Then how'd those two kids die last summer?" Dodge asks raising his voice. He wants to know more about that.

"Whoa, keep your voice down" Heather shushes him.

"Oh so it is real" he lowers his voice again "you know I thought Ray was just shaking me down at first" he turn to me when I turn around myself, then look back at Heather" 'a dollar a day, everyday that school is in session' but then when I saw that everyone else had to pay in.." he looks at me "so, how does it work? When does it start?"

"We wait for the judges to send out a signal, which is different every year" I explain, earning a glare from Heather.

"And what.. we're just supposed to wait until then?" He asks.

"Pretty much" I nod.

"We're really supposed to forget about it" Heather speaks up, still glaring at me.

"Why?" Dodge look at her again.

"We're not supposed to talk about it, the cops know about the game and they know that Jimmy and Abby were competing. You could get in trouble for just watching" she says the last part looking at me, probably to convince me not to play.

Suddenly the door bell jingles and the Sheriff himself enters walking towards us, Dodge grabs the menu to give to him and grabs a glass for the water.

"Miss Nill" he greets Heather, while taking his hat off.

"Sheriff" she answers smiling awkwardly.

"Miss L/n" he nods to me.

"Hi Sheriff" I greet him back.

"Dodge" he greets him too "may I sit with the cool kids?" He jokes.

"Go for it" Heather answers after sending me an awkward look.

Sheriff Cortez sits and asks Dodge about his mother.

"She's working the night shift" Dodge answers quickly "can I get you something?"

"Let me get a root beer" he points.

I give Dodge a glass and turn back to the Sheriff who's looking at Heather papers.

"You job hunting?" He asks her.

"Begging" she specifies.

"You know, I'll bet your luck is gonna change when they finish the warehouse. I keep hearing they're gonna break ground any day, so.." he assures her.

Heather and I chuckle.

"They've been 'breaking through ground any day' since we were in eight grade" Heather say standing up to get out.

"Well good luck" the Sheriff tells her.

"Better get back to it" she answers.

"Good luck Heather" I tell her, smiling.

"Thanks, bye" she waves at me before exiting the caffè.

"What about your aunt, uh?" Cortez asks me.

"The usual, she's somewhere... doing... something" I answer simply.

"I see.."

"Yeah" I say wiping the counter.

There's silence for a while, me and Dodge cleaning and the Sheriff drinking his beer.

After the Sheriff says his goodbye and all the customers are gone me and Dodge are alone to close the café.

Once we get out, we hear fireworks outside.

"It's starting" I tell him. "Guess I'll see you at Pilot's Point" I take a deep breath.

"Definitely" he send me a reassuring smile before we go separate ways heading home so I can put on my bikini for the challenge.

I'll meet Natalie and Bishop there for sure, maybe Heather too.. if Natalie convinced her to come.

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

"Hey" I say to Bishop and Natalie when I finally spot them.

"Hey yourself" Bishop smiles.

"Hi, nervous?" Natalie asks me, clearly nervous herself.

"Actually, no. You?" I ask, even though I know the answer to that, I just need to look at her.

"A bit" she answers.

"This is the easiest challenge, no need to be nervous" I reassure her.

"Yeah.. yeah you're right. It's gonna be fine" she says, trying to convince herself.

"Yeah, I wish you two change your mind, sure, but it's gonna be fine" Bishop tells her.

"No turning back now" I say.

"Well.. technically you still can... not jump" he points out.

I slightly shove him.

I see Dodge standing by himself, as we lock eyes I wave at him, he waves back nodding his head encouraging and I do the same.

Before I could even think of walking towards him, Diggins' voice through the bullhorn catches everyone's attention.

"May I have your attention?" He starts "welcome to panic!"

Everybody cheers.

"My name is Diggins, and this summer I will be your host with the most. This year the winner of Panic is gonna take home the grand prize of $50,000!" He enthusiastically announces.

More cheering.

"That's the biggest pot ever, last year was only $30,000" Natalie says, excitedly.

"You all know the rules" Diggins continues" what happens at a challenge, stays at a challenge, so I don't want to see any posting, tweeting or gramming about it, no exceptions. Anyone found in violation risks losing game privileges. First challenge is the Jump." He points then towards the cliff "remember kids,you want to go out and down into the swimming hole. You miss it, and it's gonna be the rocks that break your fall."

He definitely knows how to reassure people.

"Take a leap from the Lookout and grab yourself 100 points, courtesy of this year's friendly judges, whoever they may be." He explains "let the games begin!"

Everyone cheers loudly.

"That's our cue" Natalie says, unzipping her dress.

Bishop looks at her. "You know, I have the same suit"

He's probably trying to lighten Natalie's mood. I laugh at that, but Natalie couldn't seem to hear it.

"Let's go" I tell her, once I got my shorts off too.

Summer is responsible for listing the players.

Natalie takes a deep breath looks at me, I give her a reassuring look.

"Hit me" Natalie tells Summer.

"Hey Natalie, You're number 11" she replies.

Natalie looks at me one last time and I nod to encourage her onve again, before she can head for the cliff.

As I'm letting Summer writing the number on me Dodge arrives too. We share encouraging looks and I start to walk to the cliff too.

I hear everyone cheering.

"Contestant number one, announce yourself" Diggins says through the bullhorn.

"You know my name, Diggins. Your mom screams it every night" hearing Ray's voice makes me roll my eyes, of course he would've been the first one to jump.

After him one by one the other players jump.

It's my turn.. and I decide to go for the High Point.

"Oohh High Point ladies and gentlemen" Diggins announces.

"For all you virgins, out there, a quick reminder: a jump from the high point will get you a 25-point bonus." Diggins explains as I get there.

I look over the edge. Taking a deep breath.

It's gonna be fine. I tell myself.

"Contestant number 12. Announce yourself!"

"Y/n L/n!" I scream, immediately.

I keep looking at the edge.

Not the time to get scared now. Shit.

"You can still go back to the lowest jump. No judgment here." Diggins tell me.

"Fuck off, Diggins! Thank you." I reply.

"Always a princess" he jokes.

"Want me to do a flip?" I joke back.

"Don't play with fire, Y/n" he warns. I can feel he's worried, he's one of the few people I can stand, I can call a friend.

I smirk, take a few step back and then run to jump.

I keep my eyes closed until I hit the water and swim back up again.

"And another one, everybody!" Diggins exclaims. "The Princess is playing!"

I flip him off as I swim back to shore where Natalie and Bishop are waiting for me.

"Great jump" Natalie hands me a towel to dry myself.

"Thanks" I say breathless.

I turn around and see Dodge going for the High Point too.

"Another High Point!" Diggins cheers. "Contestant number 13, announce yourself"

Dodge doesn't answer.

"Announce you-"

"Dodge Mason" Dodge cuts him off.

He then throws the flare in the water and jumps.

Everyone around me cheers, I can't until I see him emerging.

"High Point is popular tonight! Way to rise the stakes, Dodge."

I walk with Natalie away from the big crowd.

"Weren't you scared?" Natalie asks me, "that's pretty high."

"For a minute, I think" I tell her "but then... nah, it's just a jump"

"Yeah"

I spot Dodge and walk towards him

"Hi" I say, still out if breath.

"Hi" he's putting his shirt back on.

"Great jump" I say.

"Yours too" he smiles.

"You got scared up there or?"

"Not to jump no. It's the landing that gets you in trouble" he chuckles.

"Agree" I smile.

"Do you need another towel?" He asks me, ready to hand me one.

"No, thanks I-"I stop as I see Natalie walking to.. Heather? What?

"You okay?" Dodge asks.

"Yeah.. yeah don't worry" I smiles again."I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I gotta go."

"Sure.. sure see you tomorrow, princess" he teases using the nickname Diggins used earlier.

"Don't push it, Mason" I reply with a chuckle, rolling my eyes.

I walk up next to Natalie, watching Heather walking to the cliff.

"What's Heather's doing?" I ask her.

"Playing" she says emotionless.

She seems angry, Heather always said she would never play, she also tried to talk us out of playing ourselves. So why would she play?

I'm not angry, I'm not as competitive as Natalie, I'm more worried. I'm afraid something happened to Heather.

I keep my eyes focused on the cliff untill I see her, not moving by the edge of the first cliff.

"Contestant number 23. State you name"

Silence.

Heather doesn't even move.

"Heather come down" Natalie screams.

Then she moves, as if something snapped in her head. She's walking to the High Point... no... Devil's Drop.

Something definitely happened.

"What's she doing?" Natalie sounds furious.

"She's playing" Bishop says.

I hear people trying to convince her both to jump and to come down.

I look at Diggins, he seems uncertain on what to do, but he ask her to say her name anyway.

"Heather.. Nill. Heather Nill"

"C'mon Heather!" I scream, which grants me a glare from Natalie.

She then jumps.

Holy shit. She actually did it.

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

Heather's jump definitely got people talking, she didn't stay for long after that, she disappeared almost immediately. I need to check on her as soon as I can, something doesn't seem right.

"Want a ride home?" Dodge appears beside me, as everyone is leaving.

"Oh, I thought you already went home" I say confused, "it's fine, I can walk don't worry " I assure him.

"Are you sure?" He says nodding to my left.

I look that way and see Ray with his friends, looking at our direction.

"Yeah.. actually, I think I'll accept your offer" I tell him.

"The carriage awaits" he replies holding I'd arm out to point me in the direction of his car.

"Thanks" I laugh.

We walk together to his car, as I sit I'm thankful I'm not walking, I realise now how my feet are hurting.

"How does it usually work? What happens next?" He asks as he drives.

"Well whoever jumped tonight is a player with 100 point, except for us with a 25 bonus and Heather with a 50 bonus and immunity for a challenge. Now we wait for any clue from the judges for the time and place of the next challenge. It could be anything, a crossing, labyrinth, animals.. there's really no scheme" I explain.

"That's..." he starts, hesitating.

"Fucked up? Kinda, but it's the only way to get out of here" I say.

"Is it really?"

"Well.. if you think about it no, but $50,000 helps." I chuckle.

"Yeah you're right" he says.

"Hey.. I know we're kind of competing against each other, but we're still friends right?" I ask.

"Sure. Why would I have offered you a ride?" He smiles.

"Out of pity?" I joke, "or to murder me."

"Oh definitely" he says sarcastically.

"I knew it.. you don't care about me!" I say dramatically.

"I care about you, more than you know" he says seriously. "Princess" he quickly adds teasingly.

"I'm not punching you only because you're driving" I laugh and he does too.

It makes me smile, I'm happy he opened up to me like this, at first I was worried to work with him since he seemed so uninterested in talking to everyone else and I am not much for talking myself, but with time we both opened up to each other. It's nice.

He told me about his sister, his family, his father... And, of course, I told him about my family too.. that talk was intense for us both, but it helped us get close, I'm happy about that, now that I think about it.

"Here we are" he stops the car in front of my house. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure"

"Don't get me wrong" he's nervous, "I know you're okay with it and all, you're independent.. but I really don't like knowing you alone in that house" he confesses.

That took me a little by surprise

"I'm used to it..it's not that bad, you know. There's always some lights on, since I'm not the one to pay" I joke trying to reassure him.

"The fact that you're used to it doesn't make it right" he says, almost angry, though I know he's not mad at me.

"I know, but there's not much I can do.." I shrug. "You really don't have to worry though, I'm fine, I mean I have your mother's number, I'm basically untouchable."

That made him laugh, at last.

"You're unbelievable" he says, rolling jis eyes."you promise to call? Even for the smallest thing?"

It's the first time I see him worried about me like this.

"I promise" I smile at him, patting his hand to reassure him, but he grabs my hands to squeeze it slightly, then lets go.

"Okay then, sleep well, you need energies to pretend to work" he jokes.

"Oh yes, that sucks all my energies. I need at least 12 hours of sleep" I joke back getting out of the car."Goodnight to you too"

"See you tomorrow Y/n"

I walk to my front door unlocking it when I open it I hear Dodge's car moving. He always waits for me to enter the house before driving away.

He's a sweet guy..very sweet. I shake my head, I can't catch feelings now.. can I?

[fetishfairytales2]

Besties 5 (Story)

This was originally written as a continuation of a story by [no longer active] called Besties.

————— Besties 5: Nursery Naughtiness

God, Brandon was being such a little bitch, dragging his sissy self into his former bedroom with tears in his eyes. Honestly, this just proves how clueless men are. He knows we're going to do whatever we wanted to him and he'd still try to resist. What a dumb ass. But my irritation melted away as Heather strutted out of the closet, looking hot as hell. She was wearing nothing but a smile and some red heels!

"So, what do ya think?" Heather asked, flashing a wicked smile. Damn, she was killing it! Heather was practically glowing. Her tits were on point, and her waist? Like, whoa, so tiny and smokin'. She did a little spin to show off her tight little ass and playfully stuck her tongue out. "Mhmm, check you out!" I playfully joked.

Even Brandon couldn't resist taking a peek Heather, and that's saying something considering his itty bitty caged clitty! His face was a mix of humiliation and pain, and I couldn't hold back my laughter at his torture. Heather and I exchanged a knowing smirk, loving her complete control over him. "Oh, it looks like daddy's in for an goid night," I taunted, playfully messing up Brandon's hair. "Does someone else like what they see too, Sissy?"

Oh my god, Connor is going to be drooling when he sees you, Heather!" I playfully nudged her and let out a squeal. She was staring at her suffering sissy and I could see the pure joy in Heather's eyes as she started to mess with him again. "Don't worry, babe," she said with a smirk, strutting towards him. She took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. "I'm sure Ms. Lyndsey will keep you entertained while I'm gone..." She taunted with a slow, seductive grin, before finally releasing him.

"Aww, is the little sissy baby blushing? How pathetic!" I couldn't help but laugh at Brandi’s embarrassment. "And don't think I'm gonna show off my goodies to just anyone," Heather added, disappearing in her closet. She sashayed out a few seconds later, wearing a tiny black trench coat that barely covered her butt. "So don’t be jealous sweetie!” She giggled, blowing Brandon a kiss. “Only Connor whenever he wants and you when I let you"

While Heather pranced off to fix her makeup, she suddenly perked up. "OMG!" she squealed. "Cruciex!" Just like that, Brandon became stiff as a board and started walking towards us. "What's that one do?" I asked, watching the little sissy make his way across the room. "Oh, it's like, totally genius. It puts him into corner time! He has to stand in the nearest corner with his nose against the wall and keep his mouth shut, no matter what's happening.” All I could do was just stare in amazement at him, all tucked away in the corner like a good little sissy. “This is SO awesome!”

Sorry, I don't have time to give you all our little loser's sissy trigger words and show you around the house," Heather sighed with a disappointed look at her phone's clock. "But don't worry, Brandi will be excited to show you her playroom! If she isn't, we can make her excited about it'" she chuckled, "Oh, and I'll text you the whole list of words to use. And let me tell you, there are so many toys in his nursery. Daddy Connor helped build both the nursery and the playroom, by the way, for our lucky sissy!"

I couldn't help but laugh, while Heather slapped her forehead in that overdramatic way she does. "Duh!" she exclaimed. She started to unclasp the key to Brandi's chastity cage from her neck and handed it to me. "Here, you take this. I have more than enough dick to handle tonight!" Heather couldn't contain her laughter as she adjusted the key, making sure it was nestled between my boobs. "I love wearing it like this, it's a constant reminder to her of what she can see but not touch!"

"Come on," Heather gestured towards the door. "She won't get into any trouble, Brandi's practically a doll at this point!" We walked down the hallway to what I remembered as the guest bedroom door, but now it was painted a soft pink with white accents. I had to smile when I saw the foam letters on the door that spelled out "Sissy's Nursery." Heather just shrugged. "The only people who come over are either people I want to hook up with, people who are here to help me humiliate Princess Pampers, or both!" Always one for dramatic flair, Heather paused for suspense. "Ready?", she swung open the door. "Ta-da!"

My jaw dropped. "Oh my gosh, girl! This is insane!" The nursery walls were painted a soft pink with white accents, and a plush white rug covered the floor. In the corner sat a big toy chest, painted to match the rest of the room, with "Sissy's Toy Box" written on the front. Heather grinned and patted it. "Connor custom-made this for our little sissy 'daughter'," she said, winking at me. "It only took a blowjob from Brandi!" The toy box was packed with all sorts of sissy playthings, including butt plugs, vibrators, rope, and handcuffs! "Oh my gosh, Brandi is so lucky! I didn't get my first vibrator until I was 16! He must have, like, five different dildos!" I cackled, nodding towards the toy chest.

Heather shrugged with a smile, "She have a total of 10, and none of them are under 6 inches for my little slut." As she searched through the toy box, I couldn't help but stare at her backside peeking out from under her coat. Conner was definitely a lucky man. "She's even given each of them a name," she called out, still rummaging. "There's Pinkie, Mr. Biggs, and Mr. Peter, who you've already met..." Then, she popped back up with three massive dildos in her hands. Two were different skin tones and easily over 9 inches in size. "And these two," she stifled a giggle, "are Mr. John and Mr. Jason!"

With a flourish, she presented the third - a black dildo covered with plastic studs. "This is Mr. Charles," she announced, unable to contain her laughter. It was clear that she had just a little too much wine. I caught on quickly and joined in her laughter. "Wait a minute... aren't John and Jason your exes?" Heather confirmed my suspicions with a nod, barely able to keep it together now. "Yes, girl! Every time I get my bitch boy a new toy," she gestured towards the box of sex toys, "I make him name it after one of my past lovers! He has to look at their dick pics, rate their cocks, and tell me which of my ex-boyfriends he would want to fuck him! Then he had to moan their name every time he fucks himself with ‘their cock’!"

This was seriously the best day of my life. I couldn't stop laughing. Finally, this douche of a human was getting what was coming to him and my bestie had embraced her inner mean girl to dish out some much-needed punishment. "But who's Charles?" I inquired, nodding towards the black toy. "Ah, yes!" Heather giggled. "He's Brandi's hot boss. I've been threatening her that I'll sleep with him…again."

Heather flipped a switch on the dildo's base, causing it to vibrate and rotate. "See, that's why I chose this one. Studded and vibrating - messes with the sissy’s head and poor butthole!" I laughed as I watched the toy shake in Heather's hand. "I even make her practice deepthroating it while she moans Charles' name. Just for added fun, sometimes I'll send her off to work with it up her butt," she turned off the toy and proudly held it out for me to examine. "It's hilarious to think that the man whose name she was just moaning is bossing her around all day at the office!"

Heather put away the toys and strolled over to the center of the room where a massive crib sat. Brandon's crib was all pink and white, matching the rest of the room. But it was made out of sturdy wood and had a heavy metal gate on top that looked like it could be locked! "Connor made this one too," Heather said, pointing to the crib. "It's gotta lock to make sure we're not interrupted by a whiny sissy during our playtime!" She winked at me and demonstrated how to latch the metal lid over the top. "Connor insisted on it after Brandi barged into our room one night during 'adult time'. Let's just say he got a good spanking from an annoyed daddy and couldn't sit for a week. After that, Connor built this to keep her temper tantrums under control."

Wow, there was even a pink padlock to sissy in her crib! "Wow, boo, this is so wicked!" I lifted the hinged lid and took a peek. "Holy crap!" Inside were two pink and white pillows in the shape of cocks, stitched with the words 'Sissy Cuck' in sparkly gold! "Gift from my sister to constantly remind Brandi of her place" Heather explained. Next to them was a matching blanket, also embroidered; 'Sissy Cum Slut' in glittery letters. "Also a gift from my sis when I told her about Brandi's new lifestyle," Heather laughed as I picked it up. "Aaanddd...", Heather said with a grin, "just to mess with her a little more, Conner made the bed a tad too small. Brandi can never fully relax in her cute little bed."

I couldn't help but notice how tight and uncomfortable it was in there, and it would only get worse when it's completely shut. "Poor Princess must suffer so much when I lock her up in here with his dirty diapers, and Connor and I get too caught up to let him out. And it's usually for hours at a time! Oops, our bad!" 

I was totally obsessed with the crib and didn't even notice when I accidentally knocked the baby monitor off the nightstand. "Whoops, my bad..." I said, glancing down at the monitor. "Wait, isn't this supposed to be on the other end?" I asked, showing it to Heather. "Oh, you wait, girl," she laughed, taking the monitor from me to check to turn it on before handing it back. "Just give me a minute..."

Heather skipped out of the room and I could hear her voice coming through the baby monitor. "Anti-Cruciex... Princess, you gonna tell Mommy why there's a baby monitor in your room. It's not there for Mommy to hear from her sissy, right?" A long pause followed, probably while Brandon's face turned bright red with embarrassment. "N...no..." he stammered. "Then why's it there, silly Brandi? What exactly is Mommy monitoring?" Heather asked, pretending to be clueless. "M...mommy and daddy..." Brandon whined. "Mommy and Daddy, what, Princess?" Heather pressed, knowing the answer already. "What have you been hearing from your room about what Mommy and Daddy are doing? Use your big girl words," she commanded with a smile in her voice. 

Brandon barely managed to mumble the word "f...fucking." before Heather cut him off. "Good girl, Cruciex," she ordered. "Back in the corner, Princess Piss Panties. Chop chop." Oh this was fucking perfect. I couldn't think of anyone more deserving of this humiliation than Brandon. Moments later, Heather returned to the room, winking at me. "Do you get it now?" she asked, giggling. "You make him listen to you having sex?" I sputtered, still shocked. "That's brutal, girl!"

Heather and I kept exploring the nursery. I couldn't help but notice the huge changing table with straps on all four corners. "Brandi can be a bit squirmish when it's time for a diaper change," Heather mentioned, casually gliding her fingers along the pink leather straps. "And when Connor's feeling extra playful, he likes to turn the changing table towards the crib, strap Brandi down, and make him watch us hook up over the side of the crib!" There was a second diaper pail conveniently attached to the changing table, labeled "extra soiled diapers." Gross.

Heather seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and let out a wicked laugh, saying, "That'e a special kind of punishment for when Brandi is a naughty sissy!" My eyes widened as she explained - she really was all into this. "You know, there are other places besides sissy behinds that a dirty diaper can be taped onto, y'know? Sometimes Brandi needs to 'face' her new life in diapers!" Heather chuckled. “Do you just…” I started to ask, he really did piss her off big time, huh?

“No,” Heather shook her head. “It definitely gets better…or worse I guess if you ask Brandi. Sometimes, when she's been really naughty, I like to take things up a notch. Instead of just making her wear the dirty diaper, I like to feed her the mess." Heather smiled, clearly enjoying explaining herself, proud of how far she’s pushed her loser ex. "Sometimes in life, I guess Brandi just has to eat shit and like it, y’know?” I was doubled over laughing now. I wasn’t sure I would make it through tonight. This was incredible!

As we walked through the tour, something caught my eye that I hadn't noticed before. Oh boy, was I taken aback! I expected all the art to be cutesy, babyish, and sweet. But what I saw in the pictures was anything but. My jaw dropped as I realized that each one was a different kind of kinky. In the biggest frame, poor Brandon was spending what looked like some "quality time with Daddy," if you know what I mean. Heather stood in the background, of the photo, smiling evily as she kept Brandon in place, preventing him from moving. Brandon was completely naked, his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth. Behind him was Connor, holding onto his hips. Brandon's body was tense, and his face showed a mix of terror and humiliation. I could only imagine what Connor was doing to him. "Oh, that one is the night Brandi's sissy cherry got popped," Heather shared following my gaze to the picture.

"I have a whole baby album of Brandi bursting with pictures," Heather continued explaining. "Especially ones featuring her and Daddy, but this one is definitely my top pick! Over there," she gestured to a larger photo above the crib, perfectly placed for everyone in the room to see. In the photo, Heather was on top of Connor, riding him cowgirl-style. Her boobs were out for Brandon to stare at helplessly from his crib. Her body was glistening with sweat and her face was full of pleasure. She had a very obvious smile as she stared into the camera. "That was the first time I fucked Connor," Heather recalled with a gleam in her eye. "The night that little Brandi lost her sweet and submissive girlfriend forever. I want that image to be the first thing she lays eyes on in the morning and the last thing she sees before bedtime!" I couldn't help but notice other photos scattered around the room as I looked around too.

Above the changing table, hung a very candid photograph in a pale pink frame, decorated with images of teddy bears and baby blocks. The glittery letters at the top spelled out "Daddy's Girl." This picture was definitely my favorite so far. In it, Connor had Brandon pinned down over his knee, delivering a stern spanking as Brandon's pink princess pull-ups bunched around his ankles. His bottom was covered in angry red handprints, and drool dripped down his chin. If Brandon's face wasn't buried balls-deep on Connor's dick, I'm sure we would see the face of a very sorry sissy baby. 

Heather exclaimed, pointing at the photo. "That's Connor's favorite method of spanking Brandi! He'll keep going until she can make him cum down her throat! It's hilarious when Connor makes her count each spank while his dick is buried deep in poor Brandi's mouth." She even mimicked the gagged blowjob, making sounds like "Unnn... Toww... Phreeeww..." She giggled, as if she had a mouthful herself! 

[deathlooksgoodonyou-if]

Saw this on another blog....thought it was rly cute. What would be the ros reaction to the mc placing a flower crown over their head and saying, "For the ruler of my heart."

Jules blinks before a chuckle escapes past their lips and they smile. They take your hand in theirs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your wrist, then another on your the back of your hand before cupping your cheek and gently biting your nose. "You do know I would be a terrible ruler, right?" They murmur, smiling softly. "You could have anyone you wanted."

"But I want you." You reply and Jules blinks once again, lips parting before they crumble under your gaze. They bury their face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as if committing it to memory, a fond smile on their face.

You always manage to undo them in ways no one can.

Warren's heart feels like it might as well burst of his chest. A smile breaks across his face and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Not that he would ever want to. He has never held himself back when it came to you. He never will.

He leans in, planting a kiss to your cheek, plucking a lily and placing it behind your ear. "I don't want to rule over your heart. I want to serve it."

You are the ruler here. You are the one who has been ruling over his heart for far too long. Longer than you are aware. And he won't have it any other way.

Dylan stiffens under your touch. A crease forms between his brows, a treacherous flush rising up his neck. "You're being silly again." He mutters under his breath, scratching his nose awkwardly.

He never quite knew how to act around you. This wasn't like him. But you make him too aware of himself and this awareness makes him act opposite of how he wishes to behave around you.

"I mean it." You smile.

He hates it when you smile.

It makes him realise how he likes the upward curve of your lips a little too much.

"Ah." Aiden raises his eyebrows in amusement, reaching up and feeling the texture of the crown between his fingers. "Why, thank you, darling." He grins, his chest feels a little lighter with emotions he couldn't place earlier.

Now he knows better. "I'll make sure to be a good ruler and take good care of your heart." He playfully pinches your nose, fighting back a smile.

Jessica's lips part in surprise before a her cheeks heat up and he looks down at the ground, smiling to her herself, her gaze tender. "Thank you." She murmurs softly, under her breath. "I am not sure I deserve it but..." She gazes up at you through her eyelashes. "But is it selfish I like it, despite believing that?"

"You are not selfish. because you deserve it, Jess." You playfully narrow your eyes at her and she smiles.

You're the only good thing in this wretched town. She doesn't want to lose this.

"Okay. I hope you know, I feel the same way about you."

Heather's eyes widen and she laughs. "Really?" She gushes, excitement coursing through her veins and her eyes shining. "You're not just saying that to make me happy, are you?" She pouts.

She hopes you are not. She doesn't know she would be able to bear it. She likes you a little too much for that.

"Never, Heather."

Mia takes the crown off her head, turning it this way and that to take a better look at it. She sighs dramatically, shaking her head. "I could make a better one."

"Oh yeah?"

She laughs at your playful glare. "Is that a challenge?"

She does make you one and rests it upon your head, smiling. "See? It suits you better than me. It's proof you're more fit for that position."

[bigdumbbambieyes]

ns!fw for the birthday boy!

Most of the guests have left by now, and the ones that remain will let themselves out shortly, so Steve glances over at his boyfriend who’s rinsing out his beer cans at the kitchen sink. He's still wearing his party hat and looks so sweet like that, with a soft smile on his face as he rinses another can, and Steve can’t help himself.

He goes over and wraps his arms around Billy from behind, presses the blond against the counter and presses a kiss to the back of his neck, softly asking, “Did you have fun?”

Billy leans back against him and nods, sets the can aside as he tilts his head over a little to allow Steve more room to kiss and claim, “Yeah, it was nice,” he hums, “Thanks for…y’know, setting it up.”

“Heather and Chrissy did most of the planning,” Steve replies, parting his lips to press open-mouth kisses against Billy’s skin, tasting the cologne there, “But it was fun to host.”

Billy nods in agreement, because while their apartment in Chicago is small, having friends new and old stuffed into it for an evening to celebrate his boyfriend had been just what Billy needed. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he saw his boyfriend so happy during his birthday party - he used to hate them, up until two years ago, when Steve had begun to celebrate them with him.

“Guess I’ll buy the girls some flowers tomorrow and drop them off at their place,” Billy murmurs as he turns his head, their eyes finally catching, and Steve sees the embers of arousal in those blue eyes. The kisses are working in his favour.

“That’s a nice idea,” Steve hums, sliding a hand down Billy’s stomach and lower to his jeans, giving Billy’s dick a squeeze through the rough denim and smiling as his boyfriend squirms a little with a huff.

“Jesus, Steve,” Billy chuckles softly, breathlessly, but he doesn’t tell Steve to stop and he looks like he doesn’t want him to, either.

“C’mon,” Steve says as he pulls away and grabs Billy’s hand, drags him down the hall towards their bedroom where he hooks his fingers into the top of Billy’s jeans at the doorway, brushing the back of his fingers against the trail of hair there.

Billy closes the door behind them and Steve pulls him in again, seeks out those full lips in the low lighting, and hums once their mouths meet for a deep kiss. He feels Billy’s arms around his waist, pulling them together, and he holds his boyfriend close as their tongues slide slow and hot, pulling soft moans from each other.

He puts his hands in Billy’s hair and feels the string of the party hat, which makes him laugh into the other's mouth. The blond pulls away with a curious expression, but his furrowed brow gives way to a matching grin when Steve jerks off the dumb party hat on top of his head.

“You’re such a fucking dork,” Billy chuckles as he reaches up to pull the green party hat off his head and tosses it aside.

“Mm, yet you were the one wearing it,” Steve smirks as he turns them and pushes Billy onto the bed, taking off his shirt as his boyfriend does the same, both revealing scarred skin and softened bodies.

Steve makes a playful little show of slowly taking off his jeans, moving his hips side to side with a dumb smile on his face, because it makes Billy laugh as he demands, “Get over here.”

Doing as he’s told, Steve pushes his jeans and underwear down before crawling onto their bed, settling between Billy’s legs happily when his boyfriend seeks out his mouth again, lips reconnecting as their hands wander and grip and hold. It’s tender and sweet, full of that usual passion they first felt all those years ago, and Steve’s chest feels so full of affection.

“So sweet for me. You’re my baby, hm?” He mumbles as he presses kisses down Billy’s jaw and neck, smiling as he feels Billy nod with a hummed ‘mhm’ of agreement. In the privacy of their bedroom, Billy lets Steve coddle him like this, lets himself be sweet and gentle, and Steve loves it.

He gives Billy another kiss before moving down his body, kissing scars and skin, biting down on hipbones and inner thighs just to hear the way Billy’s breath stutters. He feels fingers in his hair, petting and smoothing as he works Billy’s jeans open and down before fitting the slick head of Billy’s dick into his mouth with a sigh.

He’s messy with it, sucks and slurps as Billy moans and watches him, their gaze meeting in the dim light as Steve works his mouth up and down. It’s romantic, if a blowjob could be that, because Billy cups his cheek and Steve leans into it, nuzzling into the touch as he pulls off to whisper, “Lube?”

Billy grabs the bottle from the bedside table while Steve pulls his boyfriend’s jeans off the rest of the way, smirking as he says, “It’s not gay if we keep our socks on, right?”

He loves the way Billy still huffs a bit of laughter at the joke, even after so long of hearing it, but the blond nods with a knowing look as he hands Steve the bottle of lube, “Just don’t hold my hand and it won’t be gay.”

“Got it,” Steve grins as he slicks his fingers and shifts his way back up, feeling Billy grab his jaw to pull him into another kiss as Steve's fingers disappear between them.

And it’s always a sight to see when his strong, tough boyfriend softens every time he ghosts his fingers over Billy’s hole, how he goes sweet like a lamb as Steve plays with him there, until he’s sucking on his tongue and whispering politely for more.

Billy’s face goes pink by the time Steve slides the first finger inside, moaning quietly into Steve’s mouth once he feels the press of a second finger at his rim, stretching him slowly and purposefully.

But it’s the soft little sounds Billy pants into Steve’s neck when he’s stretched around three of his fingers, fitting so snug and perfect, curling inside him just enough to push moans deep from his chest, that Steve adores.

“Steve, stop—‘m gonna cum, stop,” Billy breathes out in a rush, clenching so tight around his fingers and his stomach is tensing so Steve pulls his fingers out and kisses at his boyfriend’s parted lips sweetly.

“Sorry, got a little carried away,” he murmurs, “You okay?”

Billy nods and wraps his legs around his boyfriend’s waist, wants to keep him close as he says quietly, “Yeah, ‘m okay. Just kiss me for a bit.”

And Steve does, slowly. He presses his weight down onto Billy and they kiss deeply, their racing hearts starting to slow as they remind themselves to do the same. There’s no need to rush, there’s nothing that needs their attention more than they do right now.

When Billy rocks his hips up, grinding his dick into Steve’s hip, he knows Billy wants more.

“You good, baby?” Steve murmurs as he kisses across Billy’s cheek and towards his ear, “You want me to fuck you now, hm?”

“Yeah, want it,” Billy whispers, his tone a touch desperate, “Please.”

“You don’t gotta beg, honey,” Steve promises softly, “You can have whatever you want.”

“Want you,” Billy says with a pout, Steve can hear it in his voice.

“You got me,” he hums, “Just a sec, okay?”

Billy nods, all sweet and quiet, and watches him as Steve sits up to grab the lube again. Sitting back and slicking himself up, Steve can’t help but to admire his boyfriend, smiles down at him when Billy gives him one first.

“You have the dumbest smile on your face right now,” Billy mumbles with a tiny smirk, his tone teasing and playful but his eyes are soft with affection.

And because Steve is lame, he says, “So do you,” while he slicks up his cock, strokes it a little too long for Billy’s liking because the blond smacks his thigh for it, impatient as always.

“Okay, okay,” Steve chuckles as he crawls over Billy again, feels the back of those strong thighs against his hips as he lines himself up and presses in, slowly, so he can watch Billy’s face the entire time.

The cute little furrow between his brow, the way his eyes go a little unfocused, how his hands find Steve’s arms and grab him there, steadying himself as he feels his boyfriend sink into him. Billy is perfect, warm and tight, and takes him so beautifully.

His hand finds Billy’s and interlaces their fingers, presses them to the bed as he moves inside his boyfriend lazily, slowly.

And Billy smirks under him, playfully mutters, “You made it gay.”

Steve huffs a soft laugh at that, hums, “My bad,” but he’s not sorry at all.

Not when Billy squeezes his hand in return and quietly begs, ‘harder’.

Maybe there’s something to be said about the way they make love, on Billy’s birthday, but Steve can’t find the words. He never can, not when he’s drowning in the emotions that come with being like this - being in love.

Instead, he fucks into Billy just how the blond wants, slow and then fast and slow again, pressing deep and grinding, flipping them over so Billy can set the pace - but Steve cums suddenly and way too fast, which should be embarrassing, but they’re well passed that now.

It happens and they make do. Steve pulls his boyfriend on top of him and they make out while he slips his fingers inside of Billy again, lets the blond pant into his mouth and plays with him until he cums with a curse.

And they’re insatiable tonight. They should sleep, should wind down and clean up and cuddle, but Billy flips him over and reaches for the lube instead.

Before long, Steve’s gripping the pillow under him and drooling onto it as Billy’s fingers stretch him open, too.

Time blurs, muscles ache, lips are swollen from suckling kisses. They take breaks and breathers, cuddling and touching idly, talking and laughing, making sure they’re comfortable before going again.

By the time the sun is coming up, they’re tangled together and still touching, dragging fingertips across skin and lips and Billy’s falling asleep, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier as Steve watches him with a tired smile.

“It’s almost time to get up and have breakfast,” he teases quietly, because he knows neither of them work tomorrow so they can sleep in as late as they want, but he has something important to ask.

“Mm, shut up,” Billy mumbles in his half-asleep state, cuddling in closer to his boyfriend, still so sweet and all Steve's.

He can't help it. He says, “Happy birthday,” one last time with a kiss to his boyfriend’s forehead, smiling as he hears a tiny ‘thank you’ before Billy’s out, snoring into his neck. Which is fine, because Billy's had a long day and night, he deserves to rest.

The ring in the closet can wait for the morning, Steve supposes.

[ltash]

Ethereal

Part 6 "In love with you"

All previous parts in the end.

Ghost x vampire hybrid, Ghost x female reader

Warning: 18+, MDNI, Dubcon themed, Penetrative s*x. NSFW.

When Ghost crossed paths with you, a beautiful vampire hybrid, he didn't know you were hiding a secret within.

"Let me put it this way. You, my beautiful boy, have the power to really hurt me, with how I feel about you. Far more than anyone else ever has or ever could. I don't know if you realize that."

▪▪~ Heather Hall ~▪▪

You woke up in the evening, the remnants of the intense passion from earlier still lingering in your body. As you stirred, the sheets fell away, and realization hit you-you were completely bare. Glancing around for your clothes, you found them nowhere in sight. With a sigh, you accepted that your long platinum hair would have to suffice.

Stepping out of the bedroom, you ventured into the living space, feeling both vulnerable and emboldened by the events of the day. The scent of tea wafted from the kitchen, drawing you toward it. You found Ghost, now dressed in his usual hoodie and sweatpants, preparing tea with practiced ease.

Quietly, you tiptoed up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He stiffened momentarily before relaxing into your embrace.

"Aurora! You'll give me a heart attack one day," he said with a chuckle, turning around to face you.

You stood naked before him, your hair cascading down to cover most of your body. His eyes widened slightly, but a warm, appreciative smile spread across his face.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," he said, his voice softening. His eyes roved over you, taking in every detail, every curve.

"You didn't leave me much choice," you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. "I couldn't find my clothes."

Ghost's hands found their way to your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "Maybe I wanted you like this," he murmured, his voice husky. "You look beautiful, Aurora. So Ethereal."

You blushed under his intense gaze, feeling both exposed and cherished. "I just wanted to thank you," you whispered, "for everything."

He leaned down, his masked lips brushing yours in a tender kiss. "You're welcome," he replied. "But next time, let's at least find you a robe."

You both laughed, the sound mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

"I want you, Ghost," you teased, pulling at his hoodie. Standing so close, you could only reach his heart.

"Right now? Again?" he whispered, his voice laced with both surprise and anticipation.

"Yes. Again. Right now. Here." Your eyes gleamed with mischief as you tugged at his mask. "I want Ghost this time," you said, your tone daring.

He was already wearing his skull mask, which gave his expression an added layer of menace and allure. He fisted your hair, pulling your head back slightly to make you look up at him. "Well! I warn you, love, Ghost won't show any mercy. He will shut your pretty little mouth."

Your doe eyes gazed up at him, filled with challenge and desire. "Make me shut my mouth, please," you teased again, your voice breathy and taunting.

"Is that so, love?" He raised an eyebrow, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Yes," you affirmed, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

With a growl, he scooped you up, your bare skin pressing against the rough fabric of his hoodie.

Ghost made you sit on the kitchen counter, his eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched, anticipation electrifying the air.

Don't move," he commanded, his voice a low growl as he loomed over you.

You bit your lip, your eyes never leaving his as you nodded. The thrill of anticipation coursed through you as you watched him remove his hoodie, revealing the taut muscles and scars beneath.

"You asked for this," he reminded you, his voice dark and dangerous.

"And I meant it," you replied, your voice a husky whisper as you met his gaze. "I want you, Ghost. All of you."

He pulled down his sweatpants and boxers, revealing and stroking his cock, a sight that made you bite your lip in anticipation.

"Like what you see?" he teased, a dark glint in his eyes.

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away.

"Open your legs, love," he ordered, his voice a low, commanding growl.

His response was a low, primal sound as he pushed your legs apart, his hands rough and demanding. He didn't wait, didn't tease. His need matched yours, urgent and consuming.

Slowly, you obeyed, leaning back on the marbled counter, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Never seen such a beautiful cunt before," he praised, his cock teasing your folds, eliciting a whimper from you.

He wrapped one strong arm around you for support, his other hand continuing to tease you, driving you wild. Your blue eyes locked onto his chocolaty ones, filled with an intoxicating mix of defiance and desire.

"You called for it, babydoll," he murmured, his voice heavy with promise.

With a swift, powerful motion, he pulled you close, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as he rammed his full length inside you. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, a wild moan escaping your lips as you threw your head back in ecstasy.

You felt the raw power of him as he entered you, his movements forceful and relentless. A cry escaped your lips as he filled you completely.

You arched your back, laying on the counter, completely at his mercy. His arms held you firmly in place, not giving you a moment to catch your breath as he slammed into you with relentless force. Each thrust was a command, each movement a reminder of the raw power he held over you.

"Quiet, love," he growled, one hand wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure to make you gasp. "I told you I'd shut that pretty mouth of yours."

Your response was a mix of whimpers and moans, your body surrendering to his every command. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You belong to me now," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Your body responded instinctively, your hips meeting his every thrust, a dance of primal need and unbridled passion. The cold marble beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat of his body, amplifying every sensation.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "So perfect."

"Ghost," you gasped, barely able to form words as waves of pleasure crashed over you. "I... I can't..."

"You can," he insisted, his voice a mix of encouragement and dominance. "You will."

"Yes," you breathed, the word barely more than a gasp as he drove into you with relentless intensity. "All yours, Ghost."

With each thrust, he drove you closer to the edge, his name falling from your lips in breathless moans. The world around you blurred, reduced to the intense connection between your bodies, the overwhelming sensation of him inside you.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, hungry kiss, swallowing your cries of pleasure. His hand moved from your waist to your hair, gripping it tightly as he deepened the kiss, claiming you completely.

The intensity built, a firestorm of sensation that threatened to consume you entirely. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you rode the wave of pleasure, surrendering completely to the raw, unfiltered passion that bound you together.

He held your writhing body in his hands, completely mesmerized by the sight before him. Your skin glowed, a radiant sheen as he drove you to the verge of ecstasy. Each deep thrust elicited a moan from your lips, your eyes shut tight, and your hands clutched his arms for support, fingers digging into his firm muscles.

"So fucking beautiful you are," he murmured, his voice filled with awe and desire.

He captured your mouth between his thumb and index finger, gently but firmly guiding your face to meet his gaze. "Look at me, luvvie," he demanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Slowly, you opened your dazy eyes, the intensity of your pleasure mirrored in his dark, penetrating gaze.

"That's my good girl," he whispered, his words a mix of praise and possession.

Your breath hitched, your connection deepening as you locked eyes. The world outside ceased to exist, the only reality was the rhythm of his body against yours, the heat and friction creating a symphony of raw, unfiltered passion.

Every thrust, every movement was a testament to his control and your complete surrender. You felt him everywhere, the roughness of his skull mask brushing against your skin, the hardness of his muscles pressing into you, and the overwhelming fullness of him inside you. His gaze held you captive, a magnetic pull that made you feel seen, cherished, and utterly possessed.

"You feel that, love?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper. "You feel how perfect you are for me?"

"Yes, Ghost," you gasped, the words barely forming as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

"Good," he said, a slow smile spreading beneath his mask. "Don't ever forget it."

He pulled out of you, turning you around and pinning you against the kitchen counter. Your breasts pressed against the cold marble, sending shivers through your body. His hands gripped your hips with a possessive firmness as he thrust deep into you from behind. The force of his movements sent waves of pleasure radiating through your core, his thighs slamming against your hips with each powerful thrust, driving you into the edge of the counter.

You moaned, the sensation of the cold marble against your sensitive skin heightening the intensity of his relentless rhythm. He was unyielding, his grip tightening as he took you with a fierce determination, each thrust sending you closer to the edge once more.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Every inch of you, mine."

His words sent a thrill through you, the raw possessiveness making your heart race. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the hard planes of his chest pressing into your back, and the roughness of his hands on your hips anchoring you in place.

The pleasure built steadily, each thrust bringing you closer to another peak. You arched your back, pushing your hips back to meet his movements, desperate for more. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his low, guttural groans.

"Ghost, please," you gasped, the words barely audible as the pleasure became almost unbearable.

"I know, love," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the intensity of the moment. "Just let go. I've got you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the raw truth of them igniting a fire deep within you. He thrust harder, faster, his control unwavering as he drove you both toward the edge. Your breaths mingled, the shared rhythm of your bodies creating a crescendo of sensation.

His pace quickened, the friction and heat overwhelming. You felt the tension coil tighter and tighter within you, ready to snap. His hand slid around to your front, fingers finding your clit and stroking in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling into ecstasy.

You cried out, your body convulsing as the climax ripped through you. He held you steady, his movements unrelenting as he drove you higher, drawing out your pleasure until you thought you couldn't take any more.

"Simon, I..." you began, but the words were lost in a cry of ecstasy as the wave of pleasure crashed over you, your body convulsing around him.

With a final, deep thrust, he reached his own peak, a deep groan escaping his lips as he came inside you. The warmth of his release filled you, and you both trembled in the aftermath, your bodies pressed together, hearts pounding in unison.

He groaned, a deep, primal sound, as he followed you over the edge, his release filling you completely. His grip tightened, holding you steady as you both rode out the storm, the world around you dissolving into a haze of pure, unadulterated bliss.

Slowly, he eased his grip, his hands moving to caress your back and sides, grounding you as you both caught your breath. He removed his mask and leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck, a soft contrast to the intensity of what you had just shared.

"You alright, love?" he asked, his voice tender.

"Yes," you whispered, turning your head to look at him, a contented smile on your lips. "More than alright."

"You did so well, love," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

He smiled, the warmth in his eyes melting away any lingering tension. He helped you stand, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, the connection between you deeper and stronger than ever.

"Let's clean up and get some rest," he said softly, kissing the top of your head. "We've got all the time in the world now."

"Come! Let's take a shower," Simon said, extending his hand to you.

You both sat in the bathtub, and he gently washed your long platinum hair, his touch soothing and tender. The warm water helped to ease the aches in your body, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the moment.

"Simon," you murmured.

"Hmm?" he hummed, focused on his task.

"I need my clothes from my cabin," you said.

"Okay. I will go with you," he replied without hesitation.

After finishing the bath, he handed you his T-shirt and hoodie, which you wore gratefully. He then gave you his puffer jacket to protect you from the cold. The jacket was oversized, practically swallowing you whole, making both of you laugh.

"You look like little red riding hood," he joked, making you giggle.

He was clad in a leather jacket, jeans, gloves, and his skull balaclava. You put on a beanie hat for extra warmth. Simon donned his night vision helmet and grabbed his sniper rifle, ready for any danger that might come your way.

"Let's go," he said, his voice calm but determined.

You two trudged through the snow, your breaths visible in the cold air. Crossing the lake, the ice beneath your feet was solid, crunching under your boots with each step. The world around you was silent, the only sounds were your footsteps and the occasional rustle of winter wildlife.

As you reached the other side, the outline of your cabin became visible through the trees. Simon led the way, his vigilance never wavering, ensuring your safety with every step.

"We're almost there," he said, his voice a comforting presence in the cold, quiet landscape.

You nodded, feeling a surge of warmth and security knowing that he was with you. The cabin, though simple and small, was a sanctuary you had known for years. Now, with Simon by your side, it felt even more like home.

You entered the cabin, nearly half-buried in snow. Ghost opened the door for you, his eyes scanning the small space.

"Seriously, Aurora! How did you live here?" he asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice.

"When my mom was alive, it was easier. Easier during summers, but winters are harsh here," you replied, your voice tinged with nostalgia.

You quickly gathered your belongings and changed into clothes that fit you better: leather boots, a long frock, your jacket, and a hat. From the wall, you took down a sword with an intricate hilt.

"This belongs to you?" Simon asked, eyeing the weapon.

"It was my mom's. I used it for cutting branches and wood sometimes. It's very sharp. Thought I should take it with me," you explained.

"Let's go. It's getting dark," he said, taking your bag and leading the way.

As you walked across the lake, you suddenly froze, gesturing for Ghost to stop. Your senses were heightened, alert to the danger that lurked nearby.

"I sense danger. Konni soldiers are here," you whispered, your voice low but urgent.

Simon immediately went on high alert, his training kicking in. He scanned the surroundings, his grip tightening on his sniper rifle.

"How many?" he asked quietly, his voice steady.

"Three, maybe four," you replied, your eyes darting around, trying to pinpoint their exact location.

Simon nodded, his mind already formulating a plan. "Stay close to me. We need to move quietly."

You both moved with caution, your steps silent on the ice. The air was thick with tension, every shadow and sound putting you on edge.

"Do you see them?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Not yet, but they're close. Stay ready," he replied, his eyes sharp and focused.

The two of you continued to move slowly, carefully. The icy landscape was eerily quiet, amplifying every small noise. Suddenly, a rustle in the nearby trees caught your attention.

"There," you whispered, pointing toward the movement.

Simon raised his rifle, his body tense and ready. "Stay behind me."

You nodded, gripping your sword tightly. The two of you edged closer.

A Konni soldier emerged from behind a pine tree. Ghost swiftly raised his rifle and shot, the crack of the gunfire shattering the silence of the frozen tundra.

"Aurora, run!" he shouted, his voice urgent.

"Not without you," you replied, your voice resolute.

"Run! I said. I'll be fine," Ghost insisted, his eyes briefly meeting yours, filled with determination.

Reluctantly, you nodded and started to run across the lake. Ghost followed behind, his rifle ready, scanning for any other threats. The tundra echoed with gunshots as he fired at the enemies, each shot precise and calculated.

The Konni soldiers fired back, their bullets hitting the ice beneath your feet. Thankfully, the layer of ice was solid and thick, but the ricocheting bullets and cracking sounds were terrifying.

"Keep running, Aurora!" Ghost shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos.

You pushed yourself to run faster, the cold air burning your lungs. Ghost continued to shoot, his movements swift and practiced, but the open lake offered little cover. The Konni soldiers were closing in, their shouts and gunfire growing louder.

Ghost fired another round, taking down another enemy. But more were coming, their dark figures moving swiftly across the ice. He fired again, the shot hitting its mark, but the situation was becoming increasingly dangerous.

"Almost there, Aurora!" Ghost called out, his voice strained.

You glanced back, seeing Ghost still firing at the advancing soldiers. Your heart pounded, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through you. The edge of the lake was in sight, and you pushed yourself harder, determined to reach safety.

Ghost fired again, taking down another soldier. The remaining Konni soldiers hesitated, giving you both a momentary reprieve.

"Go, Aurora! I'll cover you!" Ghost shouted, his voice unwavering.

You reached the edge of the lake, turning to see Ghost still fighting. Your eyes met.

Just then, a Konni soldier fired a shot, the bullet striking Ghost directly in the chest. He wasn't wearing any armor.

He didn't scream. It was too late to realize he was shot. He stumbled, his trembling hand raising to his chest where the blood was quickly spreading, staining the ice beneath him. He fell silently onto the frozen lake.

"Simon!!!" Your blood-curdling scream echoed through the howling winds of the tundra.

Time seemed to freeze, the world around you growing still and silent like the frozen landscape. Desperation and anguish surged through you. You ran towards Ghost, your heart pounding, tears blurring your vision.

Part 5

Part 4

Part 3

Part 2

Part 1

[r0ttenb0gb0dy]

jack ‘canary’ skalbek — full backstory

this is incredibly self indulgent, but i wanted to get it out of my chest, i guess. it's raw and silly at times but i love it all the same and i hope you do too. ive never posted my writing on tumblr so i really hope it does ok out here heh.

18+ for swearing, canon COD violence, no explicit sex but alluding to further acts, just generally not for minors ! adult topics and characters individual trauma discussed within .

There’s something to be said about the haze of being a teenager in California in the early aughts. The warm, all-over feeling of the sun beating down on tanned, freckled skin. Bruised knees, busted knuckles. Spending every day in a lake or a river, god forbid the chlorine riddled soup of a swimming pool, making the most out of what time is had.

Jack Skalbek was, by all accounts, an average teenager, who did average teenage things. Smoking pot behind the bleachers when he should be in class, watching his marginally more athletic friends throw themselves at gym class like it actually mattered. Football, soccer — whatever it was, he could usually find Keegan and Alex there.

Keegan, a year his senior, and Alex a year older, the closest things he could call his friends. They’d spent much of their childhood daydreams running around town together, iPod plugged into a speaker on the back of one of their bikes, blasting some obnoxiously emo music that all of them indulged in. 2004 lends itself to that aspect, dyed hair and painted nails, one too many chains hanging off of Jack’s wallet.

Alex would never speak of it, but he could see it in little glimpses. Catch the fleeting hand-holds and hushed laughter, that look.

There was no way they weren't feeling something.

They just didn't know what to call it.

Sitting on the roof of Jack’s parent’s house, having climbed up through an access point that certainly wasn't meant to be used by 16 year olds, Keegan and Jack lingered. Long past Alex’s curfew, his need to return home leaves them in each other's presence.

“You decide anything about college yet?” Keegan asked, watching Jack fumble with his lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette between his lips. They tasted awful, and he didn't even like the nicotine buzz, but the ‘deep breathing' exercise was relaxing.

“No — I mean, I still have a year.” Jack huffed, sighing with satisfaction as he got it to light. The burn in his throat was comforting, but his attention was more focused on Keegan. “Did you?”

“Yeah.” Keegan murmured, his voice low and quiet. “I, uh, I was talkin’ to a recruiter downtown the other day.”

“Oh? Is that why you blew off our mall date?”

“It wasn't a date, but yes.” Keegan chuckled, pulling the sleeves of his hoodie down over his hands. Worn from use, he slipped his thumbs through holes in the cuffs, the heather gray fabric fraying at the edges. He felt like he was doing the same thing, some days.

“So, like, what sport? Did you get picked up for football?”

“No, I mean, like — a Marine recruiter.”

“Oh! Yeah, I got that letter too — you actually went and talked to those guys?” Jack snickered, but Keegan was infinitely more serious about it. He had really gone and discussed a future in the military? What future was there in something like that? Brutish violence and bloodshed, all for some rich man’s greed — proxy wars.

“I mean, yeah. Alex came with me. They said I’d be a prime candidate. I’m taking the test soon to see where I place, but they said my grades were high enough that —”

“Slow down.” Jack turned to face the other boy entirely, the warm glow of the setting sun painting him somewhere between coral pink and tangerine. His eyes, though, were still an icy blue. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “You joined?”

“Enlisted.” The dark haired boy shrugged, fixing his gaze on Jack’s. “It’s no big deal, Jackie.”

“It’s a really big deal.”

“It’s not — it's the same as if you told me you were gonna go to art school in New York City.”

“Art school doesn't get me killed.” Jack said softly, almost embarrassed that his qualm with the entire thing was the idea of his person Keegan dying. His cheeks were flushed red, all heated up and uncomfortable. He averted his gaze, but Keegan's hand on his cheek returned him to reality.

“Is that what bothers you about it?”

“It's dangerous, Keegan. Y-You could get shot, or lose a leg, or —”

“I can live without a leg.”

“You're not funny.” Jack groaned, pushing Keegan's hand away only to feel it in his hair this time, fingers laced in-between his long grey-blonde hair. It grounded him, making his thoughts clear up and focus down to just one, very clear idea. “I don't want you to go. I-I thought you had to be 18 to enlist.”

“If I pass all the tests, they’ll make an exception. It’s still a couple months out, I’ll be 18 by the time I get out on deployment.” Keegan said whilst gently brushing through Jack’s hair, a bit tangled from being wet earlier that day, knotted with pool water. “This is somewhere I can make a difference.”

“But why does it have to be you?” Jack replied, having long forgotten his cigarette by now. It was mostly ash, all balanced perfectly at the end. One little twitch of his hand and it all fell off, leaving half an inch of smokable length behind. It didn't matter anymore, though.

“Because if I don't, and I just assume someone else will, nothing’ll ever change.”

“How poetic.” Jack mumbled, closing his eyes as Keegan’s hand drew forward, back to his jaw. Soft, gentle, well intentioned. Better than anyone that Jack could ever pray to fill the gap Keegan would surely leave behind with. It made his heart ache knowing that these nights were fleeting, slipping through his fingers already and Keegan hadn't even passed his exams yet. “Promise that you’ll come back from wherever they send you?”

Keegan bit back the words that came to mind first, acknowledging that he couldn't promise to come back. Men and women die all of the time overseas, and he could likely become one of the many that don’t come home outside of a casket. He looked down at Jack, those soft brown eyes enamored with him, and knew he had to make that impossible promise.

“I’ll come back to you.”

It happened quickly. His exams came up fast and he passed them with flying colors, eviscerating the physical testing all the same. Even with the sword of Damocles above their heads, they continued to share hurried kisses and late nights, begging for a few minutes more from the universe. Fighting the timer with every movement. Pressured by the impending doom, Jack started applying to colleges — it was a year too soon, but if Keegan could weasel his way into the Marine Corps at 17 then he could finesse his way into some pretentious art school.

Flashes in his memory now, images of his acceptance letter and Keegan’s coming just days apart, his call to action a far greater anomaly. He and Alex would be leaving for the opposite side of the country in a matter of weeks, ensuring Jack felt helpless. His best friends, whisked away to die in the middle of the desert.

The night before Keegan needed to be at the airport, to be sworn in and shipped off, he didn't spend a second longer at home than he needed to. He was at Jack’s house the second he finished packing, duffel bags discarded at the front door. Mrs. Skalbek would surely move them and re-fold the messy clothes, probably even press his uniform nicely for the next day — she knew it, too, the way that her boy was enraptured by the Russ kid.

She didn't mind, even if Keegan’s parents did. He was leaving, now, she could at least provide them with a safe home for one more evening.

Keegan half expected Jack to break down in tears, begging for him to change his mind or something, but he didn't. He opened the window of his room instead, letting the salt air in, a gentle breeze cooling the room down. Christmas lights strung from the ceiling the only real illumination save for the fading sunset, casting a pinkish glow over everything. On his desk, a closed sketchbook with about a million drawings of Keegan and Alex, though there was a distinct pattern of a particular set of blue eyes repeating every few pages. Then there was Jack laying on his bed, swallowed whole by the comforter, his sad and tired eyes fixed on Keegan in the doorway.

They skipped the “awkward” part fairly quickly.

No hello or how are you, just straight and to the point. Wrapped up in each other’s arms above the sheets, bodies warm and hazy at the edges, blurring the lines between a tangle of limbs. Jack didn't say a word as he closed his eyes and breathed in the achingly familiar scent of the gold standard of a boy he’d grown to love.

“Don’t get hung up on me, alright?” Keegan asked, sleep laced between his words.

“What’d’you mean?”

“Like…go and do whatever you’re gonna do in LA. Don’t worry about me. I can handle my own.”

“Respectfully, shut the fuck up. I’ll be worried about you until you’re home.”

“M’not gonna change your mind, am I?”

“No.” Jack replied, pulling Keegan in closer. It was much too hot for proximity like this, but neither seemed to care.

“At least make some good memories so we have somethin’ to talk about when I come back.”

Jack hummed in reply and drifted off to sleep against his will, waking up without another body in his bed. In a panic he sat up, making his head spin, but he realized Keegan was just getting dressed. He hadn't left yet. The uniform he wore looked foreign on his frame, a little too big on him, but he looked happy enough in it. Keegan looked up when Jack startled awake, a slight frown on his face.

“Wanted to slip out without wakin' you.”

“You didn't say goodbye.”

“That was the point, Jackie.” Keegan chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bed, lacing his boots up with unpracticed hands. “I didn't wanna make you have to go through a goodbye.”

He was right. Goodbye sounded awful. It took Jack a moment of contemplation before he settled on an alternative, his half asleep brain convincing him it was a great idea.

“I love you.” Jack spoke softly, though confident in those three words. They'd remained an unspoken law thus far, only now being brought into the fabric of reality. They made Keegan stop in his tracks for a split second.

“I love you, too, Jackie.” He replied, his voice a solemn tone. After he finished tying his boots he turned and placed a kiss on Jack’s forehead, rustling his hair up one more time for good measure. “I’ll text you when I get to base. Be safe.”

‘made it 2 base. no phone 4 a few months. alex says hi. xx keegs.’

Jack loved and hated those text updates every single time he received one. They were few and far in-between, but they meant the world. It was all he really had left of Keegan. The following summer, after nearly a year of no real contact, Jack finally got a phone call. He was moving into his dorm at UCLA when his phone started blaring Keegan’s ringtone, setting his mind on high alert. Jack fumbled his phone open, pressing the green answer button as soon as his fingers stopped shaking enough to do so.

“Keegan?”

“Jackie.”

He’s alive.

“Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice. Holy shit.” Jack laughed, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes from the sheer emotional weight. He could hear idle chatter in the background, Alex’s voice included, carrying on about something he didn't quite understand. “How has it been?”

“Listen, I don't have a lot of time. We’re gonna be leaving for Tel Aviv, soon.” Keegan sounded all too serious, some of that warmth and wonder gone from his voice. It’d dropped an octave, too. “S’been good, Jackie. I just wanted to call and talk to you before we hit dirt.”

“Tel Aviv?” Jackie mumbled. “You’re in the middle of the war?”

“Fuckin’ neck deep in it.” Keegan replied quietly. “You made it to LA, right?”

“Didn't know you still got my texts.”

“Of course I do. I just — I don't have time to reply, some days. I don't have a good excuse, either. Just want to make sure you know I meant it, back then. Miss you like hell.”

“S’that your girl?” Someone’s voice called from a distance, earning a huff out of Keegan. “Is she hot?”

“Shut your fuckin’ trap!” He barked back. “Sorry, Jackie. Listen, I — I gotta bounce, I don't know how long we’ll be out here. Be safe for me, okay?”

“I — yeah, of course, K.” Jack stuttered, running a hand back through his hair in a self-soothing manner. Though Keegan hadn't said the words, Jack wanted to make sure that the point got across that he understood. “I love you, too.”

Click.

Radio silence did not begin to describe what followed that phone call. Jack pushed down his anxiety for a long, long while, ignoring all of the news outlets claiming that a civilian hospital in Tel-Aviv had been assaulted and defended by U.S. Marines. That there had been countless casualties, that those men would be honored posthumously with medals and awards. He didn't read a single article out of fear that he would see Keegan Russ or Alex Johnson in the list of names.

College flew by. The war raged on. He didn't hear from Keegan, his family, no one. Even when his mother called, he blew her off, fearing that she was calling to break the news of his untimely death in the Middle East. Birthday after birthday, year after year, and he had not even begun to fill the space in his chest with something real. Uppers and downers, party culture — it was his way of smothering the pain temporarily, far better than anything his psychologist offered him in way of coping.

Deep breathing exercises and journaling didn't bring Keegan back.

Nothing did.

Not drinking, not partying, not kissing strangers in bars — nothing.

The world continued to strife while Jack continued to linger in 2004, the better part of him remaining on the rooftop of his mom’s house. He especially noticed his inability to change with the rest of the world as ‘The Federation of the Americas’ rose to power. News of their rampage spread like wildfire until they, themselves had spread closer and closer to the U.S. Even when their leader was assinated, it didn't stop them.

Tensions were high, tides ebbing and flowing with every passing day, until 2017.

Jack Skalbek had settled into his life in Los Angeles. He had a house that he rented with a few roommates, a cat, a rather nice car — nothing was too awful those days. He could go outside on his porch and rip a bong like his life depended on it, seeing stars in broad daylight, and —

Wait.

Those aren't stars. It’s broad daylight.

Jack blinked a couple of times as he raised his hand over his eyes, shielding out the harsh glow of the sun. There were small pieces of something hurtling towards the earth, like shooting stars, and as they drew closer he knew they weren't small. They were large, flaming chunks of a spacecraft or something — that was the only logical explanation.

People were running. Something was rumbling.

Impact.

The earth split in two, directly through Los Angeles, and all Jack could do was run. He ran like he never had before, stumbling through the literally broken streets with little regard for anything else. His cat, Molly, leapt out into the street (he never quite stopped thanking God for that) and he scooped her up, hauling ass as fast as he could.

He never really stopped running.

Molly learned to stay at his side, mewling as they traversed what remained of Los Angeles for a while, eventually forced up North by the Federation’s invasion. Before he knew it, Jack had found company with a military squad, having been on base whenever ODIN hit. They stuck together in the aftermath, and when they found Jack essentially camping in the wilderness, they picked him up. At least then, he was “camping” with a group of heavily armed, skilled soldiers.

It didn't last long, the ideation that he could just tag along. Before he knew it, Lieutenant Ames had shoved a rifle into his hands.

“You're too tall to be a sniper and too lanky to be close quarters, so you’re gonna scout. Think you can manage that, Skalbek?” Ames asked, watching Jack inspect the rifle. He’d never used a gun before, or held one, but he supposed that now was as good a time as any to learn how. It would likely be the only difference between him living and dying, so it felt important.

A distant memory these days, although a sweet one, Keegan would have been proud of him. He had passable marksmanship, steady artist hands coming in handy for such a task. His lungs were a weakness, but it wasn't exactly commonplace to come upon large quantities of smokable substances in their travels. Stretching a pack of cigarettes became a habit, until he was barely smoking them at all. Once he could hold his breath long enough to get a few shots off, he was good enough.

That was all that mattered. He could protect himself in the wild.

Jack spent years with the same crew of men, calling them brothers. He never grew too close, never squinted to see Keegan’s face in theirs — he didn't think of those blue eyes often those days. It was hard to dream of good things in such a bad place, like a war-torn America, in desperate need of saving.

Jack just prayed that Keegan was alright, wherever he may be, whatever he may be doing. He had to have survived the initial attack in Tel Aviv.

The soldiers would gossip about a team of men that came from Santa Monica, made up of the survivors from Tel Aviv — fifteen men out of sixty that came out on top when up against five hundred Federation attackers. Ghosts, they were called, a supernatural force that somehow overcame the odds.

He believed that men had survived, but he didn't believe that they were so mythical. Though, after so many years of dissidence, some will cling to those little miracles out of desperation.

Hope was a very dangerous thing for anyone to have, let alone some random man from Northern California that barely survived Los Angeles' implosion, but he had it. Even if he would never admit such a thing aloud for fear of it being taken away. Jack spent most of his time from 2017 until 2022 doing the best he could to hold himself together, and eventually in the winter of that year, it came crashing down.

He woke up to gunshots. Loud, quick, violent. Close. Jack startled awake and reached for his rifle, but before he could even aim he felt a firm thunk on the side of his head. Everything hurts, his head ringing until he falls unconscious, and everything goes painfully black.

Jack had never been knocked unconscious before, but he learned quickly that the wake-up was infinitely worse than the go-down. Nothing was worse than realizing he was chained up, though. His hands were cuffed above his head, the distinct taste of copper rich on his tongue as his eyes fluttered.

“Fuck…” Jack breathed, the sound of his lungs almost wet. He’d surely aspirated his own blood, but he couldn't be certain he wasn't waterboarded by the way his lungs felt liquidy. “Hello?”

Mistake.

A Federation soldier joined him in that cell within seconds, and he learned to keep his mouth shut from then on. It went on for a week straight, the torture, getting beat senseless day in and out by Feds just for fun. They’d laugh, dump alcohol on his gaping wounds, break bones like it was a game. One of them took a bat to his knee on the last day of that first week, and he was sure that he would die in that cell.

Cold. Alone. Bloody.

Months went by. Long, arduous. Sometimes he wouldn't see another human being for several days, and then he would be forced to take a beating alongside another of the soldiers from his company. He wasn't sure when he started referring to himself as one of them, as a soldier, but the Feds saw him that way too.

Corporal Skalbek. The punching bag.

Six. Long. Months.

He was happy that he was still alive on occasion, but most days were spent half-conscious and starving for breath. He couldn't even scream anymore. His throat was so terribly dry he was certain that it was only wet from his blood, coating every gulp with the distinct taste of it. If he coughed, it’d sputter out and paint his pale flesh with an array of sanguine specks, blending with the other stains from the physical abuse. Bruises littered his body, alongside gashes and lacerations, marks from where ligatures had dug into his skin.

The handcuffs were always the worst, a little too rusty and worn, sure to give him tetanus if he survived this ordeal. But, in some sort of optimistic turn, he wasn't sure he would survive it.

If Jack closed his eyes, he could almost hear Marines charging the camp, barking orders over gunfire. That, however, was a fantasy, just like the idea of going home was. Well, at least back to the U.S.. LA wasn't home anymore, and he didn't rightly have a place to live since the soldiers he ran with were always moving, but he would be happy to live in an abandoned motel for the rest of his days at this rate.

Fantasies of a better life left him feeling warm and fuzzy inside despite the exhaustion gripping his every emotion. He was sure, now, that he was starting to see things that weren't really there. Disturbed cognitive functioning is a symptom of mental deterioration, and with the way his mind was creating custom imagery of Marines coming to save him he had to be close to death at this rate. The deafening sound of gunfire traveled closer down the hallway, echoing off the walls alongside the repetitive drum-beat of bootfalls.

“Clear every room — I want every last one of these boys to survive.” A voice shouted, followed by a few affirmative replies of some kind. Jack perked up, straining the cuffs holding his hands up, aggravating the painful friction wounds. A fresh stream of blood ran down his forearms, warm and wet.

It took a few minutes for him to actually believe that someone was here to rescue him from this hell, but once he did he started fighting his restraints. Trying desperately to make the chains jingle but failing at that as well. The pain in his wrists was too much to simply push through it, and he truthfully couldn't feel the lower half of his body anymore. He tried to push himself up on his knees but they were in pure agony.

It wasn't fair.

They’d never hear him.

When they came to the door of his cell, a pair of eyes appeared in the barred enclosure, glancing the room over. He opened his mouth to speak, to beg for mercy, but once more nothing came out. Jack fought his restraints once again and the eyes lit up. Next thing he knew, the door was wide open and he was sure that this was all some vivid hallucination before his death.

The man looked to be a grim reaper, or a twisted angel of mercy. His eyes were nearly white, they were so blue and he knew right then and there that it was him.

He couldn’t mistake those eyes.

“Hey — look’a’me. You’re gonna be jus’ fine.” The man’s voice was low and gravelly, husky in every sense of the word. He went to whimper his excitement but, well…it came out as a coughing fit, blood coating his dry lips once again. Did he not recognize Jack? Has so much changed? Did he not look like himself anymore? “Don't push yourself.”

Jack huffed and sat patiently as the man, who’s last name was too blurry to read and he knew it anyway, broke the cuffs off his wrists with bolt cutters. It hurt, but it reminded him that this was actually happening and that he was alive still. Air still filled his lungs at a quickened pace, he could still feel the warmth of another person’s flesh on his. The man had gloves on, but there was life in his touch — gripping Jack’s fragile and broken body.

“Can you walk?” He asks. Jack shakes his head rapidly and the man doesn't reply, picking the semi-emaciated other up without hesitation. When they enter the hallway, Jack can see the blurry outlines of other men populating the space, both his soldier friends and Marines. “Merrick! Got the last one — he’s not doing too hot.”

“Exfil’s outside — he’s still breathing?’ ‘Merrick’ called back, a fuzzy figure in the distance.

“Barely. Pulse is thready.” The man holding him barked back to Merrick, leaving Jack wondering if he would die anyways, regardless of being saved. It was getting hard to stay awake now that he knew he wasn't going to be stuck in captivity any longer, his eyelids fighting sleep. He knew he was safe. “Hey — stay awake. Eyes on me.”

Jack suddenly felt his eyes open wide again, fixing on the man holding him. He felt like a teenager all over again, looking up through tired eyes on that last day before he lost his best friends to a war he was now fighting, too.

“There we go…eyes on me. Just a few more minutes.” Focusing on that voice wasn't hard. It had gotten deeper, but it was as familiar as breathing.

It was just a few more, in truth. Jack found himself seated in the back of a Humvee, bleeding all over the fabric interior. His body begged for sleep but his blue-eyed angel kept nudging him awake, occasionally pinching his arm to make sure he felt something enough to keep him awake.

“Stop it. You fall asleep, you die.” He huffed in frustration as Jack dozed off again.

“Don't be such a prick, Keegan. He’s a prisoner of war.” Merrick called from the front passenger seat, gazing back at Jack and his mangled body. A mess of limbs and blood, but with the widest smile he could possibly muster. It was him. In the flesh, breathing right in front of him, holding his hand. “You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

Oh, he would be just fine.

Upon arriving in Fort Santa Monica, he was allowed to rest. Anesthetic sleep was never truly restful, as it was artificial, but it was enough for him to walk in a more lucid state. His vision wasn't blurry, his head was no longer pounding, and he didn't taste blood.

A much better day in Jack’s book by a hundred miles.

He rolled onto his side and overlooked the small med-bay, the typical hustle and bustle of a hospital environment carrying on beyond the curtain. It smelled sterile there, but it was welcome in comparison to the scent of rust and rot. The flat white surface of the curtain was disrupted by a hand, followed by the presence of Keegan fucking Russ.

“Didn't think you'd be awake so soon.” He sort of darts his gaze away from Jack, embarrassed that he’d come to sit with a man that he’d presumed to be unconscious. The trouble, though, really came when Jack went to reply. No noise came out. His throat was sore, but it likely only felt that way because morphine was smothering any real pain he would normally be feeling. He touched at his throat anxiously, fingertips dancing across bandages wrapped around the entirety of his neck. “I can do most of the talking, s’alright. I’d like to know who I’m talking to, though. You know sign language or something?”

Jack rolled his eyes. It definitely made sense for him, a person with functional vocal chords and ears six months ago, to have learned sign language. Keegan chuckled at the display of attitude, not a clue in his mind still that he was who he was.

“Stop me when I say the right letter. A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, J—”

Jack tapped Keegan’s hand. A flash of recognition crossed his face before he continued.

“Okay, J. A—”

Another tap.

“J-A…A, B, C—”

Tap.

“Jack?” Keegan spoke softly. “You — sorry, you kinda look like someone I know. His name was Jack, too. When LA went, he went, too.”

Huh? How had he even heard something like that? How was he so certain that Jack was dead?

“Nevermind. I’m, uh, Sergeant, First Class. Keegan Russ. You in pain or anything, Jack? I’m sure I could get them to sneak you a little extra morphine or something. Maybe a cigarette? Not that you should smoke with your throat torn open, I guess…”

Jack stared up at him. If there was any uncertainty, it was resolved immediately.

“What’s that fuckin’ look for?”

Jack went to speak and he literally squeaked in place of words. God damnit.

“Exactly. Go on, get some sleep. I’ll be around with a better way for you to talk, later.” Keegan said as he left, pulling the curtain shut once again. Instead of throwing a fit because Keegan didn't recognize him, Jack opted for sleep, coiling up on his side as the morphine lulled him into a sense of security, the warmth putting him out like a light.

A man of his word as he always had been, Keegan returned after Jack got some much-needed sleep, food, and water. He looked somewhat disappointed though, taking a seat across from Jack’s bed.

“Does a pen and paper work? I really thought I’d have a more innovative solution to the, uh, no-talking thing but…” Keegan said sheepishly as he snatched the medical clipboard from the side table of Jack’s bed, flipping to a blank sheet of paper before handing it to Jack alongside a pen.

‘It’s fine.’ Jack wrote, turning it to face Keegan. ‘My wrists hurt, though.’

“I figured — Doc said you got some pretty deep lacs. I’ll keep it brief. Your last name?”

‘Skalbek.’

“No it isn't.” Keegan’s expression dropped. “Don't fuck around. Who the fuck told you that?”

Jack furrowed his brow and turned the clipboard around, scribbling out a response as fast as he could before Keegan reasonably flipped out. ‘Do I not look the same?’

“You're not Jackie.”

‘How can I prove it?’

“You can't. Fucking…that's a sick prank, you know that? Whoever the hell told you his name is gettin' gutted.” Keegan stood up and turned to leave, only serving to frustrate Jack more. How did he not recognize him? It would seem that while he was excited to see Keegan again, Keegan was…upset? He licked his lips, dry and cracked as they were, and did the only thing he figured would work.

He whistled.

He whistled the tune to Drowning Lessons by My Chemical Romance. It was cheesy and fucking stupid, but he knew for a fact that Keegan knew it because they’d bought the CD together. They didn’t rip it off of Limewire or Napster, no, they bought the actual disc.

They would listen to that song on repeat, Jack never quite shutting up about the bridge and the melodies of Gerard Way’s gang vocals, and Keegan always said it was easily the best song on the record. He knew that they were never really together, and they never had a song, but if they did it would be that. He whistled until Keegan’s expression softened up, and he pulled his mask up over his head.

Same oceanic blue eyes, same slightly crooked nose, a few more scars. Still Keegan.

“I searched the wreckage at that address he — you sent me.”

Now, it was Jack’s turn for rightful emotional revelations. Keegan still got his texts in 2017? He only texted out of habit, out of a desire to vent every once in a while to nobody, even knowing that Keegan was dead. Being convinced that he was, at least.

“I found a body, I…”

‘Housemate. I had three.’ Jack wrote, urgent this time.

“He was so-so burnt that I…I thought the worst, I guess, I —” Keegan stuttered, his eyes never quite leaving Jack. The gap between them was much too far all of a sudden. “I need a minute.”

‘Take your time.’ Jack wrote back, but Keegan was gone before he could even turn the paper around. He sighed and leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes once again. He would never know, but Keegan practically bolted outside because he didn't want to crack in front of anyone, let alone Jack. The dark haired man locked himself in a broom closet and covered his mouth with his gloved hand, chest heaving with pure emotion as he panicked. His entire world view was shattered by that one living, breathing man out there.

Keegan Russ was not a man that broke down often. He fought back the urge to feel anything about this for two decades, to let his emotions get the best of him, but there was little he could do to stop it now. Jack was alive, a miracle in it of itself, but he was right there in front of Keegan. Busted and bruised, shattered bones and a scruffy face, but it was Jack.

He always regretted not getting a hold of him once they survived Tel Aviv, but there was little he could do about his mistakes now. They had already been done. Truthfully at the time it didn't seem like such a terrible thing, Keegan always had the hope that he would make it to UCLA to see Jack when the war ended, but it never did. Then, he looked forward to seeing him again when he moved to the outskirts of the city, but when ODIN struck LA…

In his mind, Jack had died. He had already mourned him and their brief respite of time together. The grief was simply something he grew around, letting it become a piece of his past that he could lovingly look back upon. Smile, knowing he gave Jack the best version of himself, untainted by war and violence.

Now what was he?

A killer, hardened by years of killing Federation soldiers indiscriminately, unable to look himself in the mirror on the bad days. The last thing that they never see coming. A ghost.

Jack didn't deserve that.

After all of that time, of burying his first and only semblance of love in the backyard outside next to who he used to be, he was sitting right there. If he opened up the door right in front of himself, he was right out there.

He moved his hand from his mouth once he was sure his breathing had regulated down to normal, taking a couple of shaky and unsure breaths before feeling satisfied. The last thing he needed was for their medic to appear out of nowhere and start prodding Jack again, only to see Keegan visibly shaken by seemingly nothing.

It wasn't Jack's fault that everything panned out the way it did, and if it was anyone’s fault it would be Keegan’s. He left, not the other way around. In fact, his squad was responsible for Tel Aviv, which sparked the following energy crisis, inevitably landing them where they are today. Here. In Santa Monica, perhaps the last safe place close to No Man’s Land.

There were two options.

He could, reasonably, walk away and let the medical staff deal with Jack. This could end right here and now, send him on his way with the survivors of the squad he was found with. Keegan would never have to see him again, never have to let him see this mangled version of himself that he had become.

Alternatively, he could walk back out there and sit back down, and start from the top. A do-over. Pretend that the last twenty or so years weren't so long, own up to his fuckups, and make a new starting point here and now. It would be infinitely more difficult, but Keegan also knew that it was indubitably the right thing to do.

With a few more seconds of silence to think about what he was about to choose, he stood up from the pile of boxes he’d been sitting on in the closet, and then went right back to Jack’s side.

“Sorry.” Keegan said quietly as he re-opened and shut the curtain again, sort of standing at the end of the bed rather than sitting in the chair he had previously been in. He was too full of anxious energy to sit down, having to actively think about not tapping his boot on the tile floor. “I just — you have to understand why this is weird for me.”

‘I thought the same when you unchained me.’ Jack wrote, earning a little sad-puppy look from Keegan. It was much harder to see Jack all beaten up and bruised knowing that it was, in fact, Jack.

“You don't look the same, for the record. I don't know who this badass, battle-worn version of Jackie is.”

‘Me neither.’ Jack shrugged.

“He seems like an alright guy.” Keegan said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll have to tell me about him whenever you can talk again, huh?”

‘How about you tell me about this Sergeant Russ guy?’

“Very funny. You need some sleep, y’look like shit, Jack.”

‘Come on. You’d have, like, pretty good bedtime stories.’

Keegan couldn't help it, he laughed at that one, a wide smile on his face. Still the same little spark of attitude that he always had, just with a few more years of bite to them.

“Fine — what’d’you wanna know?”

‘Tel Aviv.’

“Not right now. How about…basic training?”

‘Fine.’

It became a ritual, almost. Every single night without fail, Keegan would return to his side with something he stole from the mess hall and a new story, carrying the conversation enough for the two of them. Beforehand, he had been the quiet one, but Jack had involuntarily taken that role. He told him tales of Task Force: STALKER and the Ghosts. Their adventures through the entirety of the war, how many lives they saved — shit, he even got to hang out with Alex, too, on occasion. Well, Ajax, now.

It also became ritualistic that every single night, without fail, he'd wake up in a cold sweat.

He could only manage to gasp for breath, clutching at his throat as he set the attached heart monitors off time and time again. The ringing noise it made was most insensitive to someone having a panic attack, but it at least actually alerted the medic to his state. Grim, his name was, as in reaper.

It was no comfort to have a medic named after death itself at first, but he learned rather early on that Grim was a saint. He’d show up, mute the monitors and administer anti-anxiety medication, which was in short supply, but useful all the same.

Jack wasn’t terribly embarrassed about it either, he’d survived something traumatic and deserved to feel any way about it that he wanted to, until Keegan witnessed one of those late-night panic attacks. He'd fallen asleep in the chair beside Jack’s bed after a late night of one-sided conversation, barely awakened by the quickened breathing of the man in the bed beside him. Jack had never had panic attacks as a teenager, but the heavy breathing and scared eyes were a dead giveaway. Grim had learned to leave the monitor’s sound off, so it wasn't blaring, but Jack was still gasping for breath. His hands were clasped over his chest, eyes screwed shut as he tried to get his heart to slow down.

He looked over when he saw Keegan jolt awake, his eyes flicking anxiously up and down the other man as his cheeks flushed red. Fully embarrassed of the way the trauma affected him so deeply. It meant he was damaged goods. Discardable for something more favorable, less troubled.

“Y’alright? Should I get Grim?” Keegan asks, genuine concern laced into his words. He was so soft spoken it was almost scary, gruff texture never leaving even at a low volume.

“No.” Jack squeaked out, wincing at the pain. It sounded painful, too, a fragile pitch that wavered for the brief second it was spoken. His hand rubbed at the front of his throat, hoping to smother the pain out.

“Easy, Jackie.” Keegan replied, his brow knit in worry.

“M’fine.” Jack hacked, that wet feeling in his lungs returning in a phantasmal way.

“You're not. Take a deep breath. You’re safe. I’m here.” It was so very grounding, hearing those words spoken aloud. He was safe. He was alive. He was no longer cuffed to a wall in some dank basement.

He was with Keegan again.

Jack heaved a few more anxious breaths out, hand grasping at his chest for purchase until Keegan grabbed it, stopping him from scratching at the bandages constricting his breathing, a bit of a frown hidden beneath his mask. At first, Jack struggled, but he gave in after a few short moments of Keegan’s firm, gloved grasp on his twitching fingers.

“Thanks—” His voice comes out timid in both tone and volume.

“Stop trying to talk. You’re just gonna make it hurt worse.”

“Fuck —” Cough. “— off.”

“Just tryin’ t’help.” Keegan murmured, giving Jack’s hand a gentle squeeze. “You've been having night terrors like that a lot?”

Jack went to reply but bit his tongue, squeezing his hand instead.

“Yes?” squeeze. “Okay — hey, I can work with that. Do you want me to stay?”

Jack didn't reply. He just held Keegan's hand tighter, not letting go for a long, long time.

It was unconventional, this method of communication, but it got the point across. One for yes, two for no became the gold standard, especially when he was able to leave the med-bay and explore a bit. Fort Santa Monica was in no state of beauty, sure, but from what he could see it was a haven. There were refugee camps surrounding the military installments, packed tight with families and off-duty soldiers alike, lining the sandbag ridden streets. It was engineered to be impossible to take, the perfect place to shack up just outside of No Man’s Land.

Jack stood outside once he was cleared to walk again, leaning on a railing that overlooked the dismantled city. He was in a great deal of pain most days, but he’d rather grit his teeth and bare it over scarfing down painkillers. A brace and a dream, he could get just about anything accomplished these days.

“Elias said he wants to talk to you.” Keegan’s voice came as a shock, giving Jack the slightest bit of a scare. He turned on his heels to look up at the other man, brow knit in confusion. “Don't know why, don't ask. C’mon.”

What the hell could STALKER’s Lieutenant even want with him? The Ghosts weren’t exactly arms wide open to anyone in particular. They were brothers forged in blood and dirt, and he certainly was not present during Operation Sand Viper. So, short of kicking him out of the encampment, he had no idea what thee Elias Walker could possibly want.

Nothing bad, surprisingly.

“You must be Jackie Skalbek — pleasure. Elias Walker.” A firm handshake from the older man, setting Jack back a few notches. He felt awkward and terribly small next to such a force of power. Keegan had told him so many stories by now that he was certain Elias was inhuman purely based on skill and drive to do more, do better. Jack nodded a reply and Keegan stood quietly by, waiting for his presence to be necessitated.

“So…you’re the infamous Jack.” Elias smiled. “Keegan didn't shut up about you in…what was it, ‘06?”

“Embarrassing.” Keegan huffed, averting his gaze.

“I gotta say, son, your squad sung some high praises of you. Keegan, too. You’ve got a lotta reputation preceding you.” His squad? The soldiers he’d been shacked up with. They were saying he’d done well? His marksmanship was nothing to scoff at, sure, he had steady hands — but make him a soldier it did not. “I know you’re still taking it easy for now, but…we need warm bodies. Desperately. I’m sure Sergeant Russ filled you in on our work, the things that STALKER is responsible for?”

“Only the good parts, I promise.” Keegan said jokingly, earning a bit of a glare from Elias.

“Point is, if you’re up to the challenge, I could use the hands around here. You’re no Marine, but I betcha I can make one out of you yet.” Elias had a sort of warm smile, a confidence that exuded from every word he spoke, that almost made Jack feel like he could do it. How could he fit into the very rigid spot here, though? The lifestyle was hard and rigorous, made for men with years of experience in the field, not…him. “What's that look for?”

“I —” Jack squeaked. Squeaked! In front of Elias Fucking Walker. Frustrated with his own inability to produce a sound that wasn't equivalent to a hamster, he turned to Keegan. Now, they hadn't tried lip reading, but there wasn't exactly a better way to deal with this.

“He’s — slow the fuck down, Jackie, Jesus — he doesn't think he’s cut out for it.” Keegan roughly translated the quick talking, focused on the irregular way Jack formed certain words, the way he most definitely still had a slight lisp based on the way his tongue caught his front teeth sometimes. His fully grown voice was probably lovely if he could choke out more than two words at a time.

“I have it on pretty good authority that before the Federation got their paws on you, you were the best sniper among that squad of army veterans.”

“That was before the Federation.” Keegan translated once again, a slight sadness to the way he spoke the words. It didn't feel good knowing that he’d taken such a confidence blow from being held hostage — it made sense, though. Nobody comes out of that sort of ordeal without a few loose marbles. “He doesn't want to get someone killed because of his inexperience.”

“I understand that, but you've got a certain…quality. It’s that resilience, Jack. That’s what being a Ghost is.”

It resonated deep in his chest, the way that he spoke of what comprised a Ghost. Surviving against all odds. Coming back from ungodly nightmares and asking the world if that was all it had. Having the guts and courage to do what just be done. When Alex and Keegan enlisted, he knew they had more willpower than he ever would, and he wondered how Elias could possibly see that quality in him.

Scrawny, terrified, shaking, Jack Skalbek.

That was no Ghost. He was no soldier.

“I’m not who you think I am.” Keegan spoke his words once more, shaking his head just a little. “I did what I had to do to survive out there, but that's it.”.

“You can live, not just survive. I just need you to have a little faith in yourself, huh? Those boys you ran with sure have it. There’s a lotta folks out there that can't fight for themselves, that’s why we’re here — you can make that difference for folks. It’s up to you, though, I won't force it. I just know a Ghost when I see one, and I have a real good feeling that you’d be at home with us.”

Home. Home wasn't a place anymore, was it? Not since his home got blasted off the face of the earth by ODIN, not since his family and housemates got —

Then, there was us. The Ghosts. His closest friends from growing up.

Men that he’d spent weeks hearing stories of, the legend of brothers in arms coated in blood and sand, walking corpses. He was not made to do that, let alone the minimal work he’d put in during his travels. Jack realized he was just looking at Elias with shock and awe still, shaking his head to get his thoughts right.

Jack knew that if he took this opportunity, he’d be roped into this war for good. Moreso than if he only stuck around for Keegan’s company. There wouldn't be a way out of it, not that there was now, but he would cement his future if he trained to take up work with STALKER. He swallowed his fear, the anxiety welling in his stomach, and extended a hand to Elias.

“Good.” Elias shook his hand, taking it as the ‘yes’ answer that it was. “Once you're cleared for duty, we'll see how well you do.”

“Y-Yessir.” Jack managed to speak, a slight terror in his eyes that paired well with the confidence that came from actually forcing words out.

This, of course, meant that he was now privileged enough to meet the rest of the Ghosts. He’d met them in passing, trailing around behind Keegan most days like a lost dog, but now they were becoming acquainted. They were few in number compared to normal squads and battalions, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

Ajax was more than thrilled to see Jack again, having a much more overwhelmingly positive reaction to his presence than Keegan had. Saying that ‘I knew you weren’t dead because you’re too stubborn to die.’ It almost felt like the before again, memories flickering back to life in the back of his mind. Synapses that hadn't fired in decades.

Kick was the friendliest by far. He sat down with Jack before any proper training and got him kitted out, thrusting a marksman rifle into his hands before he even had the chance to protest. Boasting American made quality, a magazine that would make Vogue blush, and a scope with dual magnification. The matter of his tactical gear would come later, but Kick was more than satisfied to ramble about the specs of his firearms whilst Jack listened intently. He promised him custom gear and maybe even a mask, one day, but he needed more time.

Torch, Grim — they were well acquainted enough from his time in the medical bay under Grim’s watch, Torch often spending his days down there as well for an extra set of hands. He worked in demolitions, but that didn't mean he didn't have surgically delicate hands to assist when Grim couldn't get to something himself. He was actually the one to remove Jack’s stitches — a painfully long process that was almost, but not quite, as bad as his bones getting shattered in the first place. Grim would occasionally cheer ‘you’re doing great!’ and Jack couldn't be sure if he meant him or Torch.

Merrick, though, he was the tough one to crack. Cold, harsh — but effective. He was a decorated officer, completing the SEAL training at 17 years old with flying colors. Sure, Keegan and Ajax had become Marines at the same age, but that wasn't the same as being a Navy SEAL. It was overachievement to the highest degree, except he wasn't showing off — he was just that good. Jack felt small and insignificant in the presence of a man like him, who could outsmart entire battalions of Feds without much forethought.

He was out of his league, and Merrick knew it from the moment they met.

Sitting in the arsenal, having been gifted his uniform by Kick, but too terrified to put it on, Jack just held it. It was dark gray in color, camouflage and flat black as well, though the vest and accompanying guards were all matte black. They’d given him the standard patches that matched everyone else’s, a STALKER insignia set, but his name was the most jarring one to observe.

Skalbek. Corporal Skalbek.

He wasn't even enlisted — how could he be classified as a Corporal? The soldiers called him one, sure, but it was mostly in a teasing way. Jack thumbed over the embroidery and took a deep breath, deciding it would be better to just get dressed and have an existential crisis later. He had to tape and brace his knee in order to walk for long periods, but he’d grown used to the limp in his gait by now that it didn't bother him much anymore. The return of his voice, though, did bother him.

Even as he strapped his gear into place and laced his boots, every little huff or grunt of exertion felt foreign in his mouth. He didn't know what he was supposed to say for himself, truthfully, so he wasn't comfortable with using his voice. It was impossible to even fathom an explanation for how he ended up here, for what he went through in that cell — so he just didn't.

Instinct always takes over, though.

“You all set, blondie?” Keegan asked, leaning in the doorway of the arsenal. He could see Jack all geared up, but it felt right to ask.

“Yeah. All set.” Jack spoke, unaware that he'd even done so at first. Keegan knew better than to overreact, though, it would likely scare him off. Take that pretty voice away. If he wanted to talk, he could, and Keegan wouldn't apply pressure in any way.

“Good, good…lemme see.” Keegan said as Jack turned to face him, sort of standing awkwardly with his arms down at his sides. He looked lost. Uncomfortable in all of th buckles and straps, like the gear was suffocating the life out of him. “You look suicidal.”

“I’m —” Jack stopped himself, a bit shocked in his expression.

“You were doing great.” Keegan huffed in response, mildly disappointed. “The uniform looks good, though, Jackie.”

Jack rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, watching Keegan draw in closer across the room. He picked up the other man’s marksman rifle, inspecting it for a moment before handing it back to Jack.

“Needs some dirt on it — lucky for you, we’re just doing recon. Nothing crazy, just gettin’ your boots wet out in the field.” Keegan watched Jack take the rifle back, clicking the carry strap around his neck into place, carefully snapping the scope cover on for travel. He looked nervous, like a kid on his first day of school, only with much more weighing on his chest. It made sense. He hadn’t been sure of himself the entire time Elias was giving him a golden opportunity, so it made sense that confidence wasn't leaking out of his every movement. “Stand up straight, act like you know what you're doing until you do. Merrick prefers his name or his title, not sir, if you decide to talk to him.”

Jack nodded, letting a shaky breath out. He held up a thumbs up, hand trembling ever so slightly, pathetically. Keegan reached out and steadied it.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you.”

Jack turned his hand and held his pinky out, raising a brow. Without much hesitation, just the normal amount from a tough guy, Keegan did the same and interlocked them. He leaned in instinctively and pressed where his mouth would be under the mask to Jack’s knuckles. It was a thing from years ago, something they did to “seal” a promise. Jack was surprised that he remembered, but not upset by any means.

It wasn't a terribly long drive to the recon point. It felt that way because of the deathly silence in the SUV, save for Merrick giving the mission brief. Kick sat in the passenger seat beside their Captain, humming to himself as they flew down the dirt roads, jostling over every bump. Jack kept his eyes on the floor until they arrived at the infil, at which point he and Keegan exited the vehicle. It was fairly heavily wooded, the area well covered and higher than the place they were doing recon on, making it ideal for a sniper’s nest. Jack had a natural sense for that sort of thing, carefully and quietly slinking around the woods before coming to a tall, heavily branched tree. He looked it up and down, sizing it up, then looked at Keegan. He was all searching for a nest, a ways away into the brush.

“You take up high, I’ll go down low?” Keegan asked into the comms for confirmation as he found a comfortable place to get vantage from, half expecting a vocal response from Jack and half expecting a snap or something in reply.

Whistle.

“That works.” Keegan chuckled to himself as he pulled his rifle off his back and nestled into the dirt, mounting the tripod on a hard surface so that he could get a stable view. Meanwhile, Jack climbed up into the large redwood. He struggled at first because of his knee, but eventually he powered through and hoisted himself into straddling a large limb. “Are you in position?”

Whistle.

“Heard that. Merrick, we’re locked. Watchin’ exits.”

“Roger — the place should be empty, but you know how that goes. We’ll clean and clear, then raid for supplies.” Merrick replied, voice a low crackle over the comms, before silence fell over the area. Jack relaxed back against the trunk of the tree as he racked a round in his rifle, sliding the bolt into place as he looked down the scope. It was peaceful, almost, quiet. The idle rustle of birds in the trees and the quiet thrum of the earth breezing past, only occasionally interrupted by the crackle of activity over the radio.

Jack hummed quietly, the soft rumble of his voice in his throat only truly comfortable in a muffled manner, barely making any sound at all. He felt his finger gently sliding over the trigger, not quite squeezing just yet — there was next to no movement ahead, save for Merrick and Kick as they navigated the empty warehouse.

They spent a long while going through the place room by room, combing it through, picking up any usable supplies. Sterile equipment, alcohol, first aid kit materials — all sorts of things. It had been vacant for quite a while, clearly, despite old Federation flags flying above. They’d yet to reoccupy it after their removal, meaning everything inside was up to date and ripe for the taking.

Jack’s gaze traveled around outside, flickering from the warehouse to the dirt road leading up to it, watching a car start to close in. Federation flags. His eyes went wide and he stuttered to speak, nothing quite coming out. Damn anxiety reaching up from the depths of his stomach to choke him out internally, clawing his vocal chords into submission.

Three, rapid fire whistles. High pitched and quiet all at once, ringing out through the comms.

“Movement?” Keegan asked quickly.

One.

“Got it. Watch your backs, boys. How many?” Keegan called.

Five.

“Five tangoes, on their way to your position.”

“He didn't say anything, Keegan. Are you sure you're not hearin’ things?” Kick asked, almost a laugh to his voice when he spoke.

“I’m sure.” Keegan asserted, glancing over through the blur of leaves and trees blocking his view of Jack. He had to be right. A couple of seconds pass and he can see the vehicle for himself, five Federation soldiers climbing out slowly. Stalking their prey. Merrick and Kick. Jack wasn’t scared, though, knowing very well that he only had one shot before they were aware of him.

He let out all of the breath he had been holding in from his lungs, took a deep breath and released it slowly, feeling the unsteadiness slip out of reach.

Bang.

Two down. One shot.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Jack gave a long, drawn out whistle of satisfaction as he took a new breath in.

“All clear.” Keegan exhaled. “Nice fuckin’ shots, Jackie.”

Pride washed over him all at once. The warm, fuzzy feeling of success seeped into his bones and made him blush all over, a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“We're on our way out now to confirm kills. Meet us down here?” Merrick asked.

“Rog.” Keegan replied, leaving Jack to watch the doors in anticipation. Before he knew it, Keegan had made his way over, looking up at Jack perched in the tree. He rocked back on his heels slightly, taken aback by the way Jack had curled himself up onto a tree limb, nearly wrapped around it as he aimed down sight. His cheek was pressed up against his rifle, keeping him nice and steady.. “Look like a bird up there, y'know that, Jackie?”

Jack sat up straight, a bit surprised. He hadn't been listening at all to his surroundings, sort of zoned out as he watched down his scope. A bird? He prayed that didn’t stick.

“The whistling works. Got my attention real fuckin’ quick.” Keegan extended a hand to Jack, helping him climb down from the tree unceremoniously. He replied with a playful whistle, a smile crossing his expression briefly. After collecting his first 5 confirmed kills as a Ghost, they returned to base in the same car they came in. Quiet, at first, but Merrick broke the silence midway back to HQ.

“Quiet type, huh, Skalbek?” Merrick asked, glancing back in the rear view mirror.

“Leave him be.” Keegan asserted. His voice always seemed to be quiet and soft spoken, but he had a bite to it that showed he meant business. If anything good happened to Keegan while he was gone, it was that voice.

“Didn't mean anything by it. You did great out there, Jack.” Merrick defended himself.

Silently, Jack thumbed over the pristine Federation tags before stuffing them into the pocket on his vest. He didn't like the idea of keeping trophies, but those tags were proof that he could actually do some good here.

It took a long time for him to truly feel that way.

Like, the first time he got to see his own dormitory. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a room with four walls and a bed right down the hallway from the showers, but it was his room with four walls and a bed. Dark, cozy sheets on the mattress, a warm light overhead — his name on the door. Jack actually sort of felt important for once in his life, and he began to understand the draw and appeal of military life. There was one tiny problem with the lone dorm, though.

Even at UCLA, he dormed with someone else. His first apartment had a roommate, and the same man moved with him into their home in Los Angeles with a handful of friends. He had no siblings as a child, but Keegan and Alex were at his house so frequently he may as well have at that point. Being alone did not come easily to Jack.

“Hey — came to drop off your tags.” Keegan knocked at the door, a little whistle coming from inside telling him to enter. When he threw the door open he saw Jack sitting on his bed, legs crossed, just sort of looking lost once again. A recurring theme for the blonde. “Need some decor in here, seriously. It’s abysmal.”

Jack just sort of shrugged, catching his tags mid-air when Keegan threw them, the jingling making him flinch slightly. They had, of course, his name on them. Blood type, affiliation, spot for a call sign if one ever stuck to him. He thumbed over the engraving before undoing the clasp and snapping it back into place around his neck, stuffing it beneath his shirt. It was ice cold, but the metal would warm and warp to him eventually. Become like a second skin, something he couldn't go anywhere without.

“I had something else, too, but — s’up to you if you want it or not. Could always make your own.” Keegan added as he came a bit further into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside Jack. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a piece of black fabric, neatly folded into a little square. When unfolded, Jack could see it was a mask, his very own. It looked similar in pattern to Keegan’s, but noticably neater and cleaner in texture and facial features — across the mouth were two black strips in an X. Maybe a little bit on the nose, but he couldn't complain.

“It’s not great compared to what you could probably do — don't know if you’re still into the whole art thing these days.”

Jack shook his head, turning the mask over a couple of times in his hands before he went to put it on. The fabric was thick, making him uncomfortable at first, but once it was in place he could breathe easily. He looked over at Keegan as if to ask how he looked, the scrunched up wrinkles around the other’s eyes telling him everything he needed to know.

“Little Ghost.” Keegan hummed, ruffling up Jack’s hair in a playful manner. “You’re one of us now, as far as I’m concerned.”

Wide eyes like saucers, just looking up at Keegan with awe, wondering how they'd managed this. Circling back to sitting in Jack’s room, though this time it was less than cozy. Even without the Christmas lights casting a warm glow over everything, though, Keegan was more sure than he ever had been that everything was worth it to end up here.

That summer, July was hot in Santa Monica. The sun bathed the city with regularity, not even letting up in the evening. Though, there seemed to be a brief respite in between months of hardship.

After a particularly good bout of missions, Jack even getting some more confidence in himself (and a call sign, while he was at it) they decided to have a small leisure break. Time for themselves, to breathe in without the threat of being dispatched on a mission looming overhead. Something that many of them hadn't had a chance to do in a long, long while. There often wasn't much remaining time for recreational drinking, but Keegan couldn't lie, there was something about Jack in the doorway of his dorm with two cans of beer that made his heart skip a couple of beats.

Sure, they’d stolen liquor as teenagers and gotten wasted on Jack’s roof. His mom always made sure that they were safe and well looked after when they made those foolish errors, giving them plenty of room to make mistakes and not feel stupid about it.

They had kind of missed out on sharing 21st birthdays, though. Keegan's was a year sooner than Jack’s, so they would've had to wait anyways, but they’d inadvertently waited over a decade. The crack of the pop-taps couldn't come soon enough, and neither could the ensuing burn of alcohol. It was liquid comfort, burning the whole way down and settling in the stomach, leaving every sensation tinged a hazy shade of amber.

Kick, in his endless curiosity, had obtained a camcorder at some rate. They had access to new technology, high quality drones and cameras, and yet he was obsessing over the film grain and scan lines of the older camera. It was probably as old as him, the brand name long scratched off from time and use, but he still boasted it’s American made durability. Pointing it at Jack after a couple of drinks, giggling to himself as he zoomed it in and out.

“Alright, alright — this one’s Jack. We’re still — heh — getting used to him, but this kid?” Kick turned the camera to himself for dramatic effect. “Sharpshooter. I think he could shoot the pimento out of a fucking olive from a hundred meters out.”

“He said that’s pushing it.” Keegan answered for Jack, having taken up that role nicely. They weren't quite at the point of telepathy, but beating ASL into his head was starting to work. Jack picked up usage of it back in college, so a refresher was needed before he could actually use it, but the main problem was teaching it to Keegan. He was impatient and short tempered, but he could learn it for the other's sake.

“Maybe! Maybe it's not! Only way to find out is to try, Jack.” Kick snickered as he turned the camera around again, watching through the viewfinder as Ajax joined Keegan and Jack on the balcony. The sunset over Santa Monica Pier was beautiful, even now, with a fort plopped overtop of it. Ajax took his spot between the two others, throwing his arms around them with a smile.

“Good to have the gang back together.” Ajax hummed, pulling Jack in a bit closer, spilling a little bit of his drink in the process. “Fucking missed you, kid, seriously. You have no idea what it was like dealing with Grumpy over here for 15 years without you.”

“I’m not grumpy.” Keegan huffed. “I’m apathetic.”

“Whatever you say.” Ajax laughed, snatching Keegan’s drink from his hand before disappearing back inside with Kick hot on his heels. It was a mostly empty can anyways, so he wasn't terribly disappointed. Still, he wanted to obtain just one more for the end of the night, grabbing one for Jack as well. Turns out, both of them grew up with quite the tolerance for the stuff despite having exactly zero when they were younger. Keegan’s resilience could be attributed to body mass, but Jack’s was built entirely on whiskey lullabies.

The years of travel were hard on him, a once soft and fearful creature of a boy, now…a man.

Keegan took a moment in the doorway to look at him, really look at him. Wearing sweat-shorts and that blasted knee brace, scars drawing up and down the length of his left leg. His sweatshirt, an increasingly well used and loved camouflage tarp of cloth, swallowing up his lanky frame with ease. Those pretty brown eyes, watching the sun dip beneath the horizon, casting tangerine and coral hues all over him.

It was straight out of a movie, or a memory, he couldn't tell.

What’re you staring at? Jack signed, catching Keegan a bit off guard. He bit at his bottom lip beneath his mask and unhooked one side of it to take a drink from the fresh can.

“You. Just…taking it all in.”

Take your time. I’m here now.

“Got no idea how good it feels to know that you're still kickin’ dirt up, Jackie, I…” Keegan stuttered a bit, an uncommon occurrence for him. He didn't feel that sort of nervousness often, hadn't since he left for basic. Scratch that. He hadn't felt genuinely nervous since Tel Aviv, calling Jack from the back of that plane, hands trembling in fear. This wasn't anything like that, though, this was the butterflies sort of nervousness. Somehow, infinitely more terrifying than getting shot at. “I want to make it up to you, somehow.”

What?

“The last…what, 15 years?”

We're older now. You know that. Can't go back and change what already happened. Jack shrugged, not quite grasping that Keegan meant it. He wanted to repair what damage had been done to whatever extent he could, even if things were vastly different, even if they were entirely different people now.

Whether Jack knew it or not, he still had the combination to Keegan's pad-lock chest, the chasm labeled hollow to keep anything good out. It didn't matter how they got here, what mattered was now Keegan has a shot at actually apologizing. Making right what he had once done wrong. He would regret not reaching out sooner until the day he was dead, but he could do better this time around. This is not the kind of opportunity he could squander.

No way in hell.

“I know. But…I can be the person now that I couldn't be then.” Keegan came closer until he was leaning up against the railing, too, overlooking the pier. If he looked up at the stars long enough, he could almost imagine the floating space trash left behind from ODIN, what didn't enter the atmosphere swirling and churning above their heads. “I’m not saying we pick up where we left off in ‘07, I’m just asking that you hear me out.”

Okay. I’ll bite.

“Plain and simple. We know what happened in-between then and now, but we can just…ignore it.” Keegan inched closer as he spoke, until he was shoulder to shoulder with the shorter man. The cold drink in his hand was all he had to steady himself, shocking his system into continuing to speak. “You know I loved you then and I still do.”

Jack swallowed. Loud. The can in his hand crinkled slightly under the pressure he was holding it with, his mouth dry. He still loved him? He? Stone cold, violence wrought, Keegan fucking Russ still loved him?

He, who hid at Jack’s house from his parents, always thanking Mrs. Skalbek for the place to stay, always denying how often he was there. Hiding the fleeting kisses, never lingering long enough to leave a mark on soft flesh. Lying to himself and his father, always forcing himself into the image of what he thought a man to be, never showing much softness at all.

Only to Jack, only back then, only behind closed doors.

This was a massive, groundbreaking departure from whomever that was back then. It took their semi-permanent separation for Keegan to admit that he loved Jack the first time, it only took a few months this go around. The promise of staying, rather than leaving or coming back, was much more emotionally grounding.

“Was that too much?” Keegan asked after a moment. He seemed on edge about Jack’s reaction, gaze flickering anywhere but on those soft brown eyes, eating him alive.

No. It's just been a long time.

“You probably moved on, like, a few months after I last called, huh?”

Never. Jack sighed softly in reply. There was emotion in the movement of his hands, his eyes portraying all of that sadness well. It was never really over.

Just five words, but those five words carried an unspeakable weight. Keegan stared for only a few seconds, going to speak when Jack continued.

Everything came back to you one way or another. My thesis for my degree was a portfolio full of you. I still texted you every time I needed to talk even if you didn't answer, I needed you. My mom called me every few months and I was so scared that she would tell me you were dead that I just didn't pick up. Everything I did up until the fucking world ended was about you, no matter how fast I ran.

It all spilled out so fast that Jack couldn't even be impressed with himself. His hands stuttered every once in a while on more complex words. The words themselves shocked Keegan, too, but that was secondary. He felt wholly guilty for ever letting himself get so close to Jack back then, because his own feverish dreams of doing something with his life just meant he did that to Jack. Got him hooked and ran, watching it spiral out of hand until he was sure he lost Jack forever. The red string tying them together threatened to be severed by the universe with every knot and fray in its threads.

But it never broke. It never fell lifeless.

He would've thought that Jack married, maybe even squeaked out a kid or two, joined the PTA. Cut his hair short and finally start making art for a living, take his kids to soccer practice — not wake up in the middle of the night missing his highschool boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

Were they ever even that much?

Are you gonna say something or what, K? Jack added, breaking Keegan out of the cyclical nightmare of thoughts in his mind.

“I just didn't…know you felt that way about it.”

You had everything to lose by loving me, and you did it anyway. How could I ever move on from that? He wasn't speaking, but he was feeling every emotion from every word. Jack’s eyes were all welled with tears, a soft gasp escaping with every mouthed syllable. Threatening to spill out, but not quite making a sound.

Keegan knew what Jack meant. He would’ve been kicked out if his father ever caught wind of what Keegan was doing with ‘the no-good Skalbek boy’ down the street. If not for Jack’s mom, they would’ve never gotten as far as they did back then. Even then, it wasn't far. He would’ve been spitting teeth from that fight, if he ever found out, probably dead.

He’d unknowingly shown Jack that someone could love him enough to die for him, and as a consequence he never really learned how to be loved any less.

“You still feel that way?” Keegan asked after a moment of silence, a bit of his inhibition slipping away. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was just an old spark flickering back into life.

Always.

“Can I start trying to make up for that lost time, then?”

“Please.” Jack replied out loud, gaze averted out of embarrassment. That didn't last long, though, not with that spark beginning to rage into flames. Nothing could've kept Keegan’s hands off of him, his drink thrust into Jack’s hand so that he could pick him up a little bit easier. Hoisting him up onto the railing of the balcony for balance, strong arms laced around Jack holding him steady. The railing creaked, the drop was far, but neither of them seemed to give a damn.

Hot. Heavy. Hurried, whiplash kisses, hands in hair and lips on teeth. It was not gentle, it was not pretty, it was feverish and raw. Keegan could've made him bleed with sharp canines on his bared neck and he would’ve been quite alright with it.

Even when Kick threw the door open, trailed by Ajax with the camcorder, he couldn't have guessed what was going on outside until he saw it. Under the haze of one flickering light that never quite stays on long enough to catch a clear glimpse, but the camera picking up their meshed bodies nonetheless.

“Get a room, you two! Sheesh!” Ajax laughed, but impressively enough, neither seemed to care.

“Mmmhmm…Can’t hear you.” Keegan murmured against Jack’s lips, earning a snicker from the blonde in his arms, still faithfully holding both of their drinks.

“Talk about making up for lost time.” Ajax joked. Kick all too certain he would get chewed out by Keegan if he drunkenly giggled too, he stayed quiet. As quickly as they came they dipped back inside with Ajax pumping his fist, proclaiming that he always knew.

“This alright, Jack?” Keegan asked, breathless as he took a moment to cool off. Still holding the other man, just leaving some space between them for now. Foolishly, Jack dropped the cans so he could sign, a blush dusting his cheeks as the half-drank liquid spattered on the ground beneath them.

Haven’t been this alright since I don't know when.

“Can't lie to you, I never — you were — ugh, fuckin’ sounds pathetic…” Keegan sucked a breath in shakily and buried his face in the crook of Jack's neck, faint scent of cologne and body wash still attached to him. “Never let anyone get close after you. No-one.”

Touch-starved did not begin to cover it.

He didn't hug, he didn't do physical contact, skin-to-skin was a foreign thing. Jack was probably the last person who touched him with bare hands and he didn't convulse. Ajax was an exception to that rule, but it wasn't like they were snuggling. Pats on the back, pull-ups onto a ledge — those weren't intimate like this. He didn't get intimate.

Jack felt sort of dirty knowing he'd gone and tried to bury the feeling of needing someone he couldn't have in the arms of others, never succeeding, whereas Keegan had done the opposite. Instead of voicing that he only ran his hands through Keegan’s short, scruffy hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“You think it’s pathetic, don't you?” Keegan sighed, nuzzling into the other man with wandering butterfly kisses, lips ghosting over his main artery.

Two whistles for no.

“Hah! Sure thing, Jackie, sure…” He laughed. “Remind me to never ask you that sorta thing again, ‘cause even your whistles sound sarcastic.”

They weren't, but Jack would let him live in his little bubble. Moments like this were never long enough, and thankfully they got to spend the rest of the night catching up on the important things, previously undiscussed stories of Jack’s life in SoCal. It was good to know that they at least had a chance before things began to kick up once again.

For some reason, things didn't.

It was a pure, mostly calm stalemate.

Sure, they still got sent on patrols. They often made ventures to the No Man’s Land border, overlooking the minefields and traps, wondering what could possibly shift the tides. Piece by piece, some bizarre force of nature allowed them to rebuild what used to be between them.

Some nights that meant they’d climb atop the roof with Keegan's iPod, still functional despite a cracked screen and barely functional UI, and let the world melt away. If only for one night at a time they could pretend to be real people, living some sort of domestic existence in a place far from the halted war. Perhaps, in that distant timeline, they wouldn't even have survived a relationship in their teen years without the hardship they’d suffered.

As far as either was concerned, it made them stronger.

Forced them to learn what it meant to live without the other one. Of course, this meant that they knew how dull and awful life could be when it was empty, and they'd fight a hell of a lot harder to stay now that they'd been threatened with separation once.

Jack was a silent killer, Keegan a mouth full of vicious mockeries. Ghosts. Wisps in the wind. Dead already, living a better afterlife on the other side of the apocalypse. Nothing the Federation could throw their way would hold any weight, of this they were certain.

Until they did, of course.

No good thing lasts forever.

[tooti-fruiti]

PLAYING WITH YOUR HEART (CHAPTER ONE)

Walk like an Egyptian

"Singing? Really?! I thought Chris was joking about that." Gwen said as you all walked inside the plane.

"Well I don't have a problem with it." Courtney said.

"Yeah, cause you LIKE singing!" Leshawna said.

"Well I don't!" Duncan said. "Girls sing, little birdies sing, Duncan's do not sing!"

"I'm with you Courtney, I don't have a problem with it either." You said.

"See?!"

"Think I'll get to beat box?" Harold asked.

"I'll beat you if you try." Duncan glared at him.

"Why are you doing this to us?!" Heather demanded.

Chris chuckled. "Singing reality shows are HUGE! AND, the worse the singing: the higher the ratings! Which is why on this show, there will be no vocal coaches, or rehearsals, or warnings!"

Almost everyone started complaining.

"Anywho, this is the dining area. Where you'll enjoy in flight meals."

"Not for long, ay? Prepare to lose to the Zeke!"

"Okay, so not trying to be mean here, but you do know you got voted out first last time, right?" Gwen asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Word. I spent every minute since making sure that don't happen again. I'm stronger, faster, smarter-"

"Chattier, blabbier, can't shut up-ier. Now zip it and let me finish the tour so we can get this bird in flight!"

"Is there a ladies room?" Leshawna asked.

"Just through there."

"Good, cause I need to make a deposit." She said as she walked towards the bathroom.

"Anyway." Chris said. "Let's carry on with the tour!"

Leshawna walked out of the bathroom annoyed and Chris smiled. "Follow me!"

He then lead all of you to a room with benches. "Here, losing teams will enjoy the luxury of the economy class between destinations."

"Okay, but where are our beds?" Lindsay asked.

"Owen? Care to demonstrate?" Chris asked as he turned to Owen, who was strapped to the wall asleep.

"That does NOT look comfortable." Heather said.

"No comfort for losers! Safety harnesses and an emergency exit, but no comfort here or here." Chris said pointing around the room.

Sierra started to laugh. "OMG Chris, I am just LOL!"

"Okay...she's a little weird." You whispered and Noah nodded.

"We should hit the winner's compartment, ay? Cause I ain't NEVER gonna sit back here!"

"Is never your policy on mouthwash too, homeschool?" Noah said.

"You wanna see the winner's compartment huh? Well right this way, ladies and gentlemen."

Chris led you all to much nicer room with yellow chairs and a rug.

"This is the first class cabin! The domain of each week's winners."

You sat down in one of the seats and sighed. "Oh wow, these are nice..." You smiled and leaned back.

"So nice..." Courtney said.

"And that's pretty much it." Chris said. "Let's go back to the dining cabin and I'll explain how this season is going to work."

Once you all made it back to the dining cabin, you all sat down.

Then the plane started moving and Bridgette fell into Alejandro's lap.

"Senorita, are you alright?" He asked.

"Is the earth moving?"

"Nope! We are!" Izzy cheered.

You smiled and clapped your hands together. "This is a little exciting, an all around the world tour! Sure, we have to do challenges and shit, but we still get to see beautiful places!"

"Well, when you look at it like that, I guess it is a little exciting." Bridgette said as she got out of Alejandro's lap.

"One more thing!" Chris said.

"I'm sure you all remember a little thing called the "elimination ceremony". Takes place just over here." Chris said as he pointed to a room.

You all went inside and Chris started explaining how the elimination ceremony would work.

"If you don't receive a barf bag full of peanuts-"

"I got a peanut allergy, yo! Er- more like a sensitivity?" Ezekiel said, cutting off Chris.

"You'll be forced to take the drop of shame."

"Okay, I just don't like-"

"Kind of like this!" Chris said, tossing Ezekiel out of the plane.

Chris chuckled and closed the door. "Glad that's over with. Now! Enjoy your flight everyone!"

Chris walked away and you all walked back into the dining cabin.

"Every second we go closer to adventure, and further...from mama..." DJ said sadly.

"Mama?" You asked.

"Oh yeah." Leshawna said. "Big ol' DJ here's a real mama's boy."

"Oh, gotcha." You said.

"Cody Emmett James Anderson. I also happen to know your birthday is on April first! You're my very own April fool." Sierra said.

"Okay, that's creepy." You said.

"Very." Courtney nodded.

Suddenly, a little bell rang and Chris showed up under a spotlight wearing a suit.

"Whenever you hear that little bell, it's musical number time! So! Let's hear it!"

You all looked around confused.

"But, what are we supposed to sing?" Courtney asked.

"You have to make it up as you go. Wouldn't be challenging otherwise, now would it?"

You all sighed and Courtney began to sing.

•

After Duncan finally decided to sing, the song ended.

Chris was reading a newspaper and the P.A. system turned on.

"Enough singing, fruitcakes! Strap yourselves in!" Chef Hatchet said. "We are now beginning our desent into Egypt!...Musical numbers, worst idea ever. Chris is such an idiot."

Chris gasped.

"Hey, why's the P.A. light still on?...oh shit..."

Then Chef turned the P.A. system off and Chris frowned. "I'll be right back."

You all started to giggle as he left.

•

You all got off the plane when it landed in Egypt and looked around.

Then Chris was carried towards you on a tombstone and he wore an Egyptian costume.

"You guys ready to have some fun? Huh?"

He took a sip of his drink and smiles. "Wow, it's a scorcher out here, huh?"

Then he tossed his drink away. "I call today's challenge: 'Pyramid Over Under'!"

"An eleven hour flight, Chef's in-flight cuisine, a forced musical number, and NOW we have a challenge?!" Leshawna yelled.

"Don't you just love this game?" Chris smiled.

After Chris showed to you the starting point for the challenge, Harold wiped his forehead and groaned.

"It's like being cooked in a giant oven..."

"It might help if you weren't dressed like a giant baked potato." Leshawna crossed her arms.

"Aluminum foil means the aliens can't read your brains, it's a real problem in this area."

Suddenly, Chris hit two symbols together and everyone flinched.

"Man! That's satisfying! Alright! Pyramid Over Under means you can choose to go over or under the pyramid to get to the finish line. Got it?"

Everyone nodded.

"Ready, set, g-"

"Wait up!" Ezekiel yelled.

You all turned around surprised.

Ezekiel was left behind in Canada.

"I told you I wasn't gonna lose this time, ay?!"

"Didn't we leave you in Halifax, or White Horse, or...whatever?" Chris groaned.

"It's called landing gear, homie! I climbed it, and hid in the cargo hold!"

"Impressive!...You're still out."

"No way! I'm in it to win it!"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Hey, it's your funeral."

"Set, Go!" Chris yelled before crashing the symbols again.

You all started running and you decided to go over the Pyramid.

As you were climbing up, Alejandro hopped up to the stone you were on and knelt down to your height.

"Need any help, Senorita?"

You pushed yourself up onto the rock and groaned. "No, I'm good, thanks."

•

Video Diary-Number 1-(Y/n)

"While having an alliance would be beneficial, I don't know anyone that well.

I mean, sure, I watched the previous seasons. But those were a year ago. People change.

And I'm not going to assume anything about anyone. Plus, with the other two new people, it's best that I play this safe for now.

So I'm going to keep to myself for a few days before I decide who to make an alliance with."

•

Alejandro shrugged and turned before hopping off the rock.

As you kept climbing you saw Gwen and Courtney fighting with Duncan in between.

He looked absolutely miserable.

Then you saw Alejandro carrying Bridgette and Lindsay on his shoulders.

"Show off..." You mumbled.

Then you saw Tyler fall all the way down the Pyramid.

You winced. "Tyler! You okay?!"

He raised his hand and gave you a thumbs up so you kept climbing.

As you reached the top, you could hear Courtney and Gwen arguing.

"Okay that's it! We need to untie!"

"No way! That's dangerous!"

"I don't care if it's dangerous! I'm sick of your shit and I need to get away from you!"

You tried to crawl around them but you lost your footing and ended up sliding down the pyramid.

You screamed as you slid down before getting a face full of sand.

"Oh, and you get her too." Chris said.

Alejandro mumbled something before helping you out of the sand.

"That was quite the fall, are you alright?" He asked.

You groaned and shook the sand out of your hair.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

Heather, Sierra, and Cody ran out from under the pyramid as Alejandro moved to you where the rest of your team was standing.

"We did it! Group hug!" Sierra cheered as she squeezed Cody. "C'mon Heath, you too!"

Heather walked over and hugged Sierra looking really uncomfortable.

"Aaand hug's over." Chris said. "Sierra, go stand with Alejandro and (Y/n). Heather and Cody, go stand behind number three."

"In Egyptian, it's-"

"No one cares Harold." Chris glared at him.

"Where's Gwen?" Cody asked. "N-Not that I care or anything, just curious."

Chris looked at the top of the pyramid and saw Courtney and Gwen still arguing at the top.

He grabbed a megaphone and played the bell sound.

"Ohhh kiiiiids!" He called out. "Recognize that sound? Time for whoever's not finished to yet to give us a musical reprise!"

"You said one song per episode!" Duncan yelled.

"Yeah! And this a reprise, not a new song! So if you don't sing, you're out! Now let's hear it!"

"You know what?! No!"

Duncan jumped down the mountain still attached to Gwen and Courtney. "No! No! No! No! No!"

"Three hours of these two bitching on the top of this goddamn pyramid, in the stupid ass heat, and you want me to fucking sing?! FORGET IT!"

"Dude, you have a contract-"

"SUCK MY DICK, MCCLAIN! If you need me, I'll be in the plane waiting for a ride home because I'm out, done. I. FUCKING. QUIT!"

Duncan then cut the rope he was attached to and stormed off.

"Well damn, okay then." You said.

Cody helped Gwen stand up as Izzy ran out of the pyramid carrying a body.

"IZZY NO!" Owen yelled.

"YOU'RE CARRYING THE UNDEAD!"

"Cool!" She said as she turned to the body. "Bite me and I'll be your undead friend like Frankenstein!"

The body jumped out of her arms and ripped off it's bandages, revealing to be Ezekiel.

"Thanks for all the help, you knobs!" He groaned.

Chris glared at Ezekiel before smiling at Izzy.

"Izzy, go stand behind-"

"talata. Or three." Harold said, which made Chris groan.

"Come on guy!" Ezekiel said as Izzy joined team three. "After all this, you gotta let me back in the game!"

Chris sighed. "Alright! Fine! Go join team one."

"Wait!" Heather said. "We're down a player!"

"You can thank Duncan Mcquitty Pants for that."

"Now! Teams, talk amongst yourselves amd come up with a team name. You have three minutes!"

"Team Victory!" Team One shouted.

"Team Amazon!" Team Three shouted.

Meanwhile, your team was still struggling to come up with a name.

"Oh! Got it!" Sierra said. "Team Chris is really really really really hot!"

"What?"

"Best team name ever! Alright, and here are your rewards!"

"Team Amazon, you get a camel! Team Chris is really really really really really hot,"

"I think there were only four reallys." Alejandro said.

"You guys get a goat! And team Victory, here ya go." Chris said as he gave everyone their rewards.

"So the guys who come in last get a camel, they get a goat, and we get a stick?!" Leshawna yelled.

"All will be explained."

Chris smiled. "If I feel like it."

[Hope you enjoyed. Stay tuned for more and have a good day]

<-Prologue

Chapter Two->

[caperjar]

I like him - A NoCo fanfic: pt 2

Noah's pov:

I can't believe it only took me 2 minutes and 48 seconds to fall in love here; I hate it so much, it makes me weaker than I already am. Soon as this guys boat shows up my brain switches to hyper-focus mode. He has pale skin, His hair-short and messy, eyes like my golden lab, short and scrawny all complete with an inlet nose. Uh, why does love target me now when there's serious cash on the line. I was subtly happy to be on the same team as him. Walking to the cabins I was already bored. I was only doing this for the money. On the boys half of our cabin - wait, cabin is an exaggeration; its more like a pile of wood with a door. Anyways it had 6 beds, 3 sets of bunks. Regardless of the beds the people were... well there's this self absorbed male model named Justin, Then there's also a big guy with a blue maple leaf on his shirt and scruffy blond hair they call "Owen". Also a musical lovesick random "Trent", He's got black hair, tea skin, and a concerningly large forehead. Then there's ...him. It turns out his name is Cody. Everyone except for me and Cody scrambled for a decent bed. "I'll take the top bed" Cody said while pointing to the only set of beds left. His voice was childish and wavery. I honestly hated my deep half cracked voice. As an attempt to reach out I said "Yay, stuck in a crappy hell for a whole week at least" with a sarcastic tone. Sarcasm, it's my gift... and my curse. Cody chuckled and stared at me for a while. Good, I haven't screwed up. I wanted the moment to last but then he just put his stuff away. Uh, I was so stupid to think he could ever like someone like me but how could I expect others to love me when not even I love myself. I went outside to observe the scenery of this dumpy island. There was this huge cliff-I planned to never go anywhere near that. "Campers meet me at the top of the cliff for your very first challenge!" This Chris guy really sucks. When I finally got up there I met the female side of our team. The first person to catch my eye was an emo punk wannabe-Gwen. Then I saw a silver haired pale girl they were calling Heather, she looked...evil. There was also a dark skinned curvy girl with a pony tail- LeShawna, a blonde idiot with boobs bigger than a brain and a blue bandanna named Lindsay (i think i saw Chris eyeing her up) with a nerdy brunette (Beth) right by her side. Last and probably psychotic, a bubbly red head green eyed girl named Izzy. When she got off her boat at the start she tripped and her head smashed sickly on the dock. As Chris walked past our team I muttered "narcissist" to him. Cody must have heard me because he started to giggle. "For your challenge today you will jump into the lake below, There are two rings- one provides safety so you don't get too injured for part two" Chris said. He continued with " and the outer ring is...SHARK INFESTED." Chris cant really kill us-right?

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

Another fairly long one but We're getting there...Slowley Thanks for making it here Don't die anytime soon Byeeee

void

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

It's the little things (4)

Previous / Next

The gang was out on a Saturday evening, Price's idea, and stopped for coffee. The outdoor terrace was mostly full of people taking advantage of the warm weather, but they found a table big enough for them, next to a group of people with several dogs.

Dogs who were so happy to receive attention.

Gaz and Riot immediately were all over the floor playing with the pups, while Soap protested loudly from his seat and Price and Ghost went inside to order.

"Hi, good evening. We need five drinks, name's John" Price dealt with the bartender, a bored looking man who didn't seem to find strange to serve two big muscled men, one of them wearing a black balaclava. "Two black coffee... two macchiattos... and another macchiatto, but this one with warm milk and not pipping hot. Thank you... here you go, I'll pay with card"

Ghost was looking out the window, waiting to help Price carry the drinks outside. Gaz was lying on the ground with a Dachshund and a Fox Terrier proudly slumped over his chest, and Riot was kneeling, squeezing and scratching the ears of an elated Irish Wolfhound whose tail was wiggling hard enough to hit its owners legs like a whip as they laughed.

Even Soap was patting nervously the head of a yellow Labrador Retriever who had decided the Scot was its current best friend and sat on his shoes.

"Here you go, five drinks under the name John" The bartender called out, and Ghost turned around to grab one of the card holders. But first, he checked each of the macchiatto cups.

All three of them were burning to the touch.

"Which one is the warm one?"

Price stopped, with his hand already on the door handle, and looked back when he heard the tone in Ghost's voice. The bartender shrugged, and the Captain almost smirked. Oh boy.

"Made all three the same"

"He asked for one to be warm" Ghost's voice wasn't particularly hard, yet, but the bartender had to be some kind of special stupid to not sense that he was in danger, in Price's opinion.

"What does it matter, mate? It's not that hot"

Price walked back to the bar counter, ready to intervene, but the looming giant was faster.

"You either remake it, or I throw it at your face and you tell me if it's that hot or not... mate"

The bartender looked up, and for the first time seemed to have a bit of worry about his well-being. As he hurried to remake the drink, Price chuckled, nudging Ghost's side with his elbow, holding the other card tray with the black coffees.

The Lieutenant just ignored him, his smoldering look fixated on the bartender to make sure the twat did as told this time.

Five minutes later they were at the table with the drinks, waiting for Riot and Gaz to get off the ground now that the dog owners were leaving. Soap sighed with relief.

Riot sat beside Ghost with a wide happy smile after being smothered in love by the dogs, and looked at the three macchiattos, hesitating. The Lieutenant grabbed the one with a sharpie mark on the side and handed it to her.

"Oh... it's warm" Her smile was relieved now, with her scar it was difficult to have too hot or too cold food or beverages, the tissue was very sensitive. Happily, she started adding sugar and stirring.

Gaz and Soap were laughing, comparing their own macchiattos, and Price sipped his black coffee, smiling indulgently. These moments with his kids were what made everything else bearable.

Still grinning, he observed while Riot kept explaining something about the dogs to Ghost, who was just looking at her, his balaclava hooked over his nose to sip his coffee from time to time.

Oh, if only he could sneak a photo to show Heather.

[silent-raven13]

On Wednesdays we wear pink

Pavtri happily showing Gwen his update vlog on his life: Hehehe, look I totally added this cute cat holding a cup of Chai character on the side! I'm loving this new feature for Spdr So-City app! Lyla is a genius. -Lyla heard this went she sent a happy chibi sticker in his Smartphone being pleased by the new update-

Gwen saw his socials being completely customize: Wow, I just put a black background filter with white fonts, the bright white hurts my eyes at night. -Pav's background had a colorful Mandala pattern and his profile picture being updated-

Pavtri: Awe, no cool posters? No Barbie. Dats pretty boring... it's giving basic!

Gwen fake gasps: Not you calling me basic! I got no time to go all web design like you!

Pavtri: But it's so much fun. Lyla made it like Myspace, very old school but better and advanced!

Gwen: Myspace? Wow, that's so crazy! I wasn't even there when dat happen.

Pavtri giggles: Me neither. Anyway, I'm seeing everyone's page and some of them had already updated their page! -Showing Gwen of their close friends' So-City pages- I really like Peni's

Gwen nodded: Yeah, I think her's is pretty sweet. -Her blue eyes spotted Hobie wearing pink along with Miles- Ohh looks like the love birds are here.

Miles holding his boyfriend's hand with a smile on his face: Hey guys, what's up!

Pavtri: OMB, you two look so cute in pink! What's the occasion?

Hobie shrugs: On Wednesdays we were pink! -This made Miles laugh-

Gwen caught the joke and giggle: Ohhh I get you.

Pavtri looks confused: What? Is that a thing?

Miles: You never watched Mean Girls?

Pavtri: No! What is dat? Wait, I don't think my world has that... maybe... ugh, curses multidimensional changes!

Hobie chuckles: Neither my world. Sunflower was joking around with Ganks and I was miffed.

Miles: I had to explain to him about some Mean Girls joke since Danika, Ganke's girl loves that movie. We always watch it when she's in the mood for it. Anyway me and Hobie watched it, and he thought it would be funny to wear pink since today is Wednesday.

Hobie: Movie was okay. Not my cup of tea. Found the jokes tasteless.

Gwen: I never knew she would like Mean Girls then again, she does like Heather.

Hobie arched his eyebrow: What's that one about?

Miles rub his chin: It's an 80s movie and I think you'll like it. Same concept three mean girls name Heather and a girl name Veronica. Veronica like this bad boy and they kill the main Heather, it's focus on toxic love? -He eyes Gwen thinking he got the movie-

Gwen: Kinda. There's a lot going on.

Hobie didn't look pleased: I can't stand Bullies, Sunflower.

Miles: Then maybe you'll like But I'm just a cheerleader. -he knows his boyfriend has a complex taste in movies. Sometimes he criticize the shit out one if he doesn't like it and he rarely watches them. If anything he mostly stick to Horror/thriller or psychological films. Anything that he can dissect. Comedy is always a hit or miss, he did find Hangover assuming.-

Pavtri whines: I wanna see Mean Girls! Can we have a movie night to watch!

Miles: Sure! It's a cult classic!

Gwen: Maybe we should watch Rocky Horror Picture Show, too. I know, you haven't watched it yet.

Hobie gasps at his Sunflower: LUV, you never saw it! -Now that's one of his favorite movies-

Miles: Sorry, bae! I never felt ready to watch it... I dunno doesn't-

Hobie cut him off: No, we're gonna watch it! You'll find it amazing! In my world, we do a full blown show and wreak havoc on the streets all for Anarchy! We'll watch it tonight!

Gwen: Maybe we can do Saturday? I'm free that time.

Pavtri looks at his schedule: Me too!

Miles nodded: Same.

Hobie: Alright, Saturday. At your place, luv?

Miles agreed: Sure, I'll let Danika know. She loves that movie like gurl will make a Mean Girls party. I wouldn't be surprise if we have to dress up.

Pavtri's eyes gleam: I still have my Barbie shirt! We can all wear pink!

Gwen: I totally want to be Janis.

Miles: Hahaha, I'll let ya know.

Hobie kisses his boyfriend's cheek: Luv, you would have to wear the Christmas outfit. -His body turns even more brighter and sparkling hearts appeared-

Pavtri blushes: Opp! I dunno what that means but by the looks of it, it gotta be dirty!

Gwen cracks up seeing Miles' shocking face: Hahaha, Miles have to do the dance and wear knee high boots!

Miles flick his boyfriend's forehead: BONK! Go to Horny Jail! -he huffs-

Hobie whines and begs for his sweet Sunflower to wear the outfit, but Miles ignores him. Gwen had to show a picture to Pavtri about the outfit and dance scene so he understood. Of course, the two were teasing Miles to do it, too.