#my 'more concrete' answer was not terribly concrete was it?

[galacticlamps]

fanfic writer asks 🤡🛒🎶🌞🤲? (I realise this is a lot and you were trying to keep them short gdjkhf I am SO sorry. no pressure to answer all of them haha)

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

This did give me pause because I know I’ve laughed at certain lines as I was writing them before, but rn I can’t remember any that are actually funny in and of themselves? I don’t even mean that like ‘on second thought, I amuse myself and no one else’ - I just think I’m probably more of a dramatic irony type of person than a crafter of fabulous one-liners in either dialogue or narration. Plus Two & Jamie lend themselves to that so well, so perhaps what I laughed at was less my writing and more just a general sense of, “Oh, you two idiots who don’t know what I (and every single other person in this fandom) know.” Like maybe what happens in Itemized or Visitation Rights isn’t like, laughter funny but eye-roll funny? Or maybe I’m just having trouble remembering smaller/more immediately funny bits so all I can do right now is talk plots/themes. That is also a possibility.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Well, surely “oh you idiots” is up there as either a theme or a feeling or something, but I believe that’s just a necessary symptom of being a Two/Jamie writer. As for me personally, hmm...

Do you know that bit in Much Ado About Nothing where Benedick’s like, “There’s a double meaning in that!” and the joke is that no, really that means exactly what you think it does you himbo - but also, this is a Shakespeare play & you are actively being played by your friends so okay, technically, sure there’s a double meaning in all of this, but calm down alright it’s not like you discovered anything that wasn’t already painfully clear? That bit? I feel like I love any chance to write something like that - characters knowing one another well enough to talk about one thing while talking about another even though it’s kinda obvious and #notthatdeep. They/I do not get points for being clever or anything because everyone knows what they’re saying/alluding to even if they get some kick or whatever out of not stating it directly. But it’s still fun to write, especially when characters have a rapport that supports that kind of thing.

Or did you mean something more concrete? I feel like I pay a lot of attention to physicality - again, easy when you’re writing Two/Jamie & that’s so much of who they are - but I kinda need to be able to trace the positions & movements of everyone in a fic all the time, so I feel like gestures & touch come up a lot with me, even if they aren’t strictly necessary to the story? I also catch myself pointing out the quality of light in most scenes I write, not necessarily as a thing to focus on, but another one of those struggle-not-to-mention-it things. But hey, I have a url to live up to!

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

I do - current length of my Two/Jamie playlist is over 18 hours (whoops! I realize that's not really a playlist at all it's just a big group of songs that can be made to make me think of them) and I’ve also totally made smaller breakout playlists to help with focus on individual fics before. I stop when I want to get serious about editing, and then when I’m proofreading I can put music back on only if I have one of those dedicated smaller playlists, otherwise I’ll risk getting some wires crossed on vibes.

But what have I been playing on loop lately? Well in the “linked (tightly) to a specific fic” category, Pink Floyd’s “Us & Them” has been required listening while reading/working on the heart of one wip. And more generally I’ve been listening to Skerryvore’s album Evo a lot lately, and that’s got a few songs on it that also feature on the Two/Jamie playlist for various reasons.

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

Answered! Spoiler alert: it boils down to ‘literally whenever I can’ - not very fun ik

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

No :)

I’m kidding. But you might wish I wasn’t after you see it.

I won’t forget you, you know.

Jamie’s cheeks burned with the embarrassment of his own naivety. Wounded, he wondered if the Time Lords had laughed at him then, knowing what was about to happen. He wondered if the Doctor knew, and only put on a brave face so Jamie could go on believing that for as long as he would remember wanting to. But it hadn’t worked, and he remembered now – but also, he remembered now.

Deeper than the embarrassment but stronger too, there was a spark, a tiny ember glowing inside him: he hadn’t forgotten. The Time Lords had done their best but it had only stopped him for a little while – a few months, a handful of weeks. All-powerful masters of the universe, and they couldn’t even keep him from remembering for longer than that. No, he hadn’t forgotten. He’d just been a little dazed - distracted, that was all. But neither his heart nor his mind had let go of the Doctor, and they wouldn’t now either. It was dangerous, hope, Jamie knew that – knew the things it could lead people to do, the risks they might take in its name. But he had beaten their memory block after all, and if that could happen, then maybe . . .

It might be foolish of him to hope, but as he turned his face towards the stars with bleary, tear-filled eyes, he found it hard not to.

Because if he could remember, what could the Doctor do?

[vinomino]

That’s bad for you ᵎᵎ

What do they do after catching you red-handed…?Σ('◉⌓◉’)

Featuring: Sakura.H, Suo.H, Nirei.A, x f!reader

Contents: sfw, smoking, angst(?)

Stress was getting to you, you’ve started frequenting the bad habit more and more. It was only a matter of time before be finds out…

❀ Sakura.H

“What the hell are you doing!" His shout startles you, making your ears ring. Groaning in annoyance when your cigarette slipped out through your fingers, now laying on the concrete as it continues burning.

"Tch— those things are terrible for you!" His tone was gruff, but his face portrayed concern. For a delinquent, it made sense that even Sakura knows about side effects of cigarettes. You sheepishly rub at the back of your neck, it's common knowledge on what smoking does to the human body. All the harmful things it causes. But it’s not like you made any effort to stop. Sakura pushes past you and snuffs it out with the heel of his shoe. It sizzles before dying out.

Snatching the small cardboard box out of your hand, “How long have you been doing this?”

“I’ve been doing it for a while.” He gives a flash of surprise, it made sense he didn’t know, you’ve been keeping it a secret. Eyes traveling from the cigarette box to your lips, gaze lingering longer on your lips than need be. “Does it really matter?” Bracing yourself from the usual lecture people give.

“No.” His quick answer, straightforward and blunt, catches you off guard, drawing a chuckle out of your chest. Studying the way his fist is crumpling the paper box in his hand. Sakura wanted to grab you, shake you for disregarding your health over the toxic sticks, and how you were harming yourself. He felt a strong urge to do something about it. Taking another step towards you, trapping you between himself and the railing. An inexplicable need to protect you, “Damn it, what can I do to make you stop?” He tried to keep his usual stoic facade, but it comes out strained.

Looking up at him, you have never seen him make such a face before. Placing a hand on the back of his neck to beckon him to bend, capturing his lips in a kiss. The feeling of your body slotted against his, your tongue against his. The kiss wasn’t gentle, but rather desperate. He can taste the smoke, he wants to rid it from your body. His tongue exploring your mouth as if he was trying to erase any evidence of cigarettes from your taste.

You break the kiss, trying to catch your breath. Resting your forehead against his, he tightly holds you like you’re going to disappear, “I guess this’ll do, if you want me to break my habit.”

A light blush festers, he lets out a small scoff, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “I’ll have to keep you occupied then.”

❀ Suo.H

Snow crunching beneath your feet, you shivered. The smoke from the cigarette heating you up instead. Taking a long drag and blowing it out, the gray smoke wafts circles in the air. Trying to quickly finish the cigarette so your absence isn’t noticed.

But does anything go unnoticed by Suo?

Pacing back to forth, the nicotine soothing your worries. Not even noticing the broad steps behind you, jolting when your back hits something hard. Suo is standing behind you, grabbing your hand that’s holding the lit stick.

“Now, why don’t you explain yourself…?” His tone sends a chill down your spine, something not even the cold air did.

“S-Suo.” Turning around you see his tassel earrings swing in the wind. The look on his face is intimidating. Wriggling your wrist free, “What’s there to explain?”

His lone red eye portrays his dissatisfaction. He knew well what you were doing and he didn’t like it at all.

“They say smoking is bad for your health.” He speaks in his usual tone, but you’re able to decipher the seriousness underneath it. “Not a good look on my pretty girl, either.”

The tension builds, his gaze never leaving you. “How much have you smoked today? Be truthful, You’ve been smoking a lot lately. I can tell.” A long silence passes, you don’t know how to respond. “You can talk to me instead of resorting to smoking your feelings away. This isn’t healthy…” He sees your shoulders shaking, “You're freezing…” Eyes following his movements as he grips the cigarette from you, disposing of it while leading you back inside.

“No more smoking until further notice. And no, this isn’t up for debate.” His firm tone left no room for argument.

Furrowing your brows, you know how hard it is to quit, you’ve been trying to. Suo notices your expression, his own softening, “You need to stop. You’re slowly hurting yourself and it hurts me to see you like this…You won’t be alone, I’ll support you.”

His words touch you, he’s right. “I’ve been stressed lately...” Your voice slightly above a whisper as he sits you down on the couch. Suo wraps a blanket around you and pulls you towards him, “We’ll figure it out together.”

❀ Nirei.A

On the street, the loud hum from the restaurant was lightened. Pulling out a cigarette and going to light it up, unaware Nirei had followed you out. He was still standing at the door, his heart at war with his mind. One part of him ached to join you outside and offer a listening ear, but the other part of him wanted to keep his distance away from the stench of smoke.

Steeling himself, he walks towards you. The smell of smoke made him nauseous. Despite this, he swallowed down his discomfort and spoke, “C-Can I talk to you…?” His expression was mixed of worry and disgust at the tobacco that was tickling his nose.

“Nirei?” Noticing his presence you turn around. “Um, sure…”

“W—“ He takes a deep breath, “Why do you…smoke? I mean— I know it’s your choice and all…! But I don’t understand why you’d do something that’s so bad for you…” Fiddling with the hem of his shirt, a nervous tic he developed.

“Did I worry you Nirei?” He flinched hearing his name come from your lips. His eyes darted from the pavement back up to yours.

“Yes…I care about you….and the smell of smoking…it bothers me. I can’t stand the smell of it.”

He looks like a puppy shaking right now. It would be adorable if the situation was different. Snuffing out the cigarette, “Sorry, I didn’t know.” Patting yourself down trying to remove the scent.

“It’s okay, you didn’t do it on purpose…the smell just reminds me of bad memories...” His voice was almost a whisper, if you weren’t listening closely, you would’ve missed it.

The thought of your habit bringing up unpleasant thoughts for him leaves a distaste on your tongue.

“I’ll quit…I don’t want you to remember those things because of me…”

His face lit up at your words, the fact you were willing to stop so he wouldn’t be reminded of bad times, it meant more to him than he could express. A blush spreads across his face, “That means a lot to me. But…I don’t want you to do it only for my sake….I want you to do it for yourself too.”

“It’s not an easy task…I’ll be here for whatever you need! I can get Sakura and Suo to help as well. You won’t go through this alone!” He beams a bright smile.

“I’ll be in your care then.”

part 2 → here

[strniohoeee]

reader is down bad for matt, like she blushes, giggles, goes mute whenever he's around and he kinda enjoys it and one day he finally asks her to go an a date and it ends super fluffy

She’s Got It Bad

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Y/N was out of her mind in love with Matt, but she was shy. Which left her in awkward silent situations until one day Matt puts his foot down! 🌷

Warnings⚠️: None?? Writing kind of sucks also sorry if there’s grammatical errors I never proof read till two days later after I post lolll😭

Song for imagine: This Is How It Feels- D4vd, Laufey

So this is how it feels

To fall in love with you

To always think of you

To always dreams of you

You know when you’re reading or watching a romance book or movie, and one of those super cheesy slow mo scenes happen? Where an 80s love song is queued and the two love interests stare at each other while their hair oh so dainty blows in the wind? And you’re curling your toes as your heart beats for the next scene to happen? Just thinking “I need more! Give me more!” And then it goes back to reality and they end up walking right past one another….

And it wraps you into this hour and a half or 230 page book/movie about the girl wanting the guy….but the guy not really wanting her or simply seeing her as a sister or painfully shoving her in the friend zone? And you’re itching for more. Tired of this back and forth of who will get one another first?

And if you said yes to any of those questions then you are sure looking at my life right now…stuck painfully stuck in the friend zone. Mainly because I put myself there. Let's face it, I'm deeply afraid of rejection. Why ruin something that is virtually perfect.

I had it bad for Matt and I’m not so sure he felt the same way, but I’d never in a million years ever jump at that. I’d rather rip my ears off and tape them to the concrete and then run them over consistently for an hour… okay a bit graphic and a bit over the top but you get the point. He’s off limits and I’ve got it bad for him…

Most of our interactions consisted of short conversations, me blushing like an idiot and even sometimes going silent..offering a nod here and there. It’s even gotten to the point of having to leave the hangout because I was so nervous around him. I mean what if I said something that he found cringey? What if I embarrassed myself which I tend to do a lot might I add? Or even worse…what if he didn’t find me funny?

All these terrible instances bounced off my brain like a bullet ricocheting off of metal walls. As I sat chewing my lip, suddenly my thoughts were interrupted

“Helloooooo” I heard loudly from the other end of the phone call

Blinking out of my trance I soon realized I had been on the phone.

“I’m sorry Nick I got side tracked” I replied gripping the phone again

“Yeah I can tell you went rogue for like 3 minutes there, did you even hear what I asked you?” He asked laughing

“Uhhh yeah and I think you should go with the yellow shirt” I replied praying I wasn’t so far off from what he was talking about

“That was like 10 minutes ago, I asked are you coming or what?” He said huffing

“I’m sorry? Coming? Where?” I asked again as I furrowed my eyebrows

“This is why I don’t call you, you have the attention span of a fly” he said laughing which caused me to laugh

“I’m sorryyyy I was thinking about something” I replied to him

“Aren’t you always… I was asking if you were coming over tonight for movie night?” He said shuffling around

“Ohhh duhh of course I never miss Saturday nights with you” I said getting up to pack my overnight back

“Even though Matt and Chris are joining us this time?” He asked

This is where I hadn’t been listening previously and I almost choked on my saliva trying to form a proper answer.

“Uh.. *ahem* yes of course they can join us” I replied trying to seem chill

“Wow sooo nonchalant about that” he stated sarcastically

“Oh will you shut up” I replied stuffing my duffle bag

Nick opened his mouth to speak but on the other end it sounded like someone walked in his room

“Matt get the fuck out I’m on the phone” Nick said which made me laugh a bit

“Who are you talking to?” I heard Matt ask his brother

“Your girlfriend now fuck off” he said almost hissing at Matt

“NICK STOP” I squeaked over the phone

“I don’t have a girlfriend you sicko” Matt stated sounding annoyed…. I looked up at my imaginary camera (hmm how do I take that response) I thought.

Shaking that feeling off I returned to the call

“Okayyy bye nickkkk see you in a bit” I replied rushing him off the phone

Hanging up the call I sighed deeply… if I wasn’t already nervous to possibly run into Matt then oh boy was I in for a treat

Usually, Saturday nights were for Nick and I and I rarely ever ran into Matt or Chris. Usually it was Chris and him and I had a cool bond. We’d stop to hug and chat for a bit before Chris left to go out. And if I ever ran into Matt it was him leaving with Chris which prompted me to wave slightly and avoid all hugs. Rambling on about Nick needing me for something upstairs each time and not even giving them the chance to respond.

I usually shut my eyes and shook my head when I turned away from them and even muttered a few unkind words about myself to myself….

But tonight…tonight Matt was joining us which meant I couldn’t be awkward around him or else Nick would for sure point it out.

I had gotten to their house with dinner for all of us which we landed on chilis…. Good thing I was 21 I needed a to go drink…preferably strong!

Sitting in their living room as we all began to eat, Nick scrolled through Max as we sat on the floor with our food on the coffee table.

“We should watch Silver Linings Playbook I heard it was good” I said looking over at the tv as Nick had just passed the movie

“I’m down” Chris said shrugging his shoulders

Nick and I usually watched action movies where we’d see a bunch of sweaty hot men fighting bad guys. And most of those movies we’d just yell out if we’d smash the guys or not. I don’t know that Matt and Chris would want to take part in that so a rom-com was for the win!

Max was playing a few ads before the movie and as I was sipping my margarita in a styrofoam to go cup (how niche) Matt had called my name

Looking over at him I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Do you like rom-coms?” He asked me

I felt my ears getting hot and my face too….good thing I’m drinking and I can just blame it on the alcohol.

“I do, I love them actually” I replied nodding at him

“I love them too” he said smiling at me as he ate a fry

“Nice” I said nodding my head and looking over at the tv…why the fuck were their ads still playing? Squinting I turned back around to face him

“Uhh what’s your favorite?” I asked him clearing my throat

“I’d have to say 10 things I hate about you” he replied wiping his hands

“SHUT UP! Me too” I replied getting really excited and loud (blaming it on the alcohol once again)

“No way” he replied laughing

“No! like I swear! I have all the romance movies I’ve ever seen ranked in my notes app and 10 things I hate about you is number one, look see” I replied rambling as I opened up my app and showed him

His brows raised…an impressed look might I add

“Wow Y/N didn’t know you were such a hopeless romantic” he said winning at me

This made my heart flutter and my voice disappear? Sinking into my skin I nodded at him before turning to watch the tv

Throughout the whole movie I kept catching Matt looking at me but he’d look away quickly. This made my skin crawl in a good way though

The movie finished and I found myself emotional. I mean it wasn’t a sad movie but rather beautiful. Nick and Chris had gone to lay on the couch at some point in the movie.

So to no surprise Matt and I turned to find them fast asleep. Shaking our heads we cleaned up the living room and headed to the kitchen to place everything in the trash.

The hallway light illuminating the kitchen as I washed my hands

“I almost feel like Silver Linings Playbook is my number one rom-com” Matt and I both stated at the same time

Laughing I shut the water off and turned towards him

“I guess we really are similar” I said to him as I crossed my arms over my chest

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t know you’re always running away from me” he said quietly

“Am not!” I replied standing up straight

“You’re always running away from me as fast as possible, you don’t hate me do you” he stated as he wiped down the table

“No” I replied watching his every move

“Then why do you run away? Do I stink?” He asked laughing

“No! You just happen to catch me when I’m busy” I say lying through my teeth

“Right…I suppose so, I do know how to get you at the right time though” he stated throwing the paper out

“Do you?” I asked cocking an eyebrow

“Yeah…when I take you on a date and have all your attention so we can really get to know each other”he says

“Well we’re friends so I do know you” I reply rolling my eyes

“No…know me on a different level that’s not…friends” he says smiling at me sweetly

“Not friends?” Was all I could mutter

“Just say yes to the date you loser” he replied shaking his head

“Yes..sorry yes I will go on a date with you” I replied shaking my head and giggling

“You’ve ever seen Notting Hill?” He suddenly asks me

“I actually haven’t” I stated

“Want to watch it?” He asked me

“But Chris and Nick are sleeping” I replied pointing over my shoulder

“You miss queues don’t you?” He asked cocking an eyebrow

“They don’t call me a ditz for nothing” I replied jokingly

He looked at me with adoration in his eyes for a moment before opening his mouth

“I mean with me…just me” he replied with soft eyes

“Oh....yeah” I replied breathlessly as I shook my head…am I that fucking stupid? I thought to myself

We shut off the tv and the hallway light. Matt led me to his room as I followed behind. It felt so foreign being in a room with a new undertone to it….more than friends

“You can sit closer I won’t bite” he says as he looks over at me

“Right, sorry” I say sitting closer to Matt against the headboard

The air felt awkward as we watched the movie, but Matt slid his arm over my shoulder and pulled me in

“I’m not a stranger” he replied as he snuggled me closer against him

Smiling against him I melted into his touch as we fell asleep to a romance movie. I guess being shy does work out in the end and I’ve always had it bad for Matt but after today? You’re for sure thinking

She’s got it bad!

The End

I wasn’t sure how to end this…it’s so HARD TO END A STORY WTFFFF. Anywho we’re almost at 2,600 followers🥹🥹. Yall I could cry this means so much to me I remember when I had hit 100 followers and I never thought I’d make it this far. I’m so eternally grateful for you all😩🖤🖤. I know I don’t update three times a day everyday like I used to, but I’m so glad yall are sticking around till this day when I post once to twice a week every two weeks. I don’t deserve you, thank yall so much🥹💕💕💕. Stay tuned for more work baes

-J💅🏽

[noyzinerd]

More Than Just A Body (Swap)

Thinking about a post-body swap Sterek fic.

One that fully takes place after a body swap has already been reversed (like, a sequel to a non-existent fic--where they swapped bodies, had to live as the other, got switched back, yet didn't get together by the end--that's constantly alluded to, but we never actually get to read), so we only see the aftermath.

Derek is super irritated and snippy for days after they get back into their own bodies. Stiles thinks it's because Derek feels pissed and humiliated he had to relive to highschool with insufferable teenagers, be helplessly human and weak, and generally listen to authority again (his dad). It definitely bums Stiles out to think that Derek found living his life so deplorable that he's still angry about it. So now both of them are upset and sort of avoiding each other.

It isn't until two weeks later, when their stand-off is starting to effect pack business, that Stiles gets fed up and confronts Derek.

"What's your deal, man? You've been super shitty ever since we swapped back. It's been two weeks. How can you still be mad about living as me? What, was doing the dishes and being forced to write 5,000 words about the Louisiana Purchase seriously that terrible? Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with my stupid, tissue-paper body for so long, but you can't just-!"

And before you know it, Derek has him shoved up against a wall. He's still pissed, yeah, but, for some reason, he also looks...hurt and broken inside.

"Your body isn't stupid, Stiles! It was the best thing to happen to me in years!"

Stiles is stunned speechless. Derek's fingers are trembling around the grip he has in Stiles' shirt. There's so much pain in those green-blue eyes that it actually aches to look in them. It looks almost like grief.

Like Derek is in mourning.

Derek's not crying, but his eyes are definitely shinier as he continues, "You have no idea what you have, Stiles. What I had. For the first time since the worst fucking day of my life, I got to do normal things, like chores and sports. Not a single person expected anything of me o-or looked to me for answers. I didn't have to worry about fucking up and getting people killed, because the smartest guy I knew was taking care of my body like it was something precious. And all I had to do in return was live your beautiful, quiet life. A life where someone gently woke me up for school and nobody found me too intimidating to get close to.

"I got to know what it was like to be loved by a father again, Stiles! To say the words 'I love you, too, Dad' when I didn't think I'd ever get another chance. I-I got to be hugged and have people smile at me like they were glad to see me and I'd get to look in the mirror in the morning to the sweetest smile at the start of my day and hear your voice every time I talked. It was perfect." Somehow, Stiles has found his face streaked with tears even though the tears valiantly sticking to Derek's lashes still haven't fallen as his voice breaks over his words.

"A-and now? All I get to wake up to is me." The word is spit out with acid and venom. "I get to wake up alone in a cold, silent, empty, concrete room and look at a face in the mirror that makes me sick. I get to go back to my pathetic fucking life where I have to choose between literally fighting against an endless wave of people out to kill me or using my family's blood money to buy myself a microwavable dinner for the night. The only difference is that now...now I'm haunted by the feel of your fingers through my hair, your arms wrapped around me," at this, Stiles can feel his heart cracking apart at the thought of Derek using his body to simply hug himself, "y-your voice telling me that I'm going to be okay, and just-just the sight of your skin and your eyes and-and-I just, I can't, Stiles, I-I can't-!"

Stiles is clutching Derek so tight to him in an instant, tucking him into his neck and slowly lowering them to the ground as Derek collapses and sobs into him.

---

Once the tears are all dry, Stiles finally picks up the courage to be vulnerable too. He owes it to Derek.

At least it'll be easier now that he can't see the werewolf's reactions.

So, as he's stroking the other's hair, Stiles tells him about how he wishes Derek could see the man he fell in love with the way Stiles can.

He tells him about how he fell in love with a man whose heart is so big and full of kindness that he physically cannot stop himself from helping people, no matter how much he likes to pretend that he doesn't care.

The man he loves is powerful, resilient, and stronger than any one person has any right to be, yet so fragile as to be afraid of loving someone too much because he might be shattered.

The man Stiles loves is smart, sassy, thoughtful, stubborn, awkward, grumpy, sweet, and so so deserving of hugs and smiles and kisses and praise, because Derek is and has always been more than just a body.

Stiles tells him about how, during their swap, he made sure to take warm baths with nice smells, nap in cozy blankets, and massage his hands and feet with lotions because Stiles wanted to take care of Derek's body as much as he could while he got the chance. He did it because he wanted to help Derek and this was the only way he thought he could.

If there had been even the slightest indication that anything more would've been well received, Stiles would have already done it. All he wants is permission.

"Please...let me take care of you?"

---

So, slowly, day by day, Stiles enfolds Derek into a gentle life.

Stiles is Derek's strongest advocate, his extra set of hands to help carry his burdens, his pillow, his introduction to new things and new people.

They're always wrapped around each other, all the time, almost like Stiles is scared of Derek getting cold.

Despite the confession, things remain G-rated for a while. Cuddles, hand-holding, caresses, just touching. Shy kisses eventually make an appearance after some time, but they remain sweet, loving little things.

Stiles makes it perfectly clear that he's fine waiting to make a move until he's sure being intimate can't possibly be mistaken as anything else. He needs Derek to understand that this isn't obligation or pity. Stiles loves Derek. And Stiles is going to take his time because he wants Derek to feel loved beyond his body, no matter how long it takes.

By the time Derek feels whole again, now living with the Stilinskis and smiling softly as a default expression, they find themselves in front of the bathroom mirror having their first time together.

It's definitely not kinky. Mostly reverent, full of "It's okay, I'm right here", fingers laced tight together, flashing eyes, and a bit of emotional tears. It's gentle and assuring, with promises of never being alone again, and whispers of "so beautiful" and "so sweet" and "so perfect". Climax is rewarded with praises, hands stroking up arms and down backs, and "I love you"s are slurred through dropped fangs and traded back and forth between kisses

But as expected, finally having sex doesn't magically make Derek love himself. It's still a long road. Because even if Derek doesn't completely hate his life anymore, there are those hard days where he still has problems with 'being Derek'.

And maybe one day Derek will learn to love the body he lives in.

Until then, Stiles will just have to love it for him.

[not-another-leon-blog]

Family Matters

DI! Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Death Island Spoilers!

Summary– The kids are exposed to the evils of the world. Word count: 3746 D/n– Daughter's name S/n– Son's name Sequels: Aftermath / Out Together

You woke to the sound of quiet sniffling. Someone was shaking you, almost begging you to wake up. Your eyes opened, your vision fuzzy and your head feeling like it had been stuffed with cotton.

“Mommy, wake up,” your daughter cried as she shook you. “Please, wake up.”

You groaned, reaching up to rub your eyes. Taking in your surroundings, you knew you were far from Los Angeles. Instead, you were surrounded by concrete walls and steel bars. This wasn’t the Walk of Fame, it was a prison.

“Mommy, I’m scared,” your daughter said, throwing herself in your arms.

“Don’t be scared,” said her twin brother confidently. “Dad’ll save us.” His pacing betrayed his confidence, not that his sister could tell with her face hidden in your shoulder. “Besides, Aunt Claire and Uncle Chris are here, too.”

“They are?” you asked. The fog in your head was starting to lift. “Chris? Claire?”

“We’re here,” Chris called. But he sounded weak, wounded. 

“Where exactly is ‘here’?”

“Alcatraz,” said Claire. If Chris sounded terrible, she sounded worse. Whatever was going on, you knew it was something the kids shouldn’t be a part of. “Jill’s here, too.” Somewhere." It only took a second for you to connect the dots. If they were all here, then surely Leon would be as well. 

You knew he had been on assignment in San Francisco so logically he couldn’t be too far away. It was supposed to be simple– a job he could complete in a day or so and then he would meet you and the kids in Los Angeles. How it turned into this…

We’re bait, you thought. It was a virtual guarantee. But how? All of your files had been secured and locked up; Leon had made sure of it. So how did you end up here? Why were you here?

D/n trembled in your arms and S/n was becoming more restless. Carefully, you lifted D/n with one arm and pushed yourself to your feet with the other. Reaching out to touch the bars, you gave them a firm shake. They didn’t budge.

“I gotta set you down, baby,” you said to D/n. She nodded hesitantly, going to her brother once she was out of your arms. She and S/n went to sit on the cot, holding each other’s hands. S/n’s leg bounced nervously.

You continued to examine the bars, looking for any kind of weakness. “So, what brought all of you to Alcatraz?” Might as well get an idea of what you were about to face if you were going to be stuck here.

“There were outbreaks in the city,” Chris said, his breathing heavy. “Found a connection to Alcatraz…”

That’s certainly one way to get him and Jill here, you thought. But what about Leon? How did his assignment connect to all of this?

“You kids okay?” Claire asked, taking a sharp breath.

“Okay,” S/n answered softly. 

You abandoned the bars and went to kneel in front of them. D/n’s face was blotchy with tears and she was wiping her nose with her sleeve. Soft hiccups rocked her little body. S/n, on the other hand, was still bouncing his leg and kept his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. You took their hands and gave them a soft squeeze.

“We’ll be okay,” you assured them. “I won’t let anything happen to either of you, understand?” You looked each of them in the eye. “No one will touch you while I’m here.” D/n nodded and you reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Mom,” S/n said, but his attention wasn’t on you. It was on someone standing outside of the cell. A tall woman stood there, dressed in a shiny pink jumpsuit. You knew exactly who she was and suddenly it all made sense.

Like a switch had flipped, your attitude went from soft and caring to tough and protective. You stood and put yourself between her and the twins. “What do you want?” Your voice was sharp and stern.

“Your husband will pay for what he did to my father,” Maria replied.

“Yeah, I get that.” You took a step closer. “But they have no part in it. You want to use someone, use me. This isn’t their fight.”

“It became their fight when he murdered my father. They deserve to know what kind of monster theirs is.”

S/n jumped up from the cot and rushed against the bars, gripping them so hard his knuckles turned white. “Our Dad’s a hero!” he yelled. “You're the monster!” Maria hit the bars, scaring S/n away from them. But he only backed away enough to stand next to you and stared Maria down as she marched down the cell block.

D/n was crying again. S/n turned to her. “Dad’s gonna be here,” he assured her. “He’s gonna save us– just like he saved the girl in Spain!” He froze like a deer in headlights and glanced over at you.

“S/n Marvin Kennedy,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’ve been in your father’s office again, haven’t you?”

“No.” An obvious lie. There was no other way he would know about Spain and Leon would never talk about past missions with his kids. He never even really told him what his job was.

“We’re having a talk about that later.” He bowed his head and went to sit beside his sister again. “And I’m reminding Dad to change those locks, too.” S/n seemed to shrink more into himself. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

He stayed quiet for a moment. “Dad… maybe… kinda taught me to pick locks.”

“Then get us out of here!” D/n yelled at him.

“I don’t have anything to use!”

Leon would certainly get a scolding for that. A sharp pain shot in your neck. A moment later your body felt weak and you leaned against the wall for support. In an instant, breathing began to get harder, too.

“Mommy?” D/n said through her sniffles.

“Y/n?” came Claire’s voice. Whatever had infected Claire and Chris had infected you, too. But how? Your mind raced. You were never bitten.

You groaned in pain, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. With what strength you could muster, you crawled back to the bars to put distance between you and the kids. D/n moved to go to you but S/n held her back. He knew something was wrong. He knew there was a reason you were moving away from them. At eight years old, you hated how perceptive he was.

Lights shone at the other end of the prison block. Footsteps came closer, echoing off the walls. You gripped the bars, trying to ready yourself to face Maria and whoever else she was working with.

“Leon?” Claire muttered softly.

The kids gasped and ran to the cell door. “Daddy!”

“Y/n? Kids?” Leon rushed to your cell, quickly holstering his gun. The kids reached their hands through the bars, trying to hug him as best as they could. He looked them over for any injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” S/n told him. “But Mom…”

The pain was getting worse. Your breaths had turned into short gasps. The twins let go of him and he turned to you, cupping your face in his hands. “Hey, handsome,” you breathed. 

“Long time, no see, sweetheart,” he replied, his blue eyes full of worry. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. We were going to the Walk of Fame and…” Then you gestured to the cell. “I’m sorry… I should’ve been… more careful.” Maybe you were starting to get rusty. Years ago you would’ve seen the ambush from a mile away.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Get us out of here!” another man’s voice cried, catching Leon’s attention. 

“Well, I’ll be,” Leon muttered as he craned his neck to see who spoke. There was no way in hell he was leaving his family’s side right now. “Antonio Taylor… I’ll deal with you later.”

The overhead lights turned on and the kids scrambled to your side. The light stung your eyes and a headache started to form at your temple. Leon shot up, pulling his gun from its holster and scanning the cell block. There at the second-story railing stood Maria and another man, his cane tapping rhythmically on the metal floor.

This new man introduced himself as Dylan Blake. “I bet you’re wondering how people are getting infected without being bit,” he said, proudly going on to describe his bio-drones: insects that could infect whomever Blake pleased. Your heart sank at this realization. It was only a matter of time before you turned. 

You tuned out whatever Blake continued to say, your attention on the kids. D/n was still shaking like a leaf against you, but her tears had stopped. S/n was on his knees in front of you. The pain was starting to become unbearable, and knowing what would happen if you turned… 

“There’s a reason I left you and Leon alone, Jill,” Blake continued. “You want to talk about justice? You should be pointing your guns at Claire and Y/n.” Leon spared a glance at you. You were pale and shivering and you were only getting worse. “They’ll turn soon enough and when they do, they’ll rip apart the doctor and those kids.”

“The kids have no part in this!” Leon snapped.

“They became part of it when you began to work for liars, people who cover up the truth. The ones continuously sending you into battle rather than staying home with your family.” Leon stiffened. You knew he felt guilty about being away from home so much. “Which will it be? Your wife or your kids? Better make your choice quick before she devours them.”

“Leon,” you called softly. With his gun still trained on Blake, he looked back at you. You nodded at him, but he shook his head. Shooting you wasn’t an option for him. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to shoot his children– he’d rather die than do that.

Soon enough Blake and Maria were gone and Leon was back by your side, D/n and S/n clinging to the arm he slid between the bars. “Babies,” he said, “I need you to get in that back corner. Can you do that for me?” They nodded and did as he said. His attention turned to you and he lowered his voice so they couldn’t hear. “Y/n, I’m not shooting you. The twins need you and I will not let them witness something like that.”

“I don’t want to hurt them,” you told him, tears welling in your eyes. “Leon, you have to.”

“No.” His voice was stern. “It’s not gonna happen. We’ll figure it out.”

You lifted your hand to gently trace the curve of his jaw, his stubble lightly scratching your skin. “I love you, Leon.” He held your hand against his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Daddy,” D/n called. “What’s gonna happen to Mommy?”

“Mommy’s going to be just fine,” he told her firmly. Leon felt like the worst father in the world. The last thing he had ever wanted was for his kids to be dragged into his work. He was sure that with Y/n at home, they’d be perfectly fine. He thought he’d taken every step necessary to keep his family safe. What had gone so wrong that they ended up here?

“Real father of the year,” he muttered under his breath.

“This… isn’t your… fault.” You curled in on yourself as pain shot through your body. You had the cell bars in a death grip as you attempted to maintain yourself. Something was brewing in your chest, something violent and bloody. You met Leon’s eyes, your tears finally falling. “Please…”

Just as he was about to reply, someone came running into the cell block. It was Rebecca with a hard-shelled case in her arms. “What’s that?” Leon asked, but he already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it to believe it.

“A vaccine,” Rebecca replied, popping the case open and handing him a syringe.

Leon couldn’t move fast enough. He uncapped the syringe and brushed your hair aside. “This might hurt, baby.” There was a sting in your neck as he injected the vaccine. Relief washed over you like a cool blanket and finally, you were able to catch your breath. As you composed yourself, Leon got to work on unlocking the door.

The door slid open and Leon enveloped you in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips. He pulled away and the two of you were nearly thrown over as the twins barreled into you. Leon held all three of you tight against his chest.

“I told you Dad would save us,” S/n said, his voice muffled against Leon’s shirt. Leon kissed the tops of their heads and pulled away just enough to look at all of you.

Whatever was in that vaccine worked wonders and by the time you were back on your feet, you felt good as new. “What now?” You couldn’t just take the kids and leave. There was no telling what was lurking in the halls. Taking them with Leon was risky– Blake wouldn’t give up easily. There was no doubt in your mind that there’d be a shootout at some point.

Leon kissed you again and handed you a spare gun. It wasn’t safe here with the bio-drones and he wasn’t about to let you go out and try to escape the island with two eight-year-olds. His only option was to try to keep you all in his sight and out of harm’s way. “Stay with me.” He turned to the twins. “You two,” S/n stood a bit straighter, “do exactly as I or your mother say. Understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” they replied in unison.

The four of you made your way to the armory. Leon took the lead with the twins behind him and you taking up the rear. Once you made it to the armory, Leon stopped and hugged the kids again. “I love you,” he said to them, “listen to Mom.”

“Where are you going?” D/n asked, gripping his shirt.

“I’m gonna stop the bad guys,” he replied. “Be good.” He stood and pecked your lips. “Get to the control room, you’ll be safe there.”

~~

The three of you reached the control room. The openness of the room didn’t bring you much comfort– there wasn’t any real place to hide the kids. The best you could do was keep them away from the windows.

You made sure the door was secure and turned to the kids, tucking your gun into your waistband as you kneeled in front of them. “How are you two doing?” The answer was obvious, but you wanted to hear them talk to you. You needed them to focus as best as they could and make sure that they understood how important their safety was.

“Aren’t you scared?” S/n asked. 

“I am,” you answered honestly. “And it’s okay to be.”

“So you and Daddy were doing this stuff when you met?” asked D/n in a small voice. She had calmed down but maintained a nearly bone-crushing grip on her brother’s hand. You knew that she had always wanted to picture a romantic meeting between you and Leon like the other girls’ parents at school, but the reality was not nearly as sweet.

“Yeah, sweetie–”

A monstrous roar cut you off and the twins screamed. You grabbed your gun and spun around to the window. A massive, mutated monster took up the expanse of the window, but it wasn’t focused on you. Still, you ushered the kids back into the wall farthest away and kept your gun trained on it.

A number of loud pops sounded from outside. Gunshots. The others must be down there. With the beast’s attention away from the window, you focused your attention on the door. Your grip on your gun tightened. The kids jumped and gasped behind you with each new explosion. Shielding them from watching those through the window would be near impossible.

Something smashed against the window, but the glass held strong. Barrels and boxes flew throughout the expanse of the armory. The ground shook beneath you and the groans of crashing metal echoed in your ears.

The door burst open, scaring the kids and startling you. It was Claire and Rebecca.

“What is that thing!?” D/n yelled.

The two stopped short, unsure of how to answer her. Claire recovered first. “That’s the bad guy.”

“That’s the bad guy!?” S/n repeated. He tugged on your shirt. “You have to go help Dad!”

“I need to keep you two safe.” As much as you wanted to go help, you and Leon had talked long ago about situations like this. Situations you had hoped and prayed would never come to pass and a discussion that led to your retiring from the D.S.O.

Only one of you would actively fight. The other would stay with the kids no matter what. That way if something happened to the other, the twins would still have at least one parent.

“What are you doing?” D/n asked as Claire and Rebecca rushed to the main computer.

“We,” Rebecca started as her hands moved across the keys, “are gonna stop a bunch of bugs.”

~~

As the gunshots rang and rockets exploded, Leon kept watch on the windows of the control room. Leading the creature, formerly Dylan Blake, away from those windows was his top priority (aside from killing it, of course).

At least with Maria dead, he didn’t have to worry about someone else going after you and the twins. And even if she were still alive, you’d give her hell for doing this to your family.

“Just a heads up,” Chris said as they put together a massive rocket launcher, “the missus is gonna have a word with you about teaching S/n to pick locks.” He grunted as they slid the two pieces of the weapon together.

Leon grinned. He knew that would come back to bite him one day. Hell, he was looking forward to your scolding. “I’d be surprised if she didn’t.” He lifted the front of the launcher up on his shoulder while Chris steadied it from behind. “A little lower.” Chris kneeled down a bit more, letting Leon get a higher angle.

The creature had jumped into the water after Jill and was now trying to make for open waters. Leon aimed for the gate's pulley system. With only one shot, he needed to make this count.

Another second passed as he steadied the launcher and pulled the trigger.

The rocket flew from the barrel, jolting him and Chris as it flew to the gate. The rocket exploded on impact, and the gate dropped. It crashed into the water and a moment later another explosion erupted. Blood stained the water and pieces of Blake's mutated carcass rained down.

Leon eyed the water nervously, searching for any movement that could indicate that somehow the bastard survived. When nothing aside from a massive corpse floated to the surface, he sighed in relief.

He barely had a moment to relax before he was knocked over. It wasn't often that his kids caught him off guard, but here they were, piled on top of him and hugging him so tight he could barely breathe. Well, if he were to die, being smothered by his childrens' affection didn’t seem like such a bad option to him.

Once he’d regained his bearings, he hugged them equally as tight, enough to make them groan and try to push away from him (which in turn made him squeeze just a bit harder). He turned his head to see you approaching, a soft smile on your face. “Care to join in on this?”

“He’s crushing us!” S/n squealed.

“Am not,” Leon huffed.

“Are too!”

He let the twins go and sat up. D/n stayed in his lap and S/n sat beside him. At that moment, there was no denying that S/n was his son. He was almost a carbon copy of his father. The scene almost made you forget about everything that had just happened.

You could still feel a faint throbbing where Blake’s drone had stung you, an eerie reminder of what could have been if Rebecca hadn’t shown up when she did.

“Can we go home now?” D/n asked.

~~

While waiting for the evacuation helicopters, the twins had taken to bombarding Claire and Rebecca with questions, giving you a brief moment alone with your husband.

“You know we’re not sleeping alone for a good while.” 

“I know.” He watched as S/n turned his attention to Chris, climbing up on the man’s shoulders. Where other parents might dread the thought of having their bed invaded, Leon welcomed it. He’d rather have them running to him in the dead of night than deal with nightmares on their own.

“We should’ve just stayed in D.C.,” you mumbled, leaning against Leon as he wrapped an arm around you. Maybe if you and the kids had stayed home they would have been spared the terror of being kidnapped and threatened.

Leon shook his head. “Maria would’ve found a way.” Of that, he was certain. If there was anyway to guarantee his suffering, targeting his family was a sure way to do it. “We’ll take a real vacation after this.”

“D/n has been begging to go to Disney.” You sighed. “We can’t hide this stuff from them anymore.” That was perhaps the worst of it. You and Leon had gone to great lengths to shield them from the reality of Leon’s work.

The two of you watched the twins. Chris was still carrying S/n on his shoulders and at some point D/n had managed to steal Claire’s red jacket. Soon, they came running back, wedging themselves between you.

D/n pointed toward the horizon. “Are those the helicopters?”

“They sure are,” Leon replied as he smoothed her hair.

S/n tugged on Leon’s shirt and flashed his best set of puppy eyes. “Can I have the window seat?”

[exercise-of-trust]

everyone clap and cheer for my beautiful daughter who has every disease 🥰 her name is þerindë because her wheel is made out of an embroidery hoop; she is entirely handmade and boy howdy does it show

a whole bunch of things have stopped working since i took that video last night and i'm not sure how much more wherewithal i have to keep messing with her, but i did manage to spin about two feet of something before then! so i'm showing her off a bit now, and if i can figure out what-all i fucked up maybe you'll see more of her in the future. some process and progress photos under the cut (not a tutorial. do not do this. i cannot sufficiently stress how bad of an idea this was and is*)

(*if you are going to do this and have questions not answered here i am always happy to answer them, inbox and dms are open etc, but like. i would strongly advise against it)

here's the hoop! it's about a foot across, with a groove carved out with a speedball. this ended up being way too shallow (who'd'a'thunk) so the final version is a lot deeper than what you're seeing here. the paint stirrers are held in with straight pins because i was worried regular nails would just crack the hoop lmao. my girl is so deeply and profoundly scuffed <3

the flyer is made from three cedar shingles glued together because i didn't have a solid piece of wood large enough. astonishingly nothing broke while i was sawing out the rough shape and it whittled down pretty nicely! the hooks are scrap 2mm copper wire, the orfice is a couple inches of plastic drinking straw, and the pulley wheel is also hand-carved, which is why it looks like a fucked-up oreo and has the weird hitch at the top of the spin that you probably saw in the video 🙃 frankly i am astonished it works as well as it does

the wheel frame is. man. the axle supports haven't broken yet but frankly it's a miracle they're still in place with how much strain they're under every time. the original base was that weird little bit of paint stirrer, which (shocker) did not work out in the long run; it's been replaced by an offcut from the frame and is significantly more sturdy now. it's surprisingly level, though, and turns pretty smoothly all things considered!

the frame was a nightmare start to finish; i've never done any serious woodworking before in my life and the whole thing was just kind of slapped together without a plan or any sort of concrete measurement. it wobbles so fucking bad and every few hours i have to push a couple of the parts back together where the nails are sort of drifting out of the wood. you may observe a weird post sticking out the left side of the mother-of-all; that is supposed to be for scotch tensioning. does it actually do that? sort of! the belt is a length of cotton crochet thread that is, after much fiddling, just the right size to not slip out more than once every three minutes.

treadling was another pain to figure out and i think i probably made it way more complicated than it needed to be. it still doesn't work very well and i can't tell if that's something i can fix hardware-wise or if i just have to suck it up and practice a lot more. turns out feet are not as coordinated as hands! i would say "now i know for next time!" but frankly i am never doing this again. you couldn't pay me. speaking of which, i did the math and at my current pre-tax hourly salary i could've bought two brand-new ashford travelers with the number of hours i spent building my awful rickety daughter. at the end of the day, do i love her? immensely. is she "good"? by no stretch of the imagination.

anyway. this was a terrible use of my time <3 but i do finally feel confident enough in all the parts of a spinning wheel and what they're for that i can brave the dangers of facebook marketplace's "spinning wheel" category without getting too badly scammed! which is pretty valuable in its own right, i guess.

[ghostsvacuumcleaner]

Shades of Red

art in the cover by @ave661 and @shkretart !

chapter one | chapter two | ao3 | masterlist ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x civilian f! reader ✦ Summary: The sole survivor of a terrorist attack that killed over a hundred. The soldier responsible for saving her. He wants to help you, but his own trauma make him withdraw when he wants to get closer and intoxicate when he wants to remedy. He kisses your scars and hopes you'll runaway. He wants you to run away. But you won't. ✦ TW: NSFW, explicit, f!reader, little to none f! physical appearence descriptions, canon typical violence, mentions of abuse and trauma/PTSD, bit of gore, mental illness mentions, slowburn;

A/N: Hello girlies! This is the very first time I get the courage to actually post something I wrote. I've been reading y'all fics behind my screen for so much time now I figured I could start postingggg; so please be gentle with the feedbacks, but be also sincere ♥ also, English is not my first language and although I'm fluent, there might be a mistake or two along the way. Don't feel shy in pointing it out if you see any! Moreover, this will be a long ass one I'm pretty sure, but I might get myself some more courage to post my smut oneshots in some near future. Hope you enjoy! x

Chapter 1 - The Incident | 3.3k

There was ash in the air everywhere. That scenario didn’t frighten him – in fact, Ghost was absolutely sure that at that point in his life, almost nothing could fright him. He had seen much worse things before, he thought silently as he walked towards the building completely destroyed. There was debris everywhere – the building had not collapsed completely, but some parts did not survive the flames and now there seemed to be not even a little bit of life in that place. There were still small portions of flames spread through a few heaps of debris, a terrible smell of wood and burnt concrete; but nothing of that could be worse than the smells of dead, flattered human flesh that once or again invaded his nostrils.

His eyes rolled around in search of any record of life. In vain, he knew: there was no chance that any civilian had survived that. A cruel, dark bombing, a violent and destructive terrorist act. The only goal was to destroy any form of life that could inhabit there, and possibly it had been obtained without any further circumstances. When Price sent the radio search order to all members of the 141, he made it very clear that those efforts were in vain. They would find nothing. We lost today, he said. We could not foresee this, nor can we remedy it. It was a burden they had to cope with on a daily basis - the often inability to do something, to act, was a burden that a soldier should carry. It was part of the job.

Ghost pressed the point button in his ear. “Is anyone listening?” He asked, his eyes checking the entire perimeter of the building behind the skull mask that covered his face. “Have you found something, LT?” Soap answered, his voice hushed by the efforts. “No. I’m making an entrance, there’s nothing out here.” the lieutenant stated, kicking off a few remaining pieces of concrete from the front of his feet and laying the rifle in his hands. Ghost stood in front of the main entrance to the building – that place that should have looked like a reception at some point in the near past - and the movement of his boots against the ground caused the roof above his head to shake a little, and some ash particles fell onto his helmet. He observed the movement, standing still for a few seconds, only for warranty; he did not want to end up becoming one more of those burial victims. 

When the concrete whisper finally stopped stirring his ears, he entered. The lamp of his helmet lit up, and he looked around. His eagle eyes did not lose an inch of that entire perimeter, his ears attentive as those of a bat. He was looking for a sign, whatever it was: a presence, a scream, voices, calls for help. Anything. Anyone.

All he could hear were the sounds of the structure of the building, apparently ready to give in. Ghost tried to enter one of the apartments; his boots sole hit the semi-destroyed grinded surface of the door, and he broke in. He looked around. An enormous smashed chandelier rested violently against the bloody body of a child. 

Many people said Simon was the type of man to have no feelings anymore. That time, scars and trauma had taken from him all and every kind of humanity. He had become a soldier—one of the good, one of the invincible, but nothing aside from that. Nothing but a soldier.

Perhaps that sentence became so repetitive that at some point, he, himself began to believe it. His face remained motionless. The sound of the blood drops hanging on the floor filled his ears, and he snorted for a moment, pressing the point into his ear. “First floor, apartment 102,” he said, coordinating other operators to head to start collecting the bodies. 

His eyes went up to the ceiling, facing the huge blunt in the structure that caused the luster to fall. Maybe the parents' bodies were still there somewhere to be found, he thought. But that wasn’t his job, and unfortunately he didn’t have all the time in the world. He then traced his steps out of the apartment, looking around. As he kept going upstairs, the lantern lit up one hand or another thrown out of a pile of debris. Broken legs, the kinds of horrors that haunt the dreams of ordinary people. 

As Price had said and as he imagined to be fact, there were no survivors. Even when he reached the last floor, without any hope that he would find any movement that were not spasms of lifeless bodies, he tried. He tried to find someone, to do his job with all the mastery he could. His voice echoed through the entire floor, looking for anyone who could answer, but as expected, there was no response.

All that was left was the subsoil, the garage. When he came down the lobby again and found a portion of the staff dragging out some bodies, placing them in black bags, one of the doctors caught his attention. “Lieutenant. Have you finished checking around? Nothing up there?” The man asked, pulling his glasses from the tip of his nose. Ghost is negative. “No, nothing,” he said bluntly.

The doctor seemed to bite his own jaw with some strength, in disappointment. He has baffled. “You don’t even have to check down there. If those above didn’t survive...” he said, giving on his shoulders. Ghost watched him in silence for a few seconds, before finally answering, “Focus on your work, doc. I’ll finish my own.” He said in a nod before starting to push with his crude hands the stones that covered the entrance to the stairs that led to the garage.

His steps echoed. Ghost walked through the parking lot, passed pillar by pillar, checked every car. There were bursting pipes releasing hot steam, a gas leak as well he could tell – and he didn’t want to be there to see what would happen if some kind of ignition occurred. He hastened his steps. He took a deep breath; he was about to press his point and give up, claiming that there were no survivors, but a stifling sound interrupted his action. He looked around, looking for the source of the heavy breath and the little grumbling of pain he heard. His eyebrows cracked almost instantly and he turned around himself, looking around. All his senses were activated at that moment – he began to walk through among the few cars there, following the sound he had heard and then, a hand hitting the air dropped debris to the side of what seemed to be a body. He approached cautiously, throwing the light from his helmet’s lantern in the direction of the sound, and to his surprise, although not perceptible, there was the only survivor of the bombing: you.

A small, female frame shrunk from a pile of debris. Your hair was covered in ashes, your face - the dirty cheeks with the blackness of the material, your arms painted in the scarlet of your blood flowing freely to the ground, glass blades attached painfully to your soft skin. There was a cut down from the top of your forehead until the beginning of your left eyebrow. The completely messy strands of your hair fell against your face, opaque, bright. The expression of fear on your eyes turned into pure terror the moment they met his own, those small cold orbs inside the mask. You instinctively tried to move away from him, push your body away from those debris, away from that huge and frightening man.

When you threw your body to the side, all you could feel was your back against the cold floor, your left leg refused to work. You felt nauseous, stupid, your head turned. Your mouth trembled in a failed attempt to say something, the silence already lasted for seconds enough for you to fear his frame standing ever so tall and quiet. “Please don’t hurt me.” You managed to say, your voice engulfed in a cry that refused to go out. It wasn’t as if it was going to work; if he was one of the terrorists who caused this incident and really wanted to hurt you, then you were at his mercy and there was little you could do about it.

Maybe, if you were in a better mental and physical condition, you’d be able to identify that the rifle in the hands of the man in front of yourself was of a military model. That all his gear pointed out that he was an operator, someone willing to help. Your mind could not process all the necessary information about him at the given moment, although.

“I will not hurt you, lass.” He explained, and for a moment you felt your chest swell in air and it was hard to contain the immense desire to cry. The heavy steps of the man were made against your small, wounded body. He lowered himself, letting the rifle rest next to him quietly. You gulped in dry, still nervous with your eyes raised to his, now a little closer to you. He wasn’t looking at you — he was looking down, seeming to assess how hurt you were. “I’ll tell you what’s happening now. Okay?” He asked, slowly and calmly, his cold eyes now facing your own, visualizing your soul behind the cover of this hurt shell of yours. You stumbled, and he continued. “I’ll take that away from you, and I need you to help me helping you. Alright? You will be well. I just need you to hold your leg and when I push it over, you roll. Understood?” The man asked, his firm and deep voice being the first source of human contact you had since the lightning caused you to wipe out unconscious hours before. You came in for confirmation.

Ghost nodded back and raised his fingers, counting to three. Contrary to what you might have imagined, he didn’t need to do much to lift the huge concrete block that blocked his left leg from moving — he even had some ease in doing so. He held the concrete above his body, his arms backed over you, he sat down. “Roll.” he commanded, and you obeyed as you could. You leaned her hands on the ground and gave a boost; one of your hands instinctively went to the wounded leg, in an attempt to warm up the pain now felt by finally having released it from the rubble. You couldn’t hold a moan of pain, but he was quickly stifled by the sound of concrete hitting the ground when Ghost let it fall back.

You mentally begged that you could endure that. Your eyes were filled with tears, and a certain despair arose through your throat, your mouth. The anguish of finally feeling the unpleasant smell of the environment, the nervousness of realizing that very possibly, few other people survived that disaster, it was overwhelming your already troubled mind. 

Ghost didn’t lose a second in time; he finished positioning the rifle around his body and you felt his arms wrapping you by the waist and the folds of your knees, and he lifted it up with immense ease – it was as if you were featherweight. The gloves in his hands were rough against the sensitivity of your skin, but his touch was as cautious as possible. You could say without a doubt that this soldier of at least twice your height was doing his best not to hurt you any more than you’re already wounded.

“What is your name?” He finally asked, his rifle resting on his back, and you resting over his arms. He wasn’t looking at you – his eyes were fixed ahead, in the direction he was carrying you to, the exit. You answered, and he nodded in acknowledgement. “You can call me Ghost. I am a soldier, yes? We will take care of you.” He said in a clear tactical attempt to calm your nervousness down.

You sat down with your head. “Amelie Miller... Did you find her? My friend, she... did you find her?” You asked, your body trembled as you came to realize his eyes were now boring into yours.

He seemed to look for words that would not hurt you as much as the ones he had to say, but he for one, was not good with words or comforting.

“I’m sorry, girl,” he whispered, in a sigh. “there are no more survivors. You were the only one.”

~ x ~

Your head hurt. Everything hurt; body, arms. There was a blanket around your shoulders and a bottle of water still sealed in your hands. The look in your eyes was empty, blurred; there were a lot of people there. Many doctors, many operators - soldiers like Ghost. One of them wore a mohican, the other had thick eyebrows. The captain was talking to them in an isolated corner, the doctors were talking to each other about your condition, about what should be done from now on. There were agents from the British intelligence surrounding the site, and there were about hundreds of black bags stretched on the floor, closed. You still felt pain, although the healings now prevented blood from flowing freely through your forehead as before. The glass pieces had been removed from your arms, your face was clean now and even so, you never felt so dirty in your entire life.

Every time you dare to blink, you could swear that you would faint. Your hands were getting weaker, loosening around the bottle. The sudden sound of the bottle falling to the ground caught the attention of one of the men there – the captain. As far as you could realize, he called himself something Price.

“Miss.” He said, coming closer to you. Suddenly, there were eyes on you from every angle possible; all of the other soldiers turned to the ambulance where you were sitting now. You slowly raised your face to look back at Price, and he continued. “I’m not going to ask if it’s okay, this question is rhetorical. You need to be hydrated.” He was bowing down in front of you, taking the bottle he dropped and opening it, offering it to you. Your eyes checked at the bottle for a few seconds and your trembling hand finally grabbed it, drinking until the last drop you could - all at once. You could feel your throat burning, your skin seemed to be in living flesh. The appearance of your wounds was not as unpleasant as the feeling of having them, but you knew that all that would leave you some ugly scars.

You could not care about it now – in fact, couldn’t care about anything at all. Your mind was empty and you never felt so apathetic in such a distressful situation. 

“What am I going to do now?” You asked, in a whisper, your eyes completely lost. “I—what am I going to do...?,” you repeated, and there was nothing but an absolute feeling of raw pain and loss in your voice right at that moment, for as much as you tried to hide it.

Price swelled his chest, and his lips compressed into a line. “You don’t have to worry about anything now. We’ll take care of everything,” he assured. “The government has a great defense program for disasters like this, you won’t be without a roof,” he finished, trying to calm you down. You closed your eyes and shaken your head, but you did not respond. There was nothing to say, nothing to do; what could be done besides trusting that everything would go well? Trust that they would have a plan for you, a shelter, doctors, a chance of living after you were supposed to die in such a horrific way?

You didn’t even know if you wanted all that. Didn’t even knew if you wanted to be the only survivor. Surely not: at that time, you would rather have died among the other more than a hundred people who were now in black bags scattered on the floor in front of you. You felt so much - you felt gratitude for their work, for saving you, but at the same time you couldn’t help but to feel like a fraud for surviving while other died. Others that, somewhat, deserved more than you to live. There was so much in your mind now, but little that you could really synthesize and make sense of.

You drowned your face between your hands, unable to cry, but wanting so deeply to hide from them, from those men, from doctors, from the press, from everything. Wanting to be away from everything, wanting to be dead for once.

A little further away, Ghost observed you. His broad arms crossed, his posture relentlessly perfect as always. His eyes looked at your gestures, scanned your body —all those wounds, poor girl, he thought. Although he was sure there was no more of a heart in his chest, he felt comprehensive towards your emotions. The horrors you had lived in such a short space of time, the unbearable consequences that that meant for your poor mind. The trauma. The pain.

He could not help but think that he saw a bit of himself in you. Not a bit of Ghost – a little bit of Simon. A little bit of the little Simon who felt an immeasurable strain in his chest, a void that could not be filled. 

When the doctors finally helped you to get up in the ambulance and sit on one of the available chairs, your face turned over your own shoulder and you found his eyes stuck to yours. It felt intimidating in some way; perhaps the way his confidence didn’t allow him to look away while you stared at him, or something in the way he seemed capable of reading right through you like a good book of his. He was a savior to you, and somehow it still seemed his persona was conflicting with the one of a savior. He was something else, perhaps still a benefactor, but somehow, a very dangerous man.

There was not a single feeling in his eyes, quite the opposite. There was pure coldness, and yours on the other hand carried some gratitude and ingratitude at the same time. You felt grateful that he had saved you, but at the same time, felt angry at him for not having let you die. You entered the ambulance, and your eyes continued to lock a gaze against his until the moment someone closed the car door from outside.

Ghost turned his eyes at last, and saw Price approaching.

“Fuck.” The captain whispered, laying his hands on his waist, looking at all the misfortune that the incident had caused to that place. “How many bodies?” He asked, looking at Simon with the corner of his eyes.

“A hundred and two so far.” Ghost answered quietly.

“And have you found the bodies of the sons of bitches who did this?” Price said with some disgust and hatred attached to his voice. Ghost assented positively, which made Price crack the dust almost instantly into a distressed expression.

“Motherfuckers.” He grunted, turning to the rest of the team. Soap, who had been remaining in silence for thorough all the search, dared to finally speak.

“We have a lot to report, hm?” He raised his eyebrows, and received a Price assent in response.

“To the headquarters." The captain ordered, making his way to the helicopter that awaited for them, and they left.

[appocalipse]

tell me again — steve harrington

this is for @sparklingsin 's spookinktober! ♥ my prompt is: "Would you stop stuffing your face with candy for one moment and listen?" and somehow i turned this into angst + friends to lovers hehe ♥

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You're halfway between the door and the counter when you hear your name.

Instinctively, you stop. It's Steve. You peek around the shelves and see that he's talking on the phone, absently leaning over the counter, phone cord wrapped around his index finger.

“What about her?” he is saying. He frowns and breathes out a nervous laugh. You'd really like to know what the person on the other end of the line is saying. Steve shakes his head emphatically, though they obviously can't see it. “Oh no, of course not. She's nothing to me.“

A stake through the heart, it seems. A punch to the gut. You'd come to the conclusion that you and Steve were friends at the very least and two people harboring a mutual interest in trying something else at best, but it seems that in reality, you're worse than a stranger to him— nothing. She's nothing to me.

These words keep ringing in your ears. You'd like nothing more than to turn your heel and leave, but the tape in your hand needs to be returned, so you try the second best thing: finding Robin. However, this too fails. She must be in the storage room in the back…or maybe it’s her day off. You really don’t know.

You are many things. Coward is not one of them. It's especially easy to be brave when you're so angry. 

Steve is still in the middle of a conversation — no doubt with one of those gorgeous girls he hangs out with — when you emerge from behind the shelves and slam the tape on the counter. 

Shock, absolute shock blooms over his face — and then all the color drains from it, you realize, in a matter of seconds. 

“I just came to return this,” you say, chin lifted with a confidence you usually wouldn't be able to show. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, Steve.”

He's lowering the phone, opening his mouth to say something, but you don't wait to hear. You ignore the guilt and regret on his face — perhaps more for getting caught than for saying those things in the first place, you think bitterly — and turn toward the door without waiting for an answer.

Experiencing something terribly similar to panic, Steve jumps over the counter rather than walking around it. “Y/N, I don't-”

He lands a little awkwardly on the other side but you're fast, faster in your rage, he notices, and the front door slams hard behind you long before he is anywhere near reaching it.

Robin appears from the back. Her face is a mixture of surprise and disapproval.

“Uh,” she mumbles, giving Steve a pointed look, a crooked smile. “That went well.”

🕸 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆｡°✩🕸

Someone is calling your name. 

Someone tall, unfairly handsome, and who has quite possibly the best hair in the world — someone you've been avoiding.

Steve Harrington. You don't have to turn around to know the voice belongs to him.

Ever loyal, Dustin starts to turn around to wait for him, but you turn him back around by the shoulders and keep walking. Steve is closer now.

“Y/N, c'mon,” he calls again, footsteps resounding against the concrete behind you.

You pick up your own pace — damn, you would have happily run down the road if you thought you could get away with it — but it's no use because Dustin suddenly decides to walk at the same speed as his neighbor, Mrs. Jones, does— and she is eighty years old. 

Dustin turns his head and you see his face, his expression; it's like staring at a big neon sign that says ‘guilty’. 

Understanding downs on you like a bucket of ice water. 

“Traitor!” you accuse, and are still staring at Dustin — who has the decency to look slightly regretful — when a warm hand closes around your elbow, making you jump.

“Can we talk? Please?” Steve asks. Begs.

You try to pull your arm back. It's useless. “I can't believe you told him I was here,” you say to Dustin, still refusing to engage in any kind of interaction with Steve.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Dustin smiles the kind of sweet smile he reserves to save himself from trouble and shrugs, looking from you to Steve with barely hidden delight. “I hate it when my babysitters fight.”

You're not really his babysitter anymore, although his mom still calls you to stay with him when she’s out for the night or something. You’re more friends than anything else.

You scoff, anyway. “He's not your babysitter,” you say pointedly, somewhat jealous. It's kind of ridiculous if you stop to think about it — so you don’t.

“And yet I'm the one who's always driving him around.”

On instinct, you turn your head to look at Steve, angling your chin up with fire in your eyes. 

“And which one of us gets paid?” you say.

You're too close, too defiant, and Steve feels dizzy, his traitorous eyes falling straight to your pouty lips, momentarily forgetting he's standing in front of a bunch of kids. Well, not exactly kids anymore, but…

“Oh, sweet lord,” Dustin rolls his eyes dramatically. His friends are calling out to him, already several steps ahead, and he makes a gesture with his hand asking them to wait. He then turns to you and says, “We'll wait for you in front of Mrs. Jones' house when we're done, okay? Byeee!”

“What- no! Dustin-”

Running, he looks over his shoulder and chuckles. “You better kiss and make up before we head home!”

He doesn't wait for an answer, knowing what it will be, and rushes down the sidewalk after Will, Lucas, and Mike, all wearing very detailed costumes. You make to follow them, all responsibility and focus, but Steve's hand slides from your elbow to your wrist and he holds on tight for a moment, your arm stretched between you and him.

“I can't let them go alone!” you say, putting some drama into your words to see if he wavers and lets you go.

He doesn’t.

“They do it on their own every year.”

Just because it's the truth doesn't mean you're going to let him think he's right. You haven't forgotten what Steve said before. You absolutely have not.

“You're just trying to avoid me,” he accuses.

“Well, I said I would take them trick or treating this year!” you argue. And it's a pretty weak argument, because they're all teenagers now and nothing violent has happened in Hawkins for a long time.

Steve thinks you're not as invested in Halloween as you'd like him to believe. He's seen you wearing that black dress before (he's not complaining) and these knee-high boots too (definitely not complaining), so probably the only thing you bought specifically for tonight is the pointy hat you’re using. You're a witch, a pretty one at that, but little effort was put into it.

“What do you care?”

Steve doesn't let go of your hand, but he’s not holding it tightly either; your brain doesn't register that your body can run away, though. 

Maybe you don't want to.

“I heard you say,” you add, “and I quote, 'she's nothing to me’.”

“I didn't mean it!”

“Then why did you say it?”

“I-” he opens his mouth, closes it, not sure what to say. Your hand slips from his and you turn around to keep walking. Steve holds it again. “Wait! Please, just…don't go. Let me explain?”

You snort. It's a bad idea. A smarter person would take that as the perfect excuse to smother any feelings for this boy blooming in their chest.

You open the candy bar in your hand — your favorite, which Dustin gave you about ten minutes ago, and say, “You have until I finish eating this.” 

And starts eating at an impressive speed. 

Steve watches for a moment before realizing that his time is very, very short and decreasing by the second. 

“Y/N, I- I didn't mean what I said about you. I was just-” half of the candy bar, you’ve already eaten half of the candy bar, he thinks, bewildered. “Just…what can I do to make this right? Please- just tell me. I want to fix this. Just-”

Just, just, just. You’re nearly finished eating and you're barely looking at him, barely interested in listening to whatever he has to say. Steve squeezes your free hand and tries to find your eyes and he's losing his mind and…

He grabs the candy bar and holds it behind him, arms stretched, frustration and desperation clear in his warm brown eyes as they find yours.

“Steve!” you chide.

“Would you stop stuffing your face with candy for one moment and listen?!”

Your body moves before your mind can process. You step forward as Steve steps back, keeping the candy bar safe behind him when you reach for it, at first just on instinct, then with enthusiasm, once, twice. Hopeless attempts, really, but you don't have it in yourself to give up easily.

That is until you, already up on tiptoe and desperately reaching for the candy Steve is deftly holding over his head, feel his breath on your face. A second — you’re unarmed. He senses the closeness before you do, of course, and it doesn't go unnoticed that you are the one who put the two of you in this situation in the first place.

His eyes are already on yours when you finally avert yours from the candy you’re trying to retrieve. His pupils are blown, his lips parted. Close, very close. You swallow hard and neither of you pulls away, although probably — says the voice of reason in your head — you should have.

In the end, the words come out of your mouth almost without permission, almost on their own. “You really didn't mean it?” 

You certainly look more vulnerable than you'd like.

“Of course not,” Steve says quickly, and there's the faintest trace of hurt behind his eyes as he does. “Of course I wouldn't- I never meant to hurt you.”

“Well,” you say, smiling the saddest smile he’s ever seen on you, “you did. You really fucking did.”

You don't notice when you lower your arm, giving up on retrieving the candy bar altogether. You don’t think he notices either, even though Steve lowers his own arm. But both of you definitely notice when his hand touches your cheek, gentle, warm. It's more of a reflex; no time for hesitation, for thinking about what he’s doing.

I'm sorry, this touch means.

But you close your eyes tightly, almost as if you're in physical pain, and take a very long step back, shaking your head.  For a long moment, Steve hates himself, hates the way he’s making you feel. His hand stays where you left it for a little longer, between you and him, seeming awfully empty, awfully cold.

It surprises both of you when you're the one who speaks again.

“Why did you say that?” you question without looking him in the eyes. The fear of the answer is smaller than the frustration of not knowing.

Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

“Because- because Heidi was jealous of you, okay?” he says. 

Heidi, the wannabe supermodel he's been seeing lately. You give a particularly bitter laugh and look away for a brief moment. You can't believe it. That’s his excuse?

“What was I supposed to say?” 

"The truth!" you're not proud that you raise your voice even though you're not really yelling. There's anger, fear, frustration, things beyond your control burning in your throat. “You could have told her the fucking truth, Steve!”

“Oh, really?” Steve raises both eyebrows, ironic. "I was supposed to tell Heidi that since we met you've been the only damn thing on my mind?" He steps forward and you don't step back, caught into some sort of hypnosis, a connection you can't break even when he gets close enough to be too close. “That she has every right to be jealous of you because every time you walk into the room I don't have eyes for anyone else?"

Your heart is doing all sorts of things inside your chest. “What do you-”

“- that I'm head over heels for you… pathetically so?” he chuckles a bitter sound, though it's entirely true, then gazes at the ground when his ever-reliable self-confidence finally wavers in your silence. “Yeah, well… I thought it'd be better if I lied to her too, so I did.”

Your chest rises and falls like you've run just run a marathon. Thump, thump, thump. And then you look at him. Just…look at him. 

“You're an idiot,” you say. But your voice is soft, the way you speak feels more like a hug than an attempt to push him away, an invitation disguised as a tease.

He lifts his eyes to yours, tests the waters.

“I think so,” he whispers after a moment. Because he really is. And this close to you, he feels sillier by the second. He mumbles your name and you lift your chin as if to say 'huh?'

She's going to kill me, he thinks. One of these days. Today. 

He can almost feel the intimacy from before that day on Family Video, that comfortable feeling that always existed between you, the warm smiles and the curious looks; everything coming back. But there's also something new now, something he tried to build with all those words he’d confessed moments ago.

Steve tries not to make anything fall apart when he asks, “Do you forgive me?”

“Um…” you pretend to think deeply. “...maybe.”

“Alrigh,” he says, catching the glimpse of a smile on your face. And then… “Alright.”

And there, right in the middle of the street, on Halloween night, Steve gets on his knees. Yes, the street is deserted now — there aren't any kids around at the moment, but people in their houses might see a strange scene if they were to look out the window now; a boy on his knees in front of a witch.

He drops what's left of your candy on the floor and you cover your mouth with your hand, stifling a laugh you can barely hide. “Steve! Stop it! Get up. You’ll get your pants dirty.”

“Who cares?” he says, beaming up at you. “I'm humbly begging for your forgiveness.”

“This is ridiculous.”

He smiles and doesn't say anything, and before you know what you’re doing, your hand rests on his face. But Steve doesn't pull away; he leans into your touch and you hold your breath for a moment. 

“You're smiling, though,” he points out. 

You can't help it. 

“Do you really…” His skin is warm under your fingers and you’re momentarily unsure whether to ask what you want to know, thinking that maybe you're pushing your luck, that you should be glad you've heard him say it once, that he might change his mind. …

Steve turns his face and kisses the palm of your hand. "What?" he asks softly.

“Do you really think of me in that way?” you finally ask, now without looking at him. “Or are you just… trying to make up for what you said that day? Because if you are, you don’t h-”

Instead of answering, he stands up, wipes his knees as best as he can (not very well) and offers his hand, palm up. 

“C'mon.”

You take it. His hand in yours feels right, and you let him guide you towards a large tree by the side of the road, big enough to hide you from view.

“Soooo…you’ll kill me now?”

It's a bad excuse of a joke, a terrible attempt at easing the tension. He smiles anyway.

"Actually," Steve brings your clasped hands to his lips and kisses the back of yours tenderly. "I was thinking about kissing you."

You must be a sight — cheeks warm, eyes wide. A mess inside, a mess outside.

"You didn’t answer the question."

“I'm not going to kill you now, Y/N.”

“ No, before that…you didn’t answer."

“I know,” Steve says. "Here’s my answer."

Then he holds your head in both hands and kisses you, and something comes alive in your chest. It's slow at first, slower than you'd imagined a kiss with Steve Harrington would be, and ten times, a hundred times, better, sweeter, kinder. Your pointy hat falls from your head and you couldn't care less.

Steve takes his time. You taste like chocolate, smell like spring and he kisses, kisses, kisses, walking you backwards until you're pressed up against the tree and smiling against his mouth. You giggle when he redirects his kisses to your left cheek and hold back a moan when his mouth finds the soft skin just below your ear, nibbling gently.

"Does this answer your question?" he says against your skin.

“I, uh, don’t know, Steve,” he bites your neck lightly, then presses his lips on the spot. You sigh happily and say, “I think I need you to tell me again.”

He would be happy to tell you a thousand times more.

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

The Accident

Request: JJ got hurt when he crashed his motorcycle and he woke up to see the reader sleeping, head resting on her arms, on the edge of the bed. She’s had a crush on him for years, but never told him cause he liked Kiara since kindergarten.

Paring: JJ Maybank x reader

The screeching of metal on concrete vibrates through my mind as the scene plays on repeat. Kie’s sobs, Pope’s shouts for JJ to stop playing around, Topper and Sarah helping load JJ’s body back into the truck. JJ’s head resting on my lap, my fingers running through his blood matted hair, telling myself he is just asleep and we are on John B’s couch.

               The world is submerged underwater and my only focus is on the boy laying in front of me, my best friend. The whole idea behind getting the cross back was absurd, every moment of it. No other moment of my life has come close to the horror that chilled my bones watching the cops chase after JJ once getting Kie to safety in the truck.

               Rustling coming from the door frame snaps me out of my trance to find John B, Sarah, and Kie with hushed whispers. John B wasn’t with us on our failed heist and by the look in his eyes the girls are obviously catching him up to speed. We are supposed to be taking shifts so someone is here with JJ when he wakes up but I refuse to leave. JJ’s cousin checked him out and said he should be fine, but I can’t help but watch each rise and fall of his chest to be sure.

John B’s eyes meet mine and I can see the slightest rise of his eye brows at the scene he is witnessing. I duck my head back to JJ and ignore the heat rising on my cheeks. He is the only one who knows about my crush on JJ ever since a very embarrassing late night drunk conversation after everyone else passed out for the night. But we both know that JJ has been carrying a torch for Kie since kindergarten. JJ was most hurt during her kook year, taking a long while to forgive her, but now acts like it never happened.

JJ paces back and forth with joint in his hand. Pope and John B left with Kie to get provisions for her welcome back party. Only JJ is having a harder time letting go of the last year and I am trying to talk him down. I’m really hoping the weed kicks in soon, JJ is usually more open minded when he gets a nice relaxing dose.

“Y/N how could she just leave us like that and try to come back like nothing happened?!” JJ stops mid pace to look at me, waiting a real answer.

“JJ she explained everything. We were all mad and upset she froze us out. She’s sorry and she’s back. P4L right?”

               Honestly, with Kie’s abandonment I was hoping that JJ would get over his little crush and set his sights somewhere else. Ideally I would want his sights set more on me since I was the only girl in the group. I guess it takes a while to heal a broken heart. Everything went back to normal after that night.

“Y/N,” John B whispers from the doorway. I try to ignore him but he walks till he is standing directly behind me. Placing a hand on my shoulder he tries again. “Y/N, you need to get some rest. Or at least a shower.”

I shake my head as a sob builds in my throat.

“Please, shower at least. You still have his blood on your hands and your legs.” John B squeezes my shoulder, “I’ll stay here with him.”

               Relenting, I nod my head in agreeing with John B. I will my legs to get up and he swiftly takes my place, not letting me change my mind to reclaim my seat. Slowly I make my way out but pause at the door to look back at JJ. Just one more peak at his face before I make my way to the shower.

               On the sink one of the girls laid out some of their extra clothes for me to change into. A swirl of gratitude dances in my chest. It is the lightest I’ve felt since this terrible night started. Operating on autopilot, my hand turns on the water to the shower. I let it run to allow some time for it to warm up. Hot water here is hit or miss, but who can complain about running water.

               Tearing off my clothes one piece at a time my eyes lock on to the red coating my hands and thighs. You still have his blood on your hands and your legs. I run my hands over each other in attempt to rub it off. Not hard or fast enough. My hands move faster, I press harder. I move to my thighs. Small pieces flake off but not enough to make a difference.

               Tears patter against the tile floor breaking me out of my trance. I take deep breathes, 1…2…3… I count in my head. JJ is here, he is alive and he is going to wake up. Finally stepping in the shower the luke warm water cascades down my back and I can feel my muscles loosening. I quickly get to work on cleaning myself up and changing into the new set of clothes.

“He’s still asleep,” John B’s voice greets me without looking up from the ground.

               John B gets up to leave and I quickly reclaim my seat. I feel his presence linger at the door, not quite ready to leave. I can’t blame him, I don’t want to leave him either. JJ is my best friend, and I know John B feels the same.

“Have you thought about telling him yet?” I don’t answer him, which is an answer in itself. “When he wakes up you should.”

               His footstep leave toward the living room with the others. Tell JJ? Just so he can tell me I’m just his friend and that he still has a thing for Kie. To have him act weird around me for the rest of our lives. The thought of that happening is more unbearable than the idea of seeing him and Kie together and losing him in the process. At least I lose him because of her instead of losing him because of myself.

               My eye lids grow heavy as the last bit of adrenaline seeps out of my system. Maybe I should lay down for a bit, just rest my eyes. I’ll wake up before JJ does. Slowly I climb onto the side of the bed that JJ is not on. I loop my fingers in with his as I rest my head against the pillow.

For the rest you can decide how it ends:

Angsty/Sad Happy

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (12)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T (reference to prior acts) Words: 1.2k Summary: "Thanks." "Anytime."

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

He ain’t got no right to feel hurt.

After he’d come harder than he had in a century, spilling his seed across those soft thighs of hers, he’d tried to kiss her. He knew better, but for some reason thought it might be different after.

She’d rejected him, of course.

Why wouldn’t she? She was all smooth skin and cool blood, and she’d made her stance on kisses abundantly clear. But after that ride he was certain she’d change her mind. 

He was a damned fool.

He needs to get away, to shimmy out of this hole they were trapped in and get his bearings again. Put some distance between them. The deathclaw was long gone, no reason to keep hiding.

Except…

Except she was still panting under him, round breasts pressed to his chest with each inhale. He hadn’t imagined how wet she was for him, the way she’d come apart on his cock… nor had he imagined that other thing.

It was enough to drive a man to drink. 

Deciding discretion is the better part of valor he digs in his pocket, finding a scrap of cloth and using it to wipe the cum from her skin before it can begin to burn. “You’ll need a dose of Rad-Away,” he tells her and she turns back, blinking up at him in confusion for a moment before her lips part in a silent ‘o’.

“I didn’t even think about that.”

No she hadn’t, and she hadn’t considered that he was as liable to eat her as he was to fuck her once they were in those tight quarters. She’d trusted him implicitly, which was an idiotic thing to do.

“C’mon, let’s get out and see what’s going on.” He uses one hand to do up his trousers then slides past her, scooping his hat back up and glancing around. There’s footprints in the floor but no sign of any danger. He turns back to tell her as much but she’s already there, dress still pushed to her waist and looking like she’d just been ridden hard.

His mouth goes instantly dry.

She doesn’t meet his eye when she fusses with the straps of the dress and he steps forward without thinking, pulling one up and settling it on her shoulder with careful fingers. She shivers under his touch and he cups her neck, forcing her to look up at him.

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t know.”

It’s a terrible answer, one that gnaws at him as he steps away and fishes for his pack and gloves. He finds hers first, passing the bag her direction without a word. When he sets off again it’s parallel to the mountains they’re aiming for but she doesn’t say a word, keeping one step behind him.

The place he stops at for the night used to be a gas station, concrete on three sides with an easy vantage point from the front. They run off a mole rat and then he gives her the go ahead when she asks about a fire. The smell of roasted iguana fills the space while they sit silently across from each other.

“I wanted to.”

He cocks his head at her. They hadn’t exchanged more than three words in the last four hours.

“You asked why I… because I wanted to. Because I wanted you. Even though I shouldn’t.”

“Because I’m a ghoul,” he finishes for her with a scowl.

“Because I’m me and you’re…. you don’t know what I am.”

The bounty. He’d almost forgotten it. The poster was burning a hole in his pack and he’d all but decided to put off claiming it for at least a month. But she didn’t know that - didn’t know that he knew she was wanted by someone.

It was the perfect time to come clean - so of course he doesn’t. She continually surprised him and without knowing what her reaction was he wasn’t willing to risk it.

“I know you looked mighty pretty with my cock in you.” Her eyes fly to his and he grins, feeling himself warm when she laughs.

“It felt mighty pretty.”

That gets a laugh from him and he sets his hat aside and leans back against the rubble behind him. “Reckon it’s not what a filly imagines for her first time though, in the dirt like that.”

“You noticed.”

He snorts, “Damn hard not to.” 

Biting her lip she glances up at him from under long eyelashes before shaking her head. “You ever spent your whole life preparing to be one thing - only to realize you never really wanted it in the first place?”

He manages to keep his face impassive by a hairsbreadth. “I reckon I can imagine that.”

“I was… raised to be the perfect wife to someone. Be their partner, be only theirs… I never got to make any choices for myself. It was always someone else’s plan.” She pauses and stares down at her hands, “I never thought I would get to choose who my first time was with.”

“Don’t reckon you had much a choice as it was with my ass rutting on top of you.”

She gifts him with a wide smile, “Is that how you remember it?” When he doesn’t reply she continues, “If I’d told you no would you have stopped?”

“I like to think I would have but to be honest I don’t rightly know, hard to think when you’ve got a pair of tits in your face like that.”

The tension in the air breaks and she gives him a mock frown. “Excuse you, I believe it was your tits in my face.”

“And I seem to recall you were having a mite of trouble yourself with keeping your thoughts straight.”

You both break into soft laughter. Silence fills out the space for a few minutes, the only sounds the crackling of the fire.

“Thank you.”

He nearly chokes on his tongue. A dozen jokes leap to mind but she’s not meeting his eyes. He lets it sit before finally replying, “Anytime, darling.” The arch of her neck calls to him and he coughs suddenly, taking a hit of chem.

“I don’t think we should,” she says with a small frown. “It’s dangerous.”

“Shit, you take that Rad-Away yet?”

Her eyes go wide with panic and he pushes himself to his feet, squatting next to her and taking the pack she offers. She doesn’t hesitate to offer her arm, not flinching when he slides the needle in. He sets the meds above her head and flicks the tube until he’s satisfied it’s moving.

Oh, but those big bright eyes of hers are staring up at him like he hung the moon in the sky and he’s already forgotten what had him so irritated all afternoon.

“Thanks,” she says again.

“Anytime.”

He doesn’t move, hovering over her, and she doesn’t ask him to. After a moment she reaches up and tugs at his coat, pulling him to sit next to her and then leaning into his shoulder. A million different thoughts war within him before he does the thing he most wants, which is to wrap an arm around her and pull her against his side.

“Sleep,” he tells her. “I’ll wake you when it’s time.”

☢ ☢ ☢

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[dreadsuitsamus]

cw: smoking, choso x reader

i was just thinking about my first kiss and how it was with somebody i now hate and wish i never met. this kiss itself was short and nothing about the buildup was special or sweet or anything. it was a nothing kiss, and even back then i knew it wasn't good. and then i got to thinking about being at a gathering with some friends, choso being one of them, and one conversation leading to another until you're all telling stories about your first kiss.

it's your turn to go, and when you grimace rather than fondly reminisce like the others had, everyone notes it. "mine sucked." your answer, miniscule and somehow giving all the details, is quickly accepted and the focus is turned to the next in the circle.

choso's blushing, his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose dusted pink, and he doesn't meet anybody's eyes as he explains his first kiss. it was an accident, they hadn't meant to kiss at all, but some mixed signals and coincidental body language led them straight to it. it was nice during, though terribly awkward after the fact.

you can't help but use your friend's embarrassment to ease your spirits and laugh with the rest of the group. playfully bumping your shoulder to his, you giggle. "noted. don't ever try to open a door for you."

choso groans and covers his face, falling onto his back while your friends get another laugh going. leaning on your forearm as the next story gets going, you poke at choso's hands that still hide his handsome blush. "ease up, cho. it's not that bad."

"it was pretty bad." he mumbles, peeking through his fingers at you.

looking away from those pretty eyes, you pick at his sweater. "couldn't be any worse than mine. at least the person you kissed really liked you."

choso sighs softly and his hands come down from his face. his fingers graze your chin and jaw as he encourages you to look at him again. not needing a ton of convincing, you're met with almost sad amber eyes. "it was with him, wasn't it?"

nodding, you look away again and choso sits back up. him. none of your friends use his name, ever, but you all know exactly who they're talking about when they say that. you're grateful he isn't spoken of much and that there's no love for one of their former friends remaining, but the scars on your heart and perhaps even to your soul remain. you'll never forget that ex. how could you? you gave him your all.

"i'm gonna go get some air." you announce after a while, and choso ends up following you to the back porch after a moment. it's cold and dark out, the light by the door only illuminating but so much with that old bulb.

he sits beside you, his ass thoroughly chilled already by the concrete steps. tugging a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he feels around for his lighter. he almost starts to panic, but your laughter has his eyes narrowing with an unimpressed glower. "very funny. give me my lighter back."

ignoring his murmur of "how did you even get it from my pocket? when??" once you've given it back and allowed him to light the cigarette, you rest your cheek against your fist with a slump in your shoulders. choso's hand rests on your back and he soothingly rubs at it, doing his best to ease you. "hey, relax. there's gonna be other first kisses."

"they're not gonna make me forget the first one, though."

"okay sure, you won't forget. nobody forgets the first. but... there's gonna be a better first. one that's good, one that will make you smile and happy to think about even if the relationship never pans out. and that can be your first good kiss story. nobody's gotta know the difference."

"i haven't even kissed anybody since him." you murmur quietly. it's been a couple years since that disaster went to the wayside, but you haven't found anyone you're willing to take another plunge with yet.

choso sets the cigarette down beside him, his long fingers touching your jaw once more. this time, though, he leans in and presses his cold lips to yours. he tastes like cigarettes initially, but when your arms come around his neck and it deepens, there's a sweetness there that you can only equate to freshly-picked strawberries.

"there," choso's eyes are still closed when you part, and your foreheads press together. he can't see the way you look at him, with admiration and adoration and nothing but pure love, but he can feel it. "your first good kiss. and with somebody that really does like you."

"cho..." your lips tingle as he checks the time on his watch. the hour ticks to midnight, and he kisses you a second time. this one is longer, sweet as a stolen peach and even better than the last, if it's possible. you're light as air and it's those big arms of your longtime friend that keeps you from floating off into space.

there's a bit of a squelch when you part this time, heavy breaths mixed together as your lungs burn. licking those reddened, kiss-swollen lips, choso pulls back and picks up his burning cigarette. "and that's your first kiss of today. and i'll kiss you tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that. you'll never have a bad first kiss again, as long as i can help it."

biting your lip through a grin that would reveal all your true feelings to him, you tuck your chilly hands into your sweater sleeves and stand up to head inside. "thanks, cho... um..."

choso stands tall, his hand finding your hip as he plants another kiss onto your lips. "your first good kiss standing up?" his lame explanation is accepted, and you cup his sharp jaw in your hands as you resume the smooch.

once you're back in the house and warming up, choso flicks the cigarette butt and lights another. there's so many firsts he's got to cover! the first in your room, your car, before you go to work and after, and of course every day of every week, month and year... everyone remembers their first, and he intends to be all you can think of the next time somebody asks about your first kiss.

[last-starry-sky]

KATE the way you left it! I’ll be honest. He can watch us have the most sensual, passionate kiss and go down on each other but if he touches her, I’d explode with jealousy. I’m a hypocrite 💀 does asshole Simon just want to get back at us and make us jealous in a threesome?? (thank you for your lovely writing 💕)

*rubs my greedy hands together like a bug* oooooh boy :)

ghost/bi!reader/f!oc (no name used, so she can be read as another reader insert but w/e)

[MDNI - NSFW: 4.2k, weird jealous simon being a creep , pet-names, oral, slight dub-con elements but both girls just roll with it so ymmv, forced m/f/f threesome, dirty talk, light d/s elements, Simon and oc talk you through it, unprotected piv, cumming on the outside, hand-job, implied cum eating. ]

thank u btw! sorry this took almost a month! i really wanted to give this a good part 2!

You don’t know what made you want to sink directly into the concrete more: Simon staring at you, leaning one arm cooly out the window, eyes hard and disappointed as they sweep once up your form taking in your short shorts and skin-tight tank top. His jaw is clenched so hard you think he’s going to crack a tooth. It makes you want to cry, beg, run toward him and explain it’s all a mistake. That you didn’t mean it. It’s not what it looks like.

Or, the terrible pit that opens in your stomach as his eyes drift ever so subtly to the women curled around your back. Her hands grab at your thighs, vining up to your waist, before giggling in your ear as she hugged your chest and rest her head on your shoulder. There’s a glint in Simon’s flint-hard eye, a softness to his lips that he tried to hide with a cough and stubborn turn of his head, but you saw it. You almost wish you didn’t. Maybe it was just the way she swayed her hips behind you, dress glittering in the streetlight. 

“Sooooo,” she said leaning hard on her words, sounding more drunk than she actually was, “this is your guy?”

Simon’s fingers drummed against the side of the door as his dark eyes were turned back at you, staring through his brow. There was not a hint of impatience in the action. 

“Yeah,” you answered turning your head to the woman behind you, wary of breaking eye contact with Simon. “Kinda. We-”

“Well,” she said matter-of-factly, “just so you know, my offer stands.” She hugged you closer before whispering in your ear.  “Do you need me to get you out of here?”

You shook your head. You didn’t think Simon would hurt you, or her, but you hated for a great evening to be ruined.

“Oi!” Simon called out, lightly smacking the outside of the car door to get your attention. “Not waiting all night like a bloody taxi. Get in.” Then, after a long moment looking the pair of you over, tacked on, “Both ‘f you.”

“You don’t-” you tried to tell the woman behind you, but she was already twining her arm around yours, leading you to your car. 

She gave Simon a smug, celebratory smile as she bounced past him, dress shimmying alluringly around her body as she hauled you behind her. She turned to you as she opened the door, letting go of your hand and pulling you in by the small of your back for a quick kiss. You could feel Simon’s hot stare on you as she lingered on your lips for just a bit too long.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said before ducking into the car.

You followed quickly behind her. Simon had the drivers seat pulled all the way back to fit his long legs, so you squished into the middle seat, close to your new “friend”. 

“Cuddle up, baby,” she giggled, pulling your legs into her lap. “Plenty of room.”

You heard Simon grunt out an exasperated noise as he jerked the car back out into the lane, swerving angrily around the smokers loitering outside the club. Your heart pounded as he sped down the dark, busy road, zipping in between cars with little concern as to how much he was throwing the two of you around in the backseat. 

“Okay?” she whispered as held you, soothingly stroking her hands down your back as you rocked to and fro until you relaxed into her shoulder. 

You nodded, lifting up your head to hug her. She sighed as your cheeks pressed together, hands drifting to your hips, letting her fingers trace the frayed hem of your shorts. She smelled so good. She must have dabbed a bit of perfume behind her ears, because your nose lit up with the bright, spicy scent of oranges. You turned your lips to her cheek, inhaling it, and she moaned a rough “oh”, hands curling into the skin of your thigh. 

You only intended to press a kiss, just one, to her neck, but that turned into a line of open kissed up to her cheek. You didn’t need Simon noticing. The woman underneath you had other plans. She turned her face to meet you, capturing your lips. She filled your mouth with lemon and seltzer and the dry, piny, acidity of gin. You couldn’t help but melt into it, chase after it, lick it wildly from her mouth. When you palmed at her breast under the glittery, nubby fabric, startling away as she moved. She broke the kiss to moan against your mouth. 

“Again. Please,” she whispered, dark and needy, placing your hand back on her chest.

A car screamed around you, horn blaring. Simon swerved the car back and forth, throwing you onto your back against the opposite seat with her on top of you.

“Keepin’ y’ own fuckin’ lane!” Simon shouted out the window. “Fuckin’ cunt. Learn t’ fuckin’ drive,” he said hoarsely, slamming his palm down on your poor steering wheel. 

The woman on top of you giggled into your neck. You looked up in time to see Simon’s eyes narrow in on yours in the rear view mirror. Your heart was pounding out of your chest.

“Wha’s so fuckin’ funny back there?” he growled. You heard him hit the turn signal, slow down, and pull over into the left turn lane. 

She pulled her head up slightly, body shaking as she tried to contain her laughter. 

“Distracting you?” she asked before collapsing back into your neck, giggles bubbling out.

Simon scoffed, rolling his eyes as he went back to watching traffic. 

She didn’t stop kissing you the rest of the ride. Even the change from Simon zipping down the busy, downtown streets to the slow crawl down the narrow roads of your neighborhood didn’t register. You were too busy tweaking her nipples through her dress, and then under her dress, while she rutted against your thigh.

It wasn’t until Simon opened the car door that you came crashing back to reality. The both of you looked up at him as he glowered down at you. Your view was upside down, making him look so much taller and intimidating. The way he leaned that stocky, muscled body of his against the car door while he waited, the same body that filled out those stupid light wash jeans and baggy hoodie, it made you want to push up his shirt to see those muscles he had sent you pictures of all those months ago. 

You blushed. You hated how horny he made you, how you still wanted him after what an asshole he’d been since his arrival. 

“Out,” he commanded, stepping back as you lost the warmth on top of you. 

You detangled from each other before shuffling out under Simon’s heavy gaze. He leaned against the door, arms crossed, his bulk pushing the frame slightly to the side. You couldn’t meet his stare as you waited in the cool night air for the other woman to get out. When she did, it was sensual, lurid, like she was still putting on a show. She didn’t give even a glance over to Simon. Instead, she pressed herself to you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Thanks for a great time tonight,” she said sliding her hands down your back to your ass, grabbing a handful as she bit her lip.

Then she turned to Simon. You turned your head with her, catching him as he palmed the front of his jeans. 

That was nothing. Probably, absolutely, nothing.

“Want me to umm . . .” she said coquettishly, batting her eyelashes as she trailed her hands back up your body, uncaring that she pulled your shirt up too. “. . . call an Uber?” She finished her sentence with a press forward into your breasts that made you shiver. “Don’t want to intrude if you two-”

“Get inside,” Simon commanded before popping off the side of the car and walking toward your backdoor, leaving no room for argument as he left you looking at one another. 

You waited for your backdoor to slam closed behind Simon to say anything.

“You can leave if you want,” you said pulling away until it was just your hands cupping her cold shoulders. “I had a great time. I really did, but I should, you know,” you tipped your head toward the house, “clear things up with him.”

“You sure?” she asked sadly.

“Yeah,” you said letting your eyes and body drift away. 

You tried to search for the right way to phrase your thoughts, but came up empty. The details of his life you’d been able to pull from your conversations had been brief, but always harrowing. It felt wrong to divulge to a near-stranger what little he’d told you. It was a lonely, bleak life he lived, with so much was still sealed away, secret, buried deep deep in the past. Maybe that was why you’d let him attach to you, why you’d still let him in after how he treated you. He was a old, abused dog of a man. Anyone else would have turned him away, but your heart was soft, always too soft. Even if it ruined this little bit of happiness, you’d give him another chance. 

“He’s been through a lot, but he’s a good guy. Funny,” you finally said as her hand curled back around yours.

“Then I’ll stay,” she said resolutely, smiling as she pulled you toward the door. 

The two of you stumbled through the dark kitchen, hands already roaming, trying to touch each other through your clothes as you stifled your laughter. She let you lead from here. You pulled her backwards, down the narrow hall of your little one-floor bungalow, past the bathroom and guest bedroom you had set Simon up in. Both were dark. 

It did cross your mind for a moment, as she was biting at your top lip and pawing at your face, that you didn’t know exactly where Simon was, but the thought evaporated as you pushed her against your bed. She pulled herself up and then you on top of her. Both of your shoes clattered to the floor along with your shorts.

“Want you,” she moaned against your lips, pulling your shirt off. “So bad. Just, please, touch me, however you want.”

You hiked her dress up and off, slipping your hands underneath her panties at her hips. She sighed as you pulled them down. She was fucking beautiful, pussy absolutely drenched and quivering, waiting impatiently for you. You liked how clear she was with you, communicating as best as she could even this turned on. Still, you were more than a little nervous with what you had to say.

“I’ve, um . . . never done this before-,” you whispered, trailing your hand hesitantly across her mons.

She placed her hand on yours and pushed you down, forcing your fingers through her slick folds. Oh, she felt just heavenly. It made you squirm a bit yourself. 

“Just do what feels good for you,” she instructed breathlessly, jumping as you circled her clit.

You nodded, letting her shuffle up the bed to give you room. She let you lead again, falling back against the mattress, allowing you to position her legs as you got in a comfortable position. 

Your first lick up her slit was light and experimental. Fuck did she taste good, though: sweaty and briny and real. You dove in again and again, listening to her light sighs as she curled her fingers in your hair. When you got lucky and had someone eat you out, (god it had been so long) you liked it when they started slow and built you into your orgasm. You did the same for her, tongue light as you swirled around her clit, leaning in to suck at it just to hear her breathy moan. You hoped she would like it.

You jumped as a blunt finger traced up the seam of your pussy through your underwear.  

“Gon’ make her cum, lovie?” 

You whipped your head around, gasp falling from your mouth. Simon was leaning over the bed, his body only visible from his chest up like he was materializing out of the dark like some sort of specter.

You tried to turn, to cover yourself, anything, but it was no use. He drew himself further out of the shadows to kneel on the bed behind you. The hand on your pussy planted itself between your shoulder blades, pushing your face back down into the cunt in front of you.

“Finish ‘er off. Don’t pay me no mind,” he said low and dark, saddling up behind you.

You flicked your eyes up to the woman in front of you, nervous as to what she would think of this. To your surprise her hungry, low cast eyes were on Simon. She bit her lip and tossed her head to the side before looking back down at you as her hand crawled back to the crown of your head. 

It spiked something in you, that look she gave him. It made you think back to all of the other long glances they had shared. What was going on between them? You’d assumed it was simple jealousy, a silly fight for dominance, for you. What ever it was, it made you dive back into her pussy with a renewed purpose. You had wanted her to come before, of course, but now you needed her to come. You needed to prove yourself to her, to feel her come undone with just your lips and tongue. You needed Simon to see you do it with equal measure.

Fingers curled in your hair and the woman below you shallowly bucked up into your mouth, a long low moan following. You almost didn’t feel Simon unclasping your bra. 

“Tha’s it. Doin’ good. Keep goin’, lovie. Can see her legs shakin’, right? Know she’s close,” Simon commented. His voice was suddenly very close to your ear now that he was leaning over your back, rutting his jean-clad cock against the cleft of your ass.

All you cared about was those words. She’s close. You could feel it. Her whole core was shuddering against you. Poor, empty pussy clenching against nothing as you sucked on her clit, tongue lapping again and again at the sweet juice that poured from her.

She came suddenly with the cry of a high-pitched oh! as she rode your face, nails biting into your scalp. You stole a look up at her head thrown back against your pillow, the long column of her neck shimmering with sweat. She looked so beautiful. You worked her through it, slowly swirling your tongue around her pulsing clit until she let out a overstimulated whine.

You had wanted to crawl up into her arms after, to hold her and have that sweet moment of pillow talk before letting her fall asleep. Simon didn’t let you have that. He hauled you up against his chest. You thumped against his dark, solid mass that he almost knocked the breath from you. One hand kept you braced to his chest while the other wiped her slick from your mouth, petting your glossy lips with something resembling intimacy.

“Feel better now, hmm?” he asked, tipping your jaw up roughly to force you to face him. “Taste some pussy and now y’ ready to behave f’ me? Spoiled girl.”

You didn’t let you answer him before he set to work. The hand on you chest pulled your loose bra off your arms. One task done, he continued downward to slip a hand past the band of your panties. His large fingers skimmed straight to your dripping hole, ignoring your aching clit. You squirmed as he circled your entrance with those devastatingly large fingers. 

“She do good?” he asked the blissed out woman in front of you, still forcing your head to face him. 

“Mmm hmmm,” you heard her hum, sliding herself leisurely down the pillows until she was beneath you. “Really good for her first time.”

Without warning, he let go of you, leaving the woman below you to catch you. She sighed happily as she hugged you to her chest, pet your hair, and peppered your face with little kisses. Simon tossed his shirt off before pulling the back of your underwear to the side. He kicked your legs wide enough for him to fit his legs between yours with a single low huff of a laugh. 

“Should reward y’ then, huh? Give you that dick y’ve been beggin’ for since I bloody fuckin’ got here?” he said sarcastically, a finger plunging suddenly into you. 

You smothered a whine in the crook of her neck. Simon groaned, pumping the finger in and out, lewd, wet squelching filling the room.

“Fuckin’ wet,” he said breathless, leaning on his words. He bent over you again, large hand pressing an extreme arch into your back as he spoke into your ear. “Get this wet makin’ me watch? Thinkin’ you can make me jealous enough I’d finally fuck y’ proper?”

You answered with a muffled whine, smashed between the bodies under and on top of you. 

You heard Simon unzip his jeans. You expected to feel some part of his skin not long after. When you didn’t, you turned your head to investigate. Your eyes went wide at what you saw. The woman below you, the one you had made out with and eaten out in front of your quasi-unofficial boyfriend, the one that you had unwittingly set up as a rival to this intimidating, mountain of a man, was stroking gently at his face. 

They stared each other down with lusty, hooded eyes for a moment, unsure how this would end. Your mouth fell open as you watched Simon’s eyes flutter shut before leaning in the last few inches to seal his mouth over hers. A blush bloomed over your cheeks as a sudden understanding filled you. This is what it was like to watch someone you liked make out with someone else. To be on the outside looking in. You could only imagine what hell you’d put Simon through tonight. A small pain twisted in your stomach. The hard part was, you liked both of them. You really did, but there was something about your exclusion that made you feel the bite of a certain green-eyed snake.  

Simon was the one who pulled away, a delicate string of saliva connecting their open mouths. It made you whine and squeeze her arm with want. You wanted that. 

“Quit whinin’,” he mumbled, hauling himself back up.

Hands beneath you grabbed at the fat of your ass, squeezing and spreading you wide. She giggled as she presented your leaking holes to the man behind you. Good god, they were working together now. 

Simon groaned as you felt his cock tap once, twice against your ass before notching the head at the entrance to your pussy. He pushed in fully, without waiting, with another breathy groan. You held the woman below you as a pitiful squeak ripped from your chest. 

She pet your hair as she cooed, “Aww, is he too big, baby?”

You couldn’t answer. Simon settling the full length of his cock inside you stole the last of your brain power. 

She giggled again, her hands sliding up your back as Simon’s large hands settled in their place. They both held you down as he began to fuck relentlessly into you, the weight and curve of his cock forcing you fully, deliciously open, knocking at your cervix with every thrust. 

“I bet he is,” she purred in your ear. “Looks like a big boy. Acts like it, too.”

Every impact of his hips forced an involuntary, choked moan from your throat. Your hands gripped tight in the sheets. It’s all you could do as he pounded his full length into you again and again and again.

“Been waitin’,” Simon huffed, rough and deep, as he leaned over you. The change of position made you keen into the mattress. “Been waitin’ f’ this since, fuck,” he said losing his train of thought in his rhythmic slide in and out of the clutch of your cunt.

You knew exactly what he was trying to say. It was the night you finally sent him a dirty picture. It was only because you were drunk and he had promised to send more of his bare skin in return. The picture itself was shit. Dark and grainy, thanks to your shitty phone camera and mirror, but you were still in your bra and panties, leaning over the foot-board of your bed to get a good angle, and that was all he had asked for.

He didn’t respond for about an hour, which made you nervous. You spent most of that hour convinced he hated what he saw. Finally, you made yourself send him a single question mark followed by “you good?” just to make sure he was still alive.

“fuck love” he had responded, followed by a picture of his cum painting the palm of his hand, the leg of his tan pants, and spotting the floor if you could trust your eyes and his equally shitty photo. “more than good”

You’d fallen into a blissful sleep after that, waking up to the best text you’d ever received. 

“can’t wait to get my hands on you”

Now here he is, finally railing you into the bed like you’d wanted. It’s impatient, sloppy, and little too rough, but fuck it, he’s here. You can feel all of his frustration pouring into you, the long, exhausting months spent on the job without the time for basic needs, let alone time to beat off. 

Something tripped in your brain. There had always been this desire to please within you. A need to give and give and give but never take. There was something about how mercilessly he was fucking you that made you melt. You weren’t just taking it, you wanted it. 

He pulled out of you suddenly, one big hand rolling you on to your back. You flopped onto the mattress, slightly to the right, but still on top of the other woman. Her hands and legs wound around you, spreading you open and squeezing at your tits as Simon worked himself to completion.

“On her pussy,” she sighed, a hand coming down to rub at your neglected clit. “Do it, Si. She’ll look so pretty coated in your cum.”

He followed her command to the letter, eyes pinching shut as he came with a moan, falling onto one hand as rope after rope of his spend shot across your splayed open sex.

Wow, you thought. He really had cum that much. 

He pulled himself back upright with a groan, wiping his hand on the sheets below him. The fingers on your pussy didn’t stop as you’d expected, though. You shivered and whined as she expertly wound you tighter and tighter, orgasm fast approaching.

“Can I finish her?” she asked Simon, voice breathy as she watched her fingers work his warm, sticky cum around your nub. “Been so good to us. Think she deserves it.”

You looked up at Simon, eyes wet and pleading as whines after pitiful whine fell from your mouth. Fuck did you want to cum so bad. She had you teetering on a knife’s edge, just a few more targeted swipes and you would be there.

He nodded silently, smoothing his hands down your legs as he watched. You let your head roll to the side as she began to work tight circles over the exposed head of your pearl. 

You opened your mouth to cry out as you came, but a mouth covered yours. You shuddered as his tongue slowly licked into your mouth, absorbing your cries. It was more than you could take. You felt tears roll down your cheeks as you curled your arms around his neck. When he pulled away you cried out his name as you fell from your peak.

“Si. Si. Si.”

He pecked a final kiss to your top lip before falling to your side with a groan. Your head was still floating, but that made you pliant, moveable enough for him to pull you over against his chest. Feeling something missing, you reached out, grabbing at nothing until you felt a body slide into your arms with a muffled, contented laugh. 

“Right here, baby,” she said, popping her fingers out of her mouth to kiss your forehead. “Not going anywhere.”

A moment of silence fell as you all caught your breaths. Simon felt like a rock behind you. You assumed he had fallen asleep. The woman laying next to you was just as sleepy as you, heavy eyes fluttering shut as her chest began to rise and fall slowly and rhythmically. 

“‘s fine by me,” Simon mumbled into your hair, “Din’ plan on lettin’ either ’f y’ go.”

a/n: thank u, first of all, to my kind, patient anon who started all this. u da best ❤️ I hope you like this! i also can't believe i wrote my first non-straight fic in pride month, lmao. Now to get part 3 of Girl's Night Out finished for my anniversary!!!

[valenschmidt]

Thanks for answering my ask! Yes, that's very true, Ryan has been consistently hated/viewed with suspicion and skepticism for years, so the majority of buddie fandom (who are Oliver stans) wouldn't want to ship him with Oliver. I distinctly remember one particular post (in Ryan's tag) a year or two ago that was like, "ugh if buddie goes canon i feel sorry for oliver having to kiss that man" 🙄

Lol yes I guess we have to thank bt shippers and their OTT vitriol for turning the tide somewhat. It's been nice to see a recent influx of vocal Eddie/Ryan fans join the fandom. So refreshing and entertaining.

Yes also I remember the super cute bts vids that popped up during/toward the end of s6, and some people tagging positively about Ryan (albeit begrudgingly!). But definitely a lot more people were on edge about rpf compared to now.

Ooooh so about Oliver being single, that's what I thought too! But someone else I sent an ask(?) to a while ago said that he didn't actually say anything concrete in his insta live, and that he is still with his gf 🤔 does anyone have any further confirmation either way? I'd love to know!

"this happens quite a lot when ships are about to go canon. People start projecting the ship onto the actors, especially when chemistry is REALLY huge " - this is a really interesting phenomenon you've pointed out!

No provblem anon! I love receiving asks!!

YES!!! I completely understand why people were really mad back then, especially black people and I also understand if there are still black people who haven't quite forgiven him and it's totally valid, because what he did was not ok (even if he never said that word he was still trying to justify his then wife's actions and that should have been a big no no) the problem is that people let it get a tad too far and spreading things that were NOT true to new fans in the recent years out of anger, making him seen like a terrible person who is a racist and hates black people when that is not true... Aisha and Angela were really mad back then but they both clearly have forgiven him (since Angela invited him to his anniversary party and Aisha to his wedding) and he has never done anything remotely similar again so I think he truly changed and has become better so I really believe people have started to see that and the bt being awful to him probably was a changing point to most of the fandom (not all because some still hate him) but well you can't change someone's views on people changing...

Also yes anon! A lot were completely against it calling it awful and whatnot and now are the biggest ryliver shippers (and getting viral over it when less than 6 months ago they would cancel you) and taking everything as ryliver signs but whatever I just hope they don't take things too far

To the Oliver thing... I watched that interview live and I'm 100% sure he said he's single but I can't for the life of me find a clip of the interview (if anyone finds it please send it to me!!!) But I remember that he said he was single and then kind of shaded his ex (lol) so yeah

As for the last thing... yup not many notice but it happens quite a lot. Just like how actors tend to fall in love with eachother (which doesn't happen all the time but it happens) in fandom it also happens that they believe they fall in love. Take heartstopper for example... Kit and Joe plan Nick and Charlie who are very in love but in reality they're just very good friends but people insist on shipping them or the Bridgerton actors that play Colin and Penelope as well... people project the feelings of their characters into their real life personalities because of the chemistry the actors have together. It's hard to comprehend the idea of acting so close to someone and play lovers and have so much chemistry but not falling in love

Wow now that was quite a lot 🤣

Sorry anon I got carried away

[az-cain]

Hey, Cowboy (Part Two)

jake seresin x reader ≈ 1900 words

smutty smut smut, but it’s tender and sweet

TW FOR: PiV sex, vaginal fingering, in a car, but the sex is in a bed, oral sex m!receiving, poor communication for .5 seconds

As he clasped your hand in his, he slapped a 10 on the bar to pay for the drink that you had in your system. The tug he gave your hand while he looked at you expectantly shook the hat on your head slightly. A smile cracked across your face once reality had set in. He did want you, and Trace wasn’t lying. In fact, Trace was smirking right at you from over Seresin’s shoulder. As you met her eyes, Jake’s followed and saw the brunette’s expression, whipping his head around and narrowing his eyes in an accusatory expression towards you.

“No way.”

You grimaced slightly, shrugging. “Thought you hated me. It took Phee talking to me to realize maybe I should give it a go.”

He tightened his grip on your hand with a soft smile and pulled you into him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders when you knocked into his chest. “Bullshit.”

Leading you out the door, he motioned towards his little red sports car with the hand that rested on your shoulder, humming when you said his name.

You swallowed harshly, bracing yourself for his answer by staring at the concrete sidewalk as the two of you stopped walking. “Is this just gonna be— um— just the rule?” You sighed, meeting his eyes reluctantly as your fingers messed with your skirt.

He pulled back, placing both hands on your shoulders and shaking you lightly. “No! What the fuck?” He laughed loudly. “I’ve been trying to date you for months. All of the ‘you’re so interested in my personal life, I figured you’d have tried to figure it out firsthand’ meant what to you?”

You laughed incredulously, clapping your hands on his shoulders and shaking him right back. “I thought you were calling me a stalker.”

“No way.”

“Yes way. You are a terrible communicator.”

He huffed slightly and shrugged in acknowledgement as he wrapped an arm around you and started walking again. “Maybe so. But now I’m your terrible communicator, if you’ll have me.”

You looked up at him with a hum, watching as his pretty green eyes flicked down to you. “Well that depends on tonight, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, darlin’, that’s gonna be a yes.” His words shot heat through your lower belly, making you sigh heavily through your nose.

As you slipped into his coupe, he smacked your ass lightly, your breathing speeding up as you yelped. A few seconds later, he was sliding into the driver’s seat and shifting into drive. “My house alright?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, thighs grinding together subconsciously as you crossed them in the narrow passenger seat. Ever observant, Jake’s gaze flicked over to where they clenched before moving up to where his hat sat on your head.

His right hand dropped from the wheel to your upper leg, where his thumb picked up a languorous pace tracing circles. You whimpered quietly, wishing his hand would move up just a bit more. “Please, Jake.”

A smile crossed his lips, his hand moving up to the place your thighs met as he stopped for a light. “Since you asked so nicely,” he rubbed lightly along the seam of your pussy with one finger, the wetness seeping through your thin underwear slightly. You whined loudly, hips canting up towards his hand. “You’re so vocal, so good for me. That feel good?”

You nodded feverishly, and panted as you pleaded silently for more.

“You want something else, pretty girl?” His eyes returned to the road as the light flipped to green, that finger still painstakingly tracing you.

“Please, your fingers.”

He groaned, “Oh, good girl, of course.” Pulling your panties to the side, he slipped two fingers into you and you cried out, pushing against them. His knuckles were just barely brushing your clit, but it was so sensitive that it felt like heaven. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Just as you moaned loudly, about to ask for him to move, he took a sharp turn into a small gravel road that you soon recognized to be a driveway and pulled his fingers out of you, much to your dismay. Meeting your eyes as he stopped the car, he popped the fingers soaked in you into his mouth and moaned, making a show of licking them clean. You were, however, fairly confident that his hips lifting up off the seat was no act, because when he removed his now spit-covered fingers from his mouth, he was panting like a dog.

You reached for your door, eager to reach the bedroom and about to make a mad dash for the house, but he yelped your name and scrambled out of his own door, regardless of the uncomfortable bulge in his pants. When he circled the front to pull open your door and offer you a hand, you felt your heart twist. Hopping out of the car, you grabbed him by the jaw and kissed him, twisting your hands into his hair and moaning when he did. Your lips pressed tightly against his, tongues slipping against one another as you ground your torso against the hardness you felt on him.

As he broke away, you followed him, but he only allowed you two more kisses before whining, “We have to go inside, there are kids in the neighborhood.” With a nod, you let him tug you up the short set of stairs to his doorway, watched him fumble with his keys in his urgency, and finally unlock his knob and deadbolt, before he shoved the door open and let you go in first. As soon as you were in, he threw his lips against yours again, lips open and sloppy. Your upper lip pressed against his teeth as you lightly nibbled on his lower lip. He moaned against you, louder than ever, and you took note. Dropping your lips to his throat, you bit lightly on his Adam’s apple, feeling his chest heave under your palms, before yanking his shirt off to gain access to his chest.

His chest was broad and tan, and you hummed quietly as you set your lips back to his pecs, sucking a mark into the left one to hear him whimper before moving to the right, savoring his noises. After a few more marks, he pulled you up to his lips and walked you backwards towards what you knew to be his bedroom. When you reached it, he pulled off your shirt and you kicked off your shoes and unzipped your skirt to shimmy out of it before raising your arms for him. Left in your bra and panties, you gestured for him to take off his boots before unzipping his pants, stroking lightly across the outline of him before pulling his pants the whole way down.

When you’d landed on your knees in front of him, you looked up at his red face with a smile, knowing your next move. You pulled down his boxers with a moan, struck by the sight and sound of his cock slapping against his stomach: long, thick, and red, with the veins popping out and probably aching. He hissed, hand landing in your hair.

“You don’t have to...” he began, before you laid your hand on him and your lips on his head. His abdomen clenched up like he’d been gut-punched and he whined desperately, “Oh, holy fuck.”

You suckled at the red tip, hand stroking over the entire length as you started to take more of him into your mouth. His hand clenched tighter, pulling at the roots of your hair. You moaned, hand drawing up to touch his balls, running your fingers across them harder when he made a loud punched-out noise above you.

Pulling you off and up by your hair, he murmured praises: “You’re so good at that," and “Almost had me done for in under a minute, dammit.”

Swallowing down some air, you turned him so his back was facing the bed and shoved his chest lightly. “I believe I still owe you a ride?”

Nodding eagerly, he dropped onto the bed and gestured to the wall, where a mirror hung facing the bed. “Gonna sit up though, I wanna see you get split open.”

To that, you straddled his lap with a low groan and met his eyes while you positioned him at your entrance. “Ready?”

“God, yes.”

Smiling, you moved down slowly, but were quickly met with a soft tinge of pain. You groaned, burying your face in his shoulder as he pet your hair and tried to control his breathing. The pain quickly turned into a pleasurable throb and you clenched down around him, making him moan loudly. Finally, you began to bounce. His hands grasped your asscheeks and spread them, massaging lightly and rubbing his finger against where the two of you met while he groaned your name.

“God, Raptor. Callsign shoulda been fuckin’ Bunny. Look so good hopping up and down.”

Giggling, you bounced faster, wailing when he reached a hand around to rub at your clit. You felt yourself clench around him, spurring his hips to kick up into you and hit your g-spot. Ripping your face from his shoulder and burying your hands in his hair, you demanded, “Do it again.” Smirking, he placed a hand behind him on the bed, the other rubbing harder against your clit, and started to thrust up into you consistently. He kept hitting your spot, loud cries leaving your mouth in time with his grunts and groans, until finally, the dam burst. His finger pushed against you perfectly just as he thrust in and you collapsed on top of him, arms crossed on his chest as you convulsed, walls clamping down on him as he continued to push into you.

You distantly felt him slip out of you, moving above you, your arms now resting on the bed. As he slipped back in, your walls continued to flutter, one orgasm starting into the next. “Oh, fuck, Jake!” You cried, his hand slipping into your hair and tugging you up against his chest.

“Again, baby. Gimme one more,” he panted, driving into you and pulling you back, his other hand rubbing at your sore clit again.

You felt the tightness ratchet up, up, up, before it hit you again, quicker than it ever had before. “Oh, shit!” Your body fell forward again as his hips stuttered, your pulsing walls making him let go. He pushed into you one final time with a loud whine, cum leaking out around his cock, and rubbed along your clit until every last pulse was finished.

He collapsed behind you and stayed like that for a while, asking if you needed to get up and pee after about five minutes, to which you groaned sadly and hummed a yes. Once you’d returned, washcloth in hand, he was nearly asleep.

While you cleaned him, he whined quietly and almost got hard again, but you ended in time and tossed the washcloth down, sliding under the covers and making grabby hands to make him join you. Tired, content, and happy, he wrapped himself around you and the two of you drifted off to sleep.

taglist: @imsolatetothegame @kyuupidwrites @forever-sleepy-sloth

[like-rain-or-confetti]

To the Grave

The fight was easier to stomach when the enemies heart wasn't on their sleeve. Easier to do monstrous things when perceived as nothing but a monster. Batman's sidekick being the one to fall could be stomached only until the dust settled and the rogue couldn't hide what they had done with adrenaline. Within seconds a life was gone. One night when no longer able to take the guilt in silence anymore, the villain visited the side kicks grave.There was a biting chill in the air and a light breeze as the season would change soon to colder weather. The grave was a place of unexpected solace and a place to breathe with the one person who always let them have the time and space to breathe. Though nothing changed the pang in their chest to think all that once was the sidekick of Batman is now only represented by a rectangle of engraved concrete.

Scarecrow: "I know. I'm a surprise, aren't I?" A slight twinkle of humour in Jonathan's eyes with the ghost of a smile on one side of his lips. He took a breath and sat in front of the grave, placing a white peony flower before him just before the gravestone. "I didn't think your passing would hurt me...but it has (Y/N). There's a hole that you've left. A hole I can't help but notice, everywhere I look." Jonathan paused and let out a sigh, as though to admit defeat to his emotions. Accepting that he couldn't fool himself like he could everyone else. "I know why. As much as I hate it. If anyone saw the good in me, the good I could do- it was you." He swallowed and forced out words that made him a little fearful with how vulnerable the thought made him. "I'm sorry for not changing for you. Now that you're gone, I wish I could have shown you. Shown the good in me people never want to see."

Two-Face: He sighed almost immediately like he was irritated and inconvenienced despite his own choice to visit the grave. As though to cut you off the silence, Harv spoke up. "Listen, we know we don't do the mushy shit, but we got history." He unceremoniously sat down in the grave, Harv' grumbling that he was getting too old to sit like this but didn't want any other way. This was personal and he wasn't going to stand over you for a second time. "I can't pretend you were just some kid that fell through the cracks." Harvey finally spoke up. "Had I just listened to you and gone with you, you wouldn't be here." The silence was heavy. He could have spent all night contemplating what could have been, but it'd never change the past. A reality he was more than acquainted with. He had spent countless number of hours of 'what if'. It only made the pain linger longer. "What I wouldn't give to have listened now. This guilt... if anyone should have lived through all of this, it was you. It's a terrible habit of mine I've found. Surviving whilst the good around me crumbles."

The Riddler: When he sat down he was quiet for a long time, inspecting every little detail of the engraving on the stone. Finally he spoke. "I love to win. I'm sure you knew that. You weren't that stupid...I hope. I crave it. The victory. Every win reflects on me just like every loss does and every loss is...people hate to lose. Though not everyone falls apart like I do." He reluctantly admitted. "I thought my victory would lead to happiness. The world would be as it should. Myself superior. I didn't fully get my way, the Dark Knight would be long gone by now as I danced on his grave had I gotten my way. The history books would one day praise me and I could finally rest for a little while as the best. Until I got bored and needed a new challenge at least. Alas, it was you I ruined in the end, wasn't it?" Despite knowing hed never get an answer, he waited for one. Letting the silence wash over him. "It's not a triumphant feeling, you know. I don't feel good about your death. In fact...I feel like I broke you. My father hated me, and one of the things he always told me was that people would be misfortuned to know me or be near me. Like I was a curse. I learned to live with that, even how to pretend I enjoyed it just to sleep at night." He smirked a little, succumbing to that little flair of spite he always carried with him. If it was the one thing his father gave him- it was spite. Though that deteriorated as his smirk fell, remembering the current moment. "With you though, knowing you, the belief you had in me. This is the worst victory I've ever had. I've won this fight but...why do I feel like I've lost more than I ever have before? Like everything you thought I could be...I've only proven how unlikely that could be. For once...that's a feeling I loathe."

Black Mask: He took a swig from his whiskey bottle before pointing to the grave. "You're an asshole." He said coldly and was met with nothing but the cold air and silence. "What gave you the big idea to die this time, eh? Couldn't you just get some freak accident that had nothing to do with me if you really had to die?" He sounded both angry and sad but slowly that anger melted away when left with grief and that acknowledgement that he was insulting concrete. "Of course not, that's not a boot up my ass if you did." He said with light snark. After a pause, he sounded calmer. "I didn't realise I got so used to failing that actually winning..." He trailed off, feeling himself clam up before he could finish the sentence. He was never good with opening up and expressing his feelings. He'd rather punch it out. "Kid, I hate that I won this time. I've spent weeks telling myself that I'm pleased. It's how it's supposed to have went. I'm bigger and stronger yet... it just makes me feel more like a monster. I coulda ignored you. Kept you out the way and dealt with the Bat, yet I was so used to losing that deep down I expect it. I'd have take a million losses if i didn't have to live with knowing I killed a kid." He remembered the way you'd have no doubted protested at being called a kid and taken it as coddling or babying you. So just as quickly he added. "And don't bullshit me either, I don't care how old you are- you were a kid and you sure as hell aren't supposed to be six feet under before me." He sighed again and took another swig. "You should have hated me. This would have been easier if you did."

Deadshot: He didn't talk for a long time. It almost seemed as though he had nothing to say at all. Thought in his mind, a million things ran through his mind. "You know I got a rule. It's in my contract for clients. No one pregnant and no kids. It sounds ridiculous but only to those who have never had to pull the trigger. Mid twenties and above. That can be stomached. Elderly have had a good run, adults can be held accountable for their stupid problems but kids? They're innocents and ...it's something you never really process when you have to..." Perhaps it wouldnt have been easy for most to finish that sentence but for him, finishing that sentence was as difficult as stomaching his actions. Yet he continued. You had always wanted to know of his daughter in life and in death, he was going to tell you. He owed you that much after everything. "After my daughter was born, I enforced that rule strictly. No exceptions." He swallowed, he couldn't think of how close in years you were to his daughter without squeezing his eyes shut as though to try and block it from his mind. "You're only a few years older than my kid, you know. I think that'd why I can't handle it. You...you were too young. You were a kid because you still saw the good in every low life you saw. You saw me as a father and not as an assassin. I said you were nuts for it but...I appreciated it inside." He let out a shaky breath. "I remember when I warned you to quit before you'd get hurt, before you'd get killed. I thought it would have been by someone else. I never for one second considered that it would have been me." He shook his head, disgusted with himself and the situation. "I hugged my daughter that little bit tighter. Appreciated her more than I ever have before, like that was possible but...it was a hug I wish I could have given you. It was for you as much as it was for her and...I've convinced her my ex to get her out of Gotham. I'm scared you see, that one day she could...that she could be a target and I don't want that for her. I don't want her to worry. I want her to live and have a great life. If not for her then for you, because I robbed you of that."

[sithbvcky]

HAZY SHADE OF WINTER .02

"Time, time, time, see what's become of me." Bucky's attempt at hiding after the events in Washington don't go as planned when a ghost from his past reappears, Bucky will have to make a terrible choice. Bucky x female mutant oc Word Count: 1,462 MASTERLIST

SIBERIA 2014

“Is the experiment ready?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Bring her in.” 

Two men in lab coats wheeled in a young woman on a table. 

“Is she sedated?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good.”

“Will it work, sir?” 

“I hope so.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” 

The man looked sternly at the other who asked the question, 

“Then we terminate it.” He stated, turning his attention back to the line of syringes before him. 

“I have always wanted a pet.” He said, picking up a syringe. “A mutant under my complete control. The soldier was doomed to fail eventually, but this.” He aimed the needle at the woman’s arm. 

“This is evolution. Pure evolution.”

———————

“What the hell was it?” Sam questioned, standing beside Steve in an abandoned motor garage. 

“I don’t know, she could move things with her mind. Who knows what else she’s capable of.” Steve sighed, looking into the other room where Bucky sat solemnly against the concrete wall. 

“And you think she’s after him?” Sam asked, following Steve’s gaze. 

“I do. I think whoever sent her want’s him, I don’t know for what.” 

“How long do we have before she finds us again?” 

Steve glanced at Sam before moving into the next room where Bucky still sat in quiet solitude. 

“Buck.” Steve called, Bucky made no movement to acknowledge him. 

“Bucky, we can’t help if you don’t help us. Did you know who attacked us in your apartment?” 

Bucky lifted his head to look up at Steve, 

“No.” He muttered. 

“Do you know who might’ve sent her?” Steve continued. 

“Hydra. They want to bring me back.” Bucky answered. 

“Bring you back to use you again?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head, 

“To get rid of me. I failed the mission, then ran away. They want to make sure no one else knows about their secret little organization.” Bucky explained.

“Organization?” 

“The place where I was kept, in Siberia.” 

“Are you saying there are others like you?” 

“Not exactly. They used me to train a few but none of them lasted long, except one. She was strong and with Hydra’s serum she was even stronger.” Bucky told, his eyes seemed to glaze over as he did. 

“What happened to her?” Sam asked. 

“I don’t know. A lot of that is fuzzy, the last time I saw her she was in her cell. Then I was in D.C.” Bucky responded. 

“Do you think that whatever attacked could be her?” Steve continued. Bucky looked up at them and shook his head. 

“Hydra weren’t in the business of making mutants, they wanted soldiers to infiltrate and destroy.”

“Who better to infiltrate and destroy than a mutant.” Sam said. Bucky shot him a glare. 

“Listen, maybe we should talk to someone with a little more experience in this department.” Steve changed the subject. 

“Who?” Sam asked. 

“An old friend of a friend.” 

———————

“What the hell are we doing in some dive bar in Canada?” Sam muttered under his breath as the three men walked into the building. Wood paneled walls, animal bones and heads hung as decorations. Bucky kept his head down, hiding his face with the brim of his hat.

“He was the one Tony recommended and I know he may look rough but I think he’ll help.” Steve assured as they approached the bar where a man in red plaid sat with a beer before him. 

“Excuse me.” Steve stepped up beside the man.

“Fuck off.” The man responded gruffly, taking a large swig of his drink. Steve looked back at Sam and Bucky with a raise of his brows before trying again. 

“Listen, we need your help, I was told-

“I don’t care what you were told, bub.” The man turned to look at Steve and remained unfazed when he realized who it was that was bothering him. 

“You and your friends can find someone else to join your star spangled dance squad.” The man grumbled, turning his attention back to his beer. 

“I’m not asking you to join anything, pal. There is a mutant hunting my friend and we need your help.” Steve’s voice was laced with venom, he was annoyed at how difficult Tony’s contact turned out to be. 

“A mutant?” The man cocked an eyebrow. “What kind?” He asked. 

“We don’t know, but she could move objects without touching them.” Steve answered. The man gulped down the rest of his beer, 

“Yeah, you have yourselves a problem alright." Was all he said. 

“Are you gonna help us or not?” Sam asked in frustration. The man stood up, he was much larger in comparison to the others. Before anyone could speak, the jukebox in the corner of the bar began glitching until a song began to play. Everyone in the room was silent, as the song echoed through the bar. 

“Time, time, time, see what’s become of me.” 

Suddenly, various objects around the building began to shake. Glasses began to explode, sparks burst from electrical sockets. 

“Ah, shit.” The man in plaid muttered. 

“She found us.” Sam said, looking around as the lights went out. Patrons started muttering in hushed tones to each other, trying to figure out what was going on.

“You got one hell of a pissed off mutant.” The man in plaid commented. The doors to the bar burst open, revealing the girl from the apartment. The lights flickered again, people started to scream and run from the place. 

Three sharp metal claws protruded from the man in plaids hands, 

“Did that just come out of you?” Sam questioned, distracted. 

“Yes.” The man grumbled, his eyes were trained on the woman who still stood in the doorway. Almost like she was playing with them. 

“What’s the plan?” Steve asked, but the man didn’t answer he simply lunged at the woman, like an animal breaking from its cage. The woman stuck her hand out and the man’s body froze in the air. With a swipe of her hand she tossed him into the wall where he crashed down on the booths beneath. She moved forward, walking toward where Bucky stood beside Steve. Sam made a move to step between them but she flung him back behind the bar just as easily as she had launched the other man. Her eyes were locked on Bucky, and his to hers. 

“What do you want?” Steve asked, stepping in front of his friend. She didn’t respond, her eyes moving to look at Bucky. With a growl, the man in plaid tackled the woman from behind, pinning her down with his impressive strength. 

“Get the fuck out of here!” He barked, as the woman began to fight his hold on her. Steve ran to help Sam up. The woman kicked the man off her, her strength rivaling his own. Getting to her feet she set her sights on Bucky. He was frozen in place, his body was struck with fear, with knowing. That face. Extending her arm forward, Bucky felt an invisible hand close around his neck. He was struggling to get air as he tugged at the invisible grip she had on him. His vision was starting to blacken, 

“Hey, doll face!” A gruff voice shouted, the woman turned and was met with another skull crashing into hers. She fell to the ground and her grip on Bucky vanished. Bucky dropped to the floor as well, taking in sharp inhales as his airways opened up. His eyes traversed the woman’s unconscious body, her face. He knew that face, why did he know that face? Steve walked up with Sam leaning his body on his. 

“Is your skull made of steel or something?” Sam joked. 

“Adamantium. And the name is Logan.” The man in plaid responded. Sam furrowed his brow. 

“I’m-“ 

“I know who you are, Captain.” Logan interrupted. 

“Do you know who or what she is?” Steve asked instead. Logan shook his head, 

“No.”

“I think I do.” Bucky choked, his throat dry. Logan, Sam and Steve all looked at him as he continued staring at the woman. 

“We better get out of here.” Sam broke the silence. 

“What about?” Steve gestured to the woman. 

“I’ll take her somewhere safe. Somewhere she can’t run.” Logan said. 

“I’m going with you.” Bucky stated. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Steve hesitated, 

“I should be there when she comes to. In case.” Bucky explained, he looked at Steve and Steve understood.

“Send me your coordinates when you arrive. I’ll join you when Sam is taken care of.” 

Bucky nodded as Logan lifted the woman into his arms. He curled and uncurled his metal hand as he followed Logan to his truck. He had to be there when she woke up, just in case she remembered or didn’t. Either way he knew it had to be him.