#maybe I’ll give them another shot later down the road

[skinreflectsthesun]

If I’m not feeling a book I refuse to finish it, it’s not going to take up anymore of my time absolutely not nope

[juuuulez]

📰 | epilogue: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, 6 year timeskip, cute Judith moments, S10 Negan (aka Negan redemption arc), winter vibes because I wish it snowed where I live.

summary: Six years later, Carl and Reader consider what the future holds.

holy shit guys…it’s over! it’s done! writing this was so weird but also i’m very happy with the ending, and also getting to expand on Carl’s character beyond his death in canon was amazingly freeing.

i’ve got some requests to catch up on, but feel free to ask for stuff in the Capulet-canon! i’ll definitely go back to this and do little spinoff oneshots because they r very cute.

i hope you enjoy this as much as i did!

-> masterlist <-

Snow crunches under your feet as you treck back to Alexandria’s walls. A thin layer has dusted itself over your hair and shoulders, falling from the fabric of your jacket with each step. Slung over your back is a bundle of game: mostly rabbits, some squirrels, all tied up at the feet.

They’d designated you to checking the traps, a fairly mundane job that was mostly bearable, sans when the weather was this harsh. Having a small amount of freedom was nice at times, where you could be alone with the woods, though you knew someone was trailing nearby, shadowing your every move.

It didn’t hurt that much, knowing they didn’t trust you. You understood. But it sucked that it was these random assholes who hadn’t even been there during the war. Since when did they get a say?

Regardless, you felt relief as you arrived back home, if you could even call it that. The gates opened with a creak, allowing you inside, a familiar scene yet twisted in so many ways.

It had been six years since the war ended.

Six years of living in Alexandria, carefully under everybody’s watch. Of being torn down and scrutinised for mistakes you’d made as a teenager. Not that you’d call them mistakes, maybe that was your biggest flaw, being too prideful.

Someone comes to collect the bounty, to which you hand over the bundle, not before untying one of the rabbits you’d personally shot. That one would make your dinner tonight, besides, you’d been promising Judith a lucky rabbits foot.

The man doesn’t speak to you, though you aren’t offended. You’ve never been a big fan of small talk. In your opinion, there are very few you have the patience to converse with, and as long as they were still interested, then nobody else mattered.

Speaking of people important to you.

In the distance, you could spot Negan plowing snow along the main road that ran through Alexandria. You internally rolled your eyes, knowing that they’d been giving him stupider and stupider jobs recently.

There’s another figure, a young boy, who’s been tasked with watching him. He sits on a porch, a few feet away, kicking at the frosty ground.

“Hey, you wanna take a break?” You ask him, standing in front of the young male. The rabbit is still slung from your shoulder, along with the bow on your back.

He looks a little confused with the suggestion, and maybe offput that you’re talking to him. “No, I’m.. alright, thank you.” He attempts to brush you off, though clearly remains wary, almost unsettled by your presence.

You roll your eyes this time, not willing to continue this pointless back and forth. “Fuck off, okay? Just for a few minuets. Go waste your time somewhere else.” You demand.

Only a second of glaring down at the boy and he’s scurried off, likely to tell someone of your hostility. That’s one benefit, at least, that not many are willing to engage in a physical altercation with you, as they’d all heard stories of the war.

As you turn around, you catch Negan already watching you. A smile spreads onto your face, despite his rugged appearance, and the snow all over your jacket.

“You’re gonna be in deep shit for that one, you know?” He tells you, as if it isn’t obvious, though his tone indicates that he is pleased to see you again.

Lately, you’d been finding Negan more often around Alexandria, usually gardening or doing some other boring maintenance task. Depending on who was around, you were even sometimes allowed to visit him in his cell.

It hadn’t been like that for a long time, though. For the first four years after the war, you weren’t allowed any sort of contact. It was hard, and you’d struggled with bouts of depression on particularly difficult days, but things were starting to look up again.

“I don’t really care.” You shrug, smile turning into a downright grin as you approach. “Can’t make me do anything worse than hunting in dead-winter.”

As you crossed the path, Negan’s smile grew tender. He extended his arm to you, palm cupping the back of your neck and thumb moving the snowy hair from your face.

Though he had many regrets, letting you get caught up in everything was the biggest. In many ways he felt like he’d failed his job, which was to foster and protect a young girl. Yet, time and time again, you were put in harms way.

“What about plowing snow?” Negan sarcastically suggests, leaning on the handle of his shovel. The notion made you frown, straightening out the blue shirt he wore.

“No jacket?” You question, brows furrowed while you looked up at him.

The concern on your face made Negan smile, having watched you grow from a reckless teenager to a conscious young woman. “Nah. I have thick skin, doll.”

Regardless, you roll your eyes, trying to swallow your concern as you look to the snowy path. “I’m gonna ask someone about getting you warmer clothes.”

“I should be the one that’s worried,” Negan points out, “Hunting in this weather? It’s like they’re tryna’ kill you.”

He says it with a slightly bitter tone, genuinely irritated despite the fact that you’ve lived quite comfortably in Alexandria over the years. More so than him, certainly. Yet, the concern makes you smile, regardless.

“Someone’s gotta do it,” You justify with a shrug, “Trust me, I tried to dodge. Been feeling kinda shitty recently.”

“Shitty?” He echos.

“Yeah. Just.. bleh, y’know?”

Negan gives you a stern look, “I don’t know.”

You roll your eyes, not wanting to worry him over something you’d already written off as insignificant. “Just feelin’ icky lately, maybe a bit nauseous. I think this weathers fucking me up.

This causes him to let up a little, though you don’t miss the smug grin on Negan’s face as he continues to shovel snow. “Don’t sound like the weather,” He remarks, “Sure you aren’t pregnant? You and Carl are probably breedin’ like bunnies now you’re living together.”

The vulgar attitude never usually phased you, but this time your brow furrowed, glaring over at the man. “Don’t be gross.” You grumbled.

Luckily, Negan lets up, knowing this may be a soft spot for you. “Fine, I’m just teasing, doll. But you’ll tell me if it gets worse?”

“Yeah,” You agree, hoisting the supplies on your back a little higher. “I’ve gotta go get this rabbit skinned. And I’ll see about that jacket, okay?”

In return, he gives you a semi-enthusiastic thumbs up, though you know the emotion isn’t there. It makes you smile. You’ve truly missed him over these years, and seeing the toll imprisonments had on his attitude is jarring.

Nonetheless, you treck further into the community, locating your place. The small house sits near the back end, away from the main commotion, which you’ve grown to appreciate over time. Originally, you stayed there with Aaron, who was tasked with keeping an eye on you.

Then it was Rosita, and occasionally Tara. Back then, you were equally rude and hostile, and made a point to prove your disdain towards the entire situation. Of course, over the years, those walls melted away and you were forced into a state of acceptance.

Now, there was nobody watching over you. At least not in the safety of your own home. With the rate he was over, Carl practically lived there, though you knew he just didn’t like being in his own house with Rick gone. You’d understand how that would be unsettling.

The door creaked when you opened it, the haul causing you to bump it open with your hip. You dumped the bag at the door, and managed to unhook the bow with one hand.

You ventured further inside, intending to throw the dead rabbit onto the back porch to skin it. But you barely made it three steps down before your mission was halted, two arms snatched around your waist and tugging you back into a firm body.

“Jesus,” You huffed, “I didn’t hear you.”

Carl looks down, eyeing the left side of your head, completely flattened with the absence of an ear. “Shit. Sorry.” He apologised, having momentarily forgot in his haste to greet you.

The injury had thankfully healed, but your eardrum was ruined beyond repair. You were completely deaf from one side.

“I’m also wielding a dead rabbit, so watch out.” You remind him, shimming in his hold so that you’re face to face, though you hold the rabbit at an arms length away from his body.

“Then.. is this a bad time to kiss you?” He asks, and though it sounds genuine, the little smirk on his face indicates that your answer doesn’t matter.

You roll your eyes, a smile growing on your own face. Somehow, after all these years, you still get all bashful. “Never a bad time.”

No matter how much time passed, his lips would always feel perfect on your own. Carl kissed you like you were precious, made of porcelain, and the idea that someone was capable of being so gentle excited you. That, and it let you take control, something you lacked in your current life.

You shimmied your spare hand out of the snowy glove, so that you could wrap it around his neck. Lately, Carl had been letting you trim his hair, though you opted to keep it that same shoulder length, thinking it made him just adorable. He wore the bandage less, too, at least when at home.

Coming up for air, Carl pressed another tender kiss to your cheek, holding you a little closer. “Your hand is really cold.” He whispered.

In response, you dragged your palm over his face, squishing the cold flesh into his cheek. He groaned, finally letting go of you, seeeking reprieve from your snowy fingers.

You were finally able to continue down the hallway, though his footsteps followed right behind.

“Do you want to catch dinner with everyone?” He asked, “They’re cooking the rabbits down by the church.”

“I hate everyone.” You point out, bracing yourself against the cold air outdoors. There’s a metal peg hanging from the back porch, which you affix the rope onto, allowing the rabbit to dangle from its feet.

You can hear Carl has stopped behind you, leaning against the back door. “Besides, I think I wanna stay in. Still feelin’ kinda rough.” You say with a shrug.

It’s like a fish on a hook, where Carl can’t resist clinging to every little word you say. “Still? Do you need to see a doctor?” He suggests, worry in his tone.

Trying to ease his concern, you let go of the rabbit, giving Carl your full attention. “I don’t think so. I’m sure it’s nothing. A cold.”

Carl takes this as permission to dig deeper, wanting to find the root of this issue. He approaches, one hand settling on your hip, the other feeling your forehead. Though your temperature feels fine, he still remarks, “You don’t look like you have a cold.”

“Okay, genius. When did you get your degree?” You quip, the snappy attitude earning you an unamused glare, though it only takes a second before Carl is kissing your forehead, where his hand was.

It irritates you to no end that he’s so forgiving. But over time, Carl has learnt that you get defensive easily, expressed in irritated remarks that can turn borderline cruel. It’s his sign that something is wrong, but he needs to back off for the time being.

“I’ll skin the rabbit. You can lie down.” He suggests.

Your eyes narrow into a glare, not liking the insinuation that you can’t handle it. Though, you’re unable to be properly angry, knowing that he is trying to help. “Thank you.” You end up whispering in agreement, setting aside your pride for the time being.

With that aside, you decided to go and clean up from the hunt. There were little bloodstains on your jacket, so you left it hanging in the laundry for now, intending to deal with it later. Your boots were left at the door, and you quickly walked into the bedroom, intending to wiggle out of the snowy clothes.

Your hair was slightly damp, scalp a little sore from having it tied up all day. So, you padded into the bathroom, hoping to have a hot shower. But the second you looked in the mirror, you remembered what Negan had suggested. Albeit jokingly, but he still said it.

It was like a cruel history repeating itself. Being pregnant was a death sentance, in your eyes. Your own mother had died of birth complications, and that was before the apocalypse. That’s not to mention Lori.

Just the idea made you feel sick again. Scrounging through the bathroom cabinet, you found the beat-up packaging of a pregnancy test you’d stashed after finding it on a run. Just looking at it, all decorated in pink, made you feel worse.

You left it on the counter, hoping a shower would clear your head.

It didn’t.

The test was taunting you, staring at you through the foggy frosted glass of the shower. As much as you hated the notion, it wouldn’t leave your mind unless you got it over with. It was time to bite the bullet.

Still soaking wet from the shower, you fumbled with the box, hands shaking as you read the instructions. Whilst you peed into the little cup, you thought back to all the times you’d been intimate with Carl. The pair of you were relatively safe. But, maybe… maybe there’d been a few times you slipped up.

God, Negan was right. The pair of you were animals. It was like a late puberty, you couldn’t help it, you wanted to jump him at every opportunity. And now, this was your punishment.

A positive pregnancy test.

More like an execution date.

You spend a good ten minutes sitting on the bathroom floor, this indescribable weight on your chest. It gets heavier as time goes by, and you convince yourself that you may actually be unable to breathe if this continues.

Pulling on some clothes, you slowly inch from the bathroom, hair and skin still wet, though that doesn’t matter anymore. You can’t tell Carl, but at the same time, you need to.

You come to a stop at the back of the house, and before you can open the door, you notice Judith through the window. She’s sitting on the porch, talking with Carl as he attempts to skin the rabbit. His technique isn’t very good, but she doesn’t know any better. You hadn’t heard her come in, too busy wallowing in your own panic.

She stands, accepting a knife that Carl offers her, attempting to mimic his actions and take a chunk of fur off the rabbit. Judith struggles, not having the right angle, causing an uneven slice through the rabbits thigh.

Finally, you give in, pushing the door open. “You two are gonna butcher my rabbit.”

Judith turns to you, an eager smile on her face. She offers the knife, handle up like she’d been taught, “Show me?”

Though you accept the knife, Carl interjects, “She’s just had a shower, Jude.” He points out.

“It’s fine,” You assure them, rolling up the sleeves of your pyjama shirt despite the biting cold, “I’ll wash off with the hose. Now watch me, both of you.”

You teach the siblings how to properly skin a rabbit, explaining little tips and answering all of Judith’s questions. Though you’d come here to break some terrible news, you somehow find yourself feeling a little better. Watching Carl try and teach Judith something was heartwarming, and you wondered if he’d be this attentive with his own child.

That, and making Judith an aunt would be a gift in itself.

Later that night, you walk Judith back to her house, where Michonne was already waiting for her. She seemed relieved to know Judith was with you and Carl, given the girl had a tendency to investigate into some of the darker cracks of Alexandria.

There was still that one, heavy piece of information weighing on your mind. Though, it seemed to get lighter and lighter as time went on. When it came time to sleep, you were comfortably nestled against Carl’s side, your head resting on his shoulder.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue. It would be so easy to blurt out, yet you felt like doing some preemptive damage control.

“Would you ever wanna have kids?” You ask in a whisper, almost completely inaudible.

Given the circumstances, Carl finds the inquiry pretty strange. He shifts a little, laying on his side, so that you’re forced to face him.

“Maybe.” He says, though he sounds a little unsure of himself.

But maybe isn’t a no.

You stay silent for a moment, unsure of how to proceed now that you’ve gotten your answer. The silence causes Carl to grow curious, curious as to what has sparked this sudden interest.

“Do you?” He asks, looking you right in the eye, which makes you squirm a little.

Everything points towards your admission, but you can’t force the words from your mouth. So you just lay there, watching him, looking a little pent up and almost slightly guilty.

Fortunately, Carl isn’t stupid. He’s quite attentive, actually, especially when it comes to your health.

That, and he’d already found the empty test box in the bathroom, crumpled into the wastebin.

“C’mon.” He whispers, pulling you back into him, arms wrapped around your form. His hand makes its way into your hair, fingers twirling in the strands, keeping your head pressed firmly against his chest.

Carl swallows the lump in his throat, similarly unable to address the issue at hand. But maybe you’d rather he didn’t. “I love you, okay?” He ends up whispering, words uttered against the crown of your head.

You muster a little nod, shifting to worm your arms around his torso. You mirror his tone, quiet and hoarse, though that weight is finally beginning to disappear.

“I love you, too.”

[dakotalun]

"Stay" | Eddie Munson

pairing: Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: You go out with the older kids to celebrate but the night ends with you in Eddie's arms.

warnings: fluff

word count: 1.7k

a/n: Been a while but I finished this last night when I couldn't sleep. Just a little something that I thought would be cute to see.

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

Hanging out with the guys on a Saturday night is always fun. It’s even better if something really big happens, they get ten times louder and ten times drunker. Tonight specifically is to celebrate Eddie, Steve, Nancy and Robin all graduating. The barkeep comes to your tables and tells you he’ll be closing in a few minutes, so we need to start leaving. The guys  whine because their fun is being cut short, but they obey anyway.

They down the rest of their drinks and start closing out the long tab they accumulated over the night. Nancy, Robin and Steve are talking to each other when you walk over to them, “Hey guys, tonight was fun. Thanks for inviting me,” You give them a smile.

Steve turns and looks at you smiling, “Oh it’s no problem, we love having you here. The more the merrier.” He sends you a radiant yet drunken smile. You chuckle at his expression.

“Alright I think I’m going to head home now, see you guys later,” But just before you can get too far away, Nancy walks up behind you and stops you.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

“Nothing, I mean maybe a shot or two but that’s it. Why?” You look at her with concern.

“Because Robin and I are going to Steve’s place after we leave but Eddie shouldn’t go. He is way too drunk already, he’s damn near passed out right now,” She turns to the three of them sitting at the table, “Eddie drove Steve here and he is clearly in no shape to drive, do you think you could take him back home?” You take another look back at Eddie thinking it was stupid of him to drive here in the first place but quickly get over it.

“Yeah of course, I’ll just need his keys.”

“Great! You are a lifesaver!” Nance and you walk back over to the group sitting down. Steve is trying to get Eddie out of the chair while Robin looks for his keys. Once she finds them she hands them to you and assists Steve and Nancy in getting Eddie out of the building.

The five of you walk out and head to Eddie’s car. They put Eddie in the passenger’s side and shut the door carefully.

“Thanks again for helping him out. We owe you big time,” Steve says, giving you a big hug.

“It’s no problem, really. I’m happy to help,” You open the driver’s side door and put your bag down on the seat.

“You think you can get him inside by yourself? He’s pretty heavy,” Robin asks concernedly.

“Yeah it should be fine, I’ll force him to walk inside himself if I have to,” You share a quick laugh before hugging goodbye and heading your separate ways.

Driving to Eddie’s house wasn’t that bad, since it was super late there were barely any cars on the streets. The sound of Bowie softly flitting through the speakers as you focus on the road. Eddie is slouched in the other seat, mouth open and neck cocked back. Soft snores coming from his mouth, it’s quite peaceful. Once you reach his trailer you hop out the car and run over to his side to help him get inside.

“Hey buddy,” You wrap your arms around him and sling one of his over your shoulder, “Let’s get you inside, huh?” With all your strength you lift him out of the car and start heading up towards the front door. Although he’s a fairly skinny the man weighs a lot, it doesn’t help that he is barely conscious to help with the moving. Nevertheless you guys make it up the steps to his place and safely land in his living room.

“Alright,” You sit him down on the couch, “I’m gonna get you some water.” You run to the kitchenette and return with a glass of water and some pain killers because you know he’s gonna need those when he wakes up more later on.

Eddie leans back, getting deeper into the couch cushions. “God what a night,” He exhales, looking up at the ceiling, “That was one of the best, am I right?” He turns to look at you, only his head turns the opposite direction.

“Over here buddy,” You wave your hand in front of him to get his attention.

“Huh,” He turns the other way, finally looking at you, “Oh, ha. Hey, what are you doing here?”

You give him a confused look because you had literally been the one to bring him here, “Um, I brought you here from the bar. Damn you must be really drunk if you don’t remember that,” He just stares at you, not moving, or saying a word. You don’t even think you notice him blinking. “Well, I should be heading home now. It was so fun, hanging out with you guys today. We need to do it more often, preferably with you less drunk,” You smile at him and start towards the door.

“Wait,” Eddie quickly grabs your arm and pulls you back towards him, “Why are you going?” 

“I have work tomorrow,” You turn your head to face him, “And you need sleep.” He just looks up at you like that was the worst lie he has ever heard, granted it looks more like disgust.

“Come on. Stay,” You fully turn back to him and see that his face is lowered and shows a hint of sadness. You sigh but ultimately sit down next to him on the couch.

“Fine but can we please get you out of these clothes? It can’t be comfortable in those jeans.”

He groans at you and flops his head back on the arm of the couch, “No I’m good. Just gonna,” He grabs a pillow from beside him and cuddles it into his arms, “Sleep right here.”

“Really? You sure you wouldn’t rather sleep in your big, nice, comfy bed? It’s got blankets and big soft pillows.” You’re trying to coax him off the couch so that when Wayne gets back he’ll have a place to sleep instead of that recliner they still call a chair.

Eddie just groans at you and squeezes the pillow tighter, curling into the fetal position as best as possible on this tiny couch. You roll your eyes at him but leave him be, grabbing the remote from the table and flicking on the tv. Eddie’s eyes are barely open as the movie that was previously playing continues on, the screams of people getting chased by Freddy somehow calming and soothing him into sleep.

You smile at him, the look of peace he has on his face one you rarely see. It looks good on him. You sit silently on your side of the couch while the movie plays, watching both it and Eddie to make sure he doesn’t puke all over himself at some point.

The movie ends and you get up to switch to another one, Eddie shifts in his sleep before opening his eyes to see you in front of him hunched over looking for the next movie to watch. He doesn’t move or say anything, just stares at you, the way your hair falls into your face and you pull it back behind your ear, the curve of your back that leads to your amazing ass. Eddie knows he shouldn’t be looking at you like this but how can he not when you are one of the most beautiful people he’s ever seen?

You make your choice andplace it into the DVR, turning around to resume your position on the couch you notice Eddie’s awake now and staring at you.

“Hey sleepyhead,” You say with a smile on your face.

“Mmm,” He hums back, eyes still half lidded.

“Still wanna sleep on the couch?”

“Mhmm.” He stretches out and lays across the entire thing, taking up your spot in the process.

“Now Ed, if you lay like that where will I sit? On the floor?” You’re joking with him knowing he can barely register the words coming out of your mouth.

Eddie just responds by opening his arm as if for a sideways hug, “Just lay down with me.”

You eye him from your spot a few feet away. Eddie has always been a flirty guy, he flirts with you and your friends all the time, but means nothing by it. But right now you can’t help but to think that these thoughts and actions aren’t just because he’s drunk.

You sigh and head over to him, laying down in his arms, facing the tv and pressing play on the movie. You and Eddie lay like that, cuddled up, watching a movie until sleep takes over the both of you. The feeling of Eddie’s arms wrapped around you and the heat from his body helping you drift off.

---

Wayne parks his truck in front of his trailer home and gets out, groaning in the process at the pain he feels in his lower back. He can’t wait to get inside, shower and take a nice nap on the couch. Sometimes he wishes he took the bedroom just so he could have a proper bed to lay in but he loved Eddie more than his old joints so he gave it up.

Upon opening the door Wayne is surprised to hear that the tv is on because Eddie typically turns it off before heading to bed, but then he sees it. Eddie sleeping soundly on the couch, with you curled up in his arms. A smile is pasted on both of your faces, soft and content.

Wayne can’t help but smile at the sight too. He knows that Eddie has a crush on you, even if the boy hasn’t told him directly. Seeing the two of you together warms his heart even if it is only a one time thing. He enters the house fully, shucking his outer clothing and shoes before heading to the bathroom to shower off the dirt and grime from his job.

When Eddie wakes up and notices you still there with him he will be so dumbfounded that he will have no clue what to do, which means Wayne will get a ton of questions revolving the subject but never actually touching it. He just wishes that that boy would make a move and spare him the pain of listening to Eddie fumble over his words asking for advice.

[ereardon]

Snowed In || Friday [Jake Seresin x OC]

A Jake Seresin AU miniseries

Summary: When a massive storm shutters every airport in New York, you receive an unexpected call. Jake Seresin, the ex-boyfriend of your college roommate, is stranded at JFK with nowhere to go. Somehow you find yourself hosting Jake for a long weekend in your studio apartment. What happens when you realize that maybe your long-standing hatred for him was covering up something else? 

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x OC [Ella Finnley]

Trope: Forced proximity; enemies to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, references to cheating, eventual smut

Wordcount: 3.2K 

Masterlist here

“And this just in. More than a foot of snow is expected in areas across the Tri-State, with Scarsdale already at seven inches and counting. LaGuardia has shut down their runway, with Newark and John F Kennedy airport soon to follow.” 

You groaned, flicking off the TV and opening the cabinets. They were predicting the worst storm in two decades and somehow all you had in the cupboard was a lifetime supply of ramen noodles and red wine. 

Outside, the snow was falling in soft clumps. You looked out the window which overlooked Fifth Avenue. Very few cars or taxis were on the road, and the people who were outside looked miserable. 

And then the phone rang. You dove for it, expected it to be your mom with yet another tidbit of news that she thought was groundbreaking, as if you didn’t already know that Diet Coke was bad for you, but the male voice on the other end startled you. 

“Ella?” 

You squinted, pulling the phone back and registering the caller ID. Jake Seresin. You groaned. “What could you possibly want, Jake?” 

“Nice to hear from you, too,” he replied and you rolled your eyes. It had been a decade since you last heard from Jake Seresin. He was just as obnoxious as you remembered. 

“Listen, Seresin, if you called just to give me shit, I didn’t need a reminder that you’re a dick. Memory serves well enough. Goodbye.” 

“El, wait!” 

You frowned. “What?” 

His voice softened. “I’m sorry to do this,” he said and you felt your stomach tightening. “But you’re the only person I know in the city.” Jake paused. “I’m stuck at JFK.” 

“Don’t eat the egg sandwich,” you said, recalling a moldy sandwich you had gotten once at the airport on the way to Berlin. “Have a good flight, Jake.” 

“Ella, I’m stranded,” he said and you groaned. “Can I stay with you? Just until the airports open back up.” 

You looked outside. In the two minutes since Jake had called, snow had started to fall faster, coating the streets and sidewalks and innocent pedestrians. 

“I’m sorry,” he said and for perhaps the first time that you had known him in almost fifteen years, Jake Seresin sounded genuine. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t my only option.” 

Jake Seresin. The last time you had seen him, he was standing in the doorway of your college apartment with a bouquet of flowers that Suzannah had grabbed and trampled on in fury. 

“Ella? Are you still there?” 

“Fine,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Fifth and 12th Street. Apartment 4B.” 

“I owe you, El.” 

“Two days, Seresin,” you replied. “Anything more and you get a hotel.” 

“I’ll see you soon.”

***

You had hated Jake Seresin for as long as you could remember. Or at least, since the first time you saw his smug face in a poli sci lecture. He was sitting in the back, drinking a cup of coffee and doodling on a notebook. At the end of class, he had come right up to you and asked if he could copy your notes. When you said no, asking why he hadn’t taken his own notes, he had called you sweetheart and shot his best grin. 

You turned on your heel and walked away. 

Two years later, your roommate Suzannah has been stupid enough to fall for his charm, and you were treated to the unfortunate experience of having to listen to the two of them having sex behind the thin walls of your apartment. More than once you had stumbled into a shirtless Jake in the bathroom, smelling like sex and acidic cologne. Once he had walked in on you naked and instead of hurrying out like a normal person, he had leered. 

You had doubled down on your hatred for him from that moment on. 

When the doorbell buzzed you sighed, peering at the small ring camera before pressing the buzzer. “Come up.” 

The minute between buzzing him in and Jake knocking on the door felt like a century. It always did. There was something so awkward about shuffling around, waiting for the door but not wanting to be too eager to open it when the knock finally came. 

Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open. 

Jake Seresin in the flesh. The same goofy, brilliant grin from a decade before. Sandy blond hair dotted with melting snowflakes, cheeks ruddy and pink from the cold. He wore a light jacket, far too light for the extreme weather, and held a duffle bag in one hand, cowboy boots soggy and wet, dripping on your doormat. 

“Jake.” 

He smiled, leaning in for a hug and you pulled back at the last second so he stumbled over the threshold. Jake righted himself. “Ella. Still hate me, I see.” 

You turned, shaking your head. The sound of the door closing was followed by the plop of Jake’s bag on the ground. “Shoes off,” you called out, and there was a clattering as he kicked off his boots. 

Jake appeared a moment later, his jacket removed, revealing a tight henley shirt and a pair of jeans. He took a look around the studio. It was surprisingly large, for New York standards. Not Sex and the City unrealistic, but nice, with an alcove to the right that held your queen sized bed, a large couch against one wall and a dining area in the center. 

The galley kitchen off the main hallway was large and the bathroom was relatively spacious for a studio. It had just been you for so long that you didn’t think twice about the size. But something about Jake in your space made you realize maybe it wasn’t as spacious as it looked to your smaller frame. He hulked in the hallway. 

“Nice place,” he said. “Been here long?” 

“Four years.” 

He tipped his head. “Always knew you were going to end up in New York, didn’t you?” 

You sighed, plopping down on one end of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “What are you doing here, Seresin?” 

“I told you, I was stranded at the airport,” Jake replied, stepping forward and taking a seat on the chair opposite of the couch. You grimaced. His outdoor pants were touching your indoor furniture. That was the downside of having guests. If Jake could even be considered a guest. Don’t guests have to be invited? Or wanted. 

“On your way to where? Somewhere without extradition laws?” 

Jake rolled his eyes. “Ten years, Finn. Ten years and you haven’t changed.” 

“Have you?”

The words clung to the air. The elephant in the room. It didn’t matter that it had been nearly a decade since the last time you had seen Jake Seresin. 

His betrayal still stung, even if it had never been directed at you. 

“Ella,” he whispered. Outside, the sky was darkening. Without the constant bumper-to-bumper traffic that was a given on Fifth Ave, the street was uncomfortably dark. There was a dampness that chilled your bones, even from the comfort of being inside. “Please. Can we just put aside the past for the next few days?” He looked older. Small lines at the corners of his eyes. Jake Seresin had a loud, boisterous laugh, you remembered that about him. The way he could liven up a party. The way he could make you feel like you were the only person in the room. 

This time you were. 

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Finn?” he said, bringing back your nickname from college. “Truce?” 

You leaned back against the soft white couch cushion. “Fine.” 

Jake grinned. It was magnetic and you hated him for it. “Well, let’s celebrate then. Got anything to drink?” 

“Been here one minute and you need a drink already?” you asked, standing up. Jake’s eyes roamed over your leggings and sweater as you made your way into the kitchen, emerging a moment later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Someone never got over their frat days I see.” 

Jake reached out, taking the bottle from your hands and turning it on its side. “You must be doing OK,” he said. “This is a one hundred dollar bottle of wine.” You handed him the wine opener and he undid the top easily, sliding out the cork and laying it on a stack of magazines on the marble coffee table. 

“Anything is better than that Franzia shit you used to love.” 

Jake ignored your comment, instead turning the bottle and reading the label. “I did a wine tour in Lebanon a few years ago. This was one of my favorite vineyards.”

You frowned, holding out a glass and he tipped the neck of the bottle against the thin rim, dribbling it into your glass. “So did I. That’s where I got that bottle.” You pointed to the 2015 Chateau Musar in his hand. 

“What were you doing in Lebanon?” 

“Writing a story,” you replied. “What about you?” 

“Went with a friend,” Jake said. “We met in Portugul and decided fuck it, let’s go to Lebanon.” 

“Still wildly dependable I see.” 

“I have a job, Ella. I’m an adult.” 

You laughed, tugging your knees to your chest. “Oh yeah?” 

Jake nodded, setting the bottle of wine down. You let your eyes roam over his fancy jeans, cashmere socks, shiny watch that you hadn’t noticed before. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe he was doing OK for himself. 

“Fine,” you said, taking a sip of your wine. “You have a job. Slow clap. Who doesn’t?” 

Jake shook his head. “Still bitter,” he replied, tilting his glass to his lips. “Whatever happened to you and Connor Gray?” 

“Oh God,” you muttered. “Fuck no. Do you know what he’s doing now? He’s a fucking DJ in Bushwick.” You mimed gagging. “I’d rather eat my left foot than date some Chelsea-boot-wearing guy who drinks craft beer and tries to serenade me on a hot rooftop in Brooklyn on his shitty guitar.” 

Jake tipped his head back with a laugh. It filled the room. You had almost forgotten how boisterous his laugh could be. 

“What about you?” you asked. “Any poor unsuspecting women?” There was no ring on his finger, no tan line or dent to show that perhaps he was divorced instead. 

“Nope.” Jake put his glass down. “Single.”

“Really? Jake Seresin, single.” 

“It’s hard out there, Finn,” he said, his voice hitting a register you couldn’t quite place. Something between sadness and begging for understanding. 

“You were never without a date to a formal in college. Couldn’t even go out without girls throwing themselves at you.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t think the player in you would just shrivel up and die the minute we hit thirty.” 

“I’m still twenty nine,” Jake corrected. “And I don’t know what to tell you, El. It was fun for a while. But then I started to feel kind of gross. Like Leo DiCaprio. A new girl all the time. I couldn’t go to a single wedding without people asking about the girl who I had brought to the last one. But she was long gone.” He paused. “Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw the same girl for more than a month or three dates.”  

You frowned. Jake Seresin, a reformed manwhore? Not possible. 

He shrugged. “There, is that my dues for the night? Told you my dating life so now you owe me shelter from the storm?” 

“For now,” you said, standing up. “Interrogation can resume later. I’m hungry.” 

“Then let’s eat.” Jake looked outside. “It’s pretty shit out.” 

“Agreed.”

“What do you have for food?” 

You winced. “Honestly? I mostly eat out, so not much.” 

Jake stood up, brushing past you so closely you could feel his broad chest press against you for a second on his way toward the kitchen. “I’ll figure something out. You relax.” 

“Relax? With you in my apartment? Fat chance, Seresin.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Going to be a long weekend, isn’t it, Finn?” 

***

Jake somehow managed to make a perfectly edible dinner out of the almost-expired food in your fridge and what was left in the pantry. The two of you sat at the small two-person table you had pressed against one set of windows overlooking Fifth Ave. 

Anyone looking in might think it was a date. Even though Jake had dated Suzannah for almost a year, you two had barely spent any alone time together. That’s how you always tried to keep it with your friends’ significant others. A simple conversation here and there, usually while your friend was showering or getting ready or coming back from the store. 

Never like this. 

After dinner, Jake insisted on cleaning. As if it would make up for the countless times he had left shit in your apartment sink in college. You stood at the window, watching the snow pummel from the sky, coating the street in a thick blanket that it couldn’t shake. There was no one outside walking around. It felt apocalyptic and you cringed knowing that you still had at least a day alone with Jake and nothing to do but be in each other’s presence. 

“It’s dark in here,” Jake said, startling you. You turned as he reached for the overhead light. 

“Stop,” you said and he froze. “Lamps, dumbass. Why do men always want to use ceiling lights? Do you like being bathed in fluorescent light?” You strode over to the dresser along one wall, flicking on a candle warmer lamp and another small lamp on the far side of the room. Warm light spilled out into the room. 

“Does it matter?” Jake asked. 

“Yes.” 

Jake shook his head. “Alright, Finn. I’m all yours. What do you want to do?” 

“You mean other than throw you out in the snow on your ass?” 

Jake stepped closer. “Am I really that bad?” he whispered. 

You looked up. Clear green eyes, perfect almond tanned skin. Hair swept back in a carefree manner. You could tell why Suzannah has lost her fucking mind over him all those years ago. He really was too pretty to be true. “Maybe.” 

Jake looked around. “Well I would say I can get out of your hair for a few hours, but there’s not really many options.” He was right. Minus the alcove where your bed sat, the apartment was a pretty open floor plan. 

“Let’s just watch TV and watch the minutes tick by on the longest day known to mankind.” 

Reluctantly, you settled down onto the couch and flipped on the TV. After scrolling for a solid five minutes, Jake groaned. 

“What, Seresin?” you demanded. 

“Take longer,” he complained. 

“Fine, you do it.” You shoved the remote into his chest, trying to ignore how nice his chest felt beneath his shirt. 

Jake took the clicker and flicked through the apps before settling on a movie. 

“No,” you argued. 

He turned to you with a grin. “It’s a guilty pleasure. Humor me, Finn.” 

You grimaced as Twilight started. Jake laughed his way through the serious parts of the movie, cackling out loud at the spider monkey bit and you found yourself laughing along next to him. God, Carlisle really was hot. So was Charlie. That’s how you knew you were almost thirty. 

By the end of the movie, the two of you had shifted comfortably on the couch. You were no longer three feet apart. Instead, your feet were crossed over each other, almost precariously touching Jake’s where they sat propped up on the coffee table. 

It was the first time in years that you could remember sitting through an entire movie without some guy trying to feel you up or make a movie. 

The credits started to roll and you reached for the remote just as Jake did. You pulled your hand back like it was on fire and he handed it to you. “Sorry,” Jake said softly. His voice had grown huskier in the hour and a half since the movie started. “Your TV. Your remote.” 

“It’s fine,” you said and it was gentle. He smiled. There was something devilish about Jake Seresin’s smile. It was too perfect. You cleared your throat. “I, um, should get to bed

“Me too.” 

You stood up, clicking off the TV. The room felt darker without it, just the soft lamps illuminating small circles of light. “I’m going to shower. I’ll get you some blankets and pillows. The couch should be big enough for you.” 

“Thanks, El.” There was something so genuine about the way he said it that threw you off. Who was this stranger and what had he done with the dickwad from Stanford? “For letting me stay.” 

“See how much you like me after a night of sleeping on that,” you replied, digging in the closet near the hallway for pillows and a comforter, dumping them in Jake’s arms. “Do you, um, need to use the bathroom first?” 

“I’ll go after you.” 

In the shower, you were acutely aware that no more than twenty feet away, Jake Seresin was fiddling around in your apartment. You had spent hundreds and hundreds of hours with him at Stanford, but this was different and you both knew it. When you entered the living room, steam pummeling out of the bathroom door, Jake looked up from where he stood shirtless in the living room. “Oh, God!” you exclaimed, holding one hand up to your face. “What the fuck?” 

“Fuck, fuck, sorry!” Jake grabbed for his t-shirt on the couch, tugging it on. “OK, you’re safe. All clear.” 

“This isn’t Barcelona, Seresin,” you complained, stepping toward the dresser and sliding open a drawer, pulling out a pair of silk pajamas. “Or a rave in someone’s basement.” 

He sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. “Been that long since you’ve seen a shirtless guy, huh, El?” 

You hated that he was right. “Fuck off.” 

Jake chuckled. “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” 

“Maybe that’s why no girl wants to date you for more than a week,” you snapped. “Because you’re a dick.” 

Silence hung in the air, thick like the snow clumping on the streets outside the window. You held your breath, letting your lungs sit there and burn. Jake’s eyes haunted yours. 

You felt bad. Never had you ever expected to feel bad for Jake Seresin. Golden boy. Womanizer. Player extraordinaire. But this was obviously a sore spot and you knew it. 

He looked sad, sitting in your apartment living room in the near-dark, face drawn and quiet. An unease squeezed at your stomach. 

“Jake, I–”

Jake stood, cutting you off. “It’s fine. I’m going to use the bathroom if that’s OK.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

You watched his frame disappear down the hallway, rounding the corner into the subway tiled bathroom. As you sat down in your silk robe at the edge of your bed, the silence in the apartment, usually so comforting as an alternative to the bustle of the city outside, felt stifling. When Jake returned in the dark, flicking off the final light and settling onto the couch, you held your breath, waiting for him to say something. 

But nothing ever came. The two of you laid there, ten feet apart, separated by a wall of silence. 

You had spent ten years who knows how many miles away from Jake Seresin and never given him another thought. Why was it that ten feet now felt like a lap around the equator? 

The chill in the room wasn’t in your head and it wasn’t from the blizzard outside. You and Jake had created frost all on your own. 

Tag list [using my list from The Off-Season since it's my most up-to-date Jake list but if you're not interested in these types of fics just let me know!):

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@teacupsandtopgun @xomrsalliej4787xo @xoxabs88xox @blue-aconite @seresinhangmanjake @eminyourjeans @shawnsblue @babyminghao @sadpetalsstuff @angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @wkndwlff @mygyn @oneelleandaneye @averyhotchner @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @rxmtoon @valkyrja-siren-blog @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @clancycucumber230 @theharddeck @redbarn1995 @shanimallina87

@memeorydotcom @joaquinwhorres @bobfloydsbabe @gretagerwigsmuse @djs8891

@blackcatdhisgf @fangirlvoice @buckysteveloki-me  @eli2447 @bellaireland1981 

[dreamwatch]

Get in the Van

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest

Day #5 - Prompt: On The Road | Word Count: 999 | Rating: T | CW: chronic pain, language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: None| Tags: band struggles, touring in a van, author is not American, geographic inacuracies (probably) | AO3

****

“Fuck!”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you kick the van, man, it’s not going to make it start!”

“Maybe he just needs to kick it harder.”

“Shut up!”

****

Wasn’t this just fucking amazing? Wasn’t this just indicative of the bad luck that followed him around like some looming spectre? They’ve only been out on the road a few weeks, just a handful of gigs before the van broke down. Now they’re stuck at the side of the road in Somewhere, Minnesota, with a van full of equipment, dirty laundry and soon to be broken dreams. 

It started in Evansville, with a bunch of locals who heard about the satanists showing up to play their 'devil music' and decided to give them a warm welcome; there are dents and scratches all over the van that are definitely not going to buff out.

Then in St. Louis they had an amazing show, like objectively fucking brilliant. Eddie knows for a fact there was some local music journalist in the crowd, too. So of course that was the night Jeff’s amp decided it wasn’t just going to give up, it was going out in a blaze of glory. Literally. Fucking thing just went up in flames. Everyone thought it was part of the act, even when he stripped his shirt off to beat the flames out. So yeah, now they’re down an amp.

Gareth being plied with tequila before the show in Kansas City was another highlight. Don’t get him wrong, he loves to see Gareth happy and if a pretty woman wanted to buy him some drinks then good for him. He loved it less when they were on stage later. Eddie has no idea what songs Gareth was playing, but they definitely weren’t the same as the rest of the band. He also learned it’s really hard to get vomit out of a snare drum.

And then there’s the pain.

Thing is, its always there. It just is, there’s no point making a big deal about it. The doctors always told him it would be a life long thing but that it would get easier. It’s been three years now, and there’s been no improvement. Which is, well not fine, it sucks, but you know, it is what it is. But there have been days, shows, where he could cry. Where it feels like his skin has been flogged with a burning switch, where the muscles in his leg and back scream at him to stop, just fucking stop! But he pushes through, takes his painkillers, maybe doubles up sometimes with a couple of shots of JD to help them down, whatever. It’s all good.

And now they’re sitting at the side of the I-94 with smoke and steam billowing from the engine block, and nothing but truck after truck passing by. 

“What if no one stops?” asks Gareth, propping himself against the back doors.

Jeff rocks on his heels in front of him, hands jammed in his pockets. “Someone will stop.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Eddie mutters. He’s under the hood, poking his hand around into the hot engine parts; he’s only burnt himself twice so far. 

“Hey, don’t be bring your bad juju here man—”

Eddie storms to the back of van. “My bad juju? Are you kidding me? Gareth booked these fucking gigs!”

A huge semi screams past them, tooting his horn, making them all jump. 

“I booked some of them. Don’t blame this on me, man. It’s your van.”

“It is my van, correct, however we all benefit from it, and I don’t see any of you assholes dipping into your pockets when it needs work.”

Jeff shrugs. “Well, it’s never needed work.”

“It does now,” says Matt, merrily throwing pebbles into the long grass, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Eddie cuts him a withering look.

Another truck passes, whipping up dirt in it’s trail. When he’s done coughing, Gareth says “I kind of think we should stand further away, actually. This doesn’t feel safe.“ He’s probably not wrong.

“Alright, go and sit by the fence, I’ll stand here with my thumb out,” Eddie says, mumbling “like an asshole” under his breath. He drops his jacket into the front seat of the van on the off chance it might seem less imposing, and then heads to the side of the road, standing as far out from the van as he dares. 

“You should roll your jeans up, show ‘em some leg!” Matt shouts at him.

“Fuck off, Matt!”

“Have you seen how white his legs are?” he can hear Jeff say. “We want them to stop, not call Ghostbusters.”

Eddie pokes his head around the side of the van. “By all means, one of you stand here with your thumb in the air while eighteen wheelers fly past.” When he doesn’t get a response he snaps back, “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

Eddie stands in the blazing sun, hair whipping around his face as semi after semi speeds by; he’s sweaty and dirty and desperate for a shower. The nerves in his leg are starting to fire up, and he needs a cigarette but he smoked his last one just before the van decided it was done with this trip, so now he has the little tap tap tap of nicotine addiction to contend with as well. 

This sucks. Touring sucks. So fucking much.

But.

Last night they played a show in Minneapolis. The crowd was wild; a huge mosh pit opened up right in front of Eddie and it took every ounce of his being not to throw himself in the mix. They sold tapes and t-shirts and traded phone numbers with a band manager. They laughed all night and drank until three A.M.. It was amazing. It was everything he ever dreamed it would be.

Wayne always told him he was resilient, ‘more than you know, son.’ He holds on to that as another truck screams past.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Per Spectral Shift

AO3 Link

Prologue

Chapter One:

The newscast was the first alert to the ghost, which wasn’t a good sign.  If enough time had passed that the ghost was showing up on the news, that meant she and Jack hadn’t left soon enough.

Fortunately, the two of them were already in their jumpsuits, and that meant they made it to the GAV less than a minute later.  And since the ghost had shown up on the news and they were pressed for time, Maddie let Jack drive.  He might knock over a couple mailboxes along the way, but it would get them to the ghost faster.

Maddie turned on the radio as soon as Jack pulled away from the house, and heard from the safety announcements coming through that they were dealing with some kind of hunting ghost that had been spotted in town, chasing down Phantom.  Maddie knew there were more than a couple of ghosts who had it out for Phantom just as much as she and Jack did.  It was expected, given all of the ways the ghost tried to play hero by fighting his own kind.  She knew of a hunter that went after Phantom fairly often, but she hadn’t had that many interactions with it herself yet, and she knew Jack hadn’t either.  That was going to make it difficult to capture both of them.

“I’ll take Phantom, you take the hunting ghost?” she said to Jack, glancing over at him.

“You got it baby!” Jack said, turning to grin at her.

“Jack, the road!” Maddie said quickly, and Jack turned back just in time to avoid a fire hydrant.

“Whoops, thanks sweet cheeks!” he said, and spun quickly down a side street.

Okay, maybe letting Jack drive was still a bit too dangerous to balance out the time saver.  But it was too late now.  Maddie reached to hold on to the handle above the window and took a deep breath.

It was a couple minutes later when Jack pulled onto the street and found Phantom flying right for them, the hunter ghost right on his tail.

Phantom cried out in surprise and spun around in midair, then turned intangible and flew through the building next to them.  The hunter ghost blasted a hole through one of the windows and flew right through it and out the other side.

“Darn it Jack, they flew to the next street over!” Maddie said, even as Jack was already turning the car around.

“I’m on it, Maddie!” he called.

He swerved in a U-turn, and after several other cars honked and swerved out of the way, swung around the corner.  Thankfully this time when the reached the next street they were behind both ghosts, so Maddie got a chance to lean out the window and take a couple of shots at them.  She hit the hunter ghost one time from behind, though she didn’t manage to break any parts of the suit that he seemed to be using to fly.

The hunter ghost turned around with a glare and shot a blast back towards them, only to be met with a blast to his own face a second later from Phantom.

“Hey, don’t forget about me, Skulker!” he yelled, and then he dove through another building, heading to the next street over again.

The hunter ghost cackled, and dove after him.  “Never, ghost child!” he called, and then vanished.

Maddie gave a frustrated groan, even as Jack was already turning to follow them.  Honestly, what she wouldn’t give to be able to follow the ghosts more quickly.  Maybe she and Jack should work on some kind of intangibility invention that could copy a ghost’s intangibility.

Fortunately, by the time they caught up with the hunter ghost and Phantom again, they were in between one last street and a park, meaning the ghosts had less places to go that would make obstacles for them to follow.

Unfortunately, however, they turned once again right towards Phantom, this time close enough that all Phantom had time to do was turn intangible and sail right through the GAV.

And after him, the hunter ghost instead lifted up an arm of the suit and shot a blast right at the car again, without enough time for Jack to swerve away.

The blast hit the front of the car, and it swerved on its own towards the park, and Maddie didn’t have time to do anything other than hold on tightly to the handle above her head before the car finally stopped.

She shook herself off, looked over at Jack and found him alright too, meaning she could immediately go for their weapons in the backseat.  She handed one to Jack and then dove out of the car, sprinting towards where the hunter ghost had now pressed Phantom back against a wall, holding him by the arm.

Phantom’s gaze flicked to the two of them, and Maddie saw something flash through his eyes, which if she didn’t know any better she might call relief, but she did know better.

Jack had Phantom this fight anyway, and Maddie raised her gun to aim at the hunter ghost.

“Wait,” Phantom called.  “Don’t—”

Maddie blasted before he could finish, and the hunter ghost turned around with a growl, taking his gaze away from Jack, who started approaching from his other side.

Jack, however, was aiming for Phantom, meaning he didn’t see it when the ghost turned a blaster on Maddie.  Maddie ducked out of the way of the blast and shot another one as she came to a stop in front of the building next to Phantom.

The hunter ghost growled in annoyance, then turned back to Phantom.  “You can’t keep your personal life out of our hunts?” he snapped, which didn’t make much sense, but Maddie was going to wait to ask questions until after she got a chance to shoot both of these ghosts.

“Hey, I didn’t invite them!” Phantom snapped back at the hunter ghost, and he raised his free hand and shot a blast at him.

Jack shot one at Phantom at the same time, meaning he got shot right into the bricks of the building behind him, and the hunter ghost got blasted back over towards the park.

Phantom gave a groan of pain and pushed himself off of the building, revealing a large dent in the brickwork and a wound dripping green ectoplasm from the back of his head.

Maddie raised her gun towards him, and Phantom noticed with an almost exasperated look.

He turned intangible just as Maddie shot her gun through him, blasting another hole through the building he was in front of.  Jack apparently had the same idea, because Maddie saw two blasts go through him at the same time.

“Would you stop focusing on me?” Phantom snapped, flying up and away from the building just in time to drop his intangibility and shoot another blast at the hunter ghost.

They had technically split up their focus for this fight, so Maddie let Jack keep firing at Phantom and turned back to the hunter ghost, who was now firing towards Phantom again.

She shot a long blast at him and kept ahold of the trigger, and after a couple seconds of continuous energy hitting him, the hunter ghost gave a frustrated yell and aimed right back at Maddie.

Maddie dove out of the way, but she had to let go of the trigger to do that, and the ghost blasted at her a couple more times.  She managed to dodge the first two, but then Phantom yelled something and Maddie glared over to see him trying to snap something at Jack.

Jack looked like he had things fairly handled, so Maddie turned to face the hunter ghost again just time to feel the third blast connect with her chest.

She went flying back into the dent in the building Phantom had hit just a bit ago, and this time she heard something crack above her head.

Maddie looked up just in time to see the building come down on top of her.

…

Maddie heard a familiar voice screaming when she opened her eyes.  It was dark, but nothing hurt, which was confusing.  Hadn’t she just been hit by a building of some kind?

She had a feeling she was still kind of surrounded by that same building, because it was still very dark.  But then, why didn’t anything hurt if there was a building on top of her?

Maddie shifted, expecting to feel some kind of rubble move with her.  She didn’t.  She turned her head, confused, but felt nothing poking at her or shift against her or block her, like she would expect if there was a building on top of her.

What was going on?

There was still a familiar voice screaming her name, though she couldn’t tell where it was coming from.  The next second, however, something started moving from somewhere, and light came from— from beneath her?

Maddie flipped over, and realized in the next second that the light was coming from a concrete block being moved, and that she’d actually been facing the ground.

…But if that was the case, there was no way she should have been able to flip over so easily.

What was going on?

A second later the large block was moved, and Maddie was able to look around enough to see.

She met eyes first with Jack, who looked relieved for half a second before his eyes landed on something beneath Maddie, and his expression changed to one of horror.

Maddie turned to look towards what he was seeing, and— and that… didn’t make sense.

Sitting right below her was her, but broken and mangled and looking like she should look considering Jack just pulled a large chunk of concrete off of her.

That— that sure looked like her.  But that couldn’t be her because if that was her that meant—

“Maddie?” Jack whispered.

Maddie turned to look back at Jack, dazed.  Nothing hurt, which was still weird.  But that didn’t mean— couldn’t mean—

Because this was not what being a ghost was supposed to be like.  If she was a ghost she wouldn’t be conscious, not like this.  It wouldn’t be like she’d just fallen asleep and woken back up, not hurt in any way.  She’d be a monster.  She’d be an echo.  She wouldn’t be able to be thinking, like this, like—

She heard a click and a whir, and looked down to see Jack had started warming up his gun again.  Maddie blinked, and looked back up at his face.  Why would he be doing that?  Those guns were used on ghosts, and Maddie couldn’t be a ghost, she was still thinking far too clearly.

…Well, relatively clearly.  She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to be this dazed, typically.

Jack, however, seemed sure enough of it, because there were tears welling in his eyes, and just when Maddie was about to tell him not to cry, he whispered, “I’m sorry,” and fired.

Maddie, however, didn’t get to see that part, because the second he pulled the trigger she felt something slam into her side, and the world blurred in front of her eyes.  Maddie heard a sound like thunder, which she would later think back on and realize had been a sonic boom.  She looked down, having just enough time to process the arms that were wrapped tightly around her, and just enough vision to make out that those arms, for some reason, belonged to Phantom, before both she and Phantom slammed hard into the ground.

And now she was laying on the ground on her side, and it took her a second to realize that she was expecting to be wheezing faintly, like someone did when the wind was knocked out of them.  But she wasn’t.

Because she wasn’t breathing.

Because… because she wasn’t alive.

But this was not what being a ghost was supposed to be like.

Someone was calling her again, and for a second she thought she heard “Mom,” and she had a slightly hysterical moment of looking around for Jazz or Danny before her gaze refocused on Phantom.

He was looking her right in the eyes, and when her gaze focused on him he seemed to almost melt in relief, which was… strange.

Then the next second, Phantom pulled her up to a sitting position, and… and hugged her.

And sure, at this point that might as well happen.

Apparently the world wasn’t going to start making sense again just yet, however, because then Phantom started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, holding her tightly enough that she probably should have been worried about getting enough air if that was still something she needed to do.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I— it’s okay, it’s gonna be alright, okay?  I’m here, I’ll help you, I’ll protect you, I won’t let him hurt you, you’re safe, I promise, I’m sorry—”

What. What was. Happening.

Maddie stared down at Phantom for a second, who was looking for all the world like holding on to her was the only thing keeping him stable right now.

Which made approximately zero sense.  For as long as Maddie had known the ghost she’d been trying to hunt him.  What on earth was this about?

The next second, however, she stopped thinking about that for just a moment.  Because instead, she looked around them and realized they were sitting in what looked like the hollowed out shell of what used to be a forest, covered with the flaming husks of trees and a Phantom-carved runway that was formed when they both hit the ground at ridiculous speeds.

Which made no sense.   Phantom had zero reason to panic that much when she was in danger— oh god she was in danger Jack almost killed her a second time— when she’d been trying to hunt him down and dissect him for months.

After what felt like simultaneously an eternity and barely any time at all, Phantom pulled back, still looking incredibly fragile.  Then he noticed that she was looking around, also looked around, and muttered, “Shit.”

He put his hands to the ground, and in the next second ice was spreading over the trees and putting out the fire.  And then… still going, far past the point it was necessary.

“Wait no shit not that much—” Phantom said, but his voice and hands were still shaking badly, and when he sat back from having apparently gotten the ice to stop spreading, it was far past the point Maddie could see.

Phantom slumped down with a shaky breath— why was he breathing?— and ran his hands through his hair, still trembling.

He looked weakly up at Maddie, who was staring at him.

“Are— are you—” he managed to pull air in.  “Are you okay?”

Maddie kept staring.

“Did he hurt you?” Phantom asked, reaching out for her.  Maddie leaned back, out of reach of his hand, and Phantom pulled back too, looking hurt.  Which was ridiculous.   They didn’t stop being enemies just because he’d done— whatever he’d just done.

His words did stick in her head though, because Jack had tried to hurt her.  Because— well, evidently, neither of them knew what they were talking about.  Being a ghost was not supposed to be like this.  She was supposed to be an echo, a monster, who hurt people without giving it any thought.  Instead, she was… herself.

But Jack would have no way of knowing that.  And he wouldn’t listen to her if she tried to tell him.  He’d keep trying to hurt her.  Because… because—

“I asked him to,” Maddie whispered, looking down at her hands.  Jack had been following through on a dying wish.  He’d had no way of knowing that it wasn’t necessary.

Phantom, who to be fair was not a mind reader and not privy to her exact thought process, apparently did not understand what she meant by that.  Instead, his eyes widened in renewed panic.

“No,” he said, reaching out and grabbing Maddie by the shoulders.  “No, Mo— Maddie please, please, listen to me.  It’s not as bad as you think, okay?  I promise, it’s not as bad as you think.  I’ve been doing it all year and I’m fine.   Vlad’s not, but— but he was a piece of shit anyway.  Please, it’s not so bad, I swear.  And I can help you.  I can protect you, I promise I can.  I— don’t make me lose you for real, please.”

He was crying again, and Maddie was back to staring at him.

“What,” she said slowly, “are you talking about?”

Phantom didn’t say anything and for a moment, the two of them just looked at each other.  Maddie wasn’t sure what to think for numerous reasons.

For one, did Phantom think she was like any fresh ghost who didn’t know what they were doing and needed his protection?  She didn’t need protection.  And even if she did, why would he offer it to her?  Was that something he did, protected new ghosts who were scared and didn’t know what to do otherwise?  Was he just following what he usually did?  But then why was he so frantic and desperate right now?  And why would he think she needed help?  She could handle this!  She knew what she was doing!

Except for the parts where her entire life had been a lie and now her husband was going to be trying to kill her again and she wouldn’t be able to convince him that it wasn’t necessary.

…And she couldn’t go home.

…And she couldn’t see her children.

Maddie leaned weakly forward until she landed on her hands.  Phantom reached out and caught her, gently, why was he being so gentle, what was going on?

“Please,” Phantom said quietly, sounding fragile.  “Please don’t go back.  I can help you, I promise.  Please.”

Maddie raised her gaze to stare at him again.  She shook her head, baffled.  “Why would you do that?” she asked.

Something in Phantom’s expression broke, and he dropped his own gaze.  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and whispered, “Okay,” mostly to himself.

Before Maddie could ask what that meant, a white ring appeared around Phantom’s waist, and traveled slowly up towards his head, and Maddie leaned slightly back, not sure what was going on until—

Oh.  That answered some questions.

Danny opened his eyes, almost flinching backwards as he looked up at Maddie, who for her part was back to staring, with a far worse emotion behind it than a lack of understanding.

Apparently she didn’t say anything for too long, though, because Danny reached for her hands, then held onto them tightly.  “See?” he said, his voice still shaking.  “You don’t— you’re gonna be fine.  You’re not gonna turn into a monster, Mom.  I would know, I swear.  Just— I know a place you can go.  I know people— or, well, you know— who can help you.  Let me help you, please.”

It clicked in Maddie’s head, what he was saying.  He still thought she was planning to go back to Jack, without trying to explain anything, to let him finish what he’d started earlier.  What they’d both agreed on with no context and no understanding and no clue that anything like this could happen, their son sitting in front of her and existing as living proof that ghosts were different than they’d ever thought, and begging her not to— to—

Maddie reached forward, her own hands starting to shake, and took Danny’s face in between her hands.  “Danny,” she whispered, tears welling her eyes.  “Oh baby, my baby boy.”

Danny was crying again, and this time Maddie was too.  She pulled Danny forward into her chest, and both of them wrapped their arms tightly around each other.

And for a long, long time after that, they both sat there and held each other, who knew how many miles from Amity Park.  And Maddie was discovering in her head a version of her family that was far more broken than she’d ever known.

...

Chapter Two

[wispstalk]

I'd love to know more about The Wizard Adderall

Thank you for asking because he is stealing the show in my mind lately. I wrote a piece introducing him that I think touches on What His Deal Is, but this is a very rough early draft and not a final product

Of all the things Gil expected to learn on his journey north, “how to walk” was not among them.

Abi, his traveling companion, has apparently mastered new heights in the art of getting from one place to another. Tall and sturdy and broad-backed, yet she moves through the woods without making a sound. The fox-walk, she calls it. And as they pick their careful way through the wild edges of Skyrim, she insists he do the same.

Outside the lush enclave of the Celecire estate, he is learning strange new depths to all sorts of basic things. Walking, but silent and hyper-aware. Eating, mechanically and often. She even lights their campfires with a flint and steel, which seems somehow more arcane than a spell. He tried it once and scraped his knuckles raw on the striker.

His companion can cast a spark from her fingers as well as he can, and heal a scrape or a bruise, but she said her parents were from Hammerfell, and taught her not to bank her survival on fickle magicks. Gil has not managed to wheedle much more from her. Abi is spare with her words and artful with her deflections, answering questions with questions. She seems content to give Gil an opportunity to discuss his favorite topic: himself.

“And so,” he concludes as they walk, “that’s when the beast awoke from its long slumber and finally flicked off the tick. I’ve enough in my purse for tuition and passage by ship to Winterhold, which I suppose was a small price to pay to be rid of their most feckless son.”

“Poor you,” she says, smiling catlike. “You mean to tell me you could have taken a ship? With a private cabin, no doubt.”

“Poor me,” he agrees. “Feckless I might be, but I know my arithmetic. If this is the last I’ll squeeze out of them, I thought it wise to go to Cyrodiil and cross on foot. I have two of them, after all, how hard can it be?”

Abi lets out a soft, good-natured chuckle; it’s the third time in a week he’s gotten a laugh out of his guide and he is inordinately pleased with himself. But then: “Speaking of feet, mind yours.”

“Ah…” He sighs and resumes his stilted fox-walk. “Well, I only thought… we’re making plenty of noise.”

“Practice now for the times when we shouldn’t.”

Gil winces. Yesterday, his bumbling loud footfalls had flushed out the ptarmigan in Abi’s sights. Fresh off the glacial wasteland of the Pale Pass, it would have been their first warm meal in days. She had calmly replaced the arrow in her quiver and led them on, and not an hour later she shot a rabbit.

She seemed pleasantly surprised, he recalls with grim satisfaction, when he proved himself perfectly capable of skinning and gutting it.

That aside, he is certain his corpse would litter the Pale Pass if he had not met her in that Bruma outfitter’s shop. Couldn’t even count on a daring death by misadventure; more likely he would fall under the weight of an overloaded pack and flail like an upturned beetle until the cold claimed him. Death comes for everyone, he knows, but he can still hope that his own won’t be too humiliating.

They stop at a fork in the road to drink deeply from their waterskins, and Abi crouches beneath the shade of a pine to examine her map. The side trail, she explains, ought to speed their progress down the mountain’s back, if Gil can bear a little bushwhacking.

She stands with her chin tilted, surveying the landscape, extracting meaning before Gil’s mind can parse it as more than a morass of dun and green. But there is a symmetry that draws the eye. Long, low hummocks line the path, like prostrate supplicants to the majestic boulder that looms ahead.

“Oh, they’re barrows!” Gil squints at the boulder, where some remnants of a carved arch can be seen beneath the beard of lichen. Maybe he can convince her to stop and take their midday meal here— he’d like to dig out his charcoal and parchment and take a rubbing.

Abi grimaces. “I hadn’t intended to lead us through a graveyard.”

Ah, he thinks, so much for stopping. “It’s an old land,” he assures her. “Everywhere we walk we are flanked by the dead.”

She blinks at that, but carries on. In the silence Gil hears his footfalls crunching in the pinestraw and adjusts. Heel to the ground, roll to the outside, carefully place the toes. It’s a good trick on her part: making him so absorbed in his footfalls he doesn’t notice how they accumulate.

After a time he is gliding along in a breezy and confident rhythm, sure he’ll be soon be walking Skyrim’s forests with a wolfish grace that rivals that of his guide, until he runs blindly into her outstretched arm.

She stands stock still, watching something in the dappled underbrush with sudden sharp alertness. One hand reaches smoothly back to draw an arrow from her quiver. Gil arrests the breath in his lungs, and his heart pounds in the hopes of a nice fat greasy bird for dinner.

Her unwavering gaze narrows, then widens. She whispers, “Gil, run.”

“No,” he says, half to himself, watching the frost troll burst from the underbrush with a hoot of rage, “no, I think I’d better not.”

Quick despite its odd loping gait, the troll bears down on them. It’s crossed half the distance by the time she nocks her arrow. Gil sets his jaw and taps his staff firmly to the ground.

Shadows waver through the veil all around him. Impressions of lives lived and lost. There is something resting in the bowels of this mountain that even he won’t trifle with, but plenty of garden-variety warrior sorts to choose from. The binding that he speaks is swallowed by a crash, a shower of dust and rock and sod, as the withered corpse bursts from the barrow.

At once, it hurls itself snarling at the troll. Abi wheels backward with a yelp, collides with Gil. He spares enough of his awareness to steady her with his free hand.

He was lucky to raise one buried with a sword. The thrall itself is fragile and dry as a paper wasp’s nest. The troll takes one of its arms out with one clean swipe. Gil bears down with his will, holding images in his mind of that rusty old sword restored to its former beauty, of glorious battle, of Sovngarde and other such Nordly things that might call upon the shade of its former life and inspire it to greater fury.

The thrall plunges its sword into the troll’s belly with a rattling cry. As the creature falls, it stands inert, waiting for its next command, staring out at nothing through empty sockets. Gil unfurls the white-knuckled hand around his staff and releases it back to its rest.

Silence. Abi is no longer clutching his arm. Her eyes, wide as saucers, track the corpse as it shambles to the destroyed barrow.

“You just.” She does not meet his eye. “You’re a.”

“It’s— well. I used to explore ruins in the Isles.” He twirls his hand in a gesture of weak apology. “And I’ve never liked fighting.”

“I see.” She straightens, adjusts the strap of her rucksack, and turns on her heel to continue down the path.

Gil’s heart sinks. He likes Abi. It cheered him to think he might have a friend to visit in Solitude, once she settles into her smithing work there. He’d hoped their meeting was a sign that he hadn’t done a very stupid thing in leaving; planned to make up for his ineptitude in Falkreath, where his gold will spend.

He got what he wanted, he thinks sourly: he finally made himself useful, and in doing so, lost his only friend in the province.

“I apologize,” he says, for what must be the hundredth blunder on this journey. “I might have warned you. It’s a rather… delicate…”

“I’m glad to be alive, Gil, and that’s that.” She pauses and allows him to catch up. “You are well-mannered, for a necromancer.”

He gives her a watery grin, and then deflates with a shiver. The chill of the grave presses close to him. It will for hours yet.

Speaking the bindings burns his throat like spiced metheglin and leaves the taste of decay on his tongue. This death opens with bitter notes of copper and cold, giving way to a soft finish that lingers on the palate. A burst of blood leaching into the snow and then a gentle, muffled descent into the dark.

He suppresses a gag and spits the foul flavor to the ground, scuffing it into the leaves with the toe of his boot.

“Eugh. Sorry.” He fishes into his coat for a handkerchief to dab his mouth.

Abi regards him with a dubious wrinkle to her nose. She turns her head and spits in answer; a projectile glob lands among the duff with a percussive splat.

A delighted grin splits Gil’s face. “Godsblood! That was magnificent. How can you spit so far?”

“One thing at a time,” she says, and turns back to the road. “Master your fox-walk, and next I’ll teach you proper spitting.”

[farity]

There is only one bed, part 2

Pairing: Modern AU Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary:  Spies running from a common enemy find refuge in a tiny inn.

Warnings:  Smut

Points if you recognize the side characters’ names.  Also: no, your name is not Jan.  It’s a meme.

part 1

“The drive.  Give me the drive.”

When he didn’t move, the guy aiming the gun at your head cocked it and you kept your breathing steady through the terror that ran through you.  Training, you went through your training, remembering breathing exercises, how to keep your muscles from tensing.  You glanced at the guy who had very recently fucked your brains out.

His face revealed nothing, his stance was relaxed.  “The one with the porn?”

You heard, in the distance, a car.  Another one.  That couldn’t possibly be good.  It stopped down the road, not like the previous car you’d heard earlier.

“Give me the fucking drive or I kill your little girlfriend.”

He smiled, “I picked her up earlier, don’t even know her name.”

The next thing you felt was a hard thump on the back of your head, and you fell to the floor, your vision blurry.  He lunged towards the asshole who’d hit you and the other guy fired.

You saw him fall back at the same moment that the door slammed open and three men rushed in.  They were shouting in High Valyrian, your weakest language, and you caught something like “man down”.  

He was saying something to them and before you lost consciousness you thought you heard him say something like “friend.”

* * * * * 

You awoke in a government hospital and the first face you saw was Lou’s.  Your boss was dressed in a sharp suit as always, her blonde bob swinging as she spoke on her cell phone.  “She’s awake, gotta go.”  She smiled down at you.  “Good to see you, kid.”

“Where is he?”

“Who?”

You sat up. “The guy, the Westerosi agent who was with me.”

Lou raised an eyebrow.  “You were brought to us by two agents from Dragonstone, who said you’d been caught up in one of their missions.”

You nodded, “yeah, there was a wounded agent I patched up, he was shot right before I passed out.”

“They didn’t mention that.”

The doctor walked in, gave you an update.  You’d been out a couple of days with a concussion but the swelling in your brain had gone down and your vitals were good.  You could go home the next day if things stayed the same overnight.

You barely listened, your mind elsewhere.  You caught Lou’s eye, and you could tell she was reading every thought in your head.

“I have to go,” Lou said, “rest and I’ll talk to you tomorrow once you’re home.  Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded as she left, her brisk steps fading as she walked down the hallway.

* * * * * 

Five weeks later you were ready to kick someone’s face in.  Nobody had any answers for you.  You had even called the Dragonstone agency and explained that you wanted to ask some questions of their agent.  Very important questions for your boss at your agency.  If he was alive, if he was still working for them, no one would tell you anything.  

You had even thought of asking Lou if she could ask her contacts, but asking your boss to locate a guy because he’d made you come twice was hardly the most professional thing in the world.  You liked your job and didn’t want to be sidelined because you got hung up on some guy whose name you didn’t even know.

Maybe you could get one of your hacker friends to locate him.  Hey, can you find this guy, tall, gorgeous, amazing ass and stellar dick?  You rubbed your eyes, wondering if a shower would help.  

You walked towards your bedroom, leaving a string of clothes as you reached your bathroom.  Would you ever find him?  You’d known him for less than a day but there had been a connection and it wasn’t just sex.  Mind-blowing, amazing sex.  Sex that had ruined you forever.

He had to be alive.  Even if you could just find out if he was ok, maybe that would be enough.  Sure, Jan, you told yourself.  You showered quickly, putting on your favorite robe after.  

Lou had left a message on your phone, something about all the time off you had accumulated and to fucking take it before it disappeared.  You’d been doing admin stuff since you got out of the hospital, but when you reached your laptop, all the files you had been working on were gone. Fucking Lou.

Maybe you’d travel.  Take a few weeks, bum around the continent, avoid heading towards Dragonstone. 

Who were you kidding, the only place you wanted to go to was Dragonstone so you could snoop around.  Like you were going to turn a corner and bump into him coming out of a Starbucks.  Did they even have Starbucks in Dragonstone?  

And then there was the thought you tried to ignore.  What if he was fine?  Alive and kicking, and simply didn’t care?  What if he had moved on to his next mission - and the next girl - while you were flopping around your place like a moron, completely hung up on him?  

Your phone buzzed and when you picked it up there was a text from your ever-omniscient boss.

Answer the door.

Um, no one has rung the door, Lou, you thought as the doorbell rang.

You opened the door and there he was, alive and fucking gorgeous, standing before you.

Every thought in your head evaporated as you looked at him.  His hair was a little longer, and he was dressed in black, like he had been back then.  You knew your mouth had dropped open but no sounds were coming out.

* * * * * 

She was well.  Alive and whole and healthy.  A little pale, but she looked good.  More than good, Aemond thought.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, suddenly nervous.  He hadn’t given a thought to what would happen now, to what she would say or do.  

“Hello,” he said, because she wasn’t saying anything.  She was just staring at him, one hand clutching the lapels of her robe.

“You’re alive.”

“Yes.”

“You were shot.”

“Yes.”

She grabbed his arm and pulled him into her home, closing the door.  She stood a couple of feet away from him, still staring.  “Was it bad?”

This time he nodded.  He wouldn’t tell her how bad just now.  

She let out a strangled sob and covered her mouth.  “I tried,” she said breathlessly.  “I looked for you.”

Fuck it, he thought, and reached out to envelop her in his arms.  She started crying and he heard so much fear and anger as well as relief in her tears.  “I believe you,” he whispered into her hair.  She had freed her arms and wrapped them around his neck and he could no longer wait.  He began kissing her neck, the sweet scent of her skin one he had dreamed of every night since that day in the inn.  

She turned to meet his mouth with hers, fisted one hand in his hair while he lifted her up.  Her robe, which had barely been tied together, began slipping off as she wrapped her legs around him.  “Bedroom,” she ordered, “last room on the left.”

He made his way to her room, barely remembered to kick off his shoes before he lowered her to the bed.  “I’ve dreamed of you,” he said against her lips, and felt her smile.  “Every night.  Every fucking night, you torment me.”

“Likewise, dragon boy,” she replied, and he smiled at her.

“Aemond,” he told her.  “My name is Aemond.  Targaryen.”  

She told him her name and then pushed him onto his back.  “Wait,” she tucked her hair behind her ear.  “Where were you shot?”

He raised the t-shirt he was wearing, and first she saw the cut she’d treated.  It was a neat thin line and she smiled.  “That healed up nicely.”  He sat up then, removed his sweater, then began to pull off the t-shirt.  

“It looks worse than it is,” he warned.

He tossed the shirt to the side and let her look.

“Fuck.”

The scar was jagged and ugly, and it was right over his heart.

“They got it out.”

“How far?”

He looked at her, shook his head in confusion.

“How far from your heart?”

He smiled gently.  “Less than a millimeter.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, looked away from him, unable to speak.

“I’m here.  I got a second chance,” he murmured.  “And I don’t plan on wasting it.”

With that, he reached for her.

* * * * * 

Less than a millimeter, you thought.  You would make that millimeter count, you decided, as he grabbed you and pulled you down to the bed.  You ran your hands down his chest, gently skimming over the scars until you’d reached the waistband of his jeans and felt him shiver against you.  

He reached down, undoing the button and zipper and then started pulling off your robe, the thin cotton giving easily as he bared you.  “I never got to take my time with you,” he said, and your heart started pounding with anticipation.  He slowly gazed at you from head to toe and when he looked back up, his eyes were almost feral.

He cradled your face in one hand as he loomed over you, kissed your temple before his hand slipped down to your throat and you arched against him, pressing one of your own hands over his.  He kissed you then, hungrily, nipping at your jaw as he made his way to your neck.  There he feasted, edges of teeth and soft swipes of tongue, until you began whimpering, wanting him inside you.

He pulled back to finish removing his clothes, but before you could reach for him, he turned you over, spreading your legs with his knee before settling half on you, half on the bed.  You felt him push your hair out of the way so he could nip at the nape of your neck while he reached around and his fingers began moving between your legs.  

You’d dreamed of those dexterous, long fingers of his, frustrated yourself with your own many times, and a long moan escaped you as he reached deep inside you. 

“Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head,  “No,” you managed as he sucked some of the skin at your nape between his teeth.  

His fingers moved slowly within you, and you gasped when he spread them open, widening you.  “I remember how tight you felt,” he murmured.  “I remember everything about that day.  The way you looked, the way you felt, I couldn’t get away from you.  Not during the day, and certainly not at night.”

His voice had darkened, each word said against your skin like a prayer.  His fingers were pumping inside you now, your hips matching his pace, and soon you arched against him, your body taut, a gasp escaping you as you came.  

He was kissing your shoulder, slowly removing his fingers from inside you as he turned you onto your back.  “I cannot wait any longer,” he whispered as he reached down and began aligning himself with you.  When he started pushing inside you, you gasped, remembering how he had felt all those months ago.  

“God, yes,” you breathed out as he began filling you.  Nothing had felt as good as he did right now.  He pushed your knees back, struggling to move slowly as he sank into you.  When he was finally seated fully inside you, he closed his eyes for a moment.

“You feel so fucking good, sweet.”

* * * * * 

“LIkewise, dragon boy,” she replied, wrapping her legs around his hips.  

Aemond pressed his forehead against hers.  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he started, and felt her fingertips pressed against his mouth.

“You really need to stop that, Aemond,” she said, and the sound of his name in her lips made him deliriously happy.  “I can take it, and I would really, really like you to fuck me now.”

He needed no further invitation.  Rearing back, he thrust hard, the sound she made somewhere between a moan and a purr, and he did it again, hips snapping as his restraint began to slip.  He took her hands in his, pressing them into the mattress above her head.  “Yes,” she whispered, “fuck yes.”  She tightened around him and he let out a familiar string of curses in High Valyrian.

“What did you just call me?” she smirked up at him.

He took her mouth in a bruising kiss as his hips continued to pound against her.  “Vile,” he murmured, “enchantress.”  He sucked her bottom lip between his teeth, then released it when she whimpered.  

He could feel her thighs shaking, her breathing becoming more and more ragged, and he began to drive faster, her cries encouraging him as he lost himself in her.  “Please,” she begged.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and she threw her head back, a hoarse scream ripped from her throat as she came.  He managed to ride out her contractions until finally, he surrendered, letting her take him with her.

* * * * * 

The blurriness in your head began to dissipate, slowly, as Aemond kissed your temple.  “Hmm,” he murmured, “that was worth the wait.”

You couldn’t manage to put two words together in your mind, and simply enjoyed the warmth of him as he held you.  Your fingertips found their way back to the ugly scar over his heart, brushing over it as if you could erase it completely.  A thought had began to form in your head, a question you needed answered.

“How did you find me?”

He looked down at you, surprised by the sudden question.  “Your boss knows my old CO, Deb.”

“Lou?”

“Yep.  She sent Deb a text ‘for your wounded dragon’ and it had your name on it."

You shook your head, confused.  “Wait, if she knew to give you my name, why couldn’t Lou just ask for your name?”

“I guess she wanted to know if I would run with it.”  He caressed your cheek.  “I had to wait until I could leave the hospital, which was three more weeks.”

“So why didn’t you just call, or email?”

He leaned in and kissed you gently.  “I was terrified.  If I called and someone else answered the phone.  If I emailed you and you never replied.  I decided I would show up, look you in the eye, and if you wanted nothing to do with me, then I could turn around and walk away, but I needed to see it in your face.  Whether you wanted me or not.”

“I tried,” you said.  “I tried so hard.  There was nothing, absolutely nothing on any of the usual threads.  Not about your team, not about a wounded agent, nothing.”

“I don’t exist,” he said simply.  “My name isn’t listed anywhere.  If we’d all gotten killed the agency would have never acknowledged us.”

“Your family?” you asked, wondering about parents, siblings.

He smiled.  “They think I’m in the arctic.  Eventually they would have received a letter stating that I was working for the government and was KIA.  No return address, no phone number.  The moment the envelope is opened, the ink begins to fade so within a couple of hours the page is blank.  And it doesn’t show up on photographs or video.”

“Fuck.”

“I knew that going in.”  He pulled you closer.  “I also knew I had a deadline.”

You reached up, brushed a lock of his hair out of his face.  “What is it?”

“Turning thirty.”  

“When is that?”

He smiled.  “Today.”

* * * * * 

She baked him a cake.  She only had ingredients for a plain vanilla sponge, but the buttercream was so good, he ended up eating half of it before she smacked his hand and made him sit at the table. 

“And she bakes, too,” he’d said, admiringly, when she started pulling out ingredients.  

“I am multitalented.”  She lit one of the candles sitting on the little shelf by the TV.  “But I have no little candles, so this will have to do.”  She brought over the massive three-wick-candle, made him blow it out before she’d let him cut into the cake.  It was a little wonky and there was only enough buttercream for the filling and middle since he’d eaten half of it.  

He watched her over his slice of cake.  “What about you?  Any plans for the future?”

“Well,” she smiled, “not many of us live to see middle age, so I always thought I’d do research or translating when I was done with field work.  Plus I want to travel.  Like, actually see the places I’ve been sent to, like a regular tourist.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, “I’ve been to so many places and not enjoyed any of them.”

“Does that mean anything?” she asked, indicating the ring he wore on his pinky.  

Aemond looked at his hand, smiled.  “My sister gave it to me before I left.  Something about threads of green, threads of black, weaving something or other.  She gets strange thoughts sometime, but she’s cool.”  He speared his fork into another piece of cake.  “I keep it hidden unless I’m on my own time.  This is really fucking good,” he added before taking a huge bite.

“All that sugar is going to leave you with a massive headache.  Here,” she refilled his glass, “drink more water.”

He did, and got up to do the dishes while she sat at the counter.  He had spent most of the past decade forgetting or ignoring his birthday and now she’d baked a cake for him.  

“Look, I just need to say something-”

“Oh shit,” she replied, but was smiling at him.  “You’re married with seven adorable, but unruly, children.”

He gave her a look.  “No.  I wouldn’t have tracked you down here just for sex. This is going to sound incredibly naïve, considering what we do for a living, but it’s like I can envision-”

“A future.”

“With you.”

He said nothing for a few seconds, only watched her as she looked up at him.  “Come with me.  Let’s go see the world.  Not from safe houses or sniper points.”

She smiled.  “I don’t know, I’m an excellent shot.”

He smiled back, but extended his hand out.  And waited.

And then she stood, walked around the counter, and placed her hand in his.

* * * * * 

Tagging:

@arryn-nyx   @greenowlfactif  @hydrationqueensworld    @megzdoodle@melsunshine  @queenofshinigamis     @throughgoeshamilton   @travelingmypassion

Aemond fics only

@kaemond-zafiro    

[flamewisher]

Hi-Fi Rush down No Straight Roads: Fanfic Drabble: Guitar Lessons

So I really like the idea of the crossover of NSR and HFR (As seen from my last post). I wanted to post a quick little fanfic idea for it! So here it is!

Summary: Chai (Post Game) looks up guitar lessons online, so he could be able to practice more professionally. Every lesson he goes to though, each instructor cannot stand listening to his awful tuning and talkative attitude. Feeling hopeless, Chai feels like he’s never going to learn to play. That is, until Peppermint tells him that someone she knows might be able to keep up with his chaos.

“That’s it, that was the 5th one.” 

Chai throws himself onto the couch next to 808, who immediately jumps on his chest and lays down purring. Peppermint, whose in the middle of modifying her leg, looks up at him from her desk.

“Another one bailed on you?”

“Geeh, what gave it away this time?”

“You proclaiming ‘that was the 5th one’ to the world and looking like you got hit by a wave of criticism and ridicule. I dunno, I’m just guessing.”

Chai sat up and pouted at her.

“You don’t understand Pep, I’ve now been through five different instructors at this point and all of them say the same thing, it’s-”

“It’s not you, but I feel like we’re on different musical levels here, and I feel like it’d be best for you to find a new instructor.”

She made direct eye contact with him and sighed

“Am I right, or am I right?”

He groaned in frustration and slummed back down into the couch. 808 had to readjust herself once again to be able to lay down properly.

“It’s the same thing over and over, it’s either I’m tone deaf, my tuning isn’t right, I played the wrong note seven times in a row, I’m not shutting up, or I’m not feeling the music correctly. Which, how is that even possible when I literally have a music player in my freaking chest!?”

He groaned again, but then sighed sadly

“Maybe I should give up trying to learn how to play professionally, if this is all I’m gonna hear...”

Peppermint shot him a confused glace

“You? Chai? Giving up?”

“At this point, yeah. What else am I going to do?”

Peppermint got up and made her way over to Chai and grabbed him by the scarf.

“Hey, what are you- WAHH-”

She pulled him up from the couch, causing 808 to fly off him and jump back down on the floor.

“You literally took down a corporate overlord and his goonies from using a mind control program on the public just a few months ago. And now I’m hearing you give up because some music instructors said some mean things to you?”

He looked at her nervously

“I-I umm, not...exactly...M-Maybe I shouldn’t have worded it like that. I’m just being dramatic.”

He awkwardly chuckled, trying to brush off her comment. She looked at him for a second but then quickly let go of his scarf and made her way back to her desk and turned on her computer and quickly starts typing away.

“Umm...what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna help you with this myself. The Chai I know never gives up on something as miniscule as this. Plus, you moping around the hideout for the past 2 weeks is starting to get on my nerves.”

“Y-Yeah? What are you doing exactly? And....why are you pulling up your messages?”

She continued typing

“I’ll tell you in a second. I gotta see if she responds first.”

“Who are you messaging-”

“I said I’ll tell you in a second, hold on.”

Chai sighs and crosses his arms impatiently.

A few minutes later, Peppermint is getting a video call on her computer and she quickly turns on her webcam as she accepts the call. The caller from the other side hasn’t turned on their camera yet, but quickly says

“Oh! Give me a minute to turn on my camera Pep Pep!”

Chai, looking over from the side was very confused

“Pep Pep?”

He then snorts a little and whispers to Peppermint

“You let them call you Pep Pep?”

“I’m about two seconds away from ripping off your arm, then I’ll give you something to cry about.”

“O-Okay...”

The person then turns on their camera, and Chai is met face to face with a girl with blonde hair, tied up in three separate ponytails, two braids on the sides of her head, vibrant purple and violet eyes, and orangish skin.

“Pep Pep!! It’s been so long since we’ve last talked! How’s everything been? How’s your mom doing? How’s the company doing?”

Peppermint laughed a little

“Everything’s fine Mayday. Mom’s doing good too. I’m sorry it took so long to reach back out to you, been working on a bunch of different projects.”

Mayday laughed

“You were always one to throw yourself into your projects, Pep Pep.”

“Same can be said about your music, May. Speaking of which, how’s that going for you?”

“Still decent, me and Zuke just did a gig a few nights back and it went pretty well!”

Mayday then directed her attention to Chai

“By the way, whose that? He’s just kinda standing there.”

Peppermint sighed

“Oh, sorry. This is my friend, Chai. He’s a idiot who can’t introduce himself properly.”

Chai whipped his head towards her

“Rude much!!”

Mayday giggled

“He seems fun! A little awkward, but fun!”

Peppermint sighed

“Yeah, he’s actually the reason why I wanted to call you in the first place.”

“Yeah? Why?”

Mayday then quickly gasped

“Is he your boyfriend, Pep Pep!?!”

Peppermint and Chai gagged and yelled

“NO! HE’S NOT!!”

“SHE’S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!!”

Mayday laughed

“I’m kidding! He’s not your type anyways, so if you said he was I would’ve been surprised!”

Peppermint laughed awkwardly

“Yeah, if I ever dated someone like him, I must’ve been desperate.”

“HEY!! I’VE BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH TODAY!!”

Mayday then leaned back in her chair

“So, what’s this all gotta do with him?”

Peppermint sighed and looked back up at her

“I need you to teach him to play guitar May.”

Mayday and Chai both looked up at her

“What.”

There u go, idk if I’ll do this again but this is what I got. Hope you all enjoyed!

[midgardianweasley]

hiii i love your fics so much omg! anyway, i have a request that i've been daydreaming about that haha: nat and r get into a really big fight about smth (anything but cheating pls my heart won't be able to take that) and r kind of shuts down, and wanda & carol become super protective of her and follow her everywhere making sure she's ok. (and they're also glaring at nat any chance they get) but then nat comes into r's room one night and apologizes and they make up and snuggle and its soft hours

thank you so much! and of course lovely! here you go<33

Priorities

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha has been missing date nights, leaving Y/N embarrassed for the final time. When confronted, an argument unfolds, but can they come back from it?

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: some swearing, some self-neglect

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! <3

“Another drink, miss?” The waiter in a smart, black tux asked you for the second time this evening, a part of you felt that it was out of pity as you sat alone at a table for two, and had been for the last two hours.

You were supposed to be meeting your girlfriend tonight for date night, you got all dressed up, makeup applied and hair styled perfectly, which had taken forever, only to be stood up. You wouldn’t have overly minded if this was a first occurrence, you would’ve brushed it off and rescheduled for another night. Which is what you had done, two missed date nights ago.

This was your third night of sitting alone in a crowded, candlelit restaurant as couples around you glanced over with a sympathetic gaze, which had only made you feel worse. Your girlfriend should be here. ‘Natasha should be here’, you thought. You looked up at the kind waiter, giving him a gentle smile before shaking your head.

“No, thank you. I think I'm calling it a night.” You spoke as you hurried to gather your things and get out of there as soon as possible, trying to hold back tears that you refused to let fall, not in front of all of these strangers. You hated this. You hated feeling so exposed. So vulnerable. You couldn’t help but feel anger bubble inside of you, thoughts of Natasha being the only thing currently plaguing your mind, most along the lines of; ‘What was her excuse this time?’ ‘Who is she with instead?’, but, there was one in particular that you couldn’t help but focus on.

‘She promised.’

You hadn’t realised you were crying until you were in the taxi, catching a glimpse of yourself in the rearview mirror when the driver had adjusted it slightly to see the cars behind you, in the process, you’d also caught her eyebrows raise in concern and it wasn’t long before she started conversation.

“You okay back there?”

You laughed somewhat bitterly, but it wasn’t towards her. “Nothing I can't handle.”

Your response didn’t seem to settle her worry as she turned quickly and shot you a sad smile before returning her eyes to the road.

“Boy troubles?”

“Girl.” You rubbed your face, trying to rid yourself of any tear stains that may be lingering and messing up your once really pretty makeup. Not that it really mattered at this point.

“Ah, been there.” She held up her left hand, showing you the shimmering diamond on her finger. “The wife and I have had our fair share of arguments and fallouts, some of them included a situation like this one.”

“Crying in the backseat of a taxi?”

“Crying in the backseat of a taxi.” She laughed lightly, making you smile for the first time tonight.

“It had always worked out though, we’ve never been stronger.”

“Congratulations.” You looked towards the woman “I hope I could be so lucky.” You mumbled, though still loud enough for her to hear. You were mad at Natasha, more disappointed really, but you still loved her, dangerously so. She could stand you up for another 50 dates, and you’d still be head over heels. Angry, but your love would never falter.

“I’m sure you will be. If there’s one thing I've learned over the years, it’s that things have a way of falling into place eventually.”

Pondering her words, you looked out of the car window and noticed that you were pulling up to Stark Tower. It wasn’t long before the car came to a complete stop, the woman turning round to you and beginning to speak again.

“You’ll be okay. It’s obvious you love her, okay? Speak to her. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” She looked at you with nothing but kindness in her eyes, which you did your best to return with a smile. You reached into your purse, handing her the money owed, plus a tip.

“Thank you for the help.”

“Don’t worry about it, go get her.” She winked as you got out of the car and watched her drive away, quickly taking yourself inside to avoid freezing to death as the cold wind blew harshly. Kicking your heels off, you set off with one task at hand. Talk to Nat.

__________________________

“Hey, have any of you guys seen Nat?” You addressed some members of the team who were hanging out in the Kitchen, fixing themselves a snack or just conversing with one another. The second they looked up and took in their appearance, you could’ve sworn their faces paled and saddened slightly as if they knew what had happened.

“I think I saw her head off to train a while ago, but I'm not sure if she’s still there.” Carol replied, her face morphing into one of seriousness. She knew about the missed dates, having found you one night looking completely defeated in one of your nicest dresses and heels. She, alongside Wanda, who had found you both later that night, had spent their night comforting you and reassuring you that she probably hadn’t meant it. They didn’t know what to do, they’d never seen you look so sad before, no matter how much you told them it was okay, the pang in their chest for their best friend hadn’t ceased.

You nodded, quietly thanking Carol and wandered off in search for your girlfriend.

It didn’t take long, she was still training when you’d walked into the gym, sweat practically pouring off of her. Your heart softened briefly when you saw her, her fiery red hair tied back into a ponytail with loose strands all over the place, wearing a black t-shirt, grey sweatpants and a deadpan face as she attacked the dusty punching bag with such force that you’re surprised it hasn’t flown off of the chains yet.

She hadn’t noticed you had walked in, still giving all of her focus to her punches. Maybe she just hadn’t heard you?

“Hi Nat.”

Nothing.

“Nat”

All you could hear was the furious rattling of chains, still not getting a response from the redhead. With a sigh, you decided to try another approach. You stepped closer to her, still keeping a little distance, and leaned forward to tap her shoulder, instantly grabbing her attention. She flung herself around, arm still in midair, her closed fist almost coming into contact with your face.

You don’t know what you expected when she turned around and finally acknowledged your presence, but you definitely didn’t expect to be met with a scowl.

“Seriously? in the middle of training? I could’ve hit you.” She huffed as she turned back to her previous position.

“Sorry. I just wanted to come in and talk to you.”

“About?”

You paused, expecting her to look at you again, but she didn’t.

With a small sigh, you continued. “you missed date night again. I waited for you, but you were a no show.”

“Right, yeah, date night” she muttered, seeming to be unfocused as her eyebrows furrowed and her head kept darting around the room, looking anywhere but at you. “I’ll make the next one.”

“This is the third one you’ve missed this month.” You said firmly, wanting her to understand that this can’t keep happening, of course cancellations or rearrangements were bound to happen sometimes, but she’s just not showing up and then leaving you in the dark as to knowing why.

“I told you, i’ll make the next one.” She walked over to the bench, picking up her water bottle and taking a swig of water, looking directly at you, you look back at her and she just looks so, unbothered.

“I don’t believe you, Nat. You say you’ll make it up to me and then I sit there again, hoping that you’ll be there this time, but you don’t turn up. And now I come back and you’re just training. Could it not have waited? Was that seriously more important?” You raised your voice now, all the anger and frustration you’d felt earlier coming back up to the surface.

You just wanted an explanation, or something to justify how she was acting, but she gave you nothing, not even an attempt, only adding fuel to the fire.

“Why are you getting so annoyed? You should know better than anyone that this is my job.”

“I just explained that to you! Which is more than what you’re giving me right now.”

“Okay, fine, forgive me for not making everything about you for a minute.” She spat bitterly towards you, her temper starting to go as the discussion became more heated.

“Seriously? That’s how you’re seeing this?” If you weren’t so unbelievably irritated, you would’ve laughed at her response.

“You’re being selfish. So I missed a date or two, you’re blowing this out of proportion once again, it’s infuriating.” Selfish?

You raised both your hands, as if in surrender. It was one thing to ditch you, it was another thing to then insult you for speaking up about it. With a tight lipped smile, oozing with sarcasm, you decided that you’d had enough.

“I don’t need to listen to this.”

She shrugged her shoulders, adjusting the gloves she’d just put on. “Then don’t, i’m busy anyways.”. This time, you did laugh.

“What a fucking surprise.”. And with that, you turned on your heels and walked out, hearing the echo of punches fill the room once again, every one feeling like a punch to the stomach.

Maybe these are things falling into place, just not the place you’d hoped.

________________________

You were still in bed at noon the next day, unable to bring yourself to get up and face the world. You didn’t need to worry about anything in the confinement of your bed, even more so considering it wasn’t the bed you shared with Natasha.

After speaking, well, arguing with her last night, you went straight to your shared bedroom, gathered some clothes and your essentials, and slept in your old room that you used to stay in before the two of you started dating. It felt wrong. You always spent your nights with a warm feeling of love washing over you as your girlfriend pressed kisses all over your face, tangling your limbs together in the process.

It wasn’t the same. You felt cold, a type of cold that no heating or blankets could solve. You lacked a weight on your waist, fingertips stroking the skin that was exposed due to your top riding up slightly. Instead, the only comfort you had was the small bear you’ve kept for the las year. It was one that Natasha had given you after she won it at the funfair on your third date, and you could never bring yourself to part with it, remembering how happy she looked when she handed it to you, and the butterflies you felt just from seeing her look so pleased.

The bear was a little worn and torn now, it had been ripped in a couple of places, now replaced with a little sewn on patch of material that didn’t exactly match the shade of brown, and one of the eyes had started to fall off, but you liked that it was different. The assassin had tried to offer to replace it and buy you a new one, but you’d always refuse, insistent that you would keep that bear with you for the rest of time. Even now, when the two of you weren’t speaking, you still held onto it with a death-tight grip.

A knock on the door snapped you out of your daydream.

“Y/N, open up, It’s me.” A familiar voice shouted through. Carol.

“And me!” Wanda.

You heard some muttering outside of the door, something along the lines of Carol suggesting they break the door down, immediately being told that it was unnecessary by the Sokovian. Feeling pretty against the idea of having a doorway with no door, you called out for them.

“Guys, it’s unlocked.” You were quiet, but it was clear that they had heard you as the faint talking stopped altogether and you heard them walk in and shut the door behind them with a ‘click’.

Wanda was the first to approach you, kneeling down beside the bed so that she was at eye level with you, pulling the bed covers down a little to uncover more than your forehead. Once she could see your eyes and nose, she sent you a warm smile.

“Hi sleepy. It’s noon.”

“I know.” She frowned when she heard you speak, your voice raspy from your crying through the night. She hated seeing you like this, she loved both you and Natasha, and it hurt to see you so sad because of the woman you adored.

“We should go and eat something, it’ll help.”

“‘M not hungry.” You pressed your head further into the pillow, the last thing you wanted to do was eat, your stomach already feeling like it was twisting with every minute that passed.

“C’mon, i’ll make you your favourite.” the blonde winked, leaning against your wardrobe.

“Your special pancakes?”

“With extra whipped cream.” She sang, playfully trying to encourage you to leave the bed. You had to hand it to her, she knew you too well.

WIth a brief look between the two, you rubbed your eyes and threw the covers off dramatically, sighing and ensuring that they knew you didn’t approve of this. They knew you were joking, even if you weren’t, all they cared about was making sure you were okay, knowing that when you felt like this, being left alone allows you to neglect yourself and get really low. They don’t mind if you dislike them for a little while, as long as you are looked after.

“There we go! Well done.” Wanda stroked your back and led you towards the door where Carol held it open for you.

“No breaking it down behind my back.” You shot towards her, slightly amused at the guilty look on her face as she realised you’d heard her quarrel beforehand. Shaking her head, she nudged you out of the door, and the three of you made your way into the kitchen.

_______________________

Carol had stuck to her promise of preparing a sweet treat for you, a stack of fluffy pancakes sat in front of you, topped with whipped cream and two cherries on top. You ate slow, still a little cautious of how stable your stomach felt. You could see your two friends talk with one another, not wanting to stare and make you uncomfortable, but occasionally looking over silently to check in on you.

You were feeling pretty content as you sat at the counter, munching away with the two avengers for company. It was only when you heard a voice that you could recognise anywhere.

“Hi guys.”

Not daring to look up, you ket your eyes focused on the food in front of you, hoping that if you just stay quiet, you’ll be invisible to the human eye.

“Hey Nat.”

“Hi.”

Wanda and Carol replied, wary of any interaction between the pair of you that could unfold into something neither of you wanted or that would lead to any regrets.

You lifted your head slightly, able to see the daggers Carol was throwing at Nat, not impressed with her being in the room. You both had always been quite close, often talking about life before becoming superheroes that protect the planet, in her case, planets. In the process, she’d found herself having a soft spot for you, wanting to protect you from anything that could bring you harm. Which you were grateful for, but her glaring was terrifying sometimes, you were more grateful for the fact that her powers weren’t in her eyes, otherwise you would’ve definitely become single five minutes ago.

You could see Natasha out of the corner of your eye, she was filling up the bottle she used for when she was training, her eyes weren’t on what she was doing, instead, she was trying to subtly look up at you through the hood of her eyes. You subconsciously took the opportunity to really take in her appearance.

Her hair hadn’t been tended to since you last saw her, half of it was hanging out of her ponytail, most of it falling in front of her face. Her eyes looked glassy and bloodshot, like she had been crying recently and you could’ve sworn that was your t-shirt she was wearing. The sight sent a wave of sadness over you, wanting nothing more than to leap over the counter and pull her into your arms and tell her things were fine, that the two of you were fine. But you stayed seated, too nervous to make a move.

You didn’t know it, but she regretted speaking to you last night, instantly realising what she’d done after she came back to her room to find it empty and half of your stuff gone. She knew immediately where you’d gone and would’ve gone through to talk it through with you, but she didn’t think it would help. She wanted you to have your time and space before approaching the situation.

With that, she tightened the lid on her bottle, sent you an apologetic smile and walked out of the room, leaving behind an awkward atmosphere in her absence.

“You alright?” Wanda asked

“Yeah, yeah no I'm okay. I’m feeling a little tired though, I'll catch you guys in a bit, okay?” You stood from your seat, not giving either of the two a chance to stop you as you walked out and back to bed. What a day.

_______________________

Hours had gone by now and you were back wrapped up under your bed covers, still clinging onto your bear. You hadn’t bothered to change, you went straight to bed after walking in the door. You’d managed to get some sleep earlier, not a lot, but it was something.

You tossed and turned, trying to find any way of being comfortable so your body could rest and your mind could shut off, but it was deemed to be impossible. All you could think about was your argument with Nat, and how she looked so upset earlier. The thought alone triggered the waterworks again, this time, you didn’t even attempt to stop them.

Only a couple of minutes had passed before there was yet again, another knock on your door. You rolled your eyes, really not wanting any more visitors, you were grateful for the help, but you really wanted to be alone.

“Guys, I’m fine! It’s late, get some sleep.” You called out, waiting to hear retreating footsteps, but they never came. Huh. That’s weird? You brushed it off quickly, assuming that it must’ve just been too quiet to hear, which you wouldn’t put past you due to all the sniffling you’ve been doing in an attempt to silence your crying.

You were wrong. The person at your door hadn’t walked away. They also weren’t Wanda or Carol. Instead, it was who you least expected to be in your room at god knows what time at night after the events that had unfolded recently.

“Hi.” The redhead whispered, worrying that if she spoke any louder, you’d be able to hear her voice shake with nerves, or the huge lump in her throat that wouldn’t budge.

You froze on the spot when you realised who it was, not entirely sure how you were gonna play this. Realistically, you might as well just see what it is she wants, it couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Hey.”

Her footsteps were practically silent but still felt deafening as she stepped closer to you, cringing slightly at how tense and forced all of this felt. It was her fault, she knew that, she hoped you did too. She didn’t want you blaming yourself for her actions, although she couldn’t say anything if you did, she was the one who had insulted you and planted the thought in your head, and she felt every fibre in her body beg for you to forgive her.

Approaching with caution, she walked up to the top of the bed, kneeling where Wanda had been earlier, but unlike Wanda, she didn’t reach out for you. She didn’t feel she had the right. Not now. She quickly took note of your eyes and how they were drooping and red, just like how hers had been earlier, which is how she could know in an instant that you had just been crying. She felt like a knife had gone through her chest at the sight, knowing that she had done that to you. She’d let you down so much that it had brought you to laying in bed alone and crying.

You mumbled something incoherent, completely muffled by the covers that were blocking your mouth.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you through the cover, could you tell me that again?”

You looked down a little, debating on doing it or just asking her to leave this conversation for another day. ‘But, she was already here, so you may as well get on with it.’ you thought, and with that, you tugged the covers down a little, letting Natasha see your full face now, unable to stop a tiny hint of a smile creeping up on her face. Your nose was runny, your eyes were puffy, and your face was flushed, but that didn’t change the fact that she still believed you to be the most beautiful woman she’d seen.

“Has something h-happened?” You hiccuped, noticing the frown take over her features as she maintained her eye contact with you.

“Yeah. i was a complete idiot.”

“Nat-”

“No, no, please. I want to explain. I need to explain. Please?” She pleaded, not caring how desperate she might’ve looked.

You paused for a minute before sighing gently, nodding at her and giving her a non-verbal go ahead to continue. She took a deep breath, looking away for a second then looking back at you before you could even blink. You could see her hands tremble a little, and while you were upset with her, you couldn’t leave it alone. You reached your hand out from under the cover and held it out to her, offering it for her to hold. She grabbed it without hesitation, squeezing it gently as a single tear fell, gathering the courage to say her next words.

“I have no excuse for what I did. There is nothing I could say that would make my actions plausible or acceptable, I shouldn’t have treated you like that or said what I did, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, or don’t want to. But I needed-, no, I need you to know, I'm sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You deserve better.”

More tears had fallen down her face at this point, her thumb not ceasing in their circular movements on the back of your hand. She didn’t know if this was going to be the last time she felt your hand in hers, so with every circle, she was savouring the moment, no matter how badly she wished it was under different circumstances.

You shuffled a little so you were in a more upright position, hoping that it would make speaking easier. You’d taken in every word, and while you were hurt, extremely hurt, you saw how remorseful she was. Her face showed no sign of humour or like she was lying. You could always tell when she was lying, her eyebrow always twitched a little, which you would always be in stitches about when she tried to say she didn’t eat your last cookie and her eyebrows would be moving like mad. They were as still as stone when she was speaking this time.

“You really hurt me, Nat. I didn’t think I was asking for much, just some time with you, that was all. And you left me every time, for work and with no notice. It was embarrassing.” She nodded in acknowledgement as she listened. “A-and then to come back and witness you being so, so, hostile, with me, I didn’t understand what I'd done.”

She gulped audibly before speaking again. “You hadn’t done a thing. Not a thing. I-I threw myself into work, into training. The last mission, I was sloppy, I wasn’t on my A game, it almost ended up with other people seriously hurt. So I thought-” She took a shaky breath in. “I thought, if I trained harder, It would mean I would be better for the next mission. But I disregarded everything else on the radar, including you, and then I got so mad at myself for it that I ended up taking it out on you instead. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body, and it was out of order for me to ever say so. It was wrong, and I don’t think I can apologise enough.`` She gave you an apologetic smile, tears streaming down her face steadily now.

“You know, when I came home from the restaurant, I had this driver.” You smiled. “Nice woman, she’s got a wife. She was telling me that it wasn’t easy for them. They had their ups and downs, their fights and bitterness. But they always found their way back to each other.” You whispered so softly that if there was any other noise in the room, Natasha wouldn’t have heard a word.

“And, when we argued, I really didn’t think we were going to be able to come back from that. I thought that maybe our time had expired.” You sniffled, your own tears trailing their way down your cheeks. Without thinking, she wiped them away, her palm pressing onto your warm cheek as you nuzzled into it, still finding comfort in her touch.

“I don’t want us to expire, Nat.”

There it was. There was the sentence that turned silent tears into fully body wracking sobs, your hands instinctively going to pull away and cover your face, instead, Natasha brought herself up to sit on the side of your bed, hastily bringing you into her chest and her free hand combing its way through your hair.

She rocked you back and forth, letting you get everything out of your system, no matter how much it hurt to hear.

“Shh, I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, moya lyubov.”

Your sobs soon died down with Nat’s help, sobs turning into faint pants with how tired you were and how much energy it had taken out of you. You looked up at her softly, as she smiled down at you.

“I love you, Natty.” You murmured, the words making the assassin’s heart grow fonder for you, if that was ever possible.

“I love you more.”

“Can you stay with me tonight? I can’t sleep without you.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” She leaned over you, bringing the blankets back up and over you, catching a glimpse of some brown fur among the darkness. She knew exactly what it was. She picked up up with the blankets and handed it to you, happiness overtaking her as she saw your eyes light up at the teddy she won for you.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, Detka.” She pressed a kiss to your temple before settling down, holding you tight in her grasp, refusing to let you go for anything or anyone, not that you were complaining, you’d missed this.

Nothing had to be decided tonight, there was no rush for discussion. Sure, there were still things to talk through and work out, but that can wait. All that mattered right now, was that Natasha was there. She was holding you in her arms and you felt every ounce of love and apology she could give you. And that was enough for now.

taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova @wvnda-maximoff

[shigarakis-cumdump]

An Unhealthy Obsession- Shigaraki x reader

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: Short yandere fic based off the song “An Unhealthy Obsession,” by The Blake Robinson Synth. Orchestra. 

Cw: yandere and stalker tendencies

Word count: 1.9k 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Many people would call Shigarki the creepy type if they saw him on the street. Slouched over, face always buried in his phone with his hoodie covering the rest. He looked like your local creep who hung around popular stores and malls by himself. He would go to one mall in particular, even more so after he realized they had a Game Stop there. He would frequently go in to browse, and while he was checking out one day, he met you behind the counter.

“Will this be all?” you ask in your sweet customer service voice, with your head slightly tilted. Shigaraki froze in place. No one this pretty has ever talked to him before.

“Um, yeah, that’s all.” he says quickly, looking down to the ground while you're bagging his games.

“This one’s my favorite; I’ve been playing non-stop since it came out, have fun with it!” you say as you hand the bag back. And you play games? Could it get any more perfect?!

“Thanks,” he managed before walking out of the store and finding the closest bathroom. He locked the stall door and sat down. With his heartbeat in his cock, he couldn’t stop thinking of how innocent your voice sounded, and how pretty you looked. He decided from then on you were his next obsession.

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Shigaraki visited the store so often he learned your schedule. He would watch others make small talk with you, and it made him want to steal you for himself. His blood boiled when someone else would make you laugh. Soon enough, seeing you at your work wasn’t enough. He wanted to know more about you. So he followed you home one day. He kept his distance, being too scared of appearing creepy to people around him. You lived a few blocks away from him, who knew!This made it very easy for Shigaraki to stake out across the street and just watch you for hours. You always kept your windows open, maybe for the natural light? He appreciated it though; in his eyes, you left your blinds open for him. So he could watch as you dance around your room with your dog, and then relax and watch tv, hugging a pillow as you accidentally fall asleep. You were precious, and he realized all you wanted, all you needed, was someone like him to cuddle up into, to make sure you were safe. After all, there were too many creeps who could hurt you- he was just making sure they didn't get to you.

Shigaraki made it back to his place, but you never left his head. He went from sitting in the bushes, to sitting hunched over his desk, looking up your name on every search engine imaginable. “Bingo!” he says once he finds your socials. He scrolls down your page, seeing your stories about going to conventions earlier in the summer, spending time with your friends and- oh? What’s this? You were hugging a boy in this picture. Shigaraki zoomed in to get a good look at his face. “Why would you want a bastard like him?” he grunted angrily. He clicked on his profile and saw a post of you two eating at “your favorite restaurant” together for his birthday. The post was from the beginning of this year, so maybe you weren’t still with the guy. I mean Shigaraki didn’t see anyone while he was stalking you, which was a good sign.

Over time, his camera roll would fill up with screenshots of you off of your profile, shaky pictures he snapped of you while you were working, etc. He was in the store just when you worked now, because any other time he was following paces behind you to wherever your pretty feet were taking you. Stepping up to the counter with a few games, you began checking him out. His voice low and quiet as he asked, “Do you play games often?”

“Oh sure! Whenever I have free time, really. But lately I’ve been too busy. We should totally play together sometime!” you beam. Play together? He wanted to do a lot more than that .

“C-Cool, then I’ll see you through a screen next time,” Shigaraki scratches his neck awkwardly. You give him that practiced smile you show to all the customers. “Oh, what time do you get out?” he asks, and you give him a confused look. “S-so I know when to hop on! Just in case..” he drifts off, trying to keep cool. You tell him around 8, and he leaves. That’s perfect. Gives him just enough time to run some errands.

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Shigaraki went to the hardware store and got the smallest cameras he would find. He hurried over to your place, and prayed the key was still under the rug where you left it. And it was! He unlocked your door, and your small dog ran up to him, jumping on his leg. “You’re a friendly little guy, aren’t you?” he says, leaning down to pet the dog. Don’t get distracted ! He reminded himself. He began by setting a few cameras up in your room, one facing each corner. This gave him a perfect view of your bed, desk, and closet. While he was in there, he picked up a piece of thin red fabric off the ground. He inhaled deeply, to smell a sweet and salty scent. He shoved them into his pockets for later, and finished placing the cameras.

Back out in the living room, your dog was following him around. Shigaraki knelt down and gave him a pat. He read the dog's collar; apparently his name was Shiro. Cute. “You want something, Shiro? You need some food?” he asked, looking around for his dog dish. He found it and filled it up and then sat on the couch. He took your panties out of his pocket, giving them another whiff. The smell shot straight down to his groin, heating him up. He pulled his phone out and went to his album just for you and scrolled through the pictures. He loved you so dearly, and one day you would know just how much he cherished you. He played back the small interactions the two of you had, and all the memories you’d have together in the future. He palmed his hardening cock, head leaning back on the couch.

It was 6:30, he still had a few more hours before you were back. He revealed his dick from his sweatpants, his tip leaking pre. He put your red panties in his hand, and started to jerk himself off- the soft lace brushing against the underside of his dick. His breathing became hitched and sporadic at the thought of you underneath him making the same noises. No, he wasn’t experienced, but you would teach him everything he needed to know!

“Y/N… god you’re so tight..” he groaned. His hips thrusting up into you as you let out lewd noises for him. He grabbed your face and whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“God please- fuck, I’m close, Shiggy!” you whined under him, twitching with your back arched and a tit in his mouth. The thoughts that filled his mind went directly to his cock. Shigaraki humped his hand, wishing it could be you, waiting for when it was you. Maybe you’d even fuck on this couch, who knows. He quickly finished and made sure to leave nothing behind before heading out and staking out behind the bushes again.

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You throw yourself on the couch as always, sitting where he sat just an hour ago. You made yourself some tea as you turned the tv on. It wasn’t too late, meaning Shigaraki could watch you for a bit.

A little later, you make yourself dinner. You take the trash out and leave it by the road. Shigaraki, being the weirdo he is, makes his way across the street, dangerously close to your front window, to snoop through your trash. There had to be something good in there. . He rummaged through your trash to find empty take out containers, some paper, and- chapstick? He wasn’t big on using it himself, but if it was yours, it was automatically going on his lips. He thought of it like an indirect kiss from his one and only. It had a taste of sweet strawberries, probably what you would taste like if he ever had the chance to kiss you. One day, he keeps telling himself. He pulls out his phone to check your room cameras and he sees you starting up your pc. Right! You asked to game with him earlier!  Shigaraki raced back home to load his game, praying he would find you in one of the local servers. There was FlameThrower2050 , TheRadicalDude , SuckItRight , and Shiro’sCloud online. You had to be the last one. He shot you a direct message, asking if you were up for a game, and you said yes. You actually said yes! Of course, you didn’t know it was him. You went into a private lobby and you turned on your headset. “Hey, can you hear me?” you asked innocently. Your pure voice went right through his heart. “Uh yeah, you sound great,” he blurts out. “Oh, Shigaraki?” you remembered his name?! This left him ecstatic. The game starts and you play a few rounds, Shigaraki being in heaven. You ended up beating him. In every. Single. Round. A bit embarrassing for him, but you laughed it off and didn’t make fun of him for it. Oddly, that stuck with him. You were so nice the whole time- he couldn’t wait to talk to you at work tomorrow!

It was getting late, which is why you had to go, which also meant Shigaraki got to watch you on the cameras. He pulled out his phone, switching to the view of your bed. You crawled in with just panties and an oversized shirt on, how cute. You scrolled on your phone for a little, until it dropped on your chest and you fell asleep. Your phone battery is gunna die, silly… Shigaraki thinks to himself. He could always go over and plug it in for you. No! That was too dangerous!! What if you wake up when he’s standing over you? Certainly that’s not a good impression to leave. He argues with himself for a bit before he’s out of the house, running down the street. His feet carry him all the way back to your place. He grabs the key and goes for the door. It was unlocked. You left it unlocked for him? How nice of you! He sneaks in and Shiro is quick to jump on him. Shiro took quite a liking to him. He tiptoed over to your room, looking at your sleeping body through the door crack. He opened the door slightly, going in and looming over you. He pried the phone from out of your hands and plugged it in for you. You would thank him later; tomorrow! When you’d see him next. Shigaraki zoned out, watching you sleep soundly for a good hour, stealing pictures of you while you were snoring, and getting a quick sniff of your hair. He had stayed there a lot longer than intended, the sun starting to rise. He snuck out of your room and locked the door on his way out.

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“Oh, hey!” Shigaraki hears your pleasant voice call out to him from the counter. “Last night was a lot of fun; how about we play again tonight?” you ask him. He immediately says yes, his heart doing flips in his chest. This was the start of something good.

[starsscribble]

Stick Shift

Summary: Rick thinks he freeing Y/n. Y/n thinks she's the problem.

Tags: Angst, No comfort, Age Difference, Reader is 25 Rick is in in 40.

A/n: This was when I was on my Walking Dead kick. Finally got it edited.

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

  You pulled into the post-apocalyptic suburbs; in a separate car than what Glenn and you left in. Your earlier pride of find and driving said care was gone. Now in it place was a numb type of sadness. It was stupid. You know that. Getting worked up over the fact you were driving a stick shift. All on your own. But Rick. Your boyfriend; ex-boyfriend now. He had been the one to teach you how to drive a stick shift. Before Virginia. When the group was still in the prison. When you were both still happy.

  “Come on,” his southern drawl was clear as day. You let out a puff of air. Head pushing against the headrest. “This was your idea. You gotta confess something.” You started to hate that you suggested this game, but the drive was so damn long. You didn’t have the radio to help distract you. No, it was just you, Rick, and a long stretch of Georgia backroad. The former sheriff’s right hand shifted off the steering wheel. Moving carefully as not to catch your attention. You were still racking your brain for a secret to tell. Then a yelp left your mouth. You jumped in your seat making the older man laugh. Hand retreated to the wheel.

“That’s what you get for taking so long pumpkin.” He grinned; eyes shifted from the road onto you. A hint of playfulness in those ocean blue eyes. 

“I was thinking of something!” You shot back making him chuckle before looking back to the road. 

“There’s gotta be something you have never told anyone.”

“Well,” you hummed. Readjusting in your seat. “I don’t know if this would count because I’ve never told this to anyone in the group.”

“I’ll count it.” He glances at you quickly, still smiling. Which makes you smile.

“Alright. I don’t know how to drive a stick shift.” You feel the jerk was the car spot. Rick looked at you as if you just told him the undead are all gone. Eye full of disbelief. 

“You’re joking.” He speaks after a beat and you shake your head. Nope, you couldn’t drive a stick to save your life. And with how the world was it just might. Rick took off his seatbelt as you questioned just what he was doing. “I’m gonna teach you how to drive stick. You might need it.”

“We are on a run.”

“Yep and this is the perfect time. Now get into the driver’s seat.”

  Slowly you parked next to Glenn. Killing the engine you got out as Glenn moved over to your vehicle. He smiled at you. Today was a good day. Got more food, medicine, and another car. The possibilities for cars were endless. Used for parts. Set up at protection. Used as traps. Daryl Dixon the town resident mechanic would have a field day with this car.

“I’m gonna check in with Rick,” Glenn says. You see him playing with his wedding band. Maggie’s baby bump had started to show and Glenn didn’t like being away for too long. Patting his shoulder you speak.

“Go see Maggie and your baby.” You slammed the driver’s side door shut. The dark-haired man stares at you. Willing to argue with you on this.

“Really it’s-” You raised your hand stopping him.

“If you don’t go check up on Maggie. I will and I’ll tell her how you screamed like a girl.” His eyes widen at the threat. 

“I didn’t know a group of bats would be in there!” He defended himself only making you grin at him. You both head away from the parking area. Back towards the stretch of cookie-cutter homes. You nudge his shoulder with yours.

“First it’s a colony of bats. Second, not only was the scream funny, so was your face.” You teased him. Glenn shoved your shoulder playfully. Before mumbling that he was going to check in with his wife. Leaving you with the task of checking in with the community’s newly appointed leader Rick. 

  Jogging onto his porch you knocked on the door. Eyes looking everywhere but the door until it opened. Sadly it wasn’t the male you were looking for. Carl greeted you with a soft smile. The bandages that once covered his right eye socket had been replaced with a custom-made eyepatch.

“Ahoy captain.” You tease the teenager who rolled his remaining eye. “Your dad here? Just checking in since Glenn and I got back.”

“Nope. Haven’t seen him since this morning.” Carl tells you, making you nodded. “When I see him…” He trails off because he knows you will just hunt his dad down. “I don’t know where he is.” He's lying. You know it. He knows that you know. But you just nod and quickly thank him. Tell him to kiss his sister for you before turning off the porch.

  And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

  You know where Rick Grimes is. Feet carrying you down the still blood-stained street. Streets that just weeks ago were covered with the undead. You wave kindly to the people passing by. It is a mix of your group, older residents, and new people. You still feel out of place. Maybe you always will. Maybe you won't. You wonder quietly to yourself. A nice distraction. Because if you thought about where you were going. Where you had to go. You might just break. So you let your mind wander. Let your feet carry you to the destination. Everything seemed to be on autopilot. Until your using the knocker of the baby blue house. Her house.

“We should end this,” Rick says matter-of-factly. You stopped brushing your hair to look at him. He’s not facing you. Back facing you as he pulled his jeans on. 

“What?” Maybe you misheard him. Maybe it was your ear playing a trick on you. Because Rick couldn’t be breaking up with you right now.

“We should break up.” He rephrases. The words take the air from your lungs. Your mouth opened to say words that your mind can’t even come up with. The silence in the room grew by the seconds. It finally became too much for the man as he turned to face you. Jeans zipped up but not buttoned. Belt lay next to his shirt on the bed but his eyes fell on you instead. 

“Say something.” He requested of you softly. That same soft voice that he used when he said he loved you. Tears that formed in your eyes finally fell as you blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Before you looked him in the eyes.

“Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” Getting shot was nothing compared to your question to him. Because he knew you honestly thought you did something wrong. You always doubted yourself. But you were perfect. So goddamn perfect. And amazing. And young. 

“No sweetheart. It’s just…” He stops himself from going over to embrace you. Tell you to forget about it. Because this has to happen. You're 24. His 39. Even if the group. His and your family were ok with it. He heard the whispers around town. The other weren’t as supportive. 

“I think we should end this. We had an amazing run. And you're young. You’re gonna find someone else that will love you more than I ever could.” He breaks his own heart with his words. Because he doesn’t want you to find someone else. He wants to be with you until the end. When and where ever the end was. But you deserve better. You deserve someone around your age. Not an old man with two children like him. 

“I…” you stare at him. Cheeks strained with tears he caused. “I don’t want someone else.” You grab the comforter. It gets balled up as you tighten your grip on the fabric. Your mind running over everything you had done in the last weeks to get to the point. You had snapped at him a few days back because of Jessie Anderson. The blonde woman in her thirties that lived up the street. You didn’t hear what they were talking but her body language told you everything. She was flirting with Rick. And either he didn’t notice or didn’t care. Doubt played in your mind the whole day after seeing the interaction. Because Jessie was around Rick’s age. And you weren’t. You didn’t really have any life experience before the world ended. So it made sense if Rick preferred a woman his own age. As opposed to you, a 24-year-old kid in his eyes.

“I can get you a brownstone to stay in.” He said. Brushing off your comment. Which broke your heart even more.

  The door opened showing the blonde that lived there. A smile and questioning look on her face. 

“Is Rick here?” You asked, watching as she turned her head and yelling the man’s name into the home. He comes out from the kitchen; questioning who it was. The question dying in his throat when he saw it was you. Jessie excused herself leaving you and Rick alone. The former sheriff stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” he gives you a tight-lipped smile. Which you return.

“Just came to tell you Glenn and I are back.”

“Right,” he nods. “You guys went on a run. Get anything good?” You nodded before listing off some of the supplies you got. Including the stick shift car. You heard him chuckle. Looking into his eyes you saw that same playfulness as the day he first forced you to drive a stick. 

“You didn’t flood the engine this time right?” He teased and you scoffed, punching him in the shoulder. 

“I was amazing.” You boasted. The older man stared at you and you swear you heard a quiet. ‘Ya, you are.’ 

“You don’t mind if I asked Glenn?” You roll your eyes but smile.

“Go ahead. He's gonna tell you the same thing.” He nodded. Hand going on his hips. You watch as he licks his lips. Your breath hitching as you feel your stomach twisting in knots. “I should go. Need a shower desperately.” You don’t wait for him to say goodbye or stop you. You're off the porch and down the road heading home in a few steps. 

  And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you, but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

  Maggie can’t drink. But that doesn’t mean you and Sasha can’t. Sasha, Abraham, and Rosita had come back later in the day from another run. They had been the unlucky ones not finding much of anything. But Sasha apparently found some top-tier booze in a rundown bar. The trio split it up between them. So here you were. Snacking on fresh strawberries drinking booze that would have been at least $100 for a bottle; straight out of the bottle. The three of you resting against the metal wall that protected the town from the nasty world outside.

“So,” Maggie started as she threw a strawberry stem into a bowl filled with them. “Heard someone talk with Rick.” Sasha and her eyes went to you as you grabbed the glass bottle of auburn liquid. Taking a healthy swig you felt the burn as it went down. You were far too sober to be talking about this. Talking about him. Because no one in the group knew why you guys ended it. Just one day you were a happy couple and the next you were packing up and moving into your own brownstone. Sasha took the bottle from you, making you whine. As you tried to reach for it but the former firefighter held it out of reach. Her hand on your chest also keeping you away from it.

“You can get some when you tell us what happened.” She landed down the rule and it makes you groan as you move to lay against the wall. You don't want to talk about it. You just want to wallow and let the scar form on your heart in peace.

A crack of thunder sends the trio onto the back porch of Maggie’s home. Lucky for you guys because moments after; the dark clouds opened up letting down heavy droplets that ping off the porch’s roof. Sasha is distracted by the rain. Asking Maggie if the crops will be ok. Allowing you to snatch the bottle from her hand and take another big glug. The bottle is half gone now. And honestly so are you. The alcohol works fast as your brain starts to go fuzzy. Sasha takes the bottle back slightly annoyed. But it clear the break-up has been hard. So she lets it go.

“You got your drink.” She says putting the cap back on and sitting it to the side out of your reach. “Now tell us what happened.”

“I don’t know.” You sob. You weren’t normally an emotional drunk. But with everything going on with Rick. Tonight you were. 

  And I know we weren't perfect

But I've never felt this way for no one, oh

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay, now that I'm gone

  Maggie held you as you drunkenly cried. Sasha joined you on the other side, rubbing your back. You finally opened up about your breakup with Rick a month ago. You weren’t sure how much they understood because of the loud rain and your blubbering. But either way, they consoled you. Trying to help the only way they could. And the only way they knew how. Simply being there. Because for a month you kept this end. Kept this to yourself. So those outside of the group saw you were fine. The break-up didn’t seem to affect you. You carried on with work. Talked with Rick when it was needed. You acted fine. 

But the group knew it. Of course, they knew. It was an act. Because they saw how you were breaking. How you had a longing in your eyes when the cowboy boots-wearing man walked by. The smile that rarely reached your lips. You were faking so much of your joy because your heart was broken. 

“I just don’t get how he is so ok. Did I mean nothing?” The two women share a look at your question. Because they also know that Rick isn’t ok. Like you, he is acting. Because he is the leader and can’t break down. But the man isn’t ok. They don’t say that. Rick was the one that ended it. That was on him.

“I don’t know,” Maggie says softly as you rest your head onto her shoulder. “I wish I had the answer for you. But only Rick does.”

  Red lights, stop signs

I still see your face in the white cars, front yards

Can't drive past the places we used to go to

'Cause I still fuckin' love you, babe

  The street lights are now on. It’s still raining when you tell Maggie you were going home. Sasha and her try to get you to stay the night. Or at least until the rain lets up. But the rain isn't letting up. It was so heavy you could barely see a few steps in front of you. But you step off the back porch and disappear down the alleyway of the lined-up homes. You walk. Just walk because you don’t want to go home just yet. If you go home you’ll be lonely. And you don’t want that. Because for a month you have been lonely in that damn brownstone. Rick wasn’t lonely. He was with Jessie. His arms wrapped around her body. Damn your brain. Just because you didn’t want to be lonely didn’t mean you wanted to think about them together. 

  The rain started to ease up as you found yourself passing Rick’s house. The lights upstairs were on. As you quickly looked away from the cookie-cutter home. A shiver ran through you and shoved your hands into your soaked jean pockets. Maybe now was a good time to head home. You haven’t even turned when you heard your name being shouted over the rain. Looking back at Rick’s home you see him rushing off the porch and over to you. His dark brown jacket acting as an umbrella. He puts it mostly over you shielding you from the rain.

“What are you doing out here? You're going to get sick.” He frets because he knows how likely that is. Because after the rainstorm when the group was on the trek through Virginia you had gotten sick. “Come on.” He orders and you walk with him toward his house. 

  Sidewalks we crossed

I still hear your voice in the traffic, we're laughing

Over all the noise

  You smile at him lightly as he places a cup of peppermint tea in your hand; you're favorite. You're in one of his white t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair, no longer wet from the rain but a hot shower. The alcohol is still in your system. How much you don’t know. 

“What were you doing walking in the rain?” He questioned taking the seat next to you. His own cup of tea in his hand.

“Was drinking with Sasha and Maggie.” You look towards him as his eyebrows knit together as the mention of Maggie and drinking. “Maggie was moderating us. She wasn’t drinking, come on. She knows better.” Rick nods bowing his head because he does know better to think that about Maggie. But his time as a cop taught him that some people just don’t care. Not about themselves. Not about others. And sure as hell not about kids. 

“Where did you get the booze from? Daryl?” You snort at him before blowing on your tea taking a careful sip. Sitting the cup down you look back towards him.

“I ain’t no rat officer.” He chuckles. You both do. A little inside joke between you both. And then the silence fell. The awkward uncertain silence of two people who didn’t know what to say next. You chew on the inside of your cheek as you stare into the tea. Rain still going strong outside, trapping on the roof of your former home.  Rick shifts beside you clearing his throat.

“Judy trying to walk.” It makes you smile a bit. 

“That’s good. Soon she’ll be running over you and Carl.” The older man chuckles nodding in agreement but you don’t see it. Head still bowed. Turning your mug as you watch the tea shift with each motion. 

“Seeing anyone?” He was trying to keep the conversation going. But there had to be another question to ask that wasn’t this. You still answer it by shaking your head.

“No. But you seemed to have moved on.” It has some bite to you. You're bitter. Of course, you are. The man you were in love with. Seemed to easily move on after he ended it. You lift the ceramic mug and take a huge glug of your tea. The warmth fills you but it’s not enough.

“Ya. Jessie, she’s…” He doesn’t know what to say. Jessie is ok. Good to have around. Doesn’t make him feel as empty. But she is just not you. All her touches. All her kisses. They feel off and he knows why. Because the hands touching him aren’t yours. Neither are the lips that kiss him. But Rick is stubborn. Even if it hurts you both, he knows you need better. You deserve the world and he just can’t give it to you.

“She’s perfect.” You looked at him. Sadness, rooted so deeply in your eyes. He wants to pull you into him. Tell you that he is sorry. That he will end it with Jessie. Come back to you. And try to make all of this right. But he already drew his line in the sand and he won’t cross it. Because the moment he touches you he knows it will be his undoing.

“She has her flaws. No one is perfect.” Except for you. He wants to add. He hears a quiet 'ya' then it silence once again.

  God, I'm so blue, know we're through

But I still fuckin' love you, babe

  You were gone when Rick woke up. His clothes lay on the guest bed since you were dried. He wondered just when you left. He wondered if you slept at all. Because he didn’t. Knowing you were in the house but not in his arms. He was restless the whole night. He sighs. Picking clothes up. It was sad that he hoped this wouldn’t be the last time. But it most likely was going to be the only time. Because how often are you going to walk in the rain drunk? He takes the clothes to the laundry room. Before he throws the shirt in the basket he lifts it to his nose. Inhaling the flowery body wash scent from when you shower last night. You must found where he hid the body wash you left behind. 

“Hey, dad!” Carl called out from the kitchen forcing Rick to dump the clothes in the basket. Entering the kitchen he smiled at his son. Judith was already in her high chair waiting for breakfast. Carl stood at the counter. The box of peppermint tea in his hands. Shit. He meant to put that up. Carl’s eye shifts from the box towards the sink. Where the mugs from last night sat unwashed. Then the young man turns to his father.

“Y/n was here wasn’t she?” He questioned but it was really a statement. It is the only reason for this tea to be out with two mugs in the sink.

“Ya,” He replied, moving towards his son and taking the box of tea from his hand. The young man sighed watching his father place the tea on a high shelf so only he could get to it.

“Why?” Carl asked.

“It was raining-”

“No,” he cut his father off. “Why did you break up with her?”

“Carl,” Rick sighed. As he pinched the bridge of his nose. If he didn’t want to have this conversation with Daryl or Michonne. He sure as hell didn’t want it with his son. But like Rick the young survivor was stubborn. He stepped into his father's past every time he tried to move around him.

“Carl,” Rick warns but the boy isn’t back down.

“No. You were happy with Y/n. Happier than I have ever seen you. Even with mom. Even before all of this.” The boy gestures at nothing but Rick knows what he means by that. Because he didn’t want to admit it. But his and Lori’s relationship was at rock bottom before the world ended. 

“So why? What happened?” Carl pressed, making Rick sigh. He wondered. Only for a second. If Michonne had put Carl up to his. But he shook that from his head. Michonne won’t do that. This is purely Carl. Because Carl loves you so much. The both of you had apparently clicked before Rick had gotten to the quarry. And that bond only grew over time. 

“It’s complicated, Carl. Now please,” Rick needed him to down the subject. And the young boy seemed to understand but is still pissed. He turns from his father. Feet carrying the young boy towards the door. “Where are you going?” He called out.

“Out!” And the slamming door let Rick know that Carl was gone. He sighed. 

  He knew everyone would move on. You would. Carl would. He would. In the far future, all of this will be just a bad memory. But right now. In the present, it hurt so fucking bad. Tears leaked from his eyes as he sucked in air. He did it to himself. He deserved this pain. And if he could he would take your pain. Allow you to be happy. To find love in someone else better than him. Because you're one of the good things in this ugly world. 

  I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

[outsideratheart]

A Leopard Can Change Its Spots - Part 2 (Christen Press x reader)

Based off Anon request: Could you do another one with reader being someone who doesn't really expresses what shes feeling. As Far as the team knows she only ever had hookups ans no relationship. An Chris has a huge Crush in her.

A/N: I got carried away so I split this fic into two parts - find part 1 here

During that month you had seen Christen almost everyday. You had joined her for morning yoga, which she did a little too early for your liking, she had invited to go to for breakfast on several occasions and you returned the favour a few times too. You went on sunset hikes in the Hollywood hills together.

You took full advantage of having Christen all to yourself. 

Near the end of the month you and Christen had gone for sushi followed by a few drinks. Clearly the liquid courage had worked on Christen because she was shamelessly flirting with you, she leaned in to kiss you but you didn’t want to take advantage of her intoxication. Ever since then she had avoided you, giving you every excuse under the sun as to why she couldn’t see you. You thought you were being a gentlewoman that night at the bar, clearly Christen didn’t agree.

The national team was in LA for a game and you texted Christen to see if she wanted to carpool to the hotel. Much to your surprise, she said yes.

“So are you just going to ignore me the entire time or just this past week and the car ride?” You say playfully but also seriously.

“I’m not ignoring you, I was busy” Christen continues to look out of the window determined not to make eye contact.

“Whatever Chris” you say turning you attention back to the road.

The awkwardness makes the car journey feel like hours but after 40 minutes you two arrive at the team hotel.

“Did you two come together? Is there something you want to tell us?” Sonny says as she greets the two of you in reception.

“We did but you didn’t miss much” You say harshly before looking at Christen.

Christen ignores your comment and goes to check in.

“Sup Player?” Ash says.

“I’m not a player” you say seriously “Believe it or not, this last month had changed me” 

You hear Christen scoff from the side of you.

“Whatever you say” Ash says.

Truth is, the last month had changed you. Spending time with Christen made you realise that she is what you want. You want to wake up with her every morning and not with some stranger.

 A few hours later everyone decides to go for a drink at a bar down the road.

You were sat at the head of the table and Christen was sat at the other end. You couldn’t keep your eyes of her, she on the other hand is looking at everyone except you.

Some of the team could drink like sailors, others could not. Drinking games definitely didn’t help those who were lightweights but it was really funny to watch them as they began to slur their words.

The highly intoxicated included Kelley and Sonny, no surprise there. Rose and sam were slowly getting on their level but what surprised you was Christen, you had never seen her drunk.

“How about another round of drinks” Christen says “on me” and everyone cheers.

Christen goes to get up before falling back down on her chair.

“I’ll get this round Christen” You tell her. Despite your trying you couldn’t get drunk, it was just one of those nights.

“That’s nice” the green eyes woman pauses “Maybe you are a gentlewoman”

You lean into her ear so that only she can hear you.

“First you ignore me then you throw my sincere words back at me but somehow I’m the asshole” You whisper walking away shaking your head.

The rest of the team look at each other in bewilderment. 

“What was that about?” Lindsey asks.

“I have no idea” Sonny says shrugging her shoulders before downing her drink so that she was ready for the new one.

You go to the bar and order drinks and everyone a shot each. It wasn’t often that you could all drink, especially during national camp.

A woman comes up to you whilst you are waiting for the drinks. She began flirting and you politely told her that you wasn’t interested yet she persisted, not taking no for an answer.

You roll your eyes, you weren’t in the mood tonight. You look back at the table trying to get Kelley’s attention. The two of you had a deal, if someone was hitting on you and you wasn’t interested the other person would come to the rescue.

After several looks, you finally get her attention.

“Look’s like I am needed. Kelley to the rescue, time to put my girlfriend hat on” She jokes.

 Just as she gets up Christen stops her.

“I’ll go” she says and before anyone can stop her she is at your side.

At this point the team knew something was going on between the two of you. 

What happens next shocks you.

Christen is standing between you and the stranger. She grabs your face and kisses you. You respond immediately as you feel her mouth open against yours. This was your’s and christen first kiss and it definitely wasn’t just a peck on the lips.

She pulls away and you are speechless. 

“Everything ok baby?” She says calmly.

You stand there. What had just happened.

“I thought you could use a hand” She says as she grabs some drinks.

The woman who was flirting with you is no longer there.

“and people say I play games, god you mess with my head” You say and Christen ignores you as she takes the drinks back to the table.

The other players look on in shock. 

You order 3 shots before necking them, trying to figure out your next move.

You sit down at the table, rubbing your necking as you try to work out why Christen would do that, especially in front of everyone. Did she mean it or was she just trying to get a reaction out of you.

“Well would you look at that. Y/N is all flustered” Kelley makes a joke but you weren’t having any of it.

“She isn’t flustered. If she was it would been mean that she actually has feelings and clearly she doesn’t” Christen says.

You saw red, if Christen wanted to play then you would play.

“What makes you think that I don’t?” You say clearly hurt by christen’s words.

“You sleep with strangers and pretend to care about people when clearly you don’t” 

“I did care Christen, maybe that was the problem. I opened my heart to the wrong person” 

“you don’t have a heart” Christen says maliciously.

You throw money onto the table before storming out the bar.

The next morning you wake to a knock at your door. You begrudgingly get out of bed to answer it. When you open the door you see Kelley and Sonny, you had forget that you had planned to go for for a coffee.

“I would tell you that I am not in the mood but if you two are willing to go when you look like that then I don’t really have an excuse” You tell them before motioning them to come in whilst you get changed.

No matter how many times you told them you didn’t want to talk about, Kelley and Sonny kept asking you about last night which then lead them to ask about the month you had off.

The morning out was really nice once they stopped bugging you. 

The three of you spent the day exploring the area before going back to the hotel. As you got to your floor so saw a bunch of players huddled outside a room.

“What’s going on?” You ask not recognising whose room they all stood in front of.

Everyone looked at you but didn’t say anything.

“I know you all heard me” you say slightly frustrated.

“I can’t prove it but I feel like it is your fault” Tobin tells you.

Your ignore Tobin’s comment. If they weren’t going going to tell you, you would figure it out by yourself. Looking around you notice that Christen isn’t part of the huddle.

“Is she in there?” You ask Ali and she nods.

“She called Tobin in tears, it sounded like she was having a panic attack but she won’t let anyone in” Ali tells you.

You go to walk towards the door but Tobin stands in your way.

“Clearly she doesn’t want to see or talk to you, if she did you all wouldn’t still be standing here so I will ask you nicely, move. out. of. my. way” You tell her looking straight in her eyes.

Tobin doesn’t move at first. It is only when Alex grabs her shoulder that she moves to the side.

“Christen” You don’t know what to say. You were still mad at her but that didn’t mean you wanted to see her in pain.

“Open the door” You look around to see everyone staring at you.

You had shown Christen a side of you that nobody else on the team at seen. That was about to change.

“Chris, come with me. Let me take you somewhere, somewhere you can breath. Come with me, I promise everything will me ok, I won’t let anything happen to you” You say trying to reassure her.

You breathe a sigh of relief when she opens the door.

You hold out your hand out and she takes it.

“Y/N, what I said last night” Christen begins to say.

“Not here” You tell her as you push through your teammates.

Thinking on your feet, you decide the best place to take her is to the roof but when you get there you realise that you have nothing to say to Christen so you give her space so that she is focus on her breathing.

“Thank you” She says “I don’t deserve your kindness”

“No, you don’t” you reply honestly.

“I’m sorry”

You don’t accept Christen’s apology, you want an explanation.

“What did I do?” You ask.

You walk over the the outdoor sofas and Christen follows you.

Christen looks at you, she hadn’t seen you like this before. You were hurting and it was her doing.

“I was drunk” Christen was taking the cowards way out but you weren’t having any of it.

“Try again” you tell her.

“In LA, you rejected me” 

You try to respond but Christen holds her hand up signally you to let her talk. You relax into the sofa as you let her explain herself.

“That night when we went for Sushi, I tried to kiss you and you pulled away. I was embarrassed so I shut you out” you roll your eyes, you knew she was avoiding you.

“Ok, ok. You were right but what did you expect”

“I was trying to be a gentlewoman but you knew that” you say referring to her comment at the bar.

“I wanted to kiss you but I wanted our first kiss to be memorable, I guess now it will be” You definitely wouldn’t forget it any time soon.

“You kiss drunk women all the time” retorts Christen.

“You are different. You are the highlight of my day. I hate early mornings but you made them worth it, especially in those leggings” You joke and Christen slaps your arm playfully “Every moment I’m not with you, I am thinking of the next time I will be. I go to bed thinking ‘god I cant wait to see Christen tomorrow’” You confess.

“Y/N I am so sorry. My behaviour last night was inexcusable” 

Christen moves closer to you.

“I said things I shouldn’t have and that I didn’t mean. I wanted to get a reaction out of you because I didn’t know where we stood”

Once again, Christen moved closer to you. 

“But I’m not sorry for the kiss” She admits cockily.

“We could always have a redo?” You say timidly.

This time you move closer to Christen so that you are inches apart.

You close you eyes, as you lean in. You place your lips against Christen’s, a simple kiss but with more meaning than ever before.

“Does that mean you will give me another chance?” Christen asks.

You nod your head “Yes but now you have to explain our current situation to the rest of the team because I don’t have the patience”

[scumbagg]

NSFT/18+

Space Ghost Coast to Coast

A/N: I purely wrote this as Bell instead of Y/N since I can’t bring myself to write Y/N fics 😂 

I recently finished MW2 and needed some Ghost food to heal my broken heart after the traumatic betrayal I witnessed. Also maybe a bit of DadPrice! giving a lecture. Here goes nothing..

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem Bell

Word count: 3252

Warnings: smut, injury (gunshot), blood, swearing.

“Eyes up, scouts patrolling up ahead.”

Price’s voice in your earpiece came through at the exact moment the two men appeared in your line of vision 40 metres in front of you.

“Dropped him.”

Aiming your sniper, the guard trailing slightly behind fell to the ground before you’d even had time to place your finger on the trigger. Taking aim at the other man’s head, your rifle made almost no sound as you took him out a second later.

“Nice shot. Move up.”

“Thanks.” You whispered back. You turned back for a moment to the place you knew Price was laying hidden almost 90 metres behind you.

“Move, Bell. We won’t have much time before more patrols come along and find those bodies.” Soap’s whispered voice now, also in your earpiece - but you knew he was somewhere to the right of you hidden in the long grass. You crawled quietly through the grass. You heard the brush whispering slightly either side of you as the bodies of Soap and Ghost moved up to flank with you.

“Hold up, two more tangoes patrolling the fence line.” Price murmured a moment later. “Take ‘em out, or let ‘em move on. Your call Bell”

“No stragglers.” You whispered back. You heard the pops from Ghost’s and Soap’s suppressed guns as they took out the two guards ahead.

“Good call.” Price confirmed. “Can’t see anymore inbound. You’re in the clear. House up ahead is empty. We’ll regroup inside.”

“Roger.”

Standing up, you scanned the area out of precaution for more enemies. Satisfied, you nodded to the other two men to move up. The three of you passed the fence line and had almost made it to the back door of the house when it happened.

You heard it before you felt it. The sound of a pistol being fired in your direction had you spinning to face the direction it came from, when suddenly you felt white hot pain erupt in your left shoulder. Dropping to the ground, the sound was over almost as quickly as it started, but your eyesight went black as you squeezed your eyes shut in pain and gripped your shoulder as blood poured through your fingers.

“Bell!” The scream came from within your earpiece at the same time Ghost shouted your name, making your ear throb in pain. You hardly noticed with the burning coming from your shoulder, but you still flinched.

“What the fuck was that?!” You gritted through your teeth.

“One of the guards back there wasn’t as dead as we thought. He fucking is now. Don’t worry darlin’, you’re gonna be alright.” Ghost pried your hand away from your shoulder and replace them with his own. “Soap, get me the medi-kit from your pack, quick!”

“Darlin’?!” Soap laughed as he handed Ghost the pack. Frowning, he looked down at the two of you.

“He’s taking the piss.. it’s an inside joke.. had to be there.” You said through gritted teeth, glaring into Ghost’s glasses. Ghost said nothing as he worked on stopping the bleeding, but the minimal supplies in the kit weren’t doing much.

“Fuck!” Ghost said in a panicked voice. You were starting to feel drowsy, and the sight of all the blood was making you queasy. You could feel your head starting to spin, threatening to send you into unconsciousness.

“Ghost, she’s gonna be fine. Look, the bullet went straight through.” Soap said calmly, pointing at the bullet lodged in the brick in the wall just behind where you’d been standing. “It’s a clean wound, it’ll just need stitches.”

“Fine. We’ve gotta get her back ASAP. I’ll take her, you and Price grab the intel.”

“No, I’ll take her.” Price came into view, rifle slung over his back. “You’re the one that’s better with technology, you’ll get the intel quicker from the computer. Someone’s bound to have heard those gunshots, we’re sure to have company soon. C’mon Bell.” Price hoisted you up under your uninjured arm, replacing Ghost’s hands with one of his. Stumbling, you gripped Price’s arm for support. Looking over at Ghost, you noticed his eyes tighten behind his sunglasses, but he nodded in assent.

“Let’s get moving,” Price commanded, nodding at the other two. “Soap, Ghost, I’ll send for another chopper to pick you up. See you boys at home.”

*****

  Fourteen stitches and a bandaged shoulder later, the infirmary staff finally let you leave. Pushing open the exit door to the outside, you found Price leaning against a jeep waiting for you.

“What are you still doing here?” You asked suspiciously.

“Thought I’d give you a ride home. It’s a bit of a far walk and I assumed you’d be too hopped up on pain killers to drive yourself.” He replied, opening the passenger door courteously.

“Oh… thanks.” You said, taken aback by the display of kindness. It’s not that Captain Price was unkind; he’d just never shown any outward kindness outside of the field. You were surprised that he’d thought to even come back for you.

The two of you drove in silence for a few moments, before the question you were burning to ask broke its way out of your control.

“Did the other two make it back okay?” You tried to sound casual, but your insides were turning with worry.

“Yeah, they got back about an hour ago, no issues.” Price answered, concentrating on the road.

“And the intel?”

‘Acquired.” Price gruffed.

“Hmm, very good.” You stared straight ahead, watching the sun settle in the west. This was the first time in a non-formal environment you’d ever spent a moment alone with the Captain, and you weren’t sure how to make small talk with him. You sat in silence as Price drove you through the city. You wondered how he knew where you lived when it occurred to you that being a member of his team, he’d know where everyone lived. Not that you spent much time in your own house these nights. You thought back to a few nights ago...

The sound of Price clearing his throat awkwardly pulled you out of your reverie. Looking over at him, you watched as he shifted in his seat and waited for him to speak.

“What is it?”

Price sighed. “Look, I really don’t want to have this conversation. But I’ve told him the same thing I’m telling you now. This is one of the best task forces I’ve ever worked with, and I don’t want anything fucking that up. Understood?”

You felt your calm composure slip through the cracks as your eyes widened in panic. You glanced over to see him still staring straight ahead, his mouth set in a hard line.

“Wait, you know about-”

“Of course I fucking know.” Price snapped, watching you out of the corner of his eyes. Shit, so maybe he did know where you actually slept after all. “I know everything that goes on in my team. Look,” he said calmly. “I don’t give a fuck what you get up to in your spare time. It’s like I told him, I’m not going to report it. It’s not been an issue yet. Just don’t let it affect you on the job.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been so careful about trying to keep it professional while we’re on a mission!” Your heart raced at the fact you had been caught out.

“I know you have, Bell. But that man is head over heels for you, in case you hadn’t realised. I’m concerned he’ll let his feelings for you get in the way of the job. Look at today – he’s the best man on our team for tech, and he was willing to throw the whole job, just out of pure panic for you.” Price sighed again. “I’m not sending either of you away. I just needed to remind you of the main reason we are here. If you two can’t handle that, I’ll be forced to find someone to take your place on the team.”

“Does anyone else know?” You asked quietly.

“I don’t think so, but if Simon continues on the way he was today, I doubt it’ll be long until Soap catches on.” Price grimaced, then looked over at you. “Darlin’,” he grinned.

“Ughhh,” you groaned as Price pulled up outside what you now realised wasn’t your house. “I can’t believe he let that slip out.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, careful not to move too much that it pulled at your stitches. Opening your door, you looked back at Price. “Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it.”

Price smiled and nodded in response. “Don’t be too harsh on him about today,” he said, looking over your shoulder as you heard the front door open behind you. You closed the door and waved as the jeep drove away.

*****

  All your anxiety from the conversation with Price suddenly turned to irritation as you turned to face the man in the doorway. You stormed towards him, your uninjured shoulder hitting his lower abdomen as you barged your way past him into the hallway.

“Bell-” he began.

“Get out of my way, Simon. I need a fucking shower.” You snapped irritably.

“Here, let me help-”

“No.”

“Bell!” Simon pleaded.

“What the fuck was that today?!” You snarled. “You might as well just fucking announce to the whole place that we’re together!” You began climbing the stairs towards the bathroom, but stopped halfway there. Staying angry wasn’t one of your strong suits, and seeing him standing pleadingly in the hallway washed away your irritation. “Look,” you sighed heavily, coming back down the stairs so you were eye level with him. “I just had the lecture of a lifetime from Price. I can’t lose what we have here Simon, and he warned if we couldn’t keep it professional out there, then one of us would be replaced.” You stepped towards him, reaching for him in both apology and forgiveness. You placed a hand on his masked jaw, your thumb stroking along his hard cheekbone.

“I’m sorry for today,” he said apologetically, leaning his cheek into your hand. “Seeing you injured and in pain, all that blood… I panicked.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed. Smiling up at him, you smacked his arm playfully. “You’re silly, you know that right. Even I knew it wasn’t bad, and you’ve seen way more injuries than I have. I can’t imagine how you would’ve been if Soap hadn’t been there to pull your head in.”

Simon wrapped his arm around your head, resting his hand at the base of your skull and pulled you in for a hug. You lifted your other arm to place it around his waist and winced. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“How are you feeling anyway, darlin’?” He stepped back to survey you.

“Rubbish. These pain killers are doing their job, but I feel disgusting. I really do need a shower.” You looked over your shoulder towards the bathroom. “I uh... might need a hand actually,” you said awkwardly, wondering how you were going to manage without getting your stitches wet. Surprisingly, this was your first major injury, given your line of work.

“C’mon,” he said, pulling you towards the bathroom.

 Simon turned on the shower and helped you undress, helping remove your shoes, pants and underwear, aware of your fresh wound as he carefully pulled the shirt from your arms and over your head. His eyes filled with remorse as they fell on your injured shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, darlin’,” he whispered. “That guy that shot you… that’s the one I took down. I didn’t know he wasn’t dead.” He looked away sadly.

“Hey,” you grabbed his chin gently and turned his head so he was looking you squarely in the eyes. “It’s not your fault. Stop blaming yourself, no one else does. I’m fine.”

“But what if it had been worse? What if that bullet had landed here?” Simon touched your forehead. “Or here,” he said, touching the base of your throat. “What if-”

“Don’t think about it,” you said firmly, pulling his hand from your neck. “Simon, I said I’m fine.” Still holding his hand, you pulled it up to your lips. “There is one thing I am annoyed about, though,” you smirked as you kissed his fingers.

Simon looked at you quizzically. “Why am I the only one naked right now? Surely you’re not gonna shower in your clothes.” You stepped inside the shower, letting the water run over your head, careful to avoid letting it hit your left shoulder.

Simon’s eyes squinted, and you knew he was smirking behind his mask as he removed the rest of his gear and dumped it on the ground next to yours. As always, his mask was the very last thing he removed. No matter how comfortable Simon was with you, and no matter how many times you’d seen him without it, there were certain insecurities that were too deeply ingrained. The last piece of Ghost removed, and only Simon stood in front of you.

Simon stepped in the large shower with you. Grabbing a face washer and pouring body wash on it, he gently helped scrub off the dried blood that had made its way down your torso. He shampooed, conditioned and brushed your hair, knowing you couldn’t lift your arm to wash any dried blood that had knotted in there. Once you were clean, you grabbed the other face wash and carefully, with your good arm, moved it across his chest and abdomen. He watched as you gently made circles on his large shoulders and down his muscular arms.

You wrapped your good arm around the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Don’t be too long,” you smiled as you stepped out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel.

Walking to the dresser, you pulled out some clothes and attempted to get dressed but you couldn’t pull the shirt over your head. You sighed, and sat on the bed resignedly, still in your towel. You heard the shower stop running, and Simon stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Here,” you beckoned, reaching for him. Simon came to stand in front of you, standing in between your legs. You leaned forward and kissed his stomach, feeling the warm skin beneath your lips raise with goose bumps. You tugged on his arm, pulling him down towards the ground. He knelt, still between your legs, and leaned forward to bury his face in your neck. Almost a whole foot of height difference between the two of you, yet you were the only person who could bring Simon Riley to his knees.

Your good arm snaked its way around his broad back, tracing his spine, down to his hips to the edge of the towel. You heard Simon’s breath quicken, still lightly kissing your neck, when your fingers made their way around to the front of his towel and tugged it loose, letting it fall to the floor.

You lightly brushed your fingers down his stomach and over his navel, until you reached the base of his shaft. You felt Simon’s breath hitch as you gripped it in both hands.

“Bell..” he groaned.

“Mmm?”

He brought his mouth round to yours, kissing you deeply. His mouth trailed back along your jaw to your ear. “Why am I the only one that’s naked?” You felt his smirk against your cheek as he repeated your line back to you.

“Maybe you should fix that,” you whispered back.

Simon wasted no time in removing your towel and throwing it across the other side of the room. You laid back on the bed as he trailed kisses down your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and thumbing circles around the other. Your hands threaded themselves through his thick hair as you massaged his head. Simon’s hands followed his head as he made his way down your stomach and down your navel, his hands gliding over your hips and massaging up and down your thighs.

You threw your head back and moaned in pleasure as he buried his face between your legs, his mouth sucking and licking at your clit. You gasped as you felt one of Simon’s fingers enter you, then two, and he slowly picked up a rhythm as his mouth and fingers worked in synch. You could feel your walls begin to tighten as you got closer to your orgasm.

“Stop,” you gasped. Simon looked up quickly.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked worriedly.

“Not at all,” you tugged at his arm so he pulled himself so he was hovered above you. “I need you in me right now,” you purred as you pulled his head down, his lips crashing to meet yours.

You reached down and grabbed his length firmly, stroking it. Simon’s eyes glazed over with lust as he moved his head back to your neck. Guiding him, you positioned him at your entrance.

“You sure?” he asked huskily. You knew he was teasing. He knew exactly what you wanted.

“Yes,” you breathed.

You both groaned with pleasure as he entered you, filling and stretching you out. Simon set a slow pace at first, until he was sure you had adjusted to him, then quickened the pace. His hands moved to your waist as he slammed into you, holding you in place so you didn’t move around too much. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and you gripped his forearms, lost in pleasure.

Simon leaned forward and your legs dropped to his waist. He took one of your breasts in his mouth. You moaned in ecstasy as he hit the sweet spot inside of you.

“Simon.. I think I’m gonna-” you gasped.

Still inside of you, Simon pulled you on top of him as he rolled onto his back. “Not yet, you’re not.”

“Owwwww!” You winced as the action pulled tightly at your left shoulder.

“Fuck! Sorry! You okay?” He asked worriedly.

“Yeah,” you moaned as you picked up the pace again. You brought your legs either side of his waist and pulled his hands to your breasts as you lowered yourself onto him, taking him completely. Now in control, you could feel every movement and every angle as you took him deep inside you.

Simon gripped your breasts firmly as he felt your walls begin to tighten. “C’mon, darlin’,” he groaned. “I’m not far off, myself.”

“I’m gonna come,” you whined. You rocked your hips back and forth and threw your head back as your walls clenched around him. You rode your orgasm out, and heard Simon groan as his own orgasm erupted into you. You fell on top of him, exhausted and satisfied.

Simon gently rolled you off him and onto the bed as he got up to get some water. Your eyes followed him, appreciating his finely sculpted body as he walked to the sink in the ensuite, grabbing a glass off the nightstand and filling it with water. He met your eyes as he walked back to the bed.

“What?” He asked bashfully as he handed you the water, aware of his nakedness.

“You’re beautiful,” you smiled drowsily, taking the glass.

Simon chuckled. “Are you sure you’re okay? They must be some strong drugs they gave you.”

“Hmmm... never better” you sighed as you handed the water back to him. Despite what you said, sleep was already pulling you under.

Simon leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[psychogirlfriendandsupervillain]

Leading Question

One shot (ish)

Benny Watts x Reader*

(* Reader wears a skirt, has hair long enough to pull (like anything longer than a buzzcut) and a vagina, so anyone who identifies with that: it’s free real estate. I am considering writing a copy that is fully gender-neutral, so if anyone wants that let me know (although I’m likely to do it anyway).)

Content/warning tags: NSFW, 18+, Smut (but it’s the slowest pacing smut, talking slow-burn but they’re both already in the bed, no joke), fluff?, friends to lovers, mention of alcohol, swearing, oral (male receiving), making out, heavy petting, really a whole lotta kissing, porn with no plot?, the porn is the plot, foreplay more like half the fucking play, hair pulling kink, mention of knife kink, sex, plotted during a figurative and literal fever, edited during a figurative and literal heat wave, we love it here.

Summary: Benny half-confesses to his attraction to the reader during a night at the bar and reader takes his clumsily put question and turns it into a homerun.

Word Count: 7k (this is what happens when you give me THAT and then take it away)

A/N: Entirely self-indulgent piece of smut thought out during two hours at 4 AM (and then throughout the rest of the day) the day after watching Fork, because I was frustrated and Benny is hot, whoopsie.

@go-catch-a-chickn showed some interest in what I was writing, but I bet you regret that now! Nonetheless, here’s your tag, have fun!

I’m open to criticism, just shoot me a message or an ask. Let me know if I’ve got errors or missed a warning.

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You and Benny were friends since high school. Not because you also played chess, but because you had been making out with your boyfriend in the back of the library and Benny had come looking for a chess book that was on the shelf you were leaning on. You two paused, moved to the side so that he could pull out the book and then he was on his way.

A few days later Benny was in the cafeteria and came up a few cents short, when a voice next to him told the woman at the register that they would pay for his meal as well as their own. He looked over at you as the cashier added your things to the total and you smiled.

“Now you have money over for other things.”

It continued like that for the rest of both of your high school stays. You would catch him in the corridor and strike up conversations before heading off for you next class. When your relationship with your boyfriend ended (mutually, it should be said; he was interested in another girl, you felt the spark wasn’t there anymore), you told Benny after he asked why you looked a little glum. He was supportive but didn’t bring it up again.

Now the two of you are sat at a bar counter, a bottle in front of each of you, as the day is winding down. You meet up like this between his tournaments and whatever else is going on your lives, touchdowns in the well-known amidst it all. The buzz of patrons has calmed down and outside the curtained windows the street is black, broken up by spots of the streetlights.

“Do you-“ Benny stops. He’s half turned towards you, left hand around his beer on the counter, legs facing you, but his eyes are currently at the bottles lined up against the back wall where the bartender is pouring a drink for someone down the line.

You put down your bottle after a sip, resting your hand on it just like he is. Benny starts again.

“What do you do when your dick tells you to sleep with your friend, but your brain tells you it’s not a good idea?” He’s still not looking at you. It’s almost a hypothetical, almost a thought about someone else.

You shrug, taking a last sip before turning forward.

“I don’t know, I follow what my pussy says.” With that you get up and put money on the counter to close your tab, seeing Benny jump in the corner of your eye at your answer. You’re pulling on your coat as you start for the door, slow enough that he’ll catch up no problem.

“Wait.” He’s at your side in no time. “I’ll walk you to your place.” Even in the slight shade of his hat you can see that he’s a bit flustered.

“You sure?” Benny nods. “Otherwise I could walk you to yours. It’s farther.” You push up the inner set of doors and Benny follows you into the dark airlock entryway.

“Why would you want to walk where it’s farther?” He asks behind you,  a frown audible in his voice, and you hold up your hand to signal for him to wait as you push up the second set of doors.

The air rushes against you and the hum of a road somewhere off campus reaches your ears. There’s no one on the walk path running between fields of grass and lines of trees. It’s still too early for the streets to be filled with people getting home from the bars, too late for any overtime workers dragging their feet.

“Honestly?” You turn to Benny, who’s standing with his coat still unbuttoned and arms hanging at his sides, like he isn’t sure what to do with them. “Because I’m hoping to get invited up, and if I’m going to get fucked, I want to be in your bed, surrounded by the scent of you.”

It takes a second. Then he’s a little bit closer. Not that he was far away before, but he’s close enough that when he leans a little forward you don’t have to take a step to close the gap. Your lips run against his, soft and slow, with the slight scratch of his mustache against your skin, warm cotton and leather so close now, and then you step back, absentmindedly swiping your tongue over your own lips to chase his taste. His eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips.

“Your place or mine?” Benny’s voice is a little rough; maybe it’s the drinking, maybe it’s the kiss.

“Again, yours.” You quirk your lip and reach to catch Benny’s hand, warm in yours. Pulling him into motion you start walking in the direction of his apartment, shoes echoing against the asphalt.  

“I’m not sure I will make it that far.” He sounds a bit tortured, and you laugh, squeezing his hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you make it. And if you don’t, I’ll help you clean up and wait for you.”

Benny makes a noise.

“Tell me about Open Sicilian.” You look forward at the empty road as you walk.

“What?” He looks at you.

“To distract you, explain Open Sicilian to me.” He has explained that particular tactic to you several times before, not that it necessarily stuck too well.

“That’s not going to help!” Benny throws head back with a frustrated laugh. The sound makes your stomach flutter. “You’re going to make me tell you about chess, and then ask questions, to keep me distracted? Like you showing sincere interest in it isn’t going to just make it harder to focus.” He shakes his head, looking out over the empty street. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You would have gotten there quicker if Benny hadn’t stopped at every tree, stone wall, and doorway to push you against it and kiss you. He even sat down on a bench when you were halfway and pulled you down into his lap. You let yourself be pulled down but wouldn’t go along with his attempts to make you straddle him, despite his hand on your inner thigh through your skirt and his insistent, chasing kisses.

As you reach the building you let go off Benny’s hand so he can punch in the code for the door. He leads you up the hollow stairwell to his door, noisily unlocks it and lets you in before him.

It’s a short hallway with doors leading off to the kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom, lit by some cool light falling in from the open doorway to the kitchen. There are hooks for jackets with a pile of shoes beneath it to one side, and a table holding a phone and newspapers further in.

The lock clicks behind you and Benny turns around, dropping his keys back down in his coat pocket. Just as he faces you, you push him back against the door. Shock flashes in his eyes and his lips part but when you place your against his he quickly responds, pushing back against you, his tongue running against your bottom lip, inviting you to taste it. It’s with difficulty that you pull back.

“Okay, I lied.” You admit as you get onto your knees, looking back up at him. “Can I?”

Benny’s breaths are unsteady, and you have to ask him to repeat it before you can clearly hear him consent.

You hum, pushing aside his leather coat to hold his hips back against the door, pulling his belt out from its loops so you can undo the buckle. Benny closes his eyes and groans as you let the belt with his knife still attached fall back against his legs and undo his button and zipper.

“Don’t be too loud, you don’t want the neighbors to hear you, do you? Even solid wood doors are thinner than walls.” You wink up at him and he repeats the sound, head leaning back against the door and hips pushing forward. If you didn’t believe Benny before, you definitely would now, as you feel how hard he is through the barriers of fabric. He’s solid and warm against your hands.

Pushing his jeans down, you move his boxers carefully until you can pull them down as well. Precum is leaking down the underside of his erect cock and his hips push forward again, impatiently this time. You circle your hand around him, the other resting against his hip so that maybe he’ll stay in place, not having the patience to start stroking before you take him in your mouth.

The sound Benny makes when your lips close around his cock is far too loud and not loud enough. His breathing audibly speeds up, encouraging you to run your tongue along the underside each time you pull back. Sucking down his cock, you match your movements with those of your hand, creating just the perfect rhythm that has his hips pushing against your other hand. You look up at him, meeting his eyes as you circle his tip with your tongue and he pinches his eyes closed, turning his head back up and cutting off the whine escaping his throat. You swallow around him, and the whine comes back, ending in a high pitch. You do it again. His hand pushes lightly against your shoulder, and you pull off him, sitting back and licking your lips as he meets your eyes.

“I don’t want to finish before we’ve even started.” His words are low, his hand falling back against the side of his coat. You shift your legs on the floor.

“Shame, I want you to.” You smile and bite your lip. “I told you I’d help clean you up and wait after. I’m in no rush.” Benny’s hips jerk forward again.

“Fuck” His eyes flutter shut.

“Can I?” You wait for the sound of his yes before you lick a line from the base to the head, reveling in how little he is holding back this time. Pushing his hips back a little rougher against the door to keep him in his place you earn a moan of your name which has your stomach fluttering and head spinning. One of his hands rest on your shoulder again but isn’t pushing away this time. He lets you decide the speed, albeit with the occasional jerk of his hips as he hisses and braces against the door.

“Fuck, I’-” You feel Benny tensing and look up to see him looking down on you, breathing heavily and clenching his jaw. “Fuck” He slams his head back against the door, hips pushing him further in, and you can feel the vibrations emitting from his chest all the way in the back of your throat as he releases into your mouth. You swallow it down, catching the whimper Benny makes at the feeling it gives his cock.

When you get to your feet, Benny head is hanging so the brim of his hat casts his face in shadow and he’s leaning so heavily against the door you’re not sure he’ll be standing much longer. His breathing is loud in the quiet apartment, and you can’t help the pride growing in the back of your mind. Still breathing heavily, Benny finally lifts his head enough to look at you. You meet his eyes and swipe your tongue over your lips.

His eyes flicker down to follow the movement and he groans, slumping back against the door. You smile triumphantly.

“Let’s get your clothes back on and then I’ll get water.” You help Benny get his pants back on, refastening the buckle. He’s not standing entirely stable, but enough that you can slide his coat down his arms and hang it up, followed by his hat, before you sit him down on a stool right by the door. Having hung up your own coat and switched on the lights you gesture to the kitchen door. “Do you mind?” Benny shakes his head, blond hair falling in his eyes.

You fill two glasses from the tap, throwing a glance at your watch, before returning to him. Handing one to Benny you drink the other, both of you listening to him regaining control over his breathing while you empty the glasses. As you take your last sip you place both on the hallway table and toe off your shoes.

“Want to move out of the hallway?” You hold your hand out to Benny and he’s standing before you’ve had a chance to blink.

You get precisely two steps into Benny’s bedroom before he’s kissing you again. His tongue runs softly against yours, contrasting with the scratch of his beard. He won’t even let you move forward, blocking you with his body until his hands have found their place on your hips, and even then standing stronger than you’d expect from how he looked a minute ago.

Every kiss he chases after you, when you move to the side so does he, when your tongue touches his lips his tongue comes to greet it. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating, his body heat rising and seeping through his button up and your shirt, the warm scent of leather still lingering in the air around him.

Then Benny moves backwards, pulling you with him three quick steps, refusing to let your lips part for even a second, and lets you fall on top of him on his bed.

You pull back, insisting despite his protests. He managed to switch some light on before getting lost in you, letting you full appreciate the shine in his dark eyes when he looks up at you as you brush blond strands out of his eyes. Flittering over you above him, they keep coming back to meet yours, a playful smile on his lips. You lean back down and let him capture your lips again, his hands splaying one on your back, one running up and down your side. Chasing his smile you kiss the corners of his mouth, dipping your tongue in to meet his. It’s like you’ll never run out of places to taste him.

Straightening back up and moving so you’re straddling him, you undo the first buttons of your shirt, but Benny’s hands stop yours, taking over their work with slow precision. He pulls you back down so he can continue kissing you even if it makes it harder for him to get the buttons undone, not that that seems his top priority. Sitting up and sliding the fabric down your arms Benny throws it in some corner of the room, pulling you closer against him by your hips.

“Easy, tiger.” You hum against his lips and Benny laughs a little, shifting further back on the bed and letting you both fall back against the mattress again, arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His necklaces are cool against your skin, but his hands are on fire. They run over your back and sides, up one down the other, and leave nothing but further fires under your skin. Even his rings don’t feel cold as Benny brushes his fingers up your arm to cup your head, tongue skimming your lip but withdrawing whenever you try to catch it.

Pulling back for the first time, Benny looks up at you with a mischievous smile.

“If I had known telling you I like you would lead to this, I would’ve told you already five years ago.”

Not that you’d really been open to anything at that time. Five years ago, and the five that followed, you had been entirely focused on your academics, and the only person you really hung out with had been Benny. He brought his chess books and sat with you in the library while you read up for exams. You’d chat about everything while trying to cram every bit of knowledge into your tired brains. That really only slowed down once you graduated, the hyper-focus on reading every book and spending hours writing notes over bad coffee.

“Do you want to like” You look up at the head pillows laying vertically to your bodies, and Benny starts laughing, luring you into doing the same. “move up?”

“Sure” He lets go of you so you can both get higher on the bed, but the second you’re close enough Benny pulls you back over him. “Better?”

“Much, thank you.” You smile and lean down halfway. Amused you watch Benny push up to meet you, hungry lips convincing you to push him back down into the mattress.

You can’t help the occasional shifting of your hips against his, underwear pushing against the friction of jeans below your skirt. His hands skim the hem of it, but never ventures below it, favoring to run up to your hips and draw you closer.

Running his hands up your back to hold you against him, Benny rolls you over onto your back. Settling between your legs, he braces one arm above you while the other cups the side of your head, lifting just enough for your lips to reach his.

“You know, for later, we’re still on your bed.” You remind him before kissing the corner of his mouth. Benny’s lips quirk and he follows you back down against the pillow.

“I know.” He runs his nose along the side of your neck, the chains around his sliding against your skin. Warm cotton and leather surround you, and this might actually be heaven.

Pushing back a bit Benny reaches up to undo his green button up but stops when you give him a look.

“Isn’t it my turn now?”

Benny lets go off the button and shows his hands, dropping them to your hips as you reach up, undoing the first button before pulling him down by his collar. His smile meets yours, and it only gets bigger for every button, as the release of each is met with the same celebration.

When there are no more buttons to open you slide the fabric out from his pants and down his bare arms. Holding the shirt out in one hand you look at Benny, whose eyes are locked on yours, his lips kiss-bruised.

“Does this have to be folded on a chair” You tilt your head. “or can I just throw it?”

“Throw it.” His eyes sparkle, his voice hitting a little lower and sending vibrations where your body is touching his.

The green fabric flutters to rest at the far end corner of the bed in your peripheral vision. You weren’t really looking where you were throwing.

“It didn’t even get off the bed.” You speak very seriously, as if it was a grave matter, but you’re absorbed by Benny, whose eyes are as stuck in yours as yours are in his. “If you want it off, you’ll have to throw it yourself.”

His arms shift above you, and without moving away from you or breaking eye contact Benny kicks the shirt, sending it tumbling of the edge with a soft thud as it hits the floor. You push your hips up against his, the hilt of the knife at his belt pressing against the inside of your thigh. Benny’s hips thrust back against yours and he lowers down to brush his lips against yours before devouring you again. Your thighs slide against his bare skin, and he reaches back to hook them further over his hips, swiping his tongue along yours. When Benny pulls back slightly the sound he makes fills the room, bouncing off the walls. The end of it mixes with the sigh of his name pulled from your lips as he dips the tip of his tongue into the corner of your mouth.

“Think we’ll wake the neighbors?” You lift off the bed to chase after him, not giving him a chance to reply, pushing him over onto his back. His hips shift against yours as he settles into the mattress.

“The walls are thicker than the door.” He looks up at you straddling him, his lips quirking up into a smile, blond hair falling over his eyes again. Satisfied with his answer you lower your body back down over his, occupying his mouth with yours again.

From slow, insistent kisses where Benny’s tongue runs against yours, you move to kiss the corners of his lips, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, and his eyelids as he closes his eyes. Continuing down his chin, alternatingly placing kisses on either side of his neck, and one at the dip at the base of his throat, passing over his chains, you shift back to trail down the right side of his chest. As your lips touch between navel and the top of his jeans, brushing along the fabric, Benny touches the side of your head.

“Don’t you dare do it again.” His tone is light and teasing, with just an edge of breathlessness and seriousness.

You move up to kiss his left hip and his hand falls back onto the mattress.

“I won’t.”

You trail back up Benny’s irregularly moving chest, out his right upper arm, and lift his hand. Pressing two more soft kisses to his inner forearm, you place one in the middle of his palm and one to the tip of each finger, before beginning again at his sternum and doing the same to his left arm.

Raising back up you push Benny’s hair from his eyes, inviting the light to dance with the sparks already in them.

“Benny Watts, you are a drug.” You smile a little breathlessly and shake your head down at him. The corners of Benny’s mouth start to raise, and he quickly swipes his tongue up to pull down his upper lip and bites down on his lower.

His attempts fail and when you kiss Benny, he’s beaming, a satisfied sound emitting from the chest pressed against yours. His heartbeats translate through your ribcage and your sentiment is repeated in your mind with a flutter in your stomach.

Ringed hands shift from your hips to your back to hold you closer against him. Somehow, you’ve forgotten Benny’s knife because you can’t even feel it at this point. You only feel the friction of his body against your, the pull of his lips.

“You should be in prison.” His tongue swipes into your mouth at that, stalling your continuation with a dizzying taste. “You should be in jail, and I should be in the same cell with you.” The vibrations of Benny’s laugh and twist of his lips reach your senses at the same time as the push of his hips. Combined they’re enough to make you say his name against his lips, repeating it when he does it again.

Lifting off the mattress Benny’s hands holds your hips down against his as he sits up, lips running down the side of your neck when they slip from yours. The scratches against your skin turn into fire running through your veins, out into your arms and fingertips as you run them over his bare shoulders, along the chains around his neck. You barely hear the sound of your name slip from his tongue against the crook of your shoulder, before Benny turns to make you fall first back into the mattress.

Benny’s hands run from your hips to the hem of your skirt, warm fingers tracing bare skin. You lift your hips against his and he pulls back, but only after sucking your lip into his mouth, swiping it with his tongue.

“Want me to get it off?”

“It’s mostly in the way at this point.” Having gotten his answer, Benny eases the skirt down, letting you lift your hips and moving so he’s not in the way. When it’s all the way off he throws the fabric the same way as your shirt, or maybe the opposite. You can’t remember.

Leaning back over you Benny brushes his lips against yours, meeting you when you arch up against him, then lets himself kiss you fully again. His hips push yours down into the mattress before he pulls them back up towards him. You roll back against him, crossing your legs behind Benny’s back, and he hisses against your lips. The sound of you saying his name causes the grind of his hips to stutter, restart, a low sound resonating in his chest, sending its aftershocks through your body as his hands squeeze your thighs a little harder.

One moves to skim the inside of your knee, hot fingers with warm rings running over equally heated skin. When it reaches the junction of your thigh and hip it slides up along the edge of your underwear and then drops beside your side to support his weight as Benny brings his other hand to hover between your legs and pulls away from your lips.

“Can I?” His dark eyes shimmer.

“Yes.” Since you can’t hear your own voice over the increased speed of your heartbeat you repeat it twice, catching the way Benny’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip as his eyes flicker down.

He runs his knuckles down the slick, wet fabric. You think you hear a breathed-out curse but are distracted when fingertips retrace the same path with just enough pressure to make your hips roll against them. The feeling is dizzying, your breathing skips. Benny’s dark eyes flick back up to yours. Then he does it again, sending sparks where the pads of his fingers almost touch you. Your eyes almost flutter at the way he looks at you when your breathing stops again to become what might have been a curse, or his name, or the curse of his name. The last one in particular feels likely as the sound twists and grows louder, and Benny’s eyes are locked on yours.

Pressing back into his bed you roll your hips against his, his hands planted back on either side of you as he lowers back down to press starved kisses to your mouth. Hips lift off yours, only to change their mind and push back down, accompanied by a curse against the corner of your lips. When Benny’s bottom lip slides against yours, you pull it into your mouth and lightly push down your teeth into it. His left arm buckles as you swallow the sound of his groan.

With little effort you coax Benny onto his back. He willingly falls down onto the pillow, rings sliding against your back as he tries to entice you into press against him. His fingers trail down, skimming along the edge of your underwear until they reach the front, barely touching the waistband, eyes flicking up to yours.

You give permission before Benny even has a chance to open his mouth.

The pads of his fingers push past the fabric, running softly your body until your breathing hitches as they lightly slip over your clit. You resist the urge to close your legs around his hand but can’t help the way your breathing audibly increases when it moves further down. Bare skin slides against your wet folds, stroking up and down; the movement slow and deliberate, and far too good for you hold it out for much longer.

You make a sound.

“Explain Closed Sicilian to me.” Your voice is strained, and you are trying very hard to not focus on every slight change in pressure Benny is subjecting you to right now. Another noise slips out and you bury your face against his chest, rolling your hips involuntarily against his hand. “Please, please explain it to me.”

“Now?” Benny’s other hand pushes against your hip.

“If you don’t, I’m going to come, and I’ve waited this long so I’d rather you didn’t do that before you’re actually inside me.” You lift your head to look up at him, quickly adding “Then again, you talking about that is just going to make it worse, so maybe don’t.” You did not need his eyes lighting up and his confidence going thrice its size because he was talking about something he really, really liked. That was bound to make your situation become much better and much worse really quick.

Benny looks like he’s about to protest before making a face and withdrawing his hand.

“Alright, fine.” He rolls you onto your back and kisses you hard, raising his hips as much as possible but keeping you down with his chest.

Letting you up to breathe Benny’s hands go to his belt, pulling it fully out of the loops this time. He catches the handle off his knife as it slides off the leather and off-handedly places it down on your stomach so he can roll the leather around his hand.

You must have done something as the sheath fell flat or as your eyes shifted up and back down again because Benny’s eyes flick from the belt in his hands to your eyes and then he smiles.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a thing for knives too.” He teases.

“Listen” You’re a little too breathless for any type of denying being at all believable and it’s visible in Benny’s eyes how little he would actually believe you if you tried. “Messing with that takes practice and discussions, so let’s put a pin in that. I like seeing you get off, let’s leave it at that for now.”

He tilts his head like ‘fair enough’, finishes rolling up his belt and puts both that and the knife out of view to your left.

You reach up to brush Benny’s hair to the side where it’s over his eyes again, letting your fingers linger just above his ear. There’s something very recognizable about the slight way his eyes move at the gesture.

“Do you- like having your hair pulled?” You ask tentatively, and when Benny doesn’t answer right away you continue “You don’t have to say yes.”

It takes a second longer, and you start to pull your hand away before he shifts his eyes away and rolls his shoulders.

“So what if I do?” Benny glances back at you.

“I’ll tell you what” You smile encouraging, guiding the topic to focus on yourself instead to make him more comfortable. “you’d be in good hands; I like it both ways.” Benny visibly relaxes but you don’t move your hand back, favoring to slide it along his jaw to stop below his lower lip.

Softly tilting his head down, you give the slightest pressure.  He follows down to peck your lips before drawing back to meet look at you again, hands rubbing reassuringly over your thighs. The pad of your thumb rests against Benny’s bottom lip, and you tilt your head, trying to read out the thoughts that form and disperse behind his eyes. The corner of his lip quirks up and he dips his head down to catch the finger in his mouth. The flat of his tongue maps your fingerprint, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You make a noise, shooting him a glare as he looks far too smug when you pull your hand back to press it against his back instead. The expression doesn’t leave his lips when you push his side to get him down, as a matter of fact he looks offensively at home against his pillow, shuffling further into it before beaming up at you again. Unable to stop yourself you scoff, trying to look annoyed but failing spectacularly.

“Think you’re ready to go again, if you want to?” You look at your watch, pinching the face of the clock to keep it so you can read the time. “It’s been an hour.”

“You still have your watch on?” Benny reaches up to pull your arm down so he can look at it.

You laugh.

“Well, you didn’t take it off me.” You let him turn your hand over, undoing the watch and looking at it for a second before handing it to you. Leaning over him you put it on the empty nightstand to your left.

“I’m so glad you’ve got two nightstands.” You hum, leaning back to resettle over his hips.

Thinking for a second, Benny makes a face, a mixture between a frown and scrunching up his face.

“It doesn’t make sense to only have one nightstand.” He states, eyes flicking back to yours. Smiling at his answer you bend down to peck his lips.

“That’s what I like about you, Benny Watts. Things can’t just be for you; they have to make sense.” Continuing in the same light tone you add “I might even go as far as to say I love you.”

“Woah, you’re just gonna show your hand like that?” Benny mimics shock, before smiling, his hands rubbing your hips reassuringly. “Throw the whole game?” You snort a little, moving your eyes to the wall, schooling your expression to be serious.

“As if you didn’t show your hand back at the bar.” You tilt your head exaggerated, pretend thought.  “And earlier, now that you mention it.”

“I said liked.” Just like you, Benny is pressing his lips together to prevent himself from laughing, and even then, a smile cracks through.

“I’ll give you that, you did say like.”

Benny pulls you down, kissing you with a smile. Letting yourself sink into it you push down against him, swallowing the sound he makes and feeling his heart beating through his chest. His hands pull your hips closer to his to repeat the motion. His breathing increases as you do it infinitely slower this time, feeling you press against him, although you can’t say you are doing any better.

“Ready?” You laugh breathlessly and Benny groans, pushing his head back into the pillows.

“I was ready half an hour ago.”

“Well, good sex takes preparation. And this is going to be good.” Straightening up you putting the base of your hand on Benny’s chest, holding your index in front of his face to shush him. “No, no, it’s going to be, because I’ll make it so.”

Instead of arguing, with sparkling eyes Benny favors to bend his head forward and close his mouth around your finger, sucking while you talk. His tongue swirls around the digit and the corner of his lips quirk up when you make a sound, mind drifting before you catch it.

“Asshole.” Benny’s eyes light up mischievously at that, and when you pull your hand back, he raises his eyebrows.

“Oh you wan-?”

You cut him off.

“Shut up.” The bed shakes with Benny’s laughter, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head at him. He’s really having too much fun.

When his laughter calms down, Benny looks at you for a second before sitting up.

“Come on”

He nudges you sideways until you get the hint and get off him, letting him get off the bed. Benny offers his hand to pull you up after him. When you’re both on your feet he turns back and in one quick motion rips off the covers, throwing the corner to the middle so the bed is folded half-open diagonally but not all the way down.

You’re just letting your underwear drop onto the floor when Benny turns back around, and he catches up with you in the time it takes you to blink. He holds his hand out again, pulling you with him backwards.

Jut before his legs hit the bed Benny sidesteps, pulling you down first onto the bed and following, catching himself on his arm so he doesn’t fall directly on top of you.

Settling between your legs, Benny tilts his head with a cheeky smile.

“Comfortable now?”

You make a show of settling into the pillow, trying to divert his attention from the way you pull air deep into your lungs. It’s in the pillow, the sheets, the air vibrating around you with tension, but most of all it’s above you, radiating from him. The warm, slightly sweet, smell of clean cotton shirts pulled from the tumbler, a bed slept in until well past noon, and sun-heated leather in the first days of summer.

“Yes.” You smile up at him.

“Good.” Benny lowers down over you and presses his lips to yours, tongue running over your lip once before slipping into your mouth. You hum while he pulls protection from a drawer of one of the nightstands above your field of vision and pulls it on.

Fingers skim lightly over the wetness gathered between your legs, and then Benny pushes into you. It sends lightning through your stomach, sliding slowly, almost torturously, against sensitive nerve endings. His breath is slow and controlled, albeit a bit wavering. Solid warmth spreads from his body into yours and your body clenches involuntarily around him when he stills, breath warming the side of your neck. Your hands run up his sides to find purchase.

“You’re gonna mark me?” You ask the ceiling and Benny shifts, running his nose against your throat and giving you chills.

“You want me to?” His hips pull back slightly, and you close your eyes at the slow drag of his cock against your inner walls. As Benny pushes back in, one hand disappears from beside you, moving your hand from his back to his hair. Sparks dance up your spine when he thrusts a little quicker, igniting you both like a match against a striking surface. Benny makes a sound in the back of his throat before kissing you again.

Carding your fingers through his hair near his scalp you pull lightly. The way his hips jerk forward has you arching against him, moan mixing with his. Tension builds in your stomach and if the room was hot before it is blazing now. Benny presses against you, overwhelming and perfect, filling you. Your hips lift off the bed to meet his, legs crossed behind his back to pull him closer. The drag of his abdomen against you in just the right place has you whining against his lips. His next thrust is faster, causing your body to clench down, approaching the edge fast.

“I’ve waited this long to fuck a master; you better not make this be over quick.” Your hips arch against his despite your breathless words.

“You call an hour and a half quick?” Benny asks in disbelief, but the roll of his hips slows to delightfully slow, burning pulls. He closes his eyes, breathing becomes deliberately slowed. “I’m not going to last long no matter how slow I go.”

“That’s okay, neither am I.” You quirk the corner of your lip as Benny opens his eyes again and pull him back down to your lips. Trying to starve of your orgasm you focus on tasting every corner of his mouth. It seems to have the opposite effect on Benny, as he whines and his hips stutter. One of his arms buckle and you pull your hand free to direct his to your hair before going back to his.

The first slow drag releases a satisfied noise from you, and the slight sting of the next sends a thrill down your body, connecting with where Benny’s cock pushes into you. He slides his tongue against yours, pulling your head close to his.

“Fuck” The word falls from both of your mouths as your fingers pulls the blond strands they’re tangled in, and Benny’s hips jerk forward. You push your hand against his lower back to push him down, deeper, and he pulls your hips up with his free hand, grinding against you. His eyes glitter with pride when you arch, pressing your head into the pillow, mouth falling open.

Unsatisfied, Benny slows even further, changing thrusts for slow grinds, watching you trying to make a sound with a smile, heels pressing into his lower back. Your eyes flutter, trying desperately to stay open, pleasure coursing through you in unrelenting waves. Meeting his eyes, you jerk your hand a little harder in Benny’s hair, and the sound he produces almost has you falling.

His hand pushes between your bodies as he moves faster again. The pleasure is hot and fast, and as Benny pulls your lips to his it explodes, fire shooting through your veins in search of oxygen and shaking your entire body. He swallows the cries of his name falling from your lips, but then his hips stutter and slipping from your lips he repays the praise. It’s loud, it’s messy, and it’s so fucking hot.

Benny drops his head in the crook of your neck, weakly trying to hold himself up. Your chest pushes against his until both your accelerated breathing reaches the same rhythm. There is pleasant ache starting to make itself known, one you’re sure you’ll be feeling tomorrow, and perhaps the day after that.

Softly you push Benny over and he lets himself be rolled onto his back, still inside you. Head landing on the pillow he takes a few more breaths before his eyes pop open. When they meet yours there is a content smile on his lips, with only a hint of unsedated hunger still visible in his dark eyes. He reaches forward to meet your smiling kiss and lets you pull off him and roll onto the mattress beside him.

After a few seconds of just the sound for your breathing your voice comes alive again.

“I hope we didn’t wake anyone.”

Benny starts laughing, breathlessly and beautifully, and you scrunch your nose playfully at him.

“I hope we did.” He looks at you, eyes brilliant, and adds in a more serious tone. “I think they’re all asleep so they can get up at a reasonable hour tomorrow.”

You reach over and pull your watch from the nightstand.

“Two isn’t a reasonable hour to be up?” Benny snorts a laugh at your fake naiveté as you settle back into the bed.

There’s a few more seconds of silence before he talks again.

“I still only made you come once.” Benny looks at you, eyes flicking down to your lips and back up; the hunger more than unsated now.

“That’s okay” You smile teasingly. “I wouldn’t expect you to, you did all the hard work.”

Benny doesn’t find an answer to that, but you have a feeling neither of you think two is very late at all.

[emwritesfootball]

Drunk | Erling Haaland

A haaland one where youre drunk and he takes care of you and you feel horny but he doesn’t wanna take advantage thank you

Word Count: 722

Warnings: drunk, teasing

- - -

Erling watched as you matched his friends shot for shot, knowing for a fact that your unusually-high tolerance would catch up with you and you’d be drunker than expected at the end of the night.

“How come you’re not stopping me?” You asked, wincing as you finished knocking back the third shot.

“I’m just here to watch the show,” Erling replied, smirking at you as he clocked the bartender pouring another round at Gio’s request.

You gave him a smile, shaking your head. “There isn’t going to be a show because I’m not going to get that drunk.”

A few more shots later, and you were drunk. You didn’t really feel it unless you sat down or moved suddenly, spending a majority of your time on the dance floor letting the music take you wherever it wanted to go. Erling kept a close eye on you, making sure none of the men in the club got handsy with his girl, knowing the exact moment to drag you home.

“No fair!” You pouted when Erling took your hand and led you off the dance floor and over to his friends, making you say goodbye.

“It’s well past our bedtime, isn’t it?” He said, giving you a look as you tried to convince his friends to let you stay out a little later. “Besides, love, you’re drunk.”

“Am not!”

Erling tapped your nose. “Are to.”

When you put up more of a fight, Erling threw you over his shoulder and you could hear the raucous laughter of his teammates as they watched you get carried out of the bar. You huffed and fought as he buckled you in and drove off, hating that he was sober and you were drunk. “So, since you were so mean to me tonight, does that mean you’re gonna make it up to me when we get home?”

“If you can tell me how many shots you had tonight, I’ll make it up to you when you get home,” Erling challenged, his eyes lighting up.

You knew you were screwed, but you tried anyway, your drunk brain not willing to give up. “Eight,” you said with more confidence than you felt.

“Close, but no.”

“Do I get another chance?”

Erling shook his head. “Of course not.” He turned his attention to the road, feeling slightly bad about lying to you but there was no way he was going to try anything with you when you were this inebriated. He felt your hand on his arm, sliding up his shoulder to absentmindedly play with his hair. “Baby, stop. I’ve gotta concentrate.”

“You’re no fun.”

“I’m always fun,” he retorted, sticking his tongue out at you for a moment.

“Not right now.”

“Well, we’re home now, so I’m about to be a lot more fun.” Erling helped you out of the car, throwing you back over his shoulder. You went more willingly this time, babbling on and on as though he didn’t have you like this, pinching his butt and giggling when he got upset. He gave you a warning smack on your ass and you wanted to try again, but thought better of it. He set you down gently on the bed, not wanting to accidentally make you sick with the sudden movements. You made comforter-angels on the bed as he picked out your clothes, helping you out of your going-out clothes and into your pyjamas. When he left and came back, there was water and pills for you to take. You glared at him, but took them anyway, giggling as water spilled out of your mouth and onto your shirt.

“So, do I get my reward now?” You asked expectantly.

“Get in bed and under the covers, and then we’ll talk.”

You moved as quickly as your drunk self could take you, getting under all the blankets and giving Erling a goofy smile. “Okay!”

Erling took his time climbing into bed, getting himself ready while you watched. When he was ready, he got in bed with you, turning off the light and pulling you against him. “Alright, here’s your reward,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggled into him.

“No sex?”

“No sex. Maybe in the morning, if you’re not too hungover,” Erling said but he already knew what you’d be like in the morning.