#said in the ‘gary i need’ voice

[lemongogo]

i need 2 get back into painting fish

[postmortemnivis]

nobody knew simon’s name, his cold glances penetrating souls whenever someone on the force even dared to call him by his first name. he preferred it this way. he wasn’t the kind to blend personal life and work, he didn’t want to look at himself in the mirror without his mask and still see a murderer. his hands were clean, protected by the gloves ghost slipped on each time he reached base. it was soon that the other soldiers almost forgot his name, agreeing that their lieutenant was indeed a ghost.

that was until your worried voice called for him.

you didn’t know of the ghost identity, it had never even crossed your mind that your simon, your sweet and caring boyfriend’s personality would switch into a cold blooded killer as soon as he set foot at base or in the field. of course he never mentioned it with you, he sporadically talked about his job and his missions. you knew he was a strict lieutenant, but you had been kept away from more by the person with the skull mask and balaclava.

“simon?” you asked for the third time the receptionist. she apologetically looked up at you and shrugged. “oh cmon, simon riley. i know for a fact that he’s here. please, i need to see him.”

“i’m very sorry miss but…” the woman shook her head again, “let me call the captain.”

you sighed and sat down by the waiting area until a man walked in and talked to the woman.

“who’re you looking for?”

you stood up. “simon. simon riley.”

“ghost?”

you shook your head, almost clueless. “no, simon riley.”

“yeah, that’s him…” he said, “he’s training the recruits now. shall i deliver a message?”

“no, i need to see him personally. i wouldn’t have come all the way here if it wasn’t important, captain.”

you'd seen price a few times, simon's loyalty to the man was almost like a dog's one, always following orders and rarely complaining. he often talked about him when he was at home, all he shared with you about his threatening job was the friends he made along the way: johnny, kyle, price, gary, nikolai. he'd often go out for a pint—or two—with johnny and kyle, who also occasionally would come to your shared apartment for dinner with their temporary girlfriends.

"follow me." price sighed. you eagerly followed him, as close as his shadow, and the courtyard came into sight. dozens and dozens of soldiers in scarlet training uniforms were running laps of the immense open space under the pale sun, and that's when you spotted a tall and muscular man in black tactical gear. hell, he was hard to miss.

"another lap, smith!" his mancunian accent was stronger than his will to neutralise it. "if my gran was alive she'd be faster than ya."

you'd recognised the voice, of course, even if it was much harsher than usual, but you couldn't recognise him.

you realised, that was ghost. his cold eyes were studying each of the recruit's tired and red faces, his arms behind his back as he barked for five more laps for the ones who didn't look sweaty enough. even his voice was different, but what shocked you was the black balaclava with the white skull drawn on top.

you'd seen the mask once or twice over the years, shoved on the bottom of his duffle bag or drying on a windowsill, but you've never given it much thought, why would you?

"si?" you asked, standing directly behind him as price stood a few feet from you.

his head snapped in your direction at a worryingly fast speed, his eyes immediately becoming soft, then confused.

"what're you doin' here?" his voice spoke, much sweeter.

you kept staring at him, not recognising the man you loved.

he immediately grabbed the crown of the balaclava and yanked it off without a second though. holding the black piece of clothing in his hand, both of them came to cup your elbows, drawing you closer to him.

"love?" he called you.

still at loss of words, you reached to the balaclava and twirled it between your fingers.

"love, talk to me." his voice sounded worried.

"ghost?"

he shook his head. "simon, love."

"we'll talk about that at home." you raised your eyebrows, attempting a smile.

he looked at you impatiently, his fingers brushing up and down your forearms.

you fished in your bag a small plastic bag and gave it to him.

this wasn't like one of the times when he'd forget his lunch at home so you'd drop by and give it to johnny so he'd give it to an always so busy simon ghost; he could see it in your eyes that this was something more.

he unwrapped the plastic bag that you had rolled up on itself. his eyes looked brighter than ever when he took with shaky fingers the finally positive pregnancy test.

[chleem]

Casual /extra II

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings. 

Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, slight angst (read at own caution

⋆.˚ pls don't copy or translate my work

⋆.˚ official one shot | extra I

♡⸝⸝ "fucked you in the bathroom, when we went to dinner"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Where you going?”

You ask, as Drew stands up. The warmth of his hands caressing your thighs is gone, now running through his hair. “Bathroom,” he mumbles, barely meeting your eyes. He walks off, without another glance back at the table. 

His sour mood is evident, by not only you, but all of your friends. 

To be fair, he didn’t even want to come tonight. He pleaded desperately for you to stay in with him, offering things to you that was ridiculous. Such as, doing your laundry for a month (he doesn’t even do his own). 

But you haven’t hung out with all your friends in a long time, and you missed them. So, tonight was non-negotiable with Drew. 

And he gave up with trying to reason with you, hence, why he decided to join you here, at the nice restaurant. He didn’t even make an effort to engage nicely with them, chuckling under his breath at random times and answering questions with short answers. Whenever you were talking, he would purposely distract you by touching you under the table, making it awkward for you and your friends. 

Drew knows your friends don’t like him; that’s why he’s sour. That’s also why he shows up to these hangouts, just to rub it in their faces. 

“Why did you invite him?” Lucy groans, after Drew was out of eye sight. Your five other friends of this group nod too, all letting out groans of frustration. “Hello, earth to y/n, we. Don’t. Like. Him.”

“He insisted on joining,” you shrug, forcing a smile. 

“Um, you could’ve insisted on him not joining,” Janet, another friend adds on. 

Your friend group was filled with weird people with different opinions, but one thing they’ve collectively agreed on was: they hate Drew. ‘Hate’ is a strong word, but that was the only way to describe their feelings towards Drew. 

They’ve expressed it a lot of times, so it’s become numb to you. 

“Are you guys finally together though?” Gary asks, sitting beside you. 

Oh. Every time they see you, they ask this question. 

“Of course not,” Lucy answers for you, sending you a cocky grin. One you always disliked, because it made you feel small. “Classmates, huh?”

“A really bad label,” Stacy adds on. Yeah, as if you didn’t already know. 

Great. Now it’s just your whole friend group judging you for being with Drew. Again. The last thing you needed from them.

“I visited his parents,” you aggressively say, stabbing into your food. Hopefully that will convince them Drew is a better person that what they think, right?

Wrong. They all ‘tsk’ in a disappointed manner, shaking their heads. “And…still classmates?”

“Well, he said I was his best friend,” you stuff the food in your mouth, “To his family.”

“He probably had to,” Josh speaks up this time, “and wow, is that the first time he called you his friend?” 

You don’t miss the sarcasm in his voice, and you send him a glare. He raises his hands in defense, the table laughs. 

You don’t find the humor in this situation. Why were they so judgmental towards the relationship with Drew? It’s not like he’s the biggest jackass ever. You’ve seen every side there is to Drew, they just don’t know him like you do. “Can you guys cut it off?” You say, not trying to hide the annoyance in your voice. 

“We’re just joking,” Janet laughs, glancing around, “besides, we’re worried for you.”

You chew and swallow the food in your mouth, sending her an unappreciative smile, “‘worried’ for me?”

“Yes, he’s obviously not… well, in love with you,” Janet continues, “we don’t want you with someone who clearly doesn’t care for you.”

“He cares for me,” you defend, furrowing your eyebrows at them. You look around the table, seeing your friends glance down at their food, afraid to meet your eyes. “He cares for me.”

“Sure he does,” Stacy bitterly agrees with you. That tone pisses you off. “Maybe privately, he does, but what about in public? Starting off with the most basic, labels.”

You hate how right your friends are. As rude and mean they’re being, deep down, you know they’re right. The ‘no attachments’ thing is bullshit, especially when nothing about the two of you is casual. 

Five, no close to six months, nothing about that is causal. 

“That…doesn’t matter,” you murmur. Wrong; it mattered a lot, to everyone and to you. You just hated to admit you weren’t as chill or casual as Drew was, how he made everything romantic seem friendly with you. 

When you look around, everyone is now staring at you pitifully. 

You didn’t like that. That pity stare. There’s nothing to be pity of. Bunch of people around the world right now might be having situation-ships too. Nothing to pity. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Yeah. That’s what you keep brainwashing yourself to believe. 

‘The girl that he bangs on his couch’. Yeah. Nothing to be ashamed of. 

Your phone on the table lights up, and it reads bathroom. now. 

Drew. “Um, excuse me,” you stand up, excusing yourself to the bathroom. 

As you slowly get up and walk away, your friends weren’t very careful with the volume of their voice. You hear one of them calling you a loser, still hanging around just for a good dick to suck. 

That must be Janet. Her lonely ass must be jealous. 

But part of you knew she wasn’t wrong. You were a loser. The biggest loser to exist. The loser of losers, if that even is a thing. 

Casual. Your friends succeeded once again, in making you doubt everything with Drew. 

——

“Really boring, right?”

Drew pulls you in by the waist, a lazy smile on his lips as he stares down at you. He leans against the sink, making you stand between his legs. 

This restaurant had two bathrooms, each with their own sink inside. So, Drew took full advantage of that. 

“Hmm,” you hum carelessly. You didn’t want agree with him; you tried to make this evening nice, but his attitude towards your friends just weren’t helping. You keep your gaze around the collar of his jacket, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“Something wrong?” He asks, playfulness still hinted in his words. His hand rub circles around your waist, as he tries to make eye contact with you, bending his head down to your level. 

You advert your gaze even more, now focusing on the bracelet around his wrist. Now that you think about it, he always has this on, since the day you got it for him. 

Was that casual to do? To keep the bracelet on at all times. 

“Look at me, would you?” Drew’s tone turns serious, and he pinches the side of your waist harshly.

You flinch, finally looking up at him. You meet his blue eyes, a mix of concern and something else that you can’t read. His raised eyebrows tell you that he wants you to talk, to tell him what’s on your mind. 

Should you? But, where do you even start? With his attitude tonight, or with your friend’s comments? Or with this whole casual thing, which is basically the beginning to it all.

Your lips pout on its own, resting your hands around his wrist. “That was uncalled for,” you murmur, looking down at his bracelet again. 

“What was?” Drew’s pinch one your waist is more soft this time, wanting to get the words out of you. 

“Doing that,” you say, playing with his chained bracelet. Shit. You’re gonna say it. You’re gonna call him out for his behavior. “Being rude to my friends.”

A scoff escapes Drew. He then brings his hand up to your face, forcing you to look up at him. Like second nature, you lean your face into the palm of his hand, waiting for him to explain himself. “Babe, your friends were the rude ones.”

The feeling inside your stomach is indescribable. The nickname sends you butterflies, but the words that follow don't. 

“How?” You ask, crossing your arms.  

He licks his lips, squinting his eyes at you. “It was so fucking obvious.”

“Was it?” 

“Yes- yes, it was,” Drew straightens his posture, taking his hands off you. The warmth of him is gone, now with the presence of a man trying to explain his reasonable case of being bratty. “They asked loaded questions to me this whole night.”

You furrow your eyebrows, thinking hard to the stuff they asked Drew. Shit. They were. Your friends didn’t even trying to hide their discontent with him tonight. 

“They hate me,” he adds on, “C’mon, I leave the table for like, a few minutes, and they talked shit, right?”

The way he looks at you; he challenges you to disagree with him. But you couldn’t; he was right. Your friends hate him, making you constantly doubt whatever this was with Drew. 

“Wasn’t all shit,” you lie, sending him the smallest smile ever. 

Drew makes the ‘tsk’ sound, shaking his head as he gives you a tired smile. “What they say then?” He asks, leaning back against the sink again. 

His eyes look at you in anticipation, biting down on his lips. 

You do not want to tell him what they said. It was rude, and although it was about Drew, it affected you more than it should have. The seeds of doubt are always planted by your friends, they never put you at ease with this relationship. 

You give him a lazy smile, snaking your arms around his neck. You lean in close to him, a seductive look in your eyes. “Does it matter? They talk shit, all they ever do.”

Drew’s lips slightly part, and he glances quickly down at your lips. A smile appears, “I see what you’re doing. You’re distracting me.”

You shrug lightly, before planting a small kiss on his jaw. “Is it working?”

You hear a chuckle escape from him, and his hand wraps around the back of your head. His eyes keep bouncing between your lips and eyes, smiling from ear-to-ear, “annoyingly so, you minx.”

Without another comment, Drew kisses you, soft and slow. 

You return the kiss, escalating into a whole make-out session. 

You hate how your body reacts to him; feeling a pool of wetness form between your legs. Fuck. 

Something pokes against your lower stomach, and you pull away from Drew. You glance down; he’s erected. “Shit,” you curse, as his hands slide down your body. He squeezes your ass, burying his face into your neck as he breathes the skin there. 

“I…I can’t go back to the table like this,” he murmurs, referring to his erection. 

You watch as his back rises and falls, through the sink mirror. Even with this thick white jacket he has on, you can tell his breathing has sped up. Your lips form a straight line, running your hands through his short hair. 

In the bathroom? Right in the middle of dinner? It was highly inappropriate. 

Wrapping your hands around his face, you pull him up to meet his eyes. He looks at you pleadingly, lips parted with drool on the corner of his lips. 

Fuck. How is one suppose to say no to that look? He looked as if he physically needed you; needed you to calm the… ‘growing’ in his pants. 

“Ten minutes,” you tell him, which immediately lights the spark in his eyes. He looks like a puppy! You smile at that thought, as he straightens himself, switching your positions. 

“Ten minutes? Enough for two rounds,” he teases, lifting you to sit on the sink. 

“No! One round,” you say, which gets cut off by Drew kissing you again. As much fun as two rounds sound, the longer you linger in here, the more obvious it is that the two of you are fucking. 

He groans into your mouth, spreading your legs to stand between them. His hands move fast into your dress, slipping your underwear off. The cold surface of the sink hits your thighs and pussy, adding to the heat growing within you. 

Drew trails his kisses down your neck, as your hands work on undoing his belt. 

You moan when he sucks on the sweet-spot around your neck, the belt dropping onto the floor with a hard thud. “Drew…” you moan out, messy hands tugging his hair as he continues to form hickeys around your neck. 

You want to run your hands around his stomach, chest, abs. But the jacket he has on prevents that, being zipped up the whole way. This jacket looked great on him, but would look better on the floor. 

Your hands fidget with the zipper, tugging with no luck of it moving. 

Drew pulls away from your neck, a chuckle escaping, “babe, gently.”

His hands overlaps yours, guiding you to pull the jacket zipper down. It reveals that he isn’t wearing anything inside; a feast to your eyes. “Is that why you refused to take this off?” You ask, referring to before the dinner started.

“I was invited last minute,” he shrugs the jacket off, as if it wasn’t his fault for the improvised outfit. 

“Right, but you weren’t invited,” you remind him, when he insisted on joining you when you were leaving, throwing on a random outfit nearby. You were busy putting your heels on, so you couldn’t see the moment when he got dressed. You didn’t even know he owned a jacket like this. 

“Mmhm,” his mind was elsewhere, attaching his lips to yours again. Sloppy and more lustful this time, as your hands wander around his body. It’s hot under your touch; his abs flexing as you run your hands over them. 

His hand grips onto your thigh, before moving closer to your heat. 

When the warmth of his fingers hit your pussy, you moan loudly into his mouth. 

“Shit,” he chuckles, “we’re in public, babe.”

The tip of your ears heat up too, from the embarrassment and realization that you’re in public, most likely having people hear you from the other side of the door. “Sorry,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck. 

Drew sticks two fingers into your hole, and starts thrusting at a faster speed than usual. Your breathing becomes uneven, as you try to tone down your moans. 

Drew wasn’t having it easy either, as you hear low grunts escaping him. “Fuck,” he curses, adding another digit, “you’re tight tonight.”

“Just fuck me already,” you manage to say, hands gripping on his biceps. Surely, this was enough foreplay, right? 

He chuckles again, this time at your impatience. He pulls his fingers out of you, his hands going to the back pocket of his jeans. 

The familiar gold packaging comes out, and his hands skillfully rip them open. 

“…couldn’t put on a shirt but bought a condom with you?” Laughter escapes you, as you watch him unzip his pants. 

He glances up at you, and when he sees you smiling ear-to-ear, he can’t help but match you, “wasn’t gonna show up totally unprepared, right?”

You laugh again; what an unbelievable guy. “Shirt’s optional but condom a must. Got it.”

Drew lets his pants and boxers hang around his knees, his cock standing proud. The sight immediately wipes the smile off your lips, gulping as you imagine it stuffed inside you. 

“The chances of fucking you wherever and whenever is high,” Drew says, wrapping the condom around his dick. 

He looks up at you, seeing your gaze fixed on his hard cock. A smirk helps themselves to his lips, as his hands tug on your waist. An idea flashes in his mind as he looks over your shoulder, at the big sink mirror. 

“Get off,” his voice brings you back, looking at him with confused eyes now. “C’mon, trust me.”

You let him bring you back onto the ground, before flipping you over. You see both your reflections in the mirror, your back hitting his chest, his dick poking your upper ass. 

When you meet his eyes through the mirror, you understand where this was going. 

“Watch yourself while I destroy your fucking pussy, hmm?”

Oh. Oh. Was it possible to be turned on by words? 

Drew lifts up your dress, revealing your wet core. You hold onto the sink for support, grip getting tighter when you feel Drew’s tip against your entrance. 

Then, he slips in, going deep until it’s completely nestled inside you. 

“Fuck,” you moan, glancing up at Drew. He sends you a smirk, enjoying this too. His hand goes to your stomach, and he lifts you backward, resting against his chest again. 

“Grip my hair, and keep your eyes open, alright?” His voice drops low, one hand moving to knead your breasts. 

You nod, bringing your hands behind you; one tugging gently around his hair, another around his arm that’s supporting you. 

He starts to thrust into you, rather roughly and fast. “Shit,” you moan, the sensation sending you to outer space. With his thick cock slamming into you, his hands roaming your body, your hands running through his short hair, it feels euphoric. 

Your eyes can barely stay open, as you look at the reflection in the mirror. Drew leaves a trail of sloppy kisses along your shoulder, which sends goosebumps to your skin. 

You watch as one of his hand slips between your thighs, starting to massage your pussy. “Fuck,” you moan, louder than you should be. You couldn’t help it, the pleasure was extraordinary. 

He kisses your earlobe, “i’know baby, but keep it down, alright?”

“Y-yeah,” it barely comes out, as the thrusts and massages to your core intensifies. The familiar knot in your stomach forms, informing you that you’re close. “Drew…”

His pace doesn’t stop, and when you lean your head back on his shoulder, he goes harder, “close?”

You nod with any energy left, and Drew uses his free hand to lift your face up again. He kisses your cheek, “use your words.”

You flutter your eyes open, looking at the two of you in the mirror. It was extremely hot, to see Drew filling you up, his hands all around you. The mirror starts to fog up a little, with all the grunting and pressure filling in here. 

“I’m coming,” you force out, and meet Drew’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes meet yours, seething with lust. 

You clench around him, your hand going around Drew’s, which is massaging your pussy. He stops massaging, and he intertwines your hands together. The stickiness doesn’t bother you; why should it?

“Fuck,” he groans, his thrusts to your g-spot growing sloppy. 

You tilt your head sideways, and you give him a quick kiss, which sends you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes inside of you, cum dripping out and over Drew’s cock. 

Body giving up, you lean completely against Drew, as he helps himself to his. His cock twitches, and you feel the familiar hot liquid filling up. 

Both of you are breathing heavily, euphoria radiating off your bodies. Fuck. This might just be one of the best fucks you’ve had with Drew. But in a public restroom? Who would’ve thought. 

“You’re so hot,” he compliments, before planting a small kiss on the side of your face. 

You giggle at that stupid comment, looking at him through the mirror; He’s got a playful smile on his lips, looking at you with smitten eyes. “You’re great with your words.”

He chuckles, his hands tapping against the side of your waist, signaling you to move. You use the energy left inside of you, helping him slip out. Leaning against the sink, you watch as Drew grabs tissues to wipe your core, then throwing his condom away. 

After that, he grabs your underwear on the floor. You get yourself dressed, him doing the same thing. 

“Look, only…only seven minutes passed,” Drew comments with a sly smile on his lips, showing you his watch. 

You roll your eyes, your lips betraying you by forming a smile. “Cocky much?” 

He puts his jacket back on, the last piece of clothing. “Well, you've definitely enjoyed the taste of it.”

You hit his chest playfully, his remark sending butterflies to your stomach. He laughs, zipping his jacket only halfway. Your eyebrows furrow at his exposed chest that pierces through the top; and you reach for the zipper. 

Drew stays in place, and you feel his gaze on the top of your head, his hot breath hitting you. You ignore the tension that pulls; when you’re done, you pat his chest, “all done, buddy.”

“‘Buddy’?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone, eyes squinting down at you. 

You send him a soft smile, seeing him glance down at your lips. “What?”

“Call me buddy one more time,” his hands wrap around your waist, and he leans closer to you, “and you’ll get it.”

His dirty and challenging tone sends shivers down your spine, something you find yourself liking a bit too much. The pit of your stomach yells at you at how hypocritical Drew was being right now, but you ignore it. 

And just because it’s fun, you lean into his ear, and whisper, “best buddy ever.”

Tickles are sent to the side of your body, making you jump and melt into his arms. You laugh uncontrollably; Drew knew you were ticklish, using it to his full advantage. 

“Stop! Stop!” You yell between laughter, your legs ready to give up. 

“Don’t call me that then,” he stops tickling you, grip on you tight to make sure you don’t fall. He kisses the tears of laughter from the corner of your eyes, “I don’t like it.”

“Noted,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck. You glance down at his lips, and he does the same to yours. 

Drew gives you the look; he wants to kiss you. 

And you let him, closing your eyes and feeling his lips against yours. 

Is it still casual if you kissed me like it’s the last time you ever will? You hate how this thought appears in your mind again, haunting you. 

You pull away, the pressure of it getting overwhelming. “Let’s head back, yeah?”

“We have to?” His eyes stay glued to your lips. “You know, We could…we could just leave.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, “no!”

“Say you got plans tomorrow morning,” he shrugs, “I’ll say it for you, if you can’t-”

You cross your arms, looking up at him. “Why would I leave early?”

Drew parts his lips, and he brings his hand up to your elbow. He rubs the area there in soft circles, a playful look in his eyes, “…grab some froyo?”

You drop your arms, looking at him disappointedly. When he saw that, he hurriedly adds, “and I got errands to run. Really.”

You contemplate in your mind about this; ditching this dinner to hang out privately with Drew? Yeah, that sounded like something fun. It must be better than staying awkwardly, having your friends judge Drew. 

Casual. Casual, casual, casual. Some casual froyo with Drew, and maybe ending up with sex in his dorm room. 

Yeah. Seemed like things people whose ‘casual’ would do. 

“Fine. You’re treating me though,” you unlock the door, walking out the bathroom. 

“I always treat you,” you hear him murmur behind you, following closely behind as you two walk back to the table. 

You interrupt the conversation they’re having, grabbing your purse from your seat. They look at your questionably, before their gaze lands sourly on Drew behind you. “i’ve got something, tomorrow morning, so we’re heading off,” you try sounding apologetic, “sorry to leave this early.”

“Oh, um, okay,” Lucy glances between the two of you, “text us when you get home.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you apologize again, before your friends wave goodbye to you. You don’t miss the hateful looks they leave on Drew, as they tell you to take care until the next time you guys meet. 

After that, you and Drew leave the restaurant, letting the doorman do his job of getting a taxi. 

A warmth around your hand catches you by surprise; Drew holds your hand, pulling you closer to him. You look down at the holding of hands; then back up at him. He’s staring down at his phone, scrolling through his insta feed. 

Holding hands. Something very casual to do, apparently. 

“What are you watching?” You ask, leaning on his shoulder. 

He laughs, showing you the screen. It’s a video of a monkey pointing towards the glass, which has different play-doughs lined along it. 

You don’t get the humor in it, but you smile, because it makes Drew smile. 

The two of you stand there, watching different posts on his phone until the taxi arrives. 

Your mind finds it strange how ‘casual’ you two are. 

Because, in the bottom of your heart, you weren’t so sure if this was casual anymore. Along the way, the lines of ‘no attachment’ seemed to have blurred. Blurred to the point of no return. 

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

word count: 4.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: goddamn, i would fall for this toxic relationship too T_T

sry for not posting lately, i got very busy lately! i promise you, flashing lights 6 & not a big deal pt4 is coming sooooon. but hope you enjoyed this extra, and also, thx for blowing up the halloween special, was NOT expecting that. thank you sm! your lovely comments inspire me to write these fics!

btw, watched obx s4, and the ending broke me T_T like tffff

other | official one shot | extra 1 | extra 3

[thebearer]

follow me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: the bear needs a social media rebrand. sydney hired you, and carmen gets more than just followers after meeting you.

an: bad descript i'm sorry lol. basically you're a social media manager and carmen likes you lol or how you and carmen meet <3 also thinking this will be a part 1???? lmk if you want a part 2!!!

contains: reader is a social media manager. language. carmen denying himself happiness ofc. mentions of mikey. fluff, fluff, fluff!!!

“What the hell is this?” Sydney’s voice raised, brow raised even higher to heighten her suspicions. Maybe her disgust. 

After Carmen looked at the snarl on her face, he decided it was definitely disgust. 

“What?” Carmen shrugged, looking at the screen in front of him. “It’s the, uh, The Beef’s old Instagram.” 

“Right.” Sydney said slowly, blinking at Carmen obviously. “The Beef, and we are not that anymore. We are The Bear.” She scrolled for a moment. “They also haven’t posted since twenty-twenty, which is-” 

“-Well, Mikey ran it, alright?” Carmen huffed, glaring at Sydney with annoyance. “I just found the fuckin’ password on a fucking gum wrapper in a folder labeled ‘important shit’ so I don’t know what to tell you.” 

Sydney nodded slowly, looking back at the phone, before sighing deeply. “I know what you should do.” She said, typing on her phone. Carmen grunted, still looking at the piles of order forms for produce in front of him. “You need a social media manager, because Carm, this? It's not gonna work.” 

“Social media what?” Carmen’s brows creased, shaking his head. “I don’t- no, I don’t need to do that. I’ll just, I’ll get Gary or fuckin’ Sweeps or Fak to run-”

“No, no, Carmen, seriously? Look at this. There’s- oh my God- there’s a thing here that says bring your own plate and you’ll get a free drink, Carmen… What the fuck?” Sydney sighed, shaking her head at him. 

Carmen nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I-I’m thinking that was a, uh, a Mikey special.” He muttered, pinching his eyes shut. “I can’t afford to hire someone on the payroll for that long, ok? Not when I could hire another hostess or-or a runner.” 

“They only come in to revamp and get it started. Just a little kick start for now. To get us started.” Sydney explained, clicking on her screen. “Look, I have a mutual friend with this girl who’s really fuckin’ good, ok? She did Lobo’s that pizza place? Got them from two hundred to eighteen thousand followers in like two or three months.” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed, looking at Sydney with a raised brow. “Seriously? Fuck…” Carmen looked at the screen, the crisp photos, videos, fun and trendy- vibrant and alluring. He hated to admit it, but it was good. 

“Look, Carm, it’s free advertising, ok? You catch the influencers if it goes viral. Could really put this place out there.” Sydney countered. “It’d be a lot cheaper than paying for some shitty advertisement on the news that no one watches anyways. Could bring in a lot of business and attention.” 

Carmen’s fingers drummed against the counter, sighing sharply. “Fine, whatever, see if you can get her in and just… Just tell me how much I need to put aside, alright? I’ll push the new glasses until then.” 

Sydney smiled triumphantly, nodding at Carmen. “Yes, Chef.” She saluted, walking out of the office. 

Three days later, you were standing outside of The Bear, newly opened, freshly renovated, and steady but not booming. “Uh, excuse me?” You waved through the window at the man in the beanie, looking at you carefully. 

“Hey, we’re closed until dinner, alright? But you can-” 

“Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not here for eating.” You cringed, shaking your head. “I’m looking for Sydney? Or Carmen? I’m the new social media person?” 

“Social media?” The man repeated, pushing the door open further. “Oh, shit! You’re the girl who does the, uh, Lobo and Avec!” 

“Yeah, I am.” You blushed, walking into the restaurant. 

“I love watching those reels of the asmr cutting the bread. Ugh, I watch it every night before going to bed.” The guy laughed, locking the door behind you. “Oh, I’m Marcus by the way.” 

You took his extended hand, introducing yourself, while you took in the fixtures on the wall, the art, the overall ambiance. “I am going to get Carmen, but you can stay right here if you want.” Marcus grinned, pushing the sliding doors open. 

You set your things down, pulling out your notebook, and looking around the restaurant. You knew that this was once The Beef, Sydney had sent you a few things about Carmen’s credentials and you looked up the rest. Impressed was an understatement, a guy your age that had ran the best restaurant in the world? Quite possibly was the best chef in the world or at least Chicago and needed your help? You were nervous, to say the least. 

Marcus called your name, making you jump slightly as you turned around. “Uh, so this is Carmen. He’s the owner, the head chef.” 

“Hi,” You were met with piercing blue eyes, hidden under a stray blonde lock of hair. Carmen’s hand reached for yours. “Nice to meet you. Sydney, uh, she couldn’t stop tellin’ me about your work. Thank you for helpin’ us out.” 

“No, no, thank you.” You reached for his hand, strong, a little rough, trying not to stare at his inked fingers. “It’s a pleasure to work with you. She told me a little about you, about the restaurant. It’s very impressive. Surprised you needed me.” You grinned. 

Carmen bit back a smile, looking down to hide his blush. Fuck, Sydney said you were good at your job, she failed to mention that you were so fuckin’ pretty too. Carmen could feel his heart fluttering in his chest, taking flight like he was a middle schooler again with a school yard crush. 

“So, if you have time, I want to go over some goals with you?” You say, gripping your notebook tightly. 

“Goals. Right, uh,” Carmen looked through the back doors. “Sydney is on her break, and-and my sister, Sugar- well, her name is Natalie, she’s like our manager. Richie too, uh, shit- I’m sorry that’s a lot of people, I know.” Carmen shook his head, an anxious laugh pealing out from his lips. “Those are the people you need to talk to, basically. I can grab them, just-” 

“-But you’re the owner, right?” You asked, lifting a brow gently. 

“No, I mean, yeah, I am.” Carmen stuttered. 

“Then I need to talk to you, too.” You gave him a small smile. “I mean, you know this place better than anyone, right? All the ins and outs? And from what Sydney told me, you redid this entire place. Right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen nodded. Fuck, he kept staring at your lips, he didn’t mean to, he was just… he was distracted. 

“So, we can all meet if you want, or I can do it one at a time.” You pulled your pen out of your notebook, looking at him with a gentle smile. It had Carmen’s heart racing. “I just have a few questions about the vision.” 

“The vision?” Carmen repeated, swallowing around the growing lump in his throat. 

“Yeah, the vision.” You smiled. “Just… tell me about this place. Tell me about you.” You slid into the chair across from him. 

Carmen wiped his hands on his pants, turning to look at the doors, hoping someone would come to his rescue. He wasn’t good at talking, especially not to pretty girls, especially about himself. Still, he couldn’t leave you sitting there. He’d hired you after all, and you were here to help him. So he sat down across from you, hoping you didn’t see the way his knee bounced under the table, hoping you couldn’t hear how his heart pounded. 

“So, Carmen Berzatto,” You grinned, every syllable of his name rolling off your tongue so sweetly, Carmen was sure he was going to faint. “Tell me about The Bear. Why did you start it?”

“Well, it was The Beef before. And-And my parents owned it, then my brother Mikey did…” Carmen started, watching the way you scribbled, eyes flickering to him with a small smile.

“Hello!” You called, pushing through the back door. They’d given you the code a week ago, so you didn’t have to wait or pound on the front door until someone took mercy and let you in. “It’s content day!” You sang, cheery and bright. 

Carmen could hear the pretty trill of your voice, trickling down the hall and into the kitchen. Tina smirked, watching the way he stopped, turning to look at you, blush rising under his white shirt. “Hey, Jeff,” Tina smirked, his head snapping to her. “Your girl’s here.” 

The staff had been teasing Carmen relentlessly about how smitten he was with you. Something he’d been so reluctant to do, he now looked forward to. Carmen swore it was because of your work. You had taken them from the measly six hundred followers they’d had since they started the account in twenty-eleven to six thousand, strategic posts and tags and tagging a few buzz accounts that were Chicago foodies. Business had gone up, reservations filling slowly. Followers poured in from TikTok, from the reels, from the posts. One tag from a micro Chicago influencer had brought in a good chunk and was still, all because of a photo with the pretty light features and the dessert. 

“Where’s the Bear?” You grinned, passing Sydney, camera in hand, bag slung over your shoulder. You pushed open Carmen’s office, dropping your bag in there. He’d told you that you could keep your things in there, since you didn’t have a locker, of course- and not at all because that meant he’d see you before you left. 

“He’s in here, baby!” Tina called, smirking at Carmen. 

“C’mon,” Carmen shook his head, a deep breath to keep him from looking so flushed. It worked for a moment, of course, until you rounded the corner. All bright smiles and fuck, you smelled so good. Camren wanted to drown himself in your perfume. “Good morning, Bear.” You beamed. 

Carmen grinned, cheeks heating with every step you took forward. “Mornin’.” He muttered, looking at the clock. 

“It’s content day.” You grinned, shaking your camera lightly. “Tell me you got something good for me, Chef. What's the special this week?” 

“A lamb tenderloin with a gorgonzola sauce served over pasta- house made, of course.” Carmen answered. 

“Of course.” You repeated with a tiny grin. You turned on your camera, taking a test shot, before you looked at Carmen carefully. “Ready whenever you are, Chef.” 

Carmen bit back his own grin, clearing his throat lightly. “How do I start it? The same as last time?” 

“Yep.” You nodded, pressing the camera to your eyes. “Tell me your name, name of the restaurant, and then just this week's special.” 

“On your mark.” Carmen nodded, picking up his clean utensil. 

“On yours.” You laughed. “I’m already recording.” 

Carmen spoke to the camera easily, trying to stay trained on the lens and not at you. How you’d grin and nod encouragingly at him, zooming in closer as he chopped, seasoned, pulled the already prepared and finished product out of the oven. 

Richie crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to Sugar, lips pursed knowingly. “I know you’re thinkin’ the same shit as me.” 

Sugar hummed. “That Carmen’s into her?” 

“Way fuckin’ into her.” Richie grinned, watching as Carmen blushed, grinning back at you, genuine and a little shy at your compliment. 

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t make a move.” Sugar looked at Richie. 

Richie snorted, scoffing with a shake of his head. “Alright. I’ll take your bet. I say he does.” 

“Get ready to be out of fifty dollars, Cousin.” Sugar said smugly. “This is Carmy we’re talking about. Not Mikey. Carmen’s not gonna make a move on her.” 

“Eh, not so quick, my dear, Natalie. Carmen’s changed a little since this place.” Since the horrendous freezer incident with Claire. “He really likes her too, look at ‘em.” Richie nodded, watching as Carmen held the spoon out for you, blushing when your hand touched his to take it, groaning before smothering him in compliments. Tina looked at Richie, amused and grinning from across the room. 

“Carmen will seal the deal. It’ll be last fuckin’ minute and it will be a mess, because it’s fuckin’ Carmen, but… I believe in him.” Richie nodded. 

Natalie snorted. “I genuinely hope you’re right, Cousin.” She looked at Carmen with a small smile, watching the way he looked at you, eyes cutting like he was being so cool about keeping his feelings underwraps. “I really do.” 

That night, Carmen lied in bed, scrolling through his footage from the day, seeing the video pop up from @/thebearchicago. Set to classical music, snobby and dramatic, the cuts, Carmen’s voice laid over describing the meal for the week, and a particularly good close up of his hands cutting the onions fiercely. Carmen was shocked to see the number of likes… the number of comments flooding in. 

“the cameraman knew exactly what they were doing lmao”

“New necklace available!!!” 

“I will give you my vital organs and let you chop them up like that if you let me watch chef please” 

“What the fuck?” Carmen snorted lightly, shaking his head, scrolling through the comments. He clicked to the main page of the restaurant, seeing you were just a few away from ten thousand followers. Fuck… Sydney was fucking right. You were good. 

Carmen’s face fell, mind racing and screaming with the reminder that you were only there for a few more days. He’d only hired your for two months- two glorious fucking months. You seemed… permanent now. Like he couldn’t imagine you not coming in on Tuesdays and Thursdays and after three on Fridays. You were a staple there. The staff loved you, you were good, and-

And Carmen really liked you. Liked having you around. Looked forward to talking to you. To get the chance to lean over your shoulder as an excuse to touch you when you showed him a preview of a post. Or when you’d send him cute text messages, a funny comment attached, your text reading: “you’re a hit, bear! they love you!” 

It was like you could read his mind, your contact flashing across the screen at him. 

To: Carmen 

‘told you this would be a good one! the fans love you berzatto!!!’ 

Carmen grinned, the faint twinge of a blush on his face. He could feel his heart racing, fingers dancing over the keyboard, and worst of all- he could hear Mikey’s fucking voice in the back of his head. A nagging tone repeating over and over and over, “Let it rip, Bear! Don’t be such a pussy! Ask her out!” 

Carmen looked at his screen, fingers typing out the message, a short, less than smooth invite to make you a special thank you dinner and his place- a date. He hoped you picked up on it. Heat hammering in his chest, he could feel his chest tighten, ribs knitting together uncomfortably, stomach twisting in the worst way. 

So, Carmen did what he always did. 

From: Carmen 

‘Never doubted you. Thank you. The video was great.’ 

He watched as the blue sent, the delivered turning into seen, and followed by your thumbs up over the text. Carmen put his phone on the table, lying back on his pillow, but he couldn’t sleep. His stomach still turned, unsettled with regret. 

“Oh! Marcus stop!” You gasped, Carmen’s head turning at the sound of your voice. “You didn’t need to do all of this!” 

“Yeah, I did.” Marcus beamed. Carmen turned the corner, seeing a beautifully piped cake there, candles and icing cursive that read “thank you!” in the middle of the buttercream. “You’re cool and you got us on the map, girl. Plus, we’re gonna miss you.” 

“Yeah,” Sydney nodded, holding a small balloon that said that exact phrase on it. “We will miss you.” 

“I’ll miss you guys.” You grinned, hugging them both tightly. “This has been my favorite job so far. You guys have been so nice. Way nicer than a lot of these assholes around here.” You grinned. 

Richie stood on the wall, foot tapping, eyes darting back from you to Carmen. He could see his cousin’s stuttering movements, hesitant and careful, before retreating back into himself. C’mon, Carm, fuckin’ do it, Richie thought, shaking his head. Carmen wouldn’t though, wouldn’t let himself be happy. Richie took a deep breath, head shaking with annoyance. 

“Goddammit, Berzatto,” Richie muttered, pushing off the wall. “You know, sweetheart, it’s been so great having you. Seriously, you blew us all away.” Richie said, walking towards you. 

You smiled. “Thanks, Richie. I really appreciate it.” 

“And you know what, we want to really show how much we appreciate you.” Richie’s eyes cut to Natalie, a silent plea to help him out. “I had a cancellation for this evening, and I would love for you to come instead. Let us really cook for you, give you the whole experience. No bill, of course. All on the house, for you, my dear.” 

“Oh, I-I couldn’t let you guys do that.” You shook your head politely, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“No-No, please.” Carmen nodded, finally speaking. Richie sighed silently in relief. “It would be great actually. Please?” 

You felt your heart melt, nodding softly. Before you could even reply, Richie was stepping up again. “And you know what? You gotta do one last post for us, right? The big chef spotlight one. The, uh, c’mon, Sydney what am I lookin’ for here?” 

“Oh, the one about the staff spotlights?” Sydney asked. 

“That’s the one. See, that’s it. And you’ve done everyone except the big boss.” Richie pointed at Carmen, ignoring the way the younger man’s face fell. 

“I didn’t get one-” Fak started, Richie shoving him out of the way. 

“You gotta end with Carmy, and it's funny because it’s gonna be real slow tonight anyways. Wednesday, ya know? And I think what better way to experience the night, really craft that staff spotlight thing, than with Carmen. The two of you, have dinner and get to talk.” Richie knew it was rocky, not at all smooth, but it was the best he could do. 

“What? Cousin, what are you-” 

“-No, you’re right, Richie.” Sugar added, stepping towards Carmen, and cutting him off. “And Carm, you were saying you wanted to see everything in action for yourself. You do the customer experience so you make sure everything’s good, and we’ll serve you both dinner. All the stops.” 

“How’s that sound?” Richie clapped his hands together, nodding at Tina, who grinned. 

“Jeff, it would be really nice to make sure we can work without your instructions. A good night for it too.” Tina added. 

“Yeah, and Sydney’s got it.” Richie nudged the girl beside him. 

“Totally, Carm- uh, Chef. I’ve got it.” Sydney nodded, catching on to Richie’s glare at her. 

Carmen felt like he could melt into the floor, face red and palms sweaty. His ears were ringing, tongue swelled thick in his mouth. You looked over at him with a small smile. “I mean, that does sound really nice. If-If it’s ok with you guys, you don’t have to-” 

“-Oh no,” Richie shook his head, walking over to Carmen to clap him on the shoulders. “We insist, don’t we, cousin?” Richie laughed, leaning down to Carmen. “Don’t fuckin’ stand there like a jagoff, say somethin’.” He whispered. 

“Yeah.” Carmen said, swallowing thickly around the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh, yeah. That-That sounds great.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie beamed. “Six o’clock sounds good for you kids? Give you enough time to get it together.” Richie looked from you to Carmen. “Maybe for some of us to take a shower.” 

Carmen could feel the heat rise from his neck to his cheeks, covering him in a furious blush. You giggled. “Definitely gives me time to get a blow out.” You laugh. “See you at six then?” 

“It’s a date.” Natalie added, practically bouncing on her toes behind Carmen. 

Carmen glared at her, before turning back to you. “Yeah, I-I’ll see you then.” 

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

SHOULD HAVE KISSED YOU

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem! Summary: when made to participate in a school fundraiser, Eddie finds himself actually having fun. Warnings: none

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"Mister Munson, you have to be a part of this school!" Principal Higgins exclaimed to the boy sitting on the other side of the desk, protesting

"I've been apart of this shitty school for 6 years" Eddie hummed lowly

"what was that?" the older man raised and eyebrow, his hands on his hips as he looked down at the rebellious teen in front of him

"what do you want me to do?" he got in response

"Miss Kelley is holding a fundraiser- u-an auction, of sorts.. you'll be participating"

Eddie frowned "an auction? what you want me to go up and hold items for people to bid on?"

"you'll be the item"

Eddie scoffed "what's that supposed to even mean?"

he stared at the principal and almost laughed, was this a joke? he fails a few times and is now being punished

"it means you'll go up and girls will bid on you- a date with you"

oh Eddie definitely laughed at that, does he think he's funny? he must because that was the funniest thing Eddie's ever heard

"yeah, right" he snorted

"Mister Munson, do you want to graduate this year?" Higgins asked rhetorically.

this wasn't a joke, this was serious

"what's a stupid fundraiser going to do to help me graduate?!" Eddie raised his voice before looking away when the man scolded him

"well, lucky for you, Edward, this school will do just about anything to get rid of you-" The older man started before getting cut off by Eddie

"-How flattering" he hummed

"-so, we'll be granting you with extra credit if you do this, and if you get at least a C in Miss O'donnells, it will be enough for you to graduate" the man finished, crossing his arms

"what type of fundraiser activity is that anyway! I'm no help, I can assure you no body is bidding on me, Higs" Eddie rolled his eyes

"well, lucky for you, you don't need to be bidded on to participate, just showing up is enough"

"this is ridiculous" Eddie mumbled, slumping down in his chair

there was no way he was going to do this.

"oh please, Mister Munson, It's not the end of the world, just a simple date to the fun fair is the most you'll do" Mister Higgins shook his head, deciding this was the end of the discussion.

he shooed Eddie out of his office after telling a few simple details about the night he should be ready for

"and please, have some school spirit" he said before closing the door behind Eddie.

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You sat in the school gym with your friends when Miss Kelley announces the boys up for auction

you had already seen the list a week prior and and had no interest, unlike your friend, Becky, who was more than excited to bet on a handsome mister Mike Lewenski.

your opinions on the fundraiser were mixed.

although a great way to make a few bucks, it was more of a way on telling which girl liked who. but even so, if they won the guy, it's a free date without the definite rejection most of them would face if they had just asked the guy out

so, while it saves a few rejections here and there, and could be seen as a trial run for a relationship, it's also a pit of thirsty women who want to dig their teeth in to a free date with a cute guy, especially if it's Gary McKlaren.

so to say you were the least interested was correct, but you were open to any changes if proven wrong.

The boys walked in the Gym single file and lined up behind Miss Kelley

you snorted at the sight of Eddie Munson 2nd last in line

you had browsed the list at least 3 times, you think you'd notice his name on the paper on the notice board. he must have been a last minute addition, which is pretty smart if you look at how many girls there are in school ready to bid.

but Eddie Munson, the freak? were they having a laugh?

you'd spoken to the guy a max of 5 times this year, he wasn't actually as bad as people made him out to be.

you weren't friends though; you wouldn't go that far. you'd be metaphorically killed if you were associated with him, so God forbid that ever happening.

Eddie huffed, looking out to the Gym seats.

he'd rather be doing anything else right now other than being at school, on a saturday afternoon, ready to be humiliated in front of what looks like 100 girls he's never spoken to (and doesn't plan to)

he frowned at the outfits the other boys had dressed up in, adorned in button up shirts and trousers, some even had a bowtie around their necks.

He mentally shook his head at the effort, because as they all dressed up fancy, like the organisers of this stupid even told them to, Eddie was still dressed in his normal attire, Black jeans and a dio shirt, his leather jacket hiding the cut off sleeves Eddie had fixed it up with. it's not like he was here to impress anyway

he would be here for 30 minutes max before driving back home alone.

"lets bring up our first boy of the evening, shall we. Toby Glover, everybody!" Miss Kelley claps.

She went on to describe the boy, hobbies, likes and interests before looking out to the crowed

"starting the bid at five dollars!" she smiled before a girl put her hand up, then a few others

Toby was baught at 20 dollars to Tracy Dekert.

then the next boy was up. Dylan Mantella.

it took a few seconds for a girl to put her hand up. but then another one did.

Dylan was bought for 10 dollars by Gracie Moore.

Jason Carver stood tall as he took a step closer, immediatley being bought by Chrissy for 5.

Then it was Mike Lewenski.

"He likes to play Football and the band Queen" Miss Kelley smiled

Becky's hand flew up as soon as the teacher announced 5 dollars, and glared at the girl on the other side of the bleachers when she outbidded her

"15!" Becky yelled out before the other girl said "17!"

they went back and fourth a few times before the other girl huffed and ran out of money

Mike was bought for 23 dollars by Becky, who cheered beside you

Then it was Gary McKlaren.

Miss Kelley didnt even get to describe his hobbies before a bidding war broke out. at least 10 girls fighting for him

yeah, he was popular. it made sense

Gary was bought for 50 dollars by Denise Weller.

Brian Gibley was bought for 5 dollars

Matthew Schneebly was bought for 25 dollars

and then Thomas Smith stood there for a few moments

that was when 2 girls put their hand up

you weren't sure if that was out of pity or they were just too shy to put their hand up, But Thomas looked like a whole bunch of weight lifted off of him when he was bought for 8 dollars

"now we have the...lovely Mister Edward Munson!" Miss Kelley announced, she looked nervous as she said his name, trying to find a praise but had to lie through her teeth

Eddie stood forward and clicked his tongue, looking out dully to the seats of girls and young women.

"E-Eddie likes um- Metal music? and uh- is a owner of a club" she spoke, she didn't know anything about Eddie, only that he was a satanist.

"5 dollars?" She announced with a tight smile, looking out to the crowd

you looked down at Eddie from your seat

his hands were in his pockets, he definitely didn't want to be here, but you could tell by the silence in the room he was...insecure?

you looked around the room, did no girl want him? did no girl see anything in him?

surely there was one girl to look past the scary demeanor of his figure and see something to like, but the only thing to hear was an awkward cough

you frowned, you felt bad, you really did.

Eddie looked down at his feet when Miss Kelley spoke into the mic "no bidders?" she asked as if she didn't know no body wasn't going to buy him

you closed your eyes and slowly lifted your hand.

it was just because you felt bad

"oh, we have a bidder! 5 dollars going once, twice, SOLD!" she banged her gravel on the wood. surprised.

Eddie munson was bought for 5 dollars. by you.

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Eddie was surprised when you put your hand up.

but Eddie was very Surprised to see you walk up to him afterwards, a smile on your face, a tight one, he knew it wasnt real

"hey" you greeted

Eddie looked at you confused, like you had grown two heads or that something was wrong with you, but he replied nonetheless

"hi" he said

you looked around the hall, seeing the floods of single girls walk out of the hall, glaring at you with the same look Eddie had a second ago.

"so um-" he licked his lips, sighing

"we don't have to go on the date.." you spoke in a rush, looking back at him

of course, Eddie thought to himself, of course you wouldn't want to go on a date with him

Eddie kicked himself for thinking you would for a split second.

"if you don't want to" he shook his head

this was awkward.

so awkward

"it's not that I.. don't want to. i do...but you- you probably have better things to do so..." you hummed, rolling on your ankles as you looked away from him

"I dont...and I don't want you spending money on me for nothing.." he mumbled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

you were probably the first girl to talk to him, Willingly, without buying drugs- the first girl to be nice to him to his face.

Eddie doesn't get that often, or at all for that matter, so you were...special. you could say. to him.

you weren't friends, you probably didn't want that. and he doesn't blame you, but it still hurts deep down, where he wont admit it

"it's fine.. it would be embarrassing to be the only person who didn't get bought so..."

yep, that was the only reason you bidded on him, you both thought to yourself

"yeah, I guess you're my saviour, then" he joked, though he didn't find any humour in it

Because you had told him you bought him out of pity, thats not funny or you being nice, thats just sad.

you agreed to the joke and looked around, the hall was empty now, all the girls gone, a few out to their date and all the rest on their way home, alone. some going to the fair with their friends.

"I'll uh- see you next week then?" you stepped back, going to walk away

"I thought you wanted to go?" he frowned

"i thought you didn't?" you raised an eyebrow

"eh.. i feel like i owe it to you, besides i think Principal Higgins and Miss Kelley will be there and if they don't see us- or at least me there, I won't get my credit cause i left you" he shrugged

that was it, it was just for the extra credit

"ok, sure" you nodded

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you walked side by side into the fun fair, you were a little nervous to say the least but it's not like you were gonna be here for a long time

Eddie had said he owed you and just wanted to be seen, so he'd probably just say a quick hello to the principal and spend five bucks on a quick game before calling it a day

that seemed fair, though.

he brought you over to the little games with various toys hung on the wall

"you wanna play a game? i'll try to win you a bear or somethin'" he looked down at you, pointing to the stall where you shoot at a few cans to win

you shrugged when you met his gaze, his big brown eyes full of the bright colours from the lights flashing from the games, the yellows and reds illuminating his face as he turned to you.

he looked pretty good

"sure" you replied shortly, looking away from him, letting him guide you to the line.

his hands were in his pockets as he looked around briefly. it made you wonder if he wanted to be here.

but on the inside, Eddie was almost shitting himself, cause here he was, in the line of a game with you next to him. this was a date, unadmittably his first date- if it even counted

and it's not just because it's a date, it's because it's with you, the only girl- bloody hell- woman that's ever been nice to him. to look at him like he's not a freak who sold his soul to the devil.

and God, did you have to look so pretty good?

he looked away when you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and stepped forward, it now being your turn

the guy spoke enthusiastically, explaining the rules as Eddie picked up the fake gun.

you took the time to scan over the plush toys, the big bat hanging upsidedown from the roof of the stall made you smile.

you smiled at Eddie as he lifted the gun to his face, squinting his eyes before shooting his first shot.

your eyebrows raised at his shot, impressed as you stood beside him

Eddie lowerd the gun, putting another pellet in the gun when he caught your gaze, looking over at you awkwardly

you blinked and smiled tightly at him before looking away "did- sorry did you want to shoot?" he frowned, now noticing that he should have let you play- or at least asked you

"oh no, it's ok I uh- I don't know how to shoot a gun" you breathed, letting out a dry chuckle

"it's pretty easy, here" one of his hands let go of the gun to each out for your own hand.

you let him take your hand and you tried to hide the blush rising quickly on your cheeks, looking away as he pulled you closer

he stood behind you, his broad chest against your back as he instructed you, you held the gun with his hands over yours, his arms wrapping around your frame to help you

"Just look through this little hole right here." he pointed to a little circle on the top of the gun, and you slowly raised the gun to your face, quinting to look through the hole.

"aim it" he told you

you lined it up with the can and he took one of your fingers to place it on the trigger.

the feeling of his hot breath fanning on your neck sent shivers down your shine as it contrasted with the cold brisk air, but you were so hot right now.

did he have to be so close to you?

he waited a second before he pressed on your finger, pressing down on the trigger, shooting the gun.

you closed your eyes as the loud bang and the feeling of him pressing up against you. Why did you like it?

"ahh good try, you just grazed it" Eddie spoke, mumbling something that you couldn't here before you opened your eyes

you could see a little dent in the can but it hadn't toppled over or fallen, signifying a miss.

you shoulders dropped and your frowned, looking over your shoulder to see Eddie smiling softly

"you'll get it this time" he reassured you, lowering the gun

you shook your head "i'll let you do it, you obviously know what you're doing" you flushed, smiling before stepping to the side to get out of his hold

it was then when Eddie realised that he was manhandling you and his eyes slightly widened. Had he made you uncomfortable? he really hoped he hadn't. he dropped his hands and let you slip away from in-between him and the gun and looked away sheepishly

you finally felt like you could breathe as you let out a deep sigh you didn't know you were holding

why was he making you feel this way?

Eddie put another pellet in the gun and shot it effortlessly before he put the last one in.

he didn't even flinch at the loud bang! noise it made when he shooted, or lost his footing, he was a natural.

you don't know what you expected though, he looked like the kind of guy who knew how to shoot a gun, he had that look to him

you didn't want to say it but- he did have the dangerous kind of look to him, but throught the few talks you've had with him, you would hightly doubt he would even shoo away a stray cat if it made home on his porch.

he put the final pellet in and aimed it before shooting it, you watched as it bounced off the bar and fall back to the ground.

you smiled and clapped when the guy announced a winner

"so..what will it be for the lovely lady?" he said looking at you as you stood forward.

the long haired metalhead looked over at you, nodding to the wall of toys.

you opened your mouth, and your eyes landed on the bat again, pointing up at it "the bat?"

the man smiled and got the bat down, passing it to Eddie as you backed away to get out of the line, which was small but growing impatient.

Eddie followed after you and handed the bat to you.

"here ya' go" he smiled.

the bat was even bigger than it looked, bigger than your head, at least.

you brought it up to your chest and thanked him before walking awkwardly away from the stall

"you're pretty good with a gun" you said break the silence between you and him, the blush on your face appearing again as you looked over at him

"yeah? well.. my dad taught me when I was younger so... had a good teacher I guess" he let out a breathy chuckle, kicking his feet.

of course. everyone knew the stories of AL Munson. so your weren't surprised when Eddie told you he made him go hunting with him before he got sent to prison

"made me shoot more than just tin cans.." He shighed

you hummed, walking towards the enterance before Eddie stopped you

"Where are ya' going?" he asked, a deep frown covering his features as he looked around

you grew confused too "I- I thought we were leaving?"

Eddie's face dropped at your words, looking down "oh. I mean if you want to. I just thought- I- I was kinda havin' fun. with you so..."

Eddie was having fun with you; it wasn't a lie. he didn't want to leave just yet, he wanted to play a few more games and if he got lucky, get to know you more. he doesn't know exactly why but he knew he liked being with you tonight

but it's probably because it's either this date with you, or a lonesome date between him, his couch and a cold can of beer.

you stepped back to him and smiled "I am too... I just thought- but yeah, let's go"

the sky turned dark as Eddie and you played a few more games and shared a fairyfloss stick.

you were having fun, laughing and getting embarrased when you got shoved closer to Eddie when a few kids ran past you to the rotating tea cups.

"sorry" you mumbled, stepping away from the metalhead as he tensed up at the contact.

"'s'okay" he smiled, noticing the way you hugged the bat plush in your arms

it was night time- and winter. So were you cold?

so he asked you "d'ya want ma'jacket?"

he frowned when you shook your head quickly "no it's ok, don't worry"

you felt your cheeks grow hot again as he began taking his leather jacket off, exposing his biceps arms that were adorned in dark tattoos.

the bats caught your eye.

you had seen them before, of course, but they made you frown

you looked down at your bat plush toy and hid your face in it sheepishly

when it caught your eye, you didn't know why you were drawn to it the way you were

it reminded you of something, but at the time you picked it, you just couldn't pinpoint it

but now, looking at his tattoo, you realised it was that and you grew embarrassed, did he think you wanted it because of him? well technically you did- no, no you just liked it...right?

"it's ok, really" you shook your head as he handed it out to you

"Please, I don't want you to be cold" he pleaded

he was such a gentleman, you don't get why people did see that, there was something clearly wrong with society to shut out this beautiful specimin of a man like him, he's just so kind and gentle. no- snap out it.

you squeezed the fluff of your plush as he draped it over your shoulders, smiling

"what about you?" you wondered

he only shrugged "m'fine" he looked down, putting his hands in his pockets "as long as you're warm"

you chuckled softly as you looked around

"ferris wheel?" he asked after a beat

you looked to the ferris wheel and nodded "sure"

you let him guide you and you smiled as you got the line

the fair music filled your ears as you slowly moved up the line.

the line was pretty long, trying to see the lights from above and the kids thinking they can see the whole town from the top. they were wrong but let kids be kids, you thought.

when you reached the front, you stepped up and Eddie quickly handed the guy a few coins, letting your guys on. you sat down, your bat plush sat on your lap as the guy pulled the bar down, letting it click before leaving you with Eddie in the closer proximity

your shoulder to shoulder with Eddie when it began to move. going backwards

you looked over at him and smiled sheepishly before looking away

he cleared his throat before pointing to the bat you were cuddling

"do you like bats?" he questioned

you looked down and shook your head

"no..not really. I just thought he was cute" you shrugged

he hummed "have you named him?"

you giggled "no, not yet" you looked at him, finding a teasing smile on his lips and you furrowed your eyebrows.

"I don't- It might be childish, but I don't have a lot of them..." you soft quietly, fiddling with your fingers as the ferris wheel went up again

"No.. I.. I don't think it's childish.. I have a uh- I have a bear on my bed.. Ozzy... so. it's cute" he nudged your shoulder softly

you smiled, still a little embarrassed but it made you feel better that he admitted that.

you think it was cute.. that he of all people slept with a teddy bear, you feel as though you've learnt a lot about him today

it's almost like this wa a real date.

it made you hope he thought it was a real date too.

"do you..like bats?" you pointed to his swarm of bats tattooed on his arm

he looked down and nodded

"yeah I guess.. it's more of that they are seen for good luck and uh..protection.. I guess" he mumbled the last bit

you raised your eyebrows "really?" you tilted your head

"yeah.. don't know where i found that but I though i needed it so..."

"cool" you nodded

his eyes met yours again and you saw his adams apple bob in his throat as he looked at you

your bench stopped at the top as fireworks began exploding in the sky, painting the sky in all different colours, but you didn't look away from Eddie, for some reason, your eyes stayed on him

the sprays of colour reflecting in his eyes as he looked back at you. you wonder if he could see the fireworks in your eyes too.

"thank you, for today.. I've had fun" you spoke, wanting to ease this tension in the air.

"Yeah.. I've had fun too... with you" he said

you didn't know what was happening. why butterflies filled your stomach and made you feel sickly.

Eddie was shitting himself again, the look in your eye made him so weak he was happy he was seated. you looked so pretty in this light. it almost made him want to thank Mister Higgins for making him do this. but after this, he woudn't have any reason to talk to him unless it's to tell him he'd be graduating.

he can't explain how he felt in this moment, but all he knew was that he really wanted to kiss you.

but you don't want to kiss the freak? no matter how many times you've told him you don't see him as one, that's what he is, what he always will be.

Besides. You did this out of pity, right?

Amd it's not like he likes you, right?

but all Eddie can think of as he forces himself to look away is that he wants you to like him

he wants to know why he feels this way, why the burst of colour in the sky wasn't the only fireworks in the air tonight.

he had taken you home after that, sadly saying goodbye as he drove you home, the only sound in his van being the metal music he set to low as he thought about how much of an idiot he is.

all while you had felt completley embarrassed, and if you're going to be honest, a little angry, though you're not sure why

you wanted him to kiss you, but why? you didn't like him like that, this was just because you felt bad

but you wanted him to like you.

I should have kissed him, you thought as you walked into your home.

I should have kissed her, Eddie thought to himself as he drove off.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

[felassan]

New Details on DA4 from this IGN article: "Dragon Age: Dreadwolf Is Officially Being Renamed, With Gameplay Reveal Set for June 11 - EXCLUSIVE"

"BioWare confirmed that The Veilguard will feature seven playable party members, and that it will feature “fun and fluid, moment-to-moment combat” while continuing to center strategy via the unique powers of each companion.

BioWare general manager Gary McKay explains that while Solas is “still very much a part of the story of Dragon Age: The Veilguard,” the team wanted a title that reflected a “really deep and compelling group of companions.”

“One thing that’s important to remind fans is that every Dragon Age game is a new and different experience and this game, more so than ever, is about you and your companions – a group that you must rally to fight by your side,” McKay tells IGN. “We can’t wait for players to meet, connect and form their own personal relationships with the unique companions that make up The Veilguard. That’s the spirit of this game…of this story. Choosing who will join you on your adventure, fight alongside you, and be there by your side in the end.”

McKay claims that the name change wasn’t a matter of focus testing, which commonly informs decisions like these. He even goes so far as to admit that sticking with Dreadwolf might have been easier.

“We actually think sticking with Dreadwolf would have been the safer choice – ‘Dread Wolf’ is a cool name after all!” McKay says. “In the end, it was most important for us to have a title that was authentic to the companions that are the heart of this adventure we’ve created. We’ve worked throughout development to create really incredible backstories for each companion that intersect with the main narrative in meaningful ways.”

As for why it’s not simply named “Dragon Age IV,” McKay says it’s for the same reason that Dragon Age Inquisition wasn’t called “Dragon Age III: Inquisition.”

“Every game in the series tells its own unique story and the title is an important element to help set the stage for the next standalone adventure inclusive of its own hero, companions, narrative arc, villain, setting, etc,” he says.

Asked what it means for BioWare to finally be able to show The Veilguard to the world, McKay said, “As the studio head and executive producer, it’s been incredible to see the journey, resilience and passion that this team continues to bring every day. We have an incredible group of both BioWare and Dragon Age veterans who have been with us for years, as well as new faces and voices that love the series who have helped to create an unforgettable experience we feel will be worthy of the Dragon Age name.”

So who exactly are the Veilguard? In the lore, the Veil is a barrier between the physical world and Fade, which is Dragon Age’s spirit realm. Solas, who helped create the Veil, now wants to destroy it. Hence, as McKay puts it, “the Veil needs guarding.”

While acknowledging that the why and the how is definitely spoiler territory, McKay says, “The biggest clue I can share is that you and your companions – that make up The Veilguard – are central to taking down a new evil threat unleashed upon Thedas. It might not just be Solas.”

McKay isn’t quite ready to reveal the party members quite yet, but does provide some hints on what to expect, including some initial info on romances.

“We spent a lot of time making our companions feel authentic based on their own unique experiences within this larger fantasy world, which in turn makes the relationships you form with them feel even more meaningful. We’ve tapped into Dragon Age’s deep lore and explored its most iconic factions to bring each of the seven companions and their stories to life,” he says.

“I won’t spoil next week’s reveal but I can say we’ve created a story where you can impact the world and the companions that surround you. Player agency is important to the Dragon Age: The Veilguard experience and allows each player to form unique personal connections with their companions of choice. And, yes, you can romance the companions you want!”

McKay says the decision to pare the number of companions from nine to seven is mostly down to it being the “right number for the story we’re telling.” Each one is intended to represent a unique faction or element from Thedas, and will feature their own arc with “stories of love and loss, each with meaningful choices and emotional moments.”

He continues, “As you accompany your companions to unravel their backstory and earn their loyalty and friendship, you’ll visit more regions of Thedas across a deeper variety of biomes than any Dragon Age before it.”

McKay mostly sidesteps questions of how Inquisition’s characters might fit into The Veilguard’s story, though he does confirm that it will once again feature an original protagonist similar to The Warden, Hawke, and The Inquisitor, noting that each Dragon Game has its own standalone story with its own thread and conflict.

“Games across the Dragon Age franchise are never designed as a game-over-game continuous storyline. There are familiar arcs, factions and heroes important to the overarching Dragon Age universe that weave through the new story we’re telling,” he explains. “The previous games, characters and events aren’t the anchor of Dragon Age: The Veilguard it’s about your adventure with a brand new cast of companions that you must rally to fight against a powerful force.”

He once again teases another villain beyond Solas: “I don’t want to get too deep into spoiler territory but I can say that the Dread Wolf is not the only god players need to be worried about.”

When The Veilguard is finally revealed on June 11, BioWare’s presentation will include 15 minutes of gameplay from the opening moments of the game, which will help set up the story. On the gameplay front, McKay says that The Veilguard’s combat was a “big area of focus” and something the team wanted to push forward. Among other things, McKay says that The Veilguard will feature an ability wheel designed to give players more direct control over their characters.

“As an RPG, strategy in combat is important as you bring two companions to every fight. Each companion brings unique powers and abilities that have a direct impact on how you choose to take down the enemies at hand,” he says. “To add another layer to that strategic element, we’re introducing a new ability wheel where you can pause the action and set up your next move – whether it’s your companions’ abilities or your own.

“The ability wheel opens up a huge amount of strategic possibilities, giving players the ability to control the flow of combat and link powerful combinations of abilities between players and their companions that can quickly turn the tide of any battle. We think we’ve found an exciting balance between fun, fluidity and strategy for every encounter.”

“This is a game and experience that continues BioWare’s tradition of single player RPG storytelling set in the epic fantasy world of Thedas,” McKay says. “We know Dragon Age fans and the community have been waiting a long time for the next game and we could not be more excited to share our gameplay reveal on June 11.""

[source] (emphasis mine)

[theoutcastrogue]

In 1976, after Dungeons & Dragons co-creator Gary Gygax, the most important person in roleplaying games was a Los Angeles woman named Lee Gold. She still contributes to the hobby and still runs a campaign using her Lands of Adventure (1983) game. ...

The shabby state of D&D’s original rules inspired much discussion, and Lee’s [fanzine] Alarums & Excursions served as the hub of this network. “All the role players I know, when we looked a Gary Gygax’s game with its “% liar” and all its typos said, ‘this stuff needs tinkering.’ ... Everybody tinkered with D&D because it needed tinkering to be playable. The nice part about D&D was that it obviously needed player help. ...

Soon though, Gary came to hate APAs like A&E. Partly, he seemed to see APAs as ringleaders for thieves, and not just the sort who—in Gary’s estimation—stole a ride on his coattales. Remember that Lee Gold started with a photocopy of the D&D rules. Early on, copies of D&D, especially outside of TSR’s reach in the Midwest, proved scarce. The $10 price of the original box struck many gamers as outrageous. In the first issues of Alarums & Excursions, some contributors argued that TSR’s profiteering justified Xerox copies of the D&D rules. Gary wrote a rebuttal and Lee told readers that Gary deserved to gain from his work and investment. Surely though, he remained incensed. ...

Meanwhile, Lee published A&E and began writing games. Much of her work showed an interest in history and particularly Japan, where she lived 4 months during A&E’s first year. Land of the Rising Sun (1980) extended the Chivalry & Sorcery system to Japan. Her game Lands of Adventure (1983) aimed for roleplaying in historical settings. Her other credits include GURPS Japan (1988) and Vikings (1989) for Rolemaster. ...

Meanwhile, the men in gaming tended to suppose that only men contributed to the hobby. Lee remembers visiting the Origins convention and spotting shirts for sale that identified the wearer as a “wargaming widow.” Why else would a woman attend a gaming convention?

After Lee finished writing Land of the Rising Sun for Fantasy Games Unlimited, she met publisher Scott Bizar at a local convention to sign the contract. She recalls discussing the game’s credits.

“Do you want to say this game is written by yourself and your husband Barry?” Bizar asked.

“No,” I said. “Barry didn’t write any bit of it. He did the indexing, and I gave him full credit for that. I wrote all of the game. Just say the game is by Lee Gold.”

“Most female writers say they wrote a game with their husbands,” said Bizar.

“I don’t care what other people do,” I said. “Just say the game is by Lee Gold.” And so Land of the Rising Sun came out as written by Lee Gold.

Her one personal encounter with Gary Gygax revealed a similar bias. Early on, Lee sent copies of A&E to TSR. After a couple of months, she received a phone call, which she recounts.

“This is Gary Gygax,” said the voice, “and I’d like to speak to Lee Gold.”

“I’m Lee Gold,” I said. “I gather you got the copies of A&E I sent you.”

“You’re a woman!” he said.

“That’s right,” I said, and I told him how much we all loved playing D&D and how grateful we were to him for writing it.

“You’re a woman,” he said. “I wrote some bad things about women wargamers once.”

“You don’t need to feel embarrassed,” I said. “I haven’t read them.”

“You’re a woman,” he said.

We didn’t seem to be getting anywhere, so I told him goodbye and hung up.

[allthingsfangirl101]

A Little Over Protective – Gary Johnson

The second I got into my car, tears erupted from my throat. I covered my face and sobbed into my hands. After letting it out, I slowly pulled my hands away from my face. That's when I saw the bruises. As I remembered how I got them, the tears came back.

I jumped, letting out an involuntary shriek when my phone started ringing. I forced myself to calm down before answering my best friend's call.

"Hey."

"Hey, you," Gary said sweetly into the phone. "I wrapped up a case and need to celebrate. Dinner?"

"You want to celebrate with your best friend?" I asked, trying to sound normal.

"What's wrong?"

Damn it.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Y/N," he elongated my name. "I know you. I know your voice. So, I know when something is wrong."

"It's nothing," I tried to lie again. "Just a rough day. That's all."

"Did something happen?" Gary instantly panicked. "Y/N, what happened at work?"

"It's nothing, really," I said, trying to sound like I was okay. "It was just a long day. I was stuck in meetings all day and my boss yelled at us photographers for like forty-five minutes."

After a slight pause, he asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, G," I tried to reassure him. "What time did you want to go to dinner?"

"I don't know," he said, sounding like he didn't believe me. "What time works for you?"

"Give me an hour?" I shrugged. "I'm still at work. I want to go home and change into something nicer than my leggings."

"Okay," he said, sounding strange. "See you then."

It took me a few more minutes to calm down enough that it was safe to drive. When I got home, I unlocked my front door and closed it behind me. I leaned against it and took a shaky breath. I kicked off my shoes and hung my keys by the door.

I walked into my living room and leaned against the back of the couch. I took a shaky breath and ran my fingers through my hair as I struggled to stop the tears again. 

"Are you going to tell me what's really going on with you?"

I gasped at the sudden voice. I jumped up and turned around to see Gary sitting in the armchair.

"What are you. . . I thought we were meeting in an hour," I stuttered.

"I was already outside your place when I called you. In fact, I called you when I realized you weren't home," he explained as he walked over to me. "Y/N, I've been here for forty-five minutes. Your work is only ten minutes from here. Where have you been?"

"I had to run a few errands," I instantly lied.

"Come on, Y/N," Gary sighed. "I have known you since we were kids. I can tell by the sound of your voice that something is wrong."

He grabbed my wrists but I gasped in pain. I quickly tore my hands out of his, hoping he didn't catch on.

He did.

Gary closed the gap between us and gently grabbed my hands. When I tried to pull them back, he tightened his grip.

"Y/N," he whispered. "Show me."

"I'm fine," I said a little too quickly.

"You gasped in pain when I grabbed your wrists," he said, slowly getting more frustrated. "What happened, Y/N?"

"It's. . ."

"Don't tell me it's nothing," he snapped, letting go of my hands and starting to pace. "Y/N, my job is to protect people and you're telling me I didn't protect the most important person in my life?!"

"Gary, please," I stuttered.

"You sounded weird on the phone," he noted as he continued to pace. "You've done nothing but lie to me about it. Did someone try to grab you? I swear, if someone grabbed my best friend, I am going to go down to your office and beat them so badly they won't be able. . ."

"Gary, stop," I said stepping in front of him, making him stop pacing. His eyes softened when he looked at me, shaking in front of him.

"I'm only going to ask this one more time, Y/N," he said, his voice soft but firm. "What happened to your wrists?"

"Peter, our new temp, won't leave me alone," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"What?!" Gary yelled through gritted teeth. His eyes softened when he saw me flinch. He gently grabbed my arms, rubbing them up and down. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone softening. "Who is he?"

"He started working in my office about a month ago," I stuttered. "Today, he found me in the break room and asked me out. I said no and tried to walk away but. . ."

"He grabbed you," Gary seethed, struggling to remain calm. "I am going to kill him."

"Gary," I gasped when he tried to leave. "Please don't do anything."

"Fine," he nodded. "I will completely forget all about this if you tell me it was a one-time thing."

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to tell him the truth.

"Y/N," he said slowly. "How many times has he bugged you?"

"I don't know," I stuttered. "I mean. . . He asks me if I need help like every day. I always tell him no, G. I swear! But he won't. . . He never. . ."

"He's a stalker," Gary said, moments away from bursting.

"Gary," I whispered. "Please don't. . ."

"How could you not tell me?!" He yelled. "Y/N, you have a stalker. You know what I do for a living! I interfere in these kinds of cases. How could you not tell your best friend that some creep won't leave you alone?!"

"You don't actually kill anyone, Gary."

The look in his eyes changed as soon as that sentence left my lips. "But for you?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he stepped forward and closed the gap between us. "I'd do anything for you."

"You don't mean that, G," I whispered. "You'd never kill anyone for me."

"I would if he hurt you."

Before I could respond to that, Gary leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. My thoughts went everywhere as my best friend kissed me. I threw my arms around him and started kissing him back. The minute I kissed him back, he pulled me closer.

I gasped when he laid us down on the couch, instantly hovering over me. He broke the kiss and looked deeply into my eyes.

"No one touches my girl," he said, his voice dark. "If they do, I'll end them."

Part 2

[bellaxgiornata]

A Favor from the Devil |Chapter Five|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Mom!Reader Word Count: 4.5k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Domestic abuse, depictions/mentions of sexual assault, struggles with past trauma, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut (possibly more warnings to come)

a/n: Another update to this little series that I'm really enjoying working on! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @kee-0-kee @dethspllz @a-half-empty-g1rl @senjoritanana @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @danzer8705 @scriptedmoon @flowher @wanda-maxamommy @guccicloudz @loves0phelia @withasideofmeg @mattmurdock-wife24 @sarraa-26 @mylastarrival @mdanon027 @kmc1989 @abiisscared @dreamtofus @rebeccapineapple @peterman-spideyparker @littlenosoul @writtenbyred

Rubbing at your tired eyes, they’d begun to burn from staring at your computer screen all day long. The mindless data entry you'd been doing for most of the day had been turning your brain to mush, your eyes frequently glancing down at the corner of your screen to check the time. You were dying for your shift to end so you could pick Evie up from preschool and go relax at home for the evening. 

Secretly you were also hoping to hear that her second week at preschool had started off better than her first. You'd already been told by her teacher that she'd been very quiet all of last week, barely speaking unless she absolutely needed to. And it sounded like her lack of speech was affecting her opportunities for making friends in her class, which had only broken your heart to hear. Because every mother just wanted their kids to succeed and be happy, yet here your daughter was seemingly miserable and struggling. 

Jaw tightening, your eyelids slowly lowered. All your fault , the voice in your head reminded you. She's like this because of you .

“If I have to stare at a spreadsheet any longer I'm going to lose my damn mind.”

Your eyes flew back open at the familiar voice of Amira behind you. She'd become your only real friend in the city ever since you’d moved here and gotten your job and you always welcomed a free moment to chat with her at work.

Pushing your chair away from your small desk, you turned it around to see her leaning against the entrance to your cubicle. She was raising a mug of steaming tea up to her lips which were stained a dark purple today. 

“Gary in the bathroom?” you asked her.

Swallowing down her sip of tea, she nodded before a grin spread on her face. “Of course he is,” she told you. “I swear that man shits at the same time every day.”

Biting your lip, you fought down a laugh. She wasn't wrong, though. Your boss always kept a tight schedule–even when it came to his bathroom breaks. 

“Gives us time to catch up, though,” she said. “And I hope your weekend was more eventful than mine because I did nothing but clean and wished I'd won the lottery so I didn’t have to come back to this damn place.”

You shrugged in response. “Not really anything interesting to share on my end,” you told her. “Found a park near our building that I brought Evie to play at. Did some cleaning and some grocery shopping, then I brought Evie to the library for Sunday morning story time. That's about it.”

“Hmm,” Amira hummed out, glancing down at her mug as she tapped a finger thoughtfully along the side of it. “Sounds about as eventful as my weekend.”

You watched as she brought the mug to her lips and took another drink. As she did, your eyes slid over to the clock on the wall behind her. You still had twenty minutes left.

“What about your love life?” Amira asked. “Anything more going on with that?”

A bitter laugh fell out of you as your attention returned to Amira. Shaking your head, you tried to stifle the humorless sound.

“You know I'm not looking for a relationship,” you reminded her. “That's the absolute last thing I want right now.”

“So you mean to tell me if some man asked you out, you wouldn't even consider it?” she asked. “I mean, I'm sure you've got needs, you know?”

You glanced down at your hands that were now fidgeting in your lap. “That's not exactly a priority in my life anymore,” you told her. “And I'm not sure I could even trust someone to get that close again anyway. Besides, the only man who's taken an interest in me is my weird neighbor from across the hall.”

“Oh?” Amira asked, instantly perking up. “Why's he weird?”

“I don't know, I somehow just keep running into him,” you answered with another shrug. “It's just odd. And he's always so…friendly?”

“Like friendly friendly?” she asked. “Or like I'm-going-to-peep-through-your-panty-drawer-when-you're-not-home friendly?”

You shook your head, your mind returning to your neighbor and that damn charming smile of his that he always threw your way. You still weren't entirely sure what to make of him. He'd seemed sincerely concerned when you'd encountered him on the roof that one night, even though you figured there was no way he could know that it was you he'd talked to briefly. And he had brought you that lasagna, which as weird as that had been, you couldn't deny it wasn't a nice gesture. Assuming it really was a no strings attached lasagna.

“I don't know,” you answered. “I haven't exactly figured it out, but I'm also not really interested in trying to, either. As long as he leaves Evie and I alone, I don't really care. But he…brought us a lasagna last week.”

“He did what now?” Amira asked, suddenly straightening up. 

“He brought us over an entire lasagna,” you repeated. “Apparently he's a lawyer that does a lot of pro bono work in Hell's Kitchen and I guess his firm often gets paid in food? So he brought us a literal whole lasagna.”

Amira's head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowing curiously back at you as her finger began tapping against her mug again.

“Is he one of the men from Nelson, Murdock, and Page?” she questioned.

“That sounds about right,” you answered.

“Alright girl, now you need to tell me which man it is. Nelson or Murdock?” she pressed. “Cause they are both fine as hell and I've only ever heard good things about them.”

“Murdock, I think?” you answered, brow furrowing in thought. “He said his name was Matthew?”

Amira let out a long, low whistle that only had the crease between your furrowed brows growing. A bright smile lit up her face immediately at the look of confusion that landed on your own. 

“Are you telling me,” she began, “that Matthew Murdock, the hottest lawyer in the goddamn Kitchen with a heart as big as his ass, is your weird and friendly neighbor?”

“Yes?” you replied hesitantly. 

Amira barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “I would let that man peep through my panty drawer while I'm home if he was my neighbor. Are you kidding me? That man is sexy as hell and with all the things I've heard about him in bed?”

You pulled a face at her comment, your nose immediately scrunching up. If his sexual prowess had somehow landed in your co-worker’s ears then you could only imagine what that said about him. Good in bed or not, that definitely didn’t brighten your view of the man.

“So he sleeps around, I assume?” you asked her, a look of disdain still on your face. “Because then I can completely assure you that he's absolutely not my type.”

Amira sent you a stern, serious look, her laughter immediately fading. “I think he'd be great for you, actually,” she said matter-of-factly. “He's a kind-hearted man who'd fuck you senseless and then leave you be. What more could you want?”

“The just being left alone part?” you half-joked. “Seriously, I don't care what he looks like or how good in bed he is, I don't want anyone, Mira. I've got enough on my mind as it is.”

“You're right,” she agreed, tone softening. “In all seriousness, how've you been holding up?”

Leaning back in your chair, you exhaled a long sigh. You were close with Amira, and she understood quite a bit about your situation, but you still weren't about to be entirely honest with her. It wasn’t necessary for her to know absolutely everything about your past.

“I've been alright,” you answered. “Things are going as good as they can, I guess. Wish this job would give me a raise so I could afford living here, but I'm making it work.”

“How're the nightmares?” Amira asked.

You shrugged. “I don't think Evie is having nightmares exactly, they're more like–”

“I meant you,” she cut in, shooting you a knowing look. “I imagine you have them, considering what you’ve been through.”

You could feel your throat closing up and your mouth going dry at the fact that she’d been able to see right through you so easily. How she kept managing to do that remained a mystery to you. Hands beginning to tug at the hem of your blouse, your attention returned to where they fidgeted once more in your lap. 

“I'm–I'm fine,” you lied. “I'm managing.”

“You know, I think you'd benefit from some self-defense classes,” Amira said slowly. “Probably make you feel a whole lot safer at least. Have you considered something like that?”

“You know I can't afford self-defense classes,” you told her quietly. “I'm lucky to pay rent on time and put some food on the table as it is. Anything extra goes to Evie.”

Amira opened her mouth, clearly about to say more, but her eyes darted over the top of your cubicle. A frown settled on her lips as her eyes narrowed and you immediately recognized what that look meant.

“Appears his bathroom break is over,” she grumbled, pushing off of your cubicle wall. “Guess that's my cue to pretend I'm busy until we can get the hell out of here.”

You sent her a strained smile before she ducked out of your cubicle. Slowly turning your chair around back towards your desk, you sighed in defeat as your work glared back at you on the screen. Eyes darting down to the clock on your computer, your shoulders dropped when you saw you still had fifteen minutes left. 

The elevator felt like it was moving exceptionally slow this evening, partly because you were eager to get back to your apartment and change out of your work clothes already, and partly because the lift had been fairly crowded tonight with everyone else coming home from work. 

As you impatiently waited for the elevator to make its multiple stops on its ascent to the top floor, Evie silently held your hand, her eyes remaining fixed on the numbers changing above the doors each time it stopped at a new floor. She’d barely spoken more than four times on your entire walk home. From what you’d gathered from the lopsided conversation, this week of preschool had started off about the same as her previous one, which had only further dampened your mood after the long day at work. So when the doors of the elevator had finally opened onto the sixth floor and you’d stepped out of it with Evie in tow, you weren't thrilled to see that not only was your strange, friendly neighbor in the hallway, but he was in the hallway with two other people. 

Your hand gripped Evie’s tighter in yours as you reluctantly began to make your way down the hall towards your apartment and inevitably towards the small group that was chatting in front of your neighbor’s door. You desperately hoped you’d be able to get away with just giving them a polite smile before ducking inside your apartment, but your hopes were dashed the moment the pretty blonde woman on your neighbor’s left spotted you passing the door to 6C and making your way ever closer to them. 

“Oh, Matt, I think your neighbor is actually home!” she exclaimed. “What perfect timing!”

Briefly pausing midstep, your eyes grew wide in fright at being acknowledged by the little group. What could they possibly have wanted with you ? Trying to regain your composure, you plastered a stiff smile on your face, but your pulse increased the second your neighbor’s covered gaze fixed on you. It felt as if he was looking right at you, almost as if he knew exactly where you were walking as you finished making your way down the hallway. The gentleman on his other side turned at the waist, focusing his attention on you next. You wished that you could drag Evie straight through the wall into your apartment with how uncomfortable all three sets of eyes were currently making you feel. You heard Matthew say your name and the hair on your forearms rose at the impending conversation.

“Yeah?” you answered awkwardly, pausing in front of your door.

Directly across the hall, Matthew took one step towards you before holding out a hand. Eyes darting down at what he was offering you, your brows shot up onto your forehead in surprise when you noticed it was a plate of peanut butter cookies covered in cling wrap. Beside you, you heard the excited inhale from Evie just before she began ecstatically tugging at your hand. 

So he hadn’t forgotten the cookies he’d mentioned to your daughter a few days ago when he had dropped off that lasagna. You’d entirely expected him to, but now you supposed you’d at least give him credit for not crushing her hopes. She’d certainly excitedly mentioned the cookies he’d promised to you a few times over the duration of the weekend, and you’d tried your best to prepare her for disappointment when he inevitably forgot that he’d ever brought them up. But here he was proving you wrong and not disappointing your daughter like so many others would have.

“If I recall,” Matthew began, a broad smile on his face, “I think I owe someone peanut butter cookies today. If that’s still alright with your mother, of course.”

Evie’s head immediately darted up in your direction, her eyes big and pleading. “Please, mama?”

You knew there was absolutely no way you were about to deny her and decline the baked goods, especially after having already agreed to accept them in the first place. Trying to maintain that strained smile on your face, you briefly released Evie’s hand and cautiously took the two steps across the hall to accept the plate from Matthew’s outstretched hand. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears the whole time, your body begging you to just get inside and away from this situation already. 

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, taking those two steps immediately backwards towards your door and grabbing Evie’s hand again. “I know Evie appreciates that you remembered her.”

Matthew had opened his mouth to reply, but your daughter shocked the both of you when she spoke before he’d even had the opportunity to get a single word out. Your eyes flew to her in surprise the moment you’d heard her voice.

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock,” she said.

For a second you stood there dumbfounded, holding the plate of cookies in one hand as you stared down at your daughter. She had intentionally raised her voice when she'd spoken, speaking loud enough to be heard–something that wasn't common for your daughter because she often spoke so softly whenever she did speak. As you openly gaped down at her, you saw that she was even smiling up at him, wearing a smile so bright you couldn’t even recall the last time you’d seen one like it on her face. 

“You’re very welcome, Evie,” Matthew replied, having focused on the place where she stood when she’d spoken. “Maybe another day I can bring you something else from the office. Assuming, of course, your mother is okay with it.”

His attention returned to you and you immediately began shaking your head. Whatever this was, you weren't about to begin accepting his constant charity. Or worse–to feel like you owed him something in return after the conversation you'd had with Amira earlier today. You absolutely weren’t about to sleep with your neighbor to thank him for his kindness.

“Oh, no, really,” you began, “This was plenty already. You don't need to bring us anything else.”

“Mrs. Anderson makes a mean cherry pie,” the gentleman beside Matthew said, drawing your eyes towards him. “You might not want to say no until you’ve tasted it. It will quite literally change the way you see the world.”

You shot him a tight, friendly smile as you once more shook your head. “I’m sure it’s great,” you continued politely, “but really, that’s alright. We don’t–”

“Who’s that?” 

You stopped short at the sound of Evie’s question. Head shifting over your shoulder, you saw Evelynn’s little hand pointing across the hall. Following her finger’s path, you saw she was pointing at a newspaper partially folded beneath the blonde woman’s arm. The woman looked startled before she glanced down at the newspaper tucked against her body. 

“Oh,” she exclaimed softly, slowly beginning to pull it out from beneath her arm.

She glanced down at the front page before exchanging a look with the man on Matthew’s left immediately afterwards. Something strange and tense seemed to settle among the three of them as they stood across the hall from you. Clearing her throat, the woman quickly plastered a smile on her face before she turned, bending partially over and holding out the picture on the front page of the paper for Evie to see. 

“You mean the man in this photograph?” she asked. 

Evie nodded quickly, her eyes wide and glued to the image that you couldn’t quite see at this angle. 

“That’s Daredevil,” the woman answered.

You briefly caught a note of something strange in the way she’d replied, but the thought completely left your mind when Evie whipped around towards you, her finger still pointing to the paper.

“That’s him, mama!” she shouted. 

Pulling a face, you shook your head in confusion. “That’s who, cricket?” you asked.

“The man!” she exclaimed. “On the roof!”

“What?” you asked.

The woman straightened, a smile on her lips as she showed you the paper. Your eyes narrowed, squinting at the dark and somewhat blurry image of a man in a costume crouched on a roof. You could vaguely make out the shape of something like horns on his helmet. 

Eyes flying up toward the woman, panic rose within you. If this psycho was real, then there really was a man out on the rooftops that your daughter had been seeing. Which was a completely horrifying thought.

“Who is that?” you nearly demanded. “The deranged man running around in a devil suit?”

“Oh, uh,” the woman stammered, clearly taken by surprise. “Daredevil isn’t–he's not crazy. He's just uh–”

“Kind of like a superhero who beats up bad guys,” the man next to Matthew quickly cut in. “Though technically he is considered a vigilante.”

Quirking a brow at him, you shook your head in disbelief. “A superhero vigilante?” you asked skeptically. “What do you mean?”

“He’s known to protect Hell’s Kitchen,” your neighbor’s smooth voice cut in, your eyes drawn back towards him. “You don’t have to be afraid of him, though. I can assure you, it’s well known that he’s never harmed anyone that wasn’t a criminal.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, eyes narrowing at him, “but there’s a madman dressed as a devil running around on the rooftops near my daughter’s bedroom at night and you think I have nothing to worry about?”

“He’s more like a protector, not a lunatic!” the other man told you. “He protects the people of Hell’s Kitchen specifically. He’s rescued all kinds of people from human traffickers, he’s stopped various gangs–”

“He even saved my life,” the blonde added, a hesitant smile on her face. “Once or twice.”

“And he’s helped our law firm put bad men away,” your neighbor said. “I can assure you, he’s not a danger to you or your daughter. No matter how…startling it is to hear your daughter say that she’s seen him outside of her window.”

Jaw tightening, your eyes darted around the three of them, scrutinizing them closely. It was strange how quick they were to defend this costumed lunatic. You also weren’t thrilled at the prospect of a violent man running around outside your apartment at night while you and your daughter slept. How were you supposed to believe his violence was any different than Daniel’s? How could you trust he wouldn’t break into your apartment and hurt either of you? How could you know he was safe?

“I told you.” 

Evie’s small voice broke through your thoughts, your attention returning down towards her. She was smiling proudly up at you, the sight only further confusing you.

“Told me what, cricket?” you asked.

“He protects us,” she answered.

Frowning, you found you weren’t entirely sure what to make of the masked vigilante that this city seemed to respect, especially after the comments these three had made. And you didn’t quite understand why your daughter wasn’t afraid of him and repeatedly kept seeing him at night–something that made you more uncomfortable now knowing he wasn’t imaginary. 

But you knew there was nothing you or the three people across from you could do about this Daredevil, and you really wanted to end this interaction already. Clearing your throat, you glanced back over at Matthew. There was a conflicted twist to the shape of his mouth, the corners a bit downturned. You ignored it, the feeling of your growing panic the only thing that mattered right now.

“Thank you for the cookies,” you said tersely, “but I should probably get Evie inside and make dinner. I hope you have a good evening.”

You turned your back on the three of them, releasing Evie’s hand so you could dig the apartment key out of your purse. In a hurry you began to unlock your apartment door, not remotely surprised when you heard your neighbor behind you.

“I hope you both enjoy your evening as well,” he replied. “And like I said, I’m just across the hall if you ever need anything.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you pushed your door open without a backwards glance or another word. You ushered Evie quickly inside your apartment before you darted in after her, locking the door and the deadbolt behind you.

“Seriously, man?” Foggy asked in exasperation. “Her little girl has already been seeing you out on the roof? They’ve only been here a week, Matt! You need to be more careful!”

“I thought I was being careful!” Matt shot back, pacing in front of his apartment windows with his hands on his hips. “I didn’t think she’d caught me the first night when I’d been on their fire escape, but she must be seeing me when I’m heading back home at night.”

“You do need to be more cautious,” Karen warned from the couch. “You don’t need her to see you heading back into your apartment. That could be dangerous.”

Foggy let out a low groan, his body slumping forward in one of the armchairs. Matt ran a hand across his mouth, feeling a little rush of panic inside of himself. He really hadn’t realized your daughter had been so aware of him coming home in the evenings. She was surprisingly observant. 

“The last thing we need,” Foggy complained, “is for your neighbor to realize who Daredevil really is and to take that information to the authorities. That’s dangerous information that could get you killed, Matt. Or disbarred and imprisoned. Hell, it could get all of us disbarred and sent to prison!”

Matt shook his head, still continuing his pacing. “That won’t happen, Fog. I won’t let it, don’t worry,” he assured him.

“Well,” Karen began slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “at least her daughter trusts Daredevil. Even if her mother thinks he’s batshit crazy. I suppose that’s something. I don’t know what, but it’s something.”

“Not helping,” Matt grumbled. “I don’t need her to be more terrified in her apartment than she already is. I imagine her being put further on edge won’t make it any easier for me to get closer to her.”

“Matt, buddy, did you ever think that maybe she won’t want your help?” Foggy questioned. “Maybe you should just, I don’t know, let this one go? You can’t help everyone, dude. I mean, she seemed pretty cold at the end of that conversation out there.”

“She seemed scared,” Karen softly corrected, her attention focusing on Foggy. “She was scared, not cold, Foggy. There’s a difference.”

Matt came to a stop at the edge of his rug, his hands readjusting the waistband of his dress pants. He’d felt your fear the moment your daughter had recognized Daredevil as the man she’d apparently been seeing at night in that newspaper. It was just as strong of a rush of the feeling through your body as when you’d first seen him in the hallway. Daredevil terrified you.

“Karen’s right,” Matt told Foggy. “I could feel her fear. Someone has her afraid. And the thought of some other violent man running around the city at night only seemed to scare her further. Something is going on, and I’m not going to stop until I figure out what.”

“Dude–”

“ No ,” Matt nearly growled the word out, immediately quieting Foggy. “Don’t you tell me to let this go. They’re a part of Hell’s Kitchen, Fog. And I’m going to make sure they’re safe. Because no one hurts the people of my city. I won’t allow it.”

“Alright,” Foggy relented, nodding his head slowly. “Okay. I hear you, Matt. I just worry you’re going to drive her away in your best attempts to do the opposite is all. She seems quite set on keeping you at a distance.”

Foggy wasn’t wrong. Matt knew you were repeatedly pushing him away at every opportunity he took to get closer. And he was afraid of pushing a little too hard and having the opposite effect of what he was after. But your daughter, somehow, seemed to be reacting to him differently now. That first night when you’d both run into him in the hall after moving in, she’d matched your terror. But tonight…he hadn’t felt her fear towards him. Or towards Karen and Foggy. Though you were still putting your walls up. 

“He protects us.”

Your daughter’s words about Matt’s alter ego ran through his mind. She’d been so positive in that thought, he’d read it in the tone of her voice and the steady beat of her heart. She wasn’t afraid of Daredevil, not like you appeared to be. And hearing that from a scared little girl had somehow further softened him to the both of you in that moment. This was quickly becoming less a matter of Matt trying to do the right thing while attempting to keep the people of his city safe, and instead steadily becoming something personal to him. Even if he didn’t fully understand why exactly that was himself.

“I’ll figure it out,” Matt murmured, running a hand across his forehead. “Somehow, I’ll figure out how to get them to let me in so I can help.”

[cod-dump]

Trouble (teen!Ghost au)

___

They weren't bad kids but they were easily influenced.

"Don't your dads drink?" Alejandro pressed, Rudy rolling his eyes when he continued on the matter.

"Ale, don't be a bad influence."

"I'm not a bad influence! But come on- No parents in the house and we're just to behave?"

Simon never felt the need to impress Alejandro. They became friends a few weeks after Alejandro first moved here and went to their school. How? He's not sure but he considers himself stuck with the boy. It didn't matter if he wasn't 'cool' like Alejandro.

But Kyle? He was confident, but he was a bit shy around Rudy. Alex being there in the mix didn't help.

"I mean- Dad has a bottle of whisky downstairs in the basement. For when work gets a bit difficult."

"Oh, whisky?"

Alejandro perked up and Rudy showed interest, it was too late for Simon to stop Kyle.

"No- That's Dad's. He'll know if we go down there! Besides, I'm not drinking with Gary in the house!"

Gary was currently downstairs in the living room with Farah, both deciding to binge watch a bunch of Disney movies until bedtime. Alejandro just snorted.

"We'll be up here, away from the bichito."

Alex decided to join in, not helping the situation despite clearly trying to, "Doesn't Nik drink? Could grab from his stash since he's much more laid back."

This encouraged Kyle who silenced Simon before he could speak, "He has this special vodka he gets imported from Russia! But we don't know where he hides it, he doesn't even like sharing it with Dad."

Alejandro sighs, "Special vodka sounds killer..."

Rudy wasn't much involved in the conversation, just silently judging his boyfriend. Simon was mostly stunned by this rebellious nature Kyle was showing. Drinking? He was sixteen!

"Bro-"

Kyle stood up just then, "Then I'll go grab the whisky."

Simon immediately grabbed Kyle's sleeve and dragged him back to the floor.

"No! Are you crazy!?"

"C'mon, Si. Just a sip."

"No no-"

Simon couldn't stop Kyle. He was already out the room, jumping over Riley and narrowly dodging a very confused Smokey. Alejandro was laughing, mostly from disbelief. Kyle Price was a good child, where was this coming from?

Simon was going to kill him if their father didn't.

"Wow-"

"Ale I'm killing you later."

"Not my fault! You know I tease!"

Simon groans and gets off the floor. He had to get Kyle before he broke something or successfully stole their dad's whisky. He couldn't even imagine the old man's heartbreak at the discovery of not just his baby boy growing up but also adopting a rebellious phase. It would certainly kill him.

Simon was in the hall when Riley started barking excitedly. He ran past him whining and went straight down the stairs. Then Alex called out worriedly.

"There's a car in the driveway- I THINK IT'S YOUR DAD OH GOD-"

Alejandro cusses and jumps up, "Oh Kyle is so dead."

Simon, without thinking, grabs his phone and goes to call Kyle, Thankfully the nerd was never without his phone.

"Si, I'm already down here you can't stop me-"

"Dad's home early!"

Kyle was quiet before he spoke in a hushed tone, "Can you distract him?"

"Kyle-"

"Simon I am rethinking every decision I ever made right now please distract him."

Simon cusses, "Fine! I mean, you're only in trouble if you get caught."

Simon rushes downstairs while Alex, Alejandro, and Rudy stay where they are, probably waiting to see how this ends without getting caught in the crossfire. Right there in the living room was John, petting Riley while Farah and Gary sat on the couch, curled up in blankets with pillows and snacks.

"Back already?"

"For a moment, date night is still on just need to drop this file off."

In his office. Downstairs. Where Kyle is.

Simon ran into the living room and jumped at his father, the man wheezing at the sudden embrace from his son.

"What's with the hug? And when did you get so big?" John said with a light chuckle in his voice, arm around Simon's shoulders and a hand in his hair.

Simon didn't respond to the question, just squeezed onto John's middle, Riley whining at their feet. Farah immediately caught on that something was going on. John also caught on but immediately leaning into something had upset Simon and the teen didn't want to talk about it.

"Si... is everything okay?"

Simon wasn't sure if playing into him being upset was even safe. Running to his father the moment he walked in the door when his friends were staying over? Simon didn't want to risk John assuming they did something.

"Just... missed my old man. You could die any minute so I need to appreciate you whenever I can."

Farah's jaw dropped, dumbfounded, while Gary was absorbed in Finding Nemo and couldn't care less. John cared, the statement of course was alarming.

"Uh, do we need to talk? Nik will survive if we cancel date night."

Simon remained still, eyes wide. Was stirring the pot that was Simon's mental state worth preventing his father from catching his brother trying to steal a bottle of whisky?

I fucking suck at distracting people.

"I... Just love my dad."

Oh that didn't help.

"That settles it. I'm putting this paperwork away and you and me are gonna have a little talk."

FUCK FUCK FUCK-

"I can put it away," enter Nik. Simon certainly didn't have enough arm strength to hold bother men.

"UH- THE BASEMENT IS HAUNTED."

Farah blinked before she made a conclusion in her head. She calmly stood up, taking her blanket and tucking Gary in to the couch before she fast walked into the hall, out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

"... what are you kids up to?"

"Not even going to entertain the haunted bit?" honestly Simon was disappointed by that. Not even Nik took a bite at that.

"I'm not scared of ghosts, малыш."

Nik walked past them, taking the paperwork that laid on the end table as he went. Simon tried to pull away from John with the intention of jumping Nik, but his father kept a firm hold on him.

Gary was no longer watching the TV and instead was staring at Simon and John. Great, now he was more entertaining than Finding Nemo. This was a shit distraction.

"Simon. What's going on? Be honest."

Simon didn't get a chance to get a word out before Nik returned. With Kyle. Kyle was staring at the floor in shame when Nik held up John's whisky. As predicted, John was heartbroken.

"Kyle? No-"

"I... was curious..."

"You-"

John squeezed Simon and Simon feared his father's sanity.

"You were helping him?" Oh he sounded truly betrayed.

"I tried stopping him!"

"Oh you did an excellent job," Nik said with a laugh. He shut up when John looked at him with fire in his eyes.

"... I said I would buy you a nice liquor cabinet but no, you didn't want to be perceived as that kind of father."

"You-"

"-could've avoided this."

John scoffed and Simon clocked Nik trying to defuse the situation by turning the attention onto him. He had released Kyle who backed behind him.

"Simon. Go take Gary and Kyle to your room. I need to have a word with Nikolai.

Nik, for his credit, didn't flinch at the use of his full name. Simon parted from his father and grabbed Gary, who thankfully didn't fight him and just went along with him. He slipped past Nik and Kyle followed without word.

They darted upstairs and after a minute Riley followed. They didn't hear yelling, John and Nik weren't the types to yell. Simon predicted they would focus on the liquor cabinet comment before actually talking about what Kyle did or attempted to do. Either way things would be fine in the morning just awkward.

When they slipped into Simon's room Alex and Farah were there, Farah sitting on the bed while Alex was still on the beanbag.

"Uh, where is Ale and Rudy?"

"Oh they climbed out your window not long after you ran downstairs. They didn't want to be involved in Kyle's punishment."

Oh those assholes.

"Smart for Ale. His dad would murder him if Dad called him about picking him up."

"Didn't he drive here?"

"Ale's dad has towed his car before to ground him."

Alex thought Simon was joking and laughed. Simon wasn't joking.

Kyle couldn't find any humor in the situation and walked over to Alex, slumping onto the beanbag and shoving Alex to the floor.

"Oh why did I do that..."

Farah, having been filled in by Alex, rolls her eyes, "You're a boy, a natural idiot. Seriously, if you guys wanted a drink you should've had Ale go buy you something."

Silence.

Then Kyle sat up, "I'm going to kill Alejandro."

___

Why Johnny or Hong-Jin weren't there? Johnny went to Scotland to his material grandmother and Hong-Jin? Hong-Jin has a gaming tournament. Couldn't figure out how to fit these facts into the drabble but didn't want them to remain unknown lol

[talaok]

Okay . What about pedro × reader

Hear me out ...

They are dating for a few months but keeping it a secret the reader is also an actress and in her new movie her Co star is into her and with the interviews everyone is talking about in in social media . So pedro gets jealous and show up at her work ... maybe they fight or idk . I'm not sure about the ending

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: Pedro’s jealous of one of your co-stars

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst because I didn’t feel like doing a lot, and allusion to smut

A/n: why do yall like jealous Pedro so much!?

Pedro was not a jealous man, he knew you were his, just like he was yours.

He didn't mind the stares you'd attract from other men, he didn't mind the shameless flirting everyone always directed your way, and he didn't even mind having to see you kiss other men on screen... but there's a limit to everything.

He'd stumbled by accident in the comment section of your most recent post, a picture with the cast of the new movie you were shooting, and god if he wished he hadn't.

He meant to write a cute comment, because even though nobody knew about you two, nobody ever seemed to notice the borderline flirty words he'd leave under your pictures, and now he understood why.

He wasn't completely oblivious to the online conspiracies about you and Andrew, you had told him about it, about all the edits and fans and ships or whatever, however, there was a small detail you had forgotten to inform him about: the guy obviously liked you.

And who could blame him right? 

Pedro. He could fucking blame him.

It didn't take long before he was furiously stalking his own girlfriend's Instagram.

you look stunning darling

Darling? When the fuck did he start calling you that?

I think I just had a heart attack

Oh, fuck off

And that wasn't even the worst part. Fuck no. The worst part was the fucking videos. the interviews. The way his eyes never left your fucking body. The way he touched your hand and lingered just enough for him to notice. the way he didn't even try to hide his pathetic attempts at flirting even when he knew he was being fucking filmed.

By the time Pedro shut his phone, he was ready to go have a “talk” with this guy

But first, he needed to see you. Now.

__ __ __

"God please if it's Gary tell him that I don't need to practice that scene again, I got it." you rolled your eyes as you instructed your assistant to open the trailer's door after hearing a knock.

"sure thing, but I don't think he can be so easily persuad-" her voice trailed off as she took in the man in front of her.

"Hi" she smiled at Pedro "It's-it's not Gary" she shot you a look.

"what, who is it?" you asked, momentarily forgetting the lipstick in your hand as you got up.

"Pedro?"

"hi sweetheart"

"what are you doing here?" you couldn't hide your confusion.

"Just wanted to see you," he said, entering the trailer.

"Oh," you smiled, before glancing at your assistant "I'm sorry Ana, could you give us a moment?"

"no problem, but remember you need to be on set in '15"

"yes ma'am" You joked, giving her a pretend salute.

She chuckled as she closed the door behind her.

"they have you on a tight schedule huh?" Pedro murmured, wasting no time before wrapping his arms around your back, forcing you flush against him.

"they do" you nodded, standing on your toes "So you're not gonna get what you came all this way for" you taunted, leaving a quick kiss on his lips.

He grunted, unsatisfied, and pulled you back for another kiss. This one much hungrier.

"Is that what you think I only think about?"

"well you don't make much of a case for yourself" you laughed softly.

"that's your fault" he breathed "If you weren't the most stunning woman on earth maybe I wouldn't be so all over you"

"maybe" you shrugged, lazily drawing patterns on his chest "Maybe not"

"I need to talk to you," he said, suddenly more serious.

A cloud of dread dropped onto you.

"oh," you murmured, taking a step back "about what?"

He looked around the place before finding your eyes again.

"I want to tell everyone"

You frowned 

"I want to tell people we're together"

You were taken aback.

He was always the one opposed to it. He didn't want you to get caught in all the drama and gossip inevitably heading your way, no matter how many times you told him you didn't care.

"What?" you smiled "Why- I mean why now?"

"I want everyone to know you're mine. And I'm yours" he said " including Andrew"

You shot him a look "Andrew?"

"You didn't tell me he's obsessed with you"

"what? He's not"

"he is baby,"

"how would you even know?"

"I saw it"

"When? You've never met him"

"I saw the comments, and the interviews, and the videos"

"And you think just because in an interview he did what? made me laugh, he likes me?" you scoffed "That's ridiculous Pedro"

"I don't want to tell everyone we're together just because you're jealous of a guy I work with," 

"that's not why I want to tell sweetheart" he reassured you, taking a step towards you " I want everyone to know just how much I love you, that's why. And if that means that guys like Andrew will back off... even better"

"He's not into me" you insisted

A sly smile pulled at his lips "God baby, you really have no idea what you do to men, do you?"

"He's not into me."

"Sure" he mocked "and tell me, when was the last time he didn't do something you asked him?" He asked, moving some hair out of your face.

An almost comical silence spread through the room.

"That's what I thought" he nodded, using his fingers to raise your chin.

"Maybe he's just polite"

He leaned closer, his mouth ghosting yours "Or maybe he's just in love with my girl" he breathed a moment before kissing you deeply, one hand to the back of your neck and one to your ass.

"so what do you say?" he asked once you parted "You ready to tell the world?"

"Only if you are"

"oh you have no idea" he murmured, suddenly picking you up and pinning you against a wall.

A small gasp fled your lips, but he silenced it with a kiss.

"Pedro..." you warned him, tightening your legs' grip on his waist.

"they can wait" he read your mind "You're the start after all"

You couldn't help but laugh at that.

"you're a bad influence" you breathed, causing a smirk to land on his lips as he kissed your neck.

"sweetheart?" he suddenly asked

"Yeah?" you murmured, already out of breath.

"Whose trailer is next to this one?"

You paused a moment, pondering your options.

"Andrew's" you finally spoke, going for the truth “Why?”

By the look of it, that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.

“Baby,I think you know why”

[lostintransist]

Seamstress | Part 10 - Final Part

I love this story so much and I want to squee and cry at the same time because now I can only visit them as a spectator.

Part 1 is here. AO3

CW: Vague mentions of sexual acts.

It became a code between them, 150. Any time, any place, if they wanted an out or just a reason for intimacy the number would be said and you and John would disappear. The guys of the 141 caught onto it quick enough. When John starts leaning closer, dropping kisses on any small piece of you he can reach they all know to listen for that one number that meant the two of you were either leaving or they were getting kicked out.

The fifth time it happened Kyle, Simon, Gary, and Johnny were watching John flirt with you across the kitchen counter as you are putting away the leftovers from their team dinner.

Simon leans closer to Gary and mutters quietly, “If he says one-fifty I’m gonna need someone to fifty-one-fifty me.”

Kyle, who had the unfortunate timing to be taking a sip at the moment of this comment, shot beer through his nose. The coughing laugh drew both yours and John’s attention. Johnny was the only one confused at the table.

You pass John a towel and watch with concern as Kyle wipes his face and then the table where he made a mess.

Johnny turns to Gary and whispers, “What’s a fifty-one-fifty?”

Gary smirks as he replies in a hushed tone, “It’s the code for an involuntary psychiatric hold in the States.”

“Oh! Because they are h—”

The towel cut off Johnny’s suddenly normal volume voice from across the table. Kyle’s aim hit dead on even as his body still shuddered with coughs. Everyone knew that Kyle had finished his coughing fit because he is wracked with a massive sneeze.

John looks over his men at the table, eyes narrowed.

“Anything to discuss muppets?”

“Oh leave them alone John,” you call from your place head in the refrigerator.

Everyone but you watches as John catches sight of your half-bent state and his demeanor takes on a lascivious cast. Side eye is shared between the four men at the table.

Skirting the counter John sidles up to you as you straighten, one hand falling to your back, resting above the rise of your pants, and the other gently pushing the door of the fridge closed.

Despite what the guys assume to be his best efforts John’s hushed voice carries. Must be a side effect of either him using his captain’s voice for so long or the intrinsic quality in his men to tune into his voice.

“Can I offer you 150?”

Glancing up under your brows you fight down a smile. Your hands drift around John’s middle, resting on his waist.

“How ‘bout zero? I have drinks with my friends downtown in thirty minutes and your men are still here.”

Pouting is a new look for John. Gary makes a face as if he has just seen the devil’s ass and found it covered in boils.

“Love you, John, have a good time with your guys,” you lean up and press a kiss to his lips before stepping back and addressing the team. “Have a good poker night guys.”

You leave with a chorus of goodbyes on your heels. For all their annoyance with John and his inability to maintain focus with you nearly every one of the guys liked you and had added you to their mental shortlist of good people.

Simon started to rise to grab the poker supplies but froze at John’s abrupt hand slash. The familiar movement to wait caused all the men to hold their positions. When the sound of your car pulling away and down the road finally fades John looks at his men.

“I have something to show you. Stay.” He takes off from the kitchen, feet eating up the distance to his destination.

He is back in less than a minute. Simon sat back down while waiting for his return. Both Kyle and Johnny sent their sergeants questioning glances, but neither Gary nor Simon had any clues.

John set a jewelry box on the center of the table. Gripping the small knob between two fingers he pulled out the bottom left drawer. It sat empty except for two rings, one with a large clear stone that could be nothing but an engagement ring and the other a matching plain band.

“Gonna wife the bonnie up?” Johnny waggled his eyebrows at John.

Rolling his eyes John looked at the rest of them for their reactions. Simon shrugged, arms folded across his chest.

“She’s good people.”

Gary nodded, “I doubt you could ever find someone better for you. She treats us like the good side of the family.”

Kyle half stood and pulled both rings from the drawer.

“I would marry her myself if I thought I could fight her away from you.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at something on the inside of the band. “What’s the 150 by the way? Must be important if you had it engraved on the band.”

The men had never seen their captain embarrassed, let alone go beet red.

John straightens up, hand reaching back to rub the back of his neck and scratch at the base of his hair.

“I might have offered 150,000 to see her naked before we got together.”

Guffaws and full-throat laughter cloud the room as John snatches the rings from Kyle, shoves them back in the drawer and returns the jewelry box to its place of honor on your dresser. It sits next to a photo of the two of you at the first New Year’s at Kyle’s, the one taken before John disappeared and nearly died.

Stepping back into the dining space the laughter has died down into the random chuckle and snicker when anyone would look at John for too long.

“Alright boss, tonight we are betting on truths because I desperately want to the full story about offering to see your bird naked,” Gary launches the challenge across the table.

That is how the night goes, John fighting for his proverbial life to keep his secrets to himself and losing to odds that casinos would weep for.

🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡🪡

It takes him a few weeks. A few weeks of girding his loins after getting the needed approval from his men to ask you. He had spoken to your father who placed a firm hand on John’s shoulder and said “If she finds out you asked me before her no god will be able to save you.”

With that, deeply concerning and somehow still accurate, warning ringing in his ears John starts to plot. He wanted to give you a grandiose event where he paid for a flash mob and the biggest damn bouquet he could find. He ran the idea past Simon who blinked at him as if trying to dislodge the thought that he willingly followed an idiot.

Simon placed a hand on the same shoulder your father did and gave a single shake of his head.

“She would hate that and you know it,” he walks away as if he didn’t just singlehandedly ruin John’s plans.

Falling into bed that night John sits next to you, back resting against the headboard as he runs a hand over your shoulders. You don’t cuddle when you are ready to truly get to sleep. It’s hard to cuddle the way you cock one leg, twist and strangle your pillows and finally flop into the oddest positioning claiming it is for comfort.

The thought slips out, like every part of him but his mind is ready for your answer already.

“Would you marry me?”

Your breath hitches under his touch.

Pushing up to one elbow and one hand you look up at him. John focuses all his years of training on keeping his face even.

“Of course, I would marry you.”

“When?” He probes.

You tuck your knees up under you, kneeling on the bed now. John lets his hand fall to yours in your lap.

“Tomorrow.” The serious look on your face is enchanting.

“No white dress or cake or fancy party?” Narrowing his eyes at you he wonders at your response. You had no doubt imagined and even designed the dress of your dreams.

“The frills don’t change the goal, just the timing of it,” you thread your fingers through his as you knee walk closer to him. “I love you and would marry you now, except any judge we have to wake to marry us would probably tell us to piss off and come back in the morning.”

Lifting a hand to your cheek John’s heart swells in his chest at the weight you rest in his palm. The soft look on your face makes his decision for him. Leaning forward he drops a kiss on your lips.

“Close your eyes and don’t open them till I say.”

Your lids drift close without hesitation. John climbs from the bed, retrieving both rings he bought for you. Blowing a lung’s worth of air through his nose he kneels, one knee pressing him up from the floor and the other a resting place for his elbow as he holds out the ring with a stone. He tucks the other onto the pointer finger of his left hand. Would hate to lose that.

“Okay, open your eyes.”

It takes you a heartbeat to locate him, eyes blinking before settling on him.

“Yes.”

You don’t let him even ask.

“Typically I need to ask—”

“Nothing about us is typical. Yes.”

John laughs, nerves shivering through his body as he sheds the layers and layers of stress he had built up in his mind.

Sticking out your hand impatiently you wiggle your fourth finger at him.

“Hurry up John. I want to fuck the lights out of you. Now get up here.”

Never a man to turn down an offer like that John slides your new ring into place and stands to be devoured by your kisses.

As you ride him into oblivion he places the flat ring on the ring finger of your other hand.

Never has a man been more lucky than he to take a nap at a seamstress’ shop.

Part 9 | Fin

Seamstress Masterlist | Masterlist

@madsothree

[postmortemnivis]

could be read as a part two of this post

“when i met you,” price started, “you were a mess of a man.”

simon grunted in response, his arms crossed over his chest almost as if he wanted to protect, shield himself from price’s words. each cut deeper than knives, aiming straight for the strong walls he’d built around his heart, the ones that only you had been able to tear down.

a mess of a man. he knew it, he didn’t need to hear about it too.

“at first, i honestly didn’t think you were going to ever become someone.” the older man admitted.

johnny’s laughter could be heard from the living room, where he and kyle were chatting about god knows what, probably the last poor girl johnny shagged in a bathroom stall at a pub the previous night.

“you didn’t?”

price shook his head. “as i said, a mess of a man, simon.”

a mess of a man. simon knew himself, he knew he was no saint, no good: he was a murdered, the angel of death that could be seen in the middle of the field, his dark glow foretelling the end of anyone who found himself in the middle of his bloody path. his hands were stained with the blood of many, the same hands he refused to touch you with; the only thing that kept him sane was knowing he wasn’t ghost, ghost’s crimes were shielded from simon by his black gloves and balaclava.

simon looked at price as his hand rested on his shoulder. he remembered what it felt to be neglected by his own father, and price knew it. price always seemed to know everything about his boys, he could see right through him. what simon needed was guidance, and price would’ve given it to him.

“nothing to be ashamed of,” he continued, “most of you boys are, you seek for something more. think of johnny, he enlisted when he was sixteen. you enlisted the day of your eighteenth birthday. we all know that if you’re a responsible man you don’t run to the army. we’re all crazy, messed up men.”

price also knew they were reckless, a suicidal loyalty bound to him. after all, their job attracted the beasts, the outcasts, the sadists, the worst of society.

simon rolled his eyes when price referred to them as boys. the man was less than ten years younger than simon, but he still felt the paternal pressure and instinct to protect the boys. his boys.

“wha’ made you change your mind?”

price motioned simon to move further into the kitchen, away from the people that were invited to his house.

“her.”

your voice echoed as you walked out of the bathroom, letting johnny finally hold his little niece. gary was walking behind you with the brightest smile on his face. gaz made a comment about how the three weeks old baby looked just like you, with simon’s dark eyes and pale blonde hair. if only he knew you helped simon dye it every month and a half, him sat on the edge of the bathtub and you standing between his thighs, his hands firm on your waist as he—for once—looked up at you instead the other way round.

you agreed with a chuckle, looking around for simon.

“look a’ the lassie, she’s already an uncles gal!” johnny’s laughter filled the flat. from the corner of his eyes, simon could see the person he’d grown to call his brother hold his newborn daughter.

“her?” he looked at you, the softest and most subtle smile crawling on his scarred face. simon struggled to hold back his smirk.

price nodded. “i remember we all could tell that you met someone. you’d become less… rigid. you’d smile more, were more clement with the recruits.”

“she changed me.” simon shrugged, attempting to hide the smile that would try to crawl on his face anytime he’d think about you. even after years, between a marriage and now a child, his eyes would light up at your thought alone. that’s the impact, the effect you had on him.

“that’s good, simon.” price spoke. “we’re all happy you’re doing better. we remember how you used to-”

“okay, got the message.” simon interrupted him. “loud an’ clear, john.”

his life before you seemed so distant and he almost couldn’t remember of a time where you weren’t by his side yet. like a far away dream, closer to a nightmare than a dream, but still something that didn’t look like the life he was living now. he didn’t need to remember a bit of it, what was the use? he had you now, everything before the day you met didn’t matter anymore, it didn’t exist anymore.

price sighed, looking to the ceiling as he tried to find something in his pocket. “coming outside for a smoke?”

simon shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “nah, capt. quit a while ago.”

it’d been months since you’d showed him the pregnancy test that shook his whole world. he’d fallen to his knees in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by worried recruits, johnny immediately sprinting close enough to check whether his lieutenant was okay but far enough to give you two privacy.

“promise me ‘m not dreamin’.” he murmured, pulling you closer by wrapping his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your chest.

you brushed his short blond hair back, biting your lip as you smiled. you could feel your eyes tingling, tears threatening to spill at any given minute. “you’re not, si. we’re gonna be parents.”

you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his head and felt your white work shirt getting wet by his tears. you looked around at the faces of the confused recruits, and you smiled, because you knew you were the only person who’d ever truly know how the scary lieutenant, the ghost, really was.

“we are.” he whispered before kissing your still flat stomach, getting back up and giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “thank you.”

in the nine months he’d been taking care of you like a person on their deathbed—really not necessary, si, i can still do the dishes by myself—he’d stopped smoking, and treated himself to just one beer every first sunday of the month.

he had worked on himself, hard.

for you and for your daughter. he wanted to be a better person, a good man. he wanted to be nothing like his father, that having haunted and scared him for so long and being the main reason he always tried to postpone having children, what truly held him back,, but he tried to be a better man.

that was what distinguished him from his father, he tried to be better.

leaving the military was sure next, after fixing the downstairs bathroom faucet and oil the doorknob of the closet. he wondered how the boys would take it, but in the end he didn’t really care, he knew they’d understand.

“quit.” price repeated, eyebrows raised as he put his lighter back in pocket. he wasn’t a social smoker, but knew better than to smoke near a baby, even if he would’ve excused himself to the balcony.

simon smiled as he heard you scold johnny for throwing the little girl in the air. “what if you drop her?”

“ah wid never, lass.” he reassured you, laughing at the slap he got on his scruff.

“you’re a good man, simon.” prices hand found its way on simon’s shoulder again. “you went through a lot, but you’re still fighting for a good cause, you didn’t let it change you. that’s what makes you a good man.”

simon was about to deny, say he wasn’t, he was the worst man there was, but then you walked into the kitchen, all smiles.

“hey si.” you smiled. “baby’s hungry.”

simon immediately stretched out his arms to hold the baby, a bottle already in his hands as soon as those words left your plush lips, your lashes batting up at him.

you wrapped your arms around one of his strong biceps and smiled up at him and then at price.

“cute, isn’t she?”

“is indeed.” john nodded, smiling under his thick moustache.

before he decided to leave the kitchen to leave you three some privacy and join the boys in the living room, where johnny had apparently put on a rugby match—“scotland-wales, for fucks sake, lad!”—he shot simon one final knowing glance.

simon returned the look, your eyes too focused on the little girl in her charcoal grey onesies to notice.

“you okay, si?” you whispered, but your husband's eyes were unfocused, staring off into space as price’s words kept replaying in his head like a broken record.

he nodded, kissing your forehead almost instinctively. “yes, love.”

you smiled up at him and then at your daughter, simon’s mind travelling an hundred miles an hour, waiting to crash on itself and get brought back to reality. price’s words echoed in the background of his brain, quieter each second that passed.

a good man.

tagging who asked:

@mr-sol @v1x3n @m4dyy @softangelheart @redzluvvesage @nittoka

[machveil]

CoD Headcanon: Fashion Pt 2

my first Fashion post was legitimately what I think they’d wear day-to-day - let’s talk about gag fashion that they’d wear for shits and giggles! Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Keegan Russ, König CW: some suggestive content

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

I’ll say it. my headcanons are correct - Simon has a good sense of humor when it comes to shitty skeleton themed clothes. it doesn’t matter if it isn’t funny to anyone else, if it gets a chuckle out of Simon he’ll buy it. he’s a sucker for skeletons, even outside of Ghost he enjoys a skeletal aesthetic. bad puns? terrible graphics? something that makes your eyes roll? it’ll be purchased and hung in his closet

again, I’m just correct, Simon is a proud munch. for as much crap as the 141 gives him for owning ridiculous prints, Simon will shrug them off. he doesn’t care, he knows what he likes and he might as well buy funny clothes about it. same with the bad skeleton prints, if Simon sees a print relating to being a munch he’s buying it. granted, it’s more at-home loungewear for him, but if someone asked him to wear it out he would at the drop of a hat

John “Soap” MacTavish:

I don’t think I need to explain the first shirt. we’ll all just nod our heads and agree, “Yeah, John owns that.”. moving on to the D&D shirt, we all agree Johnny is a nerd, right? and chaotic man that he is, why wouldn’t he buy this? he definitely wears this when he actually plays, calls it his ‘lucky shirt’ (he rolled one nat 20 the first time he wore it and he’s deemed it lucky)

okay, look, we all agree Johnny is freaky. we should all also know that he openly advertises he’s freaky. he has no shame, just a lopsided smile and joyful voice asking, “Hey, did you like my shirt?”. he’s so immature about it, stupid smile on his face as he laughs to himself. he definitely buys the 141 gag shirts as holiday gifts - he doesn’t fully expect them to wear them, he just gives them out to have a laugh

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

I will say, with my whole heart, Roach still dresses how he does in my original post. even at home for the most part, it’s just been grandfathered in that that is his wardrobe. that said, Gary is still a silly guy - he has a handful of funny shirts as lounge and sleepwear. he doesn’t say anything about them, doesn’t crack jokes about them, he just appears in them

a lot of the goofy items he owns are for your enjoyment - I mean, he’s not the one that’s going to be consistently reading the print. he specifically bought the ‘Your Mom University’ sweater with the intent to make you groan and roll your eyes. he can be really endearing about them though, if you’re up for it, he’ll rock-paper-scissors you, winner picks a goofy shirt for the other to wear

Keegan Russ:

I’ll address the garlic bread shirt first, I suppose. you can’t tell me average man Keegan Russ, at home on leave, doesn’t have garlic bread in his freezer. I know his ass loves it, he just gives me that vibe. he’s the type of person to just have garlic bread on hand at home, he would eat that shit as a midnight snack. I saw this shirt and it just clicked that, yes, Keegan P. Russ is a slut for garlic bread

he’s petty. if you’ve read my Keegan Russ fics you know I write him as a petty asshole because that’s how he shows love and affection. he owns shirts printed with petty phrases on them because it gets a laugh out of him. if Keegan were to meet a teammates girlfriend for the first time you can’t tell me he wouldn’t be a dick and wear the first shirt. he’s straightforward and blunt, the second shirt is just true. I rest my case

König:

Horangi bought him the suggestive prints - König only wears these on leave, in his home, no plans on seeing anyone. does König think they’re funny? begrudgingly, yes, he does. the ‘Choking Hazard’ shirt makes him snort whenever he sees it, Horangi knows how to make him chuckle, he’ll admit that. König would rather be shot at than wear them in public though, he can already imagine the stares and whispers people would send his way

he did, however, buy the ‘good in bed’ and ‘existing’ shirts. I think he saw they were in his size, weren’t too baggy on him, and bought them on a whim. they’re definitely loungewear, but he’d hypothetically wear them around friends. they’re more so for him to chuckle at and go about his day. overall, he doesn’t own too many odd shirts, but the ones he does own are (mostly) meant to be worn at home

Honorable Mention - apples to all the CoD characters:

[darth-mortem]

Here is the lil fic I wrote for my Friend, in which 09 Ghost and Roach have an important mission, and Captain MacTavish disagrees with this fact. 729 words.

“Three ahead.” Ghost reported.

“Roger that.” Roach replied, and they darted off in different directions.

Riley burst into a supply room and shut the door behind him, hiding among the brooms and mops. Sanderson found himself in a more vulnerable position: he ducked into an open hall and fell behind a couch. The two soldiers sitting on it didn’t notice anything, occupied with watching the news on an old television.

“All clear.” Ghost reported a few minutes later, and they both quietly left their hiding spots and moved on.

The target for the two members of TF 141 was a specific office on the fourth floor of the building. Both had considerable experience in such covert infiltrations, so they navigated the military base and entered the building without any issues. Now, they only had to reach the stairs and ascend to the desired floor. Ghost wasn’t thrilled about it; he would have preferred to climb the building's exterior, but Roach firmly objected.

“A whole crowd ahead.” Riley hissed, and this time he and Gary found themselves in the same hideout—in a restroom near the staircase exit.

Locking the door from the inside, both operatives pressed against it, listening to what was happening outside.

“What are we going to do if his office is locked?” Roach whispered. “Are we going to pick the lock?”

“Negative.” Ghost replied. “I have a key.”

“What? Where from?!” Gary stared at the lieutenant, trying to catch a glimpse of his emotions through the eyehole of his skull-patterned balaclava.

“We'll talk about that later.” Simon said irritably. “All clear, go, go, go!”

The timing of the infiltration was spot on. At this hour, the fourth floor was empty and dark, so upon arriving, the two TF 141 members relaxed a bit and approached the door they needed without rushing. Ghost pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked it, and they both slipped inside.

“So, where’s our target?” Roach asked.

“In his desk.” Ghost replied. “Keep watch while I search.”

It didn’t take him long. Within a minute, Riley was already triumphantly waving a long, rectangular metal box in the air.

“Now let’s get the hell out of here!” Roach whispered urgently, and they hurried to leave the room, locking the door behind them.

***

Captain MacTavish was furious. He was certain he had left his cigar case with cigars in his office desk, but when he arrived there, he found nothing. Of course, he had cigarettes as well, but he didn't want those right now; he wanted to enjoy a cigar. Frustrated and lost in thought, he headed downstairs towards the living quarters, trying to remember where else he could have left his cigar case.

“Hey, MacTavish!” He heard, and turning his head, he saw Riley and Sanderson sitting on a bench in the smoking area, puffing away on cigars.

“Where th' hell did ye get those?” Soap frowned, squinting his eye.

“Roach won them in a poker game from those guys in K9.” Ghost explained flatly, pulling a cigar from Roach’s pocket. “Want one, Captain?”

They smoked in silence. Gary, casting a significant glance at Simon, soon slipped away, citing urgent matters. Ghost and Soap remained in the smoking area together, and then Johnny, shaking his head, chuckled softly.

“Ye’re quite th’ scumbag, Riley.” He said, exhaling fragrant smoke with pleasure. “Did ye pure think ah wouldn’t figure oot they wur mah bloody cigars?”

“I was hoping you would, sir.” Ghost replied cheekily, his voice devoid of respect.

MacTavish stood up and pushed the lieutenant against the wall. He squirmed but did not resist, even when the captain pulled off his balaclava, revealing his scarred face; only Simon's eyes became frightened and like cornered animal ones.

“Oh no, no need tae be scared, luv.” Johnny whispered gently, then, tilting his head, he carefully pressed his lips against Riley's. “Ye know ye could have just asked, ‘n’ I would have treated both o’ ye?”

“I know.” Ghost nodded, flicking the ash off his cigar and placing his hands on his captain’s shoulders. “But that wouldn’t have been nearly as interesting, would it?” “That’s why I love ye.” MacTavish sighed, pulling Riley close and drawing him into another kiss—this time long, passionate, and sweet, with the taste of expensive Cuban cigars that were kept in the captain’s silver cigar case in his office desk.

[decaffeinatedcandycane]

Gary "Roach" Sanderson headcanons

Warnings: None

Gary is a fairly positive person, especially when he is around his teammates.

Likes to play pranks on everyone, especially Ghost.

Encourages therapy, even though Price had to trick him into seeing a therapist.

Odd sense of humor

On the spectrum

Slow games piss him off

Gets so focused on missions, he needs 2-3 days in order to get back in routine.

Physical touch love language. Very touchy with people he feels close to.

Is into gift giving and loves giving stuff he finds, or creates, to people.

If you let him talk, he will TALK. I mean, 3-8 hours will be spent of you listening to his current hyperfixations, or interests.

Mind is sometimes faster than his speech. He might stop for a minute, reboot and get back to talking.

Definitely a jokester. Will crack a joke in an uncomfortable moment.

Places small weird figurines in newbies rooms to freak them out. Thus said, he also hides in between the walls, or vents and make weird sounds - creeping the hell out of everyone. (He may or may not have recorded the reactions and would have uploaded them, if Price haven't caught him.)

Teaches recruits about vines simultaneously while teaching them old survival techniques.

CHAOTIC all around.

Tea party someone? Bonnets are involved. (If you lack a bonnet, it will be provided for you!)

Loves "baby" Soap (the sergeant). Shares lip-balm and with and ONLY him. Nobody knows why~

Eats Kinder eggs in front of Graves while maintaining an INTENSE eye contact with him, to assert dominance.

Good with the violin. Heard Gaz sing in the showers one time and assisted him with his instrument. Yes...while in the shower.

Duo with Gaz in an Las Almas local bar. Brough both Ale and Rudy to tears.

Has a major in History.

Walks around base with a wing shaped backpack and antennas.

Has a small cottage in a rural area, which only few people know about.

Loves writing and sending letters. Makes his own wax seal stamps.

Can crochet and is obsessed with cottage-core everything.

Is obsessed with planning stuff out and mapping tasks in his notebook, with highlighters.

Has a sweet tooth; drinks his tea with lots of sugar.

Has an expensive coffee taste. Prefer drinking coffee from small barista shops.

Favorite tv character: Jake Peralta from b99.

Loves horror, fantasy and sci-fi movies. Talks too much through them, or get engrossed to the point he forgets to move for the duration of the movie.

As a boyfriend/spouse:

Attentive boyfriend.

Will give you a gifts just because.

Loves talking about everything.

He will ask if you want to visit his cottage with him, but if you are not into this, he will not force it upon you. It will stay his own secluded hideout.

But, if you are into the cottage, especially cottage life, oh boy, Roach is all in. He will be over the moon and insist you move in there as soon as possible.

Be sure that his team knows about you, before you even meet them. Roach is constantly babbling about you to whoever listens.

He will text and call you whenever he can, needing to hear your voice.

He is on the fence when it comes to children. Can have, but not particularly interested.

Tries to cook for you, fails miserably, or get anxious when the food take a long time to cook. Cooking is just not his thing. Thus being said, he still cooks easy fast meals, he knows he will not f*ck up.

Prefers canning and preserving stuff instead.

Loves picnic and coffee dates.

Doesn't smoke, unless he has a nightmare, is anxious, or a night out - drinking. If you smoke, its okay, he won't judge or exclude you. Will steal and bring you a cigar from Price, if you smoke cigars. But shh... don't tell the captain.