#the ghost of christmas yet to come or some shit

[acquiescest]

irt the lrb what would you say if i said liam & noel spent new years 2023 together in paris

what would you say if i said liam bought the house in france (the one with noel's name carved into the walls) in march 2023 and that month noel talked about wanting to spend several months in paris

which could mean nothing

[zkyfall]

Me to myself after looking at Scrooge gifs all afternoon: be cool, don’t ship characters you don’t know from a movie you haven't seen just cause they’re hot

Me five minute later: draws this

if this isn’t what a christmas carol is actually about, I'm sorry lol

[gloomwitchwrites]

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), cum swallowing, vaginal fingering, dirty talk

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: Part Fifteen of Ink & Needle

You and Simon start the trip he's been wanting to take you on. Simon thinks he sees a familiar face.

Chapter Fourteen // Chapter Sixteen

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

It takes Simon a week to move his schedule around.

He wanted things to be smoothed out sooner, but sometimes rescheduling takes patience and careful planning. This is why he needs a second person just to keep the scheduling fucking handled. Simon is an organized person, especially when it comes to his work, but even he is beginning to slip.

Simon makes a mental note.

Create a fucking job listing for a goddamn personal assistant.

He runs his tongue over his teeth and then sighs. Simon is only lying to himself. He likes to handle things on his own which is why he was so effective during his military career. Not that he can’t work with a team, just that his skill set lends itself to independence.

Turning off the main lights and securing the deadbolts, Simon activates the alarm system and does a once over to make sure everything is in its place. For the next five days, 141 Ink will be closed to the public.

He’ll be with you. In Scotland.

Simon takes the stairs to his flat two at a time with Bravo on his heels. From his pocket, Simon withdraws his lighter and a cigarette, stepping out onto the sorry excuse of a balcony. The wood is starting to rot in places. Really, he should just tear it down and start fresh, but London has fucking rules about construction.

And Simon is too damn stubborn to deal with bureaucratic nonsense just to replace some wood.

In the dark, he ignites the end of the cigarette, the orange-red glow flaring before receding. He inhales deeply and savors the comforting burn in his lungs.

While Simon dislikes changing around his work schedules, this isn’t really about him. This is about you and what you need. Simon only managed to keep you with him for a few days. You’re too headstrong sometimes, especially when you care about something. While Simon admires that about you, it’s only going to drive you toward burnout.

Those few days were not enough. You were soft and present with him, but you need a proper break away from London and the life you’re building here. Simon escorted you home afterward and all he wanted was to draw you back to him, to keep you even for a few more seconds.

That is, you need a break from the temporary life you’re building here in London.

Simon has to keep telling himself that. You’re not a citizen. Eventually you’ll have to leave or attempt to extend your visa but that isn’t guaranteed. What then? Is Simon willing to let you go?

The answer comes immediately.

No.

He’d rather relive every second of physical therapy, all the fucking medical appointments, and his forced retirement then let you slip away again.

You’re his now. You’re his woman. There is nothing that will keep him from you from this point on.

Simon takes a long drag of his cigarette as the November air slips in to cool his skin beneath his leather jacket.

Johnny keeps badgering Simon about Christmas and if he plans on joining. He always does, but he wants to know if he can bring you along. This time when Simon called Johnny about his family’s cottage up in the Highlands, Johnny lent it to him without question.

But when Johnny asked about him coming to see the family for holiday, Simon shrugged it off. Johnny didn’t seem too worried but Simon also didn’t bring you up at all. Yet it doesn’t mean shit, and Simon just needs to get through these next few days before he even brings it up with Johnny.

Bringing you to the MacTavish farm to meet everyone makes this real.

Solid.

Like Redwood trees.

You will make a home in Simon’s branches. Relax beneath his canopy. Be protected under his shade.

Bravo whines, and Simon glances down at the dog, the domestic longing evaporating like the smoke from the end of his cigarette.

“Ready for a sleepover?” asks Simon, putting out his cigarette and heading back inside.

Bravo’s ears perk up and his tail starts to rotate like a helo’s blades. Simon snorts and reaches down to scratch between Bravo’s ears.

Simon loves Bravo but he is not taking the dog with him. He’s going to pick you up tonight and Simon is dropping Bravo off when he does. Originally, Simon planned on having Gaz watch him, but Amelia suggested that he leave Bravo with her.

Saves Simon a fucking trip.

Everything is coming together, and maybe—just maybe—the two of you can move this relationship into something stable. Because regardless of his obsession, Simon wants peace. He loves the tattoo parlor and his flat and Bravo. But it’s not enough.

Simon is not fulfilled. Not really.

He needs you.

As it stands, you’re not entirely his. Simon needs to claim everything. He might have your heart and your smile and your lips, but he is a possessive creature. Simon wants to ruin everyone else for you. That you will only ever beg for him, to desire him as much as he constantly craves you.

As Simon checks over the large duffle bag he packed for the tip, his mind drifts into the memories of the last few days.

That morning in the shower, Simon nearly lost his head. He knew what you wanted by the way you had arched your back and how your hand palmed him. He was ready to push you up against the shower wall and fuck the life out of you. But Simon fought off the urge even though it clawed at his ribcage.

He can still recall your lips against his skin, and the playful way you covered your eyes to not see his face. You’re always thinking of him. Not pushing. Allowing Simon to give pieces of himself to you when he’s ready.

Hiding all this from me? You’ve been holding out on me, Simon.

Simon stands in the middle of his bedroom grinning like a bloody idiot.

When it comes to you, he’s absolutely fucked.

Simon zips up the duffle bag before changing out of his work clothes. With it being November, it’ll be too fucking cold to take the bike. He’ll need to wait for a nicer day, but he also has no gear for you to wear. Just a helmet, and that isn’t enough to protect you.

He switches into joggers, trainers, a long-sleeved shirt, and a black sip-up hoodie with a fleece interior. If Simon is driving, he wants to be bloody comfortable.

Simon grabs the duffle and lifts it, hauling it over his shoulder.

“Let’s go, Bravo.”

The German Shepard rolls up and onto his feet, trotting happily beside Simon. Descending the rear staircase, Simon exits into the alleyway behind the building. Attached to the back of the building is a small garage but it’s not automatic. It’s manual.

Simon unlocks it and twists the handle lifting the door up enough that it ascends on its own. Popping the trunk, Simon tosses the duffle in and Bravo jumps inside.

Simon is in the driver’s seat of his SUV and to Amelia’s in less than a minute.

It’s after dinner but that was the plan. He wants to avoid traffic, and driving late at night has always calmed him.

You answer the door, and when your gaze falls on Simon his heart drops into his stomach. From there it explodes outward, every limb in his body tingling with pleasure. You’re grinning, nearly glowing.

Your gaze runs up and down his body before settling on his face. “You’re not wearing the balaclava.”

Simon blinks, his hand starting to rise to feel the balaclava’s absence.

“You’re right. I’m not,” he agrees, forcing his hand back to his side. He forgot to put it on, which is odd since he’s always remembered in the past. “You packed?”

“I am,” you reply, lifting the bag in your hand. Before you can drop it, Simon reaches out and snags it.

Your features change, morphing into indignation as if you’re going to protest. Simon smirks and shakes his head.

“Go on, Bravo,” instructs Simon, nodding his head in the direction of the house.

Bravo greets you with a tail wag before disappearing inside. Moments later, Simon hears Amelia’s delighted yell.

“I’ll take good care of him, Simon!” she calls from somewhere in the house.

You start to turn to call back but Simon shoves his way in. “We’ll be back on Wednesday!” he replies, before filling the entire space with his bulky frame.

You’re not able to move around him, and instead step out onto the front stoop. Simon did that on purpose. You’re acting tough like his actions annoyed you, but he notices the soft way you submit to him. If you were truly upset, you’d say something, but you’re walking toward the SUV with a little skip in your step.

At the car, Simon adds your bag to the trunk but he’s not fast enough to open the passenger door for you. You’re already sitting inside by the time he comes around to the driver’s side.

When Simon opens the door and hops in, starting the car, the reality of the situation sets in.

This is it. This is fucking happening.

Simon glances at you and you greet him with a lovely smile. He could bottle the way you look at him up and drink it down like his favorite whiskey.

“We’re driving?” you ask, briefly glancing around the interior.

“We are,” answers Simon as he checks for oncoming cars, before pulling out from his parking spot.

“Why aren’t we flying?” You’re not asking because you’re confused, you’re asking because you’re probing. Simon never said where he planned on taking you for this trip.

Simon makes a turn. “I hate planes.”

“You hate planes?” you reply, amusement in your tone.

Briefly, Simon’s brain draws forth a memory of when he was handed the controls of a helo and they nearly lost Kyle from Simon’s erratic steering. Gaz has never allowed Simon to forget it.

“Why are you smiling?” you laugh, your eyebrows slightly raised in question.

“Better to stay on the ground,” says Simon, remembering how Price also lost is cigar during that and how bloody pissed off he was about it.

“And what about a train?”

Again, you’re inquiring instead of outright asking.

Simon shrugs. “Not in control.”

Your lips purse but you settle back into your seat, gaze turning toward the passenger door window.

Getting out of London is the hardest part. Everything is packed together, and sometimes traffic doesn’t cease even in the evening which is why Simon wanted to leave after dinner. Once the two of you are out of London, it’ll be much easier to drive up to Edinburgh without having to constantly stop.

Simon spends most of his time muttering obscenities under his breath as he navigates traffic. You don’t interrupt his concentration. Instead, you watch on, clearly amused by Simon’s attitude to everyone around him.

It isn’t until the car exits the bounds of the London metropolitan area that Simon finally takes a fucking breath. Reaching into the center console, Simon snags his lighter and a cigarette.

“Care if I smoke?”

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

With the filter end between his teeth, Simon clicks open the lighter. The little flame pops up but Simon doesn’t light the cigarette. “No fight?”

You glance at him, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “Would you like an argument?”

Simon brings the flame to the end of the cigarette. Inhales. Clicks off the lighter and tosses it back into the console. The smoke disappears out the cracked car window.

“Maybe,” he replies, voice slightly husky.

You shift in the passenger seat, twisting to face him. “Simon.”

“Yes, love,” he purrs, enjoying the chastising sweetness in your tone.

“Smoking is harmful.”

“Is it?” He takes another drag of his cigarette.

You nod, leaning one forearm against the middle armrest. “Yes. What if you get lung cancer?”

“Who says that will happen?”

“Literally every doctor.”

Simon laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

Your mouth opens in feigned shocked. “Are you telling me how I should feel, Simon?”

He shifts slightly in his seat. This is fun. He likes this. “Not at all, love. But I think I know how to put that mouth to other uses.”

This time your mouth remains open, the shock genuine.

Simon keeps going. “Seems like you already know what to do.”

You promptly shut your mouth. Simon watches as the heat rushes to your face.

Sweet fucking victory.

He takes a final drag on the cigarette and rids himself of the extinguished stub. Returning that hand to the steering wheel, Simon removes the other one, resting it against his thigh. He slides that hand up and down before lightly tapping.

“Come here, sweetheart,” purrs Simon. “Show me what you do with that mouth.”

You immediately smack his arm and Simon bursts out laughing. You’re laughing too but he knows his words stirred something within you. You keep touching your cheek as if you’re feverish.

“You’re terrible, Simon Riley,” you say right before you reach for the water bottle in the cup holder.

He waits until you’re taking a drink. “You won’t think that when I have you on my cock.”

You splutter around the bottle and smack his arm again. Closing the lid, you return the bottle and clear your throat. “When are we supposed to arrive to this mystery place?”

You’re changing the subject again, likely probing for more information. It’s not like it’s some big secret. Simon just wanted it to be a surprise, but there really isn’t any reason to be allusive about it anymore.

Simon shrugs. “It’s about a seven-hour drive to where we’re headed.”

“Seven hours? Where the fuck are you taking me?” You appear genuinely concerned.

He knows why, and Simon quickly attempts to extinguish the rising anxiety. “Evie and Amelia will be fine without you for a few days.”

You sigh. “I know. I’m just—”

The worry lines are back and Simon hates that. You’re always so concerned for others. Always thinking of everyone but yourself.

Reaching out, Simon clasps your hand and squeezes. “We’re going to Scotland.”

“Really?” This time, he hears the pleasure in your voice, and Simon’s chest swells with pride.

“Edinburgh first for a day. Then we’re heading out into the Highlands. Johnny’s family has a small farm up there with a little cottage.”

“Johnny?”

Fuck. You don’t really know the guys. You briefly met them once when Simon nearly punched Adam in the face.

Simon swallows before he speaks. “He was at the pub with me when you were with…Adam.”

“I see,” you reply softly.

“They’ll be gone. Johnny’s family. And the cottage is on the edge of the property.”

Your thumb brushes over the back of Simon’s hand. “So, we’ll be alone?”

“We will,” answers Simon, every muscle in his body tensing.

You nod, still clutching his hand, as you lean further against your seat. “What kind of farm is it?”

Simon glances at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. “It’s not like what you’re used to in America. Johnny’s mother has a little greenhouse but they mostly raise animals.”

“Like what?”

“They have some pigs. Sheep.” Simon shrugs. “Fluffy coos.” He says “cow” the same way Johnny does.

A few Christmases ago when Gaz came, Simon and Kyle watched the fluffy beasts from a distance as Johnny tried to wrangle a few back toward one of the enclosures. They offered their assistance but Johnny was adamant he didn’t need their help. He was face down in the mud with bare ass up in the air after only a few minutes.

Your eyes go wide and you sit up a bit straighter. “Can I pet them?”

“With supervision,” says Simon knowing that while the animals are docile and gentle creatures, their horns can easily harm.

This appears acceptable because you snuggle into your seat.

Two hours in, and you’re asleep.

Simon smokes. Drives. Smokes again.

Occasionally, Simon glances in your direction just to make sure you’re still there. For some reason his brain keeps insisting that you’ll disappear if he looks away for too long. You’ll transform into smoke and drift out of the car just like the smoke he exhales from his lungs.

There are roughly three more hours left before arriving in Edinburgh. While most places don’t allow late check-ins, the little hotel Simon plans on taking you to for the night made an exception for him.

By the third hour, Simon is entirely focused on the road. You have not drifted into the air. You are solid and real and asleep in the passenger seat. A calmness settles over him. Everything is as it should be.

So, when Simon feels the weight of your hand against his thigh, he doesn’t think much of it. He drops one hand from the steering wheel intending to reach out to grasp your hand with his own. Yet you do no linger there. Your hand slides upward and Simon’s temporary calmness morphs into understanding.

Fuck.

Fucking hell.

“What are you up to, love?” says Simon softly, returning his hand to the steering wheel.

There is a schedule, and while your hand resting on the outside of his joggers over his dick is a temptation he doesn’t want to resist, the two of you can’t stray far.

“Do you want me to stop?” There is a raspy quality to your voice like you’ve just woken from sleep. Perhaps you have, and in that state of wakefulness, your brain decided that this is a good idea.

But there is also lust in your tone. It drips like thick honey.

Now, that? Simon cannot resist that.

“No,” he says, matching your tone as your hand slips beneath the elastic band of his joggers.

Flexing his hips, Simon adjusts in his seat to give you a better angle. When your fingers find him, it’s difficult for Simon to keep his eyes on the road. The tips of your nails gently scratch against his skin before your fingers wrap around him completely.

Your hand is warm, and that first stroke is maddening.

His control is right on a knife’s edge. If Simon glances away from the road, he’ll fucking crash this car. In his peripheral, Simon sees you moving, and even that is hard to withstand. Simon knows that you’re leaning on the center armrest and that you’re looking at him.

Simon knows you are.

Your stare is a brand on his skin.

“This,” you murmur, gently squeezing him. “Is perfect.”

Fuck. He is fucking done for.

The middle of his chest burns as if he is a tree and his core is on fire. The need to be close to you is a lightning strike.

But Simon is fucking driving, and it’s not like he can just pull you into his lap.

“Careful, love,” growls Simon as you start a steady pace. “Might pull over and make you regret this.”

Because that is what Simon wants to do. Find an exit and a quiet parking lot or silent clump of trees.

“Is that a promise?” you breathe as the pad of your thumb brushes over the slit.

Oh, fuck you’re sweet.

So, this is where you’ve been hiding all along. You’ve always had a bit of fire, but this is what he remembers. In Riot Room, you weren’t shy at all. Your words and actions were bold. You opened like a flower in his hands. Bloomed and melted and reformed.

This is the woman who captured all his attention three years ago.

You haven’t changed at all.

“A fucking guarantee,” growls Simon in answer.

You make a little sound in your throat that goes straight to his dick. He is throbbing in your palm, and that only makes Simon’s control thin further. His grip on the steering wheel tightens. The knuckles of his turn white. Even the tattoos on his fingers pale.

You don’t let up. You just bring Simon closer to the edge. He’s not going to last. Not like this, but he sure as hell isn’t going to finish inside his joggers or on the fucking seat like some teenage boy getting his first handy.

No.

Fucking no.

If you’re going to be bold then you’ll take everything that comes with it.

With one hand on the steering wheel, Simon reaches out and grabs the back of your neck. The whimper you make, and the slight squeeze of your hand around his cock nearly causes him to bust right then and there.

“Use that gorgeous mouth and suck me off,” he growls, you tugging your head closer.

Simon isn’t fucking asking. It’s a demand.

Your answer is a playful smile and teasing tone. “You don’t tell me what to do, Simon.”

Simon shakes his head. “Oh, sweetheart, you love it when I tell you what do it.” He briefly glances in your direction before returning his gaze to the road. “Especially when my head is between your legs.”

By your sharp inhale, Simon knows you’re recalling the night when he made you count every orgasm.

“Now,” he says, his exhale stuttering slightly as it releases from him. “Be good. And swallow.”

You reach for him, and Simon lifts his hips a bit. It’s just enough for you to shove the band of his joggers down.

Even then, with his cock out, Simon does not glance away from the road.

Not when you lean forward completely.

Not when his hand fists your hair to keep you in place.

Not even when your mouth suctions around him and you throat him to the fucking root.

But his nostrils flare, and the muscles in his neck and jaw are fucking tight with tension. Every instinct is telling him to pull over, to fuck your luscious mouth, and then drag you into his lap so he can watch you ride his fingers.

That would be bloody perfect. That would be ideal.

Instead, he breathes in and out of his nose, attempting to stifle every groan as your head bobs. One of your hands cups him gently and Simon’s grip in your hair tightens.

“I’m—fuck,” groans Simon.

He feels the resistance of your throat from his instruction and hears the wet sound it makes when his length is entirely too much. You pull back a bit before trying again, and that is fucking it.

Your tongue lightly grazes against the underside of the head, and Simon’s lower half tenses, hips thrusting up slightly to meet you.

And you, like the good girl you are, take every drop.

Thank fuck he turned on the cruise control.

Simon’s fingers slowly unlace from your strands of hair. He’s careful not to tug, and then it’s just a gentle caress as you lift your head.

For a moment—a brief few seconds—Simon is fixated on your puffy, swollen lips. He wants to kiss those lips. To taste himself along with you.

“Eyes on the road, Simon.”

He quickly averts his gaze but still reaches out with his thumb to wipe away the bit of his cum that still slings to the corner of your mouth. Your grab his wrist and bring that thumb to your mouth.

Lips suctioning around it, you suck off that last little drop. When you release his thumb, Simon briefly presses it against your bottom lip.

Simon makes it only a kilometer before he pulls over, pushes his seat back, drags you into his lap, shoves your pants down to your ankles, and has you fucking yourself on his fingers. The hand not between your legs presses against your upper right thigh. His tattooed fingers are slightly curled inward to cling there.

He doesn’t want you moving.

“Come on, love. Grind down on me.”

There is sweat on your brow and it’s beautiful. Your mouth is open, head tilted backward in bliss to expose your throat. Your eyes are heavy-lidded, clearly lost in a lust-laced haze.

With one hand on Simon’s chest and the other on his thigh, you’re a goddess above him. Simon watches his index and middle finger appear and disappear as you use them for your pleasure, rolling your hips in fluid rhythm.

Sure, this is about you, but this is doing plenty for him. He’s fucking hard again just watching your pussy squeeze and stretch in time with your movements. Simon sits up a bit and gently bites your left breast through your shirt.

You whimper and grind down on him like he asks. It’s so sweet the way you come undone. The way your pussy tightens around his fingers. The way you say his name. It’s like you’re asking for more and yet chastising him.

And this is just his fingers inside you.

Soon, you’ll take his cock, and Simon cannot fucking wait to hear the sounds you’ll make then.

Tenderly, Simon eases his fingers from your pussy. They’re glossy. Shiny. And Simon brings them to his mouth to clean just as your head dips forward. Your gaze lands on his face the moment his fingers enter his mouth. Your eyes widen slightly, and Simon takes his time.

He wants you to see.

He wants you to know.

The little detour nearly adds an hour but Simon could give a fuck.

Simon sits smugly while you doze off in the passenger seat. He would have had you continue if he weren’t pressed for time. If Simon had another hour, he would have told you to continue until your legs shook. Even then, he’d simply do the work himself until your voice went hoarse.

By the time Edinburgh is in Simon’s sights, it’s late.

You still haven’t stirred. You’re curled up in the passenger seat and Simon has no idea how you’re comfortable.

When he pulls up to the hotel he booked, Simon decides not to wake you. Finding a parking spot in the little lot to the side of the building, Simon leaves you alone in the car. He’ll check in at the front desk, grab the room key, and then come back for you.

You deserve some sleep.

“Evening, mate,” says Simon to the clerk behind the desk.

It’s an older gentleman whose entire appearance reminds Simon of Ben.

“Evening. You’re,” he checks his little computer, “Mr. Riley?”

“That’s me,” nods Simon.

“Need to see some identification and I’ll square you away.”

Simon hands it over, and then it’s back in his wallet along with a set of keycards. The entire interaction takes less than three minutes.

As Simon exits the building and turns right to head into the little lot, he stops at the first row of cars.

At first, he’s not sure what the fuck he’s looking at.

The small lot is full and there was only one parking spot when Simon pulled up. He took it, not thinking much since the lot itself is well-lit.

But that isn’t the case now.

Several of the lights are out and is that—

No. It fucking can’t be.

Anyone else might mistake the odd lump as a trick of the shadows or even the back of another vehicle. But Simon isn’t mistaken. That is not just shadows playing games or a bad parking job.

That is a person. A man. Leaning against Simon’s SUV.

And he knows that stance, that casual lean that seems aloof but isn’t.

He knows who it belongs to.

Simon bolts, striding toward the SUV with purpose in every step. He loses sight of the back end of the SUV for the briefest second as he crosses over, another large vehicle in the way before it comes back into view.

But there is no one there.

All that training clicks back in like it never left.

Simon approaches slowly, walking around his car once to make sure. He’s completely on alert, his head on a swivel as he scans the area.

There is only you sleeping in the passenger seat.

There is no one else in the lot but Simon fucking checks anyway. He walks both lengths of the lot. Checks every car and corner. He even goes out to the street and back, canvasing further than he likely needs to but doing it anyway.

But he was so sure there was someone there.

He’s back, Simon.

No. What Simon saw was a fucking illusion. An old memory surfacing. That fucker—that waste of human—is in America. He isn’t here.

Unlocking the trunk, Simon removes both bags, tossing one over either shoulder. Then he’s at your door opening it, reaching out to gently shake you awake.

“We’re here.”

You groan softly and grab his hand. Simon keeps you closely tucked against him all the way to the room because it’s the only thing that keeps his hands from shaking.

Once you’re both inside the hotel room, Simon helps you out of your clothes.

“Want to shower?” he asks and you shake your head, rubbing at your eyes.

Simon offers you one of his shirts and you put it on. It’s all he can do for you before you plop onto the bed. You wiggle a bit and then finally dive under the covers, completely disappearing.

Once you’re settled, Simon checks the door and the two windows. Everything is locked and secure. There is no reason for him to panic like this.

Simon rubs at his face before sighing softly and stripping down to his boxer briefs. Sleep is what he needs. It’s what you both need.

And it is Simon who wakes first, the faintest bit of stress still lingering at his temples. But Simon isn’t one for sleeping in or even staying in bed once he’s awoken. You’re still snoozing, just a tangle of hair above the covers and nothing else.

Simon orders breakfast, and when you do wake up, it arrives.

“This all for us?” you yawn, stretching your arms over your head.

“We’re exploring today,” replies Simon, bring the espresso cup to his lips. While tea is his usual beverage of choice, he needs some fucking caffeine.

You plop down onto your side and then slowly roll over until you bump into him. Simon arches an eyebrow as you sit up. Instead of reaching for the food, you reach for him, fingers tangling in his hair as you tug him down to meet you.

Your lips find his and the heat of that kiss goes straight to his toes.

“You need to fucking brush your teeth.”

“Simon, I fucking swear—”

“Kiss your mother with that mouth?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away, but Simon is moving with you, pressing you into the bed, slotting himself between your legs.

“Let’s stay here,” you murmur after a few more kisses.

“While I’d love to stay right here,” says Simon, emphasizing his words by pressing himself against your sex. “We have things to do today.”

“Do we?”

“Don’t want to explore the city with me?” counters Simon, wrapping you up in his arms only to haul you back up to a seated position.

“You know I do, Simon,” you reply softly, fingers brushing lightly against the line of his jaw. “That’s not even a question.”

Simon rubs your back before disentangling himself. “Then eat,” he says, pointing to the feast he ordered because he panicked and decided on one of everything.

He pushes off the bed, his bad knee aching slightly. Simon stretches into it, covering up the limp before he straightens up. You don’t notice, too busy buttering up some toast with lots of jam.

Five days.

He has five days with you.

Simon is about to savor every second.

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@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

[ghosts-bandwagon]

yay its open again! so i really love snacking and i hoard and hide them all around the house. we all know military live and rely on mre’s and probably go hungry until they are free from their missions/tasks so pls pls pls, i would love to see a reader with the habit of just producing snacks like magic and just feeding them. they can also be a good cook once they have the chance to do it and just surprise and awe the boys but only if you want to add this. thank you for this!! you’re awesome and i worship you. 💋

Just like me fr fr I’ve always got some kind of snack or treat stashed away somewhere lmao

They love you so god damn much for that reason, you always manage to sneak in some snacks and it’s witchcraft

They kind of make a joke out of it, Soap and Gaz will act like it’s a drug deal, going so far as to come up with code words or phrases or secret hand signals or facial cues

They’re so fucking giddy when you pull out their favorite snacks, like little kids on Christmas

Eventually Ghost catches on and you think he might put a stop to it but he loves it, “throw in some crisps and I’ll keep it between us”

But then Price found out and he was more offended that you didn’t offer him anything, but he’s cracking up when you produce a pack of maltesers from thin air

You’ve just been promoted to the mom friend of the group

And then you offer to cook for them back at your place after your mission was over and they’re booking it, it’s finished in record time, fuck going to the pub afterwards, they’ll buy drinks on the way to your place

Your apartment has never felt more homely and more alive than when your boys are all there, Price and Gaz are sitting on the stools at the counter chatting over a beer and some whiskey, Soap is being nosy and looking at all your pictures, Ghost is lingering by you and watching you cook

You’re tuning in and out of the various conversations, focused on the task in front of you

Bonus points if you’re making something from your culture/childhood, they love that shit

And when you’re putting their plates down in front of them, they’re thrilled, compliments a plenty, you thought you were warm from being in the kitchen? Nah love, it’s all the compliments, they won’t shut up lol

“Alright I get it, it’ll get cold if you leave it there, idiots.” You tease, taking a forkful, relieved that you didn’t over salt anything

You thought they wouldn’t shut up before, you ain’t seen nothin yet. Especially Johnny, he’s begging you to show him how to make it next time, Simon is nodding in agreement, sighing blissfully at every bite, Price is begging you for the recipe, Kyle is begging you to move in with him and make it forever

[amostimprobabledream]

Tastes Like Pepsi Cola (Dazai Osamu x Reader)

Also available on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47860600 When Dazai texts, you go.

That's how it's always been, ever since you met him. With clever words and those beguiling looks of his, he wrapped you up in a web that was so deftly spun you didn't even realise you were in one until it was too late.

Occasionally you'd rebel, leave him on read, ignore the siren call of him, go on dates with other guys, but he always got his way eventually. And the sessions spent after you'd pulled away from him were all the more intense for your resistance, with him making you come over and over until his name was all you could say, rattling around in your brain, carved into every inch of your skull. You'd limp to work the next day with Dazai's teeth marks hidden under your clothing, lovebites all over your neck and breasts, handprints on your ass, thin nail marks on your back and thighs.

Sometimes it was worth it just to rile him up, put a healthy fear of losing your company into him.

If someone asked you to define what you and Dazai were, you'd struggle to define it. Fuck buddies? Lovers? Friends, even? He sure as shit wasn't your husband.

But whatever it was, it was addictive.

That night, when the text came from him, you threw on some clothes hastily - it didn't matter what you wore, really, since Dazai would be unwrapping you like a Christmas present. You did put on some of your nicer underwear, though - you loved the way his eyes lit up at the merest hint of lace or silk and it made you feel good. It didn’t take you long to get to where he lived – so convenient for him that the Armed Detective Agency was literally right around the corner, yet he always managed to be late for work. You shivered under your jacket as you mounted the steps leading to his front door, the night air cool and crisp.

He answered the door before you'd even had a chance to knock - almost like he'd been peering through the peephole, eagerly anticipating your arrival.

"Hello, sweetheart~" He purred, eyes dragging up and down your body.

"Somebody's eager-" you teased, but you barely had time to finish speaking before he pulled you in, hands gripping your hips and effortlessly tugging you over the threshold of his place. The door slammed shut behind you.

His mouth smothered you in kisses, hasty, almost sloppy in his urgency. Not that you minded - even when he wasn't putting in much effort into it, Dazai was a fantastic kisser. His lips were warm, and it only took a little coaxing before you opened your mouth for him, tongue slipping deftly inside. It used to be you didn’t like kissing with tongues, guys before you jamming it in there and scraping it against your teeth, but Dazai’s turned it into an art form. You tried not to think about how much practise he must have had to get that good.

His elegant, long-fingered hands wandered up and down your body, squeezing and caressing and you let out a breathy laugh as his hands ghosted across your stomach. He was fascinated by your ticklishness, had pinned you down and tickled until you'd cried with laughter before. Strong despite his lanky frame.

"Is anything wrong?" you asked, reluctant to kill the mood, but there was something about Dazai's urgency that was mildly alarming. He chuckled against your neck, hot breath washing over your skin.

"Everything's fine, baby." He replied in a sultry purr. And then he said, casual as you please: "I think you need to come sit on my face now."

What?!

You and Dazai had done plenty before, but this was a new one, plus the abruptness of his command took you aback. You stared at him, amazed he could still make you blush.

"What?" you said, mouth hanging open.

Dazai only smiled, tugging you after him into the bedroom. Your feet followed him automatically, heart hammering in your chest.

Of course. Being around Dazai was like a riptide - all you could do was go with the current. “You heard me.” He said, his voice slow and sweet as honey. “I want your thighs either side of my face, and I want to eat you out until you scream.” His crude words combined with his sultry tones were a two-pronged attack – designed to shock, to smash down any guarded or teasing from you might try to put up with the brutal efficiency of a wrecking ball, and enticing enough to draw you in, cleansing you of any knee-jerk embarrassment by reassuring you as bluntly as possible how much he wants this. Your faced flushed, but how could you say no? It wasn’t like Dazai wasn’t very well acquainted with every part of you and denying him things already took an enormous amount of willpower and resolve. Why play coy now? “All right,” you said, swallowing. “Um, we should probably get on the bed, right?” Dazai was all too happy to take the lead, flopping down onto his futon and leisurely arranging himself. You were slower to follow and began cautiously taking off your clothes, aware of Dazai’s hungry gaze on you, taking in each inch of flesh exposed to him like it’s the first time he’s seen it. He loved watching you strip, delighted each time by every curve of your body. Coming from someone with Dazai’s looks, it’s one hell of an ego trip to be so blatantly lusted over, even if it could be overwhelming. “So pretty,” Dazai hummed, words drifting over to you like music as you were down to your bra and panties. “Come here, bella.” You made your way over to him, pulse fluttering. He hadn’t even touched you yet, but your body was responding to his voice. You idly reflected he had you well-trained and you should probably be a bit more concerned about that, but it was hard to fret too much about it when Dazai’s dexterous hands grabbed you by the hips the minute you got close enough and tugged you onto the bed. “Look at you, all nervous.” He chuckled, in a teasing tone that bordered on condescending. “This is a pretty cute side to you, sweetheart.” “Shut up, Dazai.” You muttered, rolling your eyes, and he laughed and brought you down for another kiss. While he had you distracted, his fingers hooked in the sides of your underwear and worked them down your legs. You only noticed when he broke the kiss and suddenly found yourself completely exposed. How did he do that?! “Dazai-“ you said, but even as you spoke he was making short work of your bra too – it was just a comfy sports bra, you hadn’t seen the point in putting something with underwiring on when you’d only be wearing it from point A to B, yet you still felt a note of surprise when Dazai tossed it aside to join the underwear on the ground. “You’re stalling~” Dazai singsonged, his eyes glowing like amber as he smirked up at you, his hands sliding up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs skilfully caressing the nipples and they perk up under his ministrations. Your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip and, with Dazai’s encouragement, straddled his pretty face. His hands gripped your thighs to steady you and you paused in an awkward crouch, your haunches already starting to burn. Idly, you reflected that this might make quite a handy workout for your glutes and thighs. You could feel Dazai’s hot breath on your cunt and you fidgeted. Well, this was awkward. “Um, so should I…?” you trailed off. “I don’t want to suffocate you.” “Didn’t you hear me?” Dazai asked, and you jolted at the tone of his voice. His playful chiding his evaporating and now there’s a clear note of command – you internally cursed yourself for finding it hot. “I said, sit down.” “But- “

"Fucking sit down." He growled, holding tightly to your hips. "If I die, I die happy." Oh, fuck me. Obeying him without thinking, you let yourself sink onto him and Dazai moaned as your soft thighs enveloped either side of his face. His hands gripped your flesh, holding you in place, and he got right to work. Your eyes popped open wide. Dazai eating you out was nothing new – he sometime would fling his arms around you, hugging your waist, and sink to his knees begging for a taste of you, like he’d just die if he couldn’t bury his head between your legs right then and there. He’d even used that silver tongue of his to persuade you to let him crawl under your desk at the Armed Detective Agency once or twice – the last time, Kunikida had come over to tell you that you’d dated a document incorrectly while Dazai was sucking your clit and you nearly had a heart attack over nearly getting caught. But that paled in comparison to this – Dazai lapping at your cunt like a man starved, his nose nudging against the front of your groin, wanton moans leaving his mouth, muffled by your flesh. A breathy sound that you’ve never made before left your mouth and your hands grabbed the headboard before you, and you clung to it like driftwood in a shipwreck. “Oh god…” you gasped. “Dazai-!” His tongue thrust into you, and he moaned loudly, your taste hitting him like the first drink on a hot day. It was like devouring a ripe peach and twice as sweet – he was a fan of bitter flavours usually, but the taste of you was enough to drive him into a frenzy. Combine that with your high, keening cries and the way your thighs squeezed his face, it was heaven. His cock was throbbing, straining against his boxers, but Dazai ignored that for now – nothing would distract him from gorging himself on your flavour. “Fuck!”

Your hips thrusted forwards, you couldn’t stop yourself from grinding on him, chasing more of that sensation. You stopped, alarmed that you really might kill him if you keep that up, but Dazai’s palm cracked down firmly on where your thigh and ass meet and you yelped, but bucked forwards again, getting the message pretty clearly, no words needed. Dazai hummed in approval – you took direction so well – and his lips fastened around your clit and sucked, dragging it into his mouth and laving his tongue over it in a way he knew made you squeal. Your thighs clenched either side of him and Dazai keened in response. He wouldn’t stop until you came, until it flooded his mouth – your crotch was already slick with his saliva, but he wasn’t done yet. He playfully smacked your ass again, making you yelp and tug on his hair in retaliation, which sent a bolt of heat shooting down his spine – Dazai was well-versed in the interplay of pleasure and pain and liked springing it on you unexpectedly. Bolstered by his grunt, you did it again and if he could have smiled up at you just then, he would have. Alas, his mouth was thoroughly preoccupied. Little minx. He squeezed your ass enthusiastically as you ground down on his tongue, using the headboard as leverage to move your body up and down – you didn’t want to break his neck, no matter how much of a noble death Dazai would consider that, but fuck it felt good to be on top, demanding pleasure from his mouth and receiving it so enthusiastically. Heat pooled in your belly, spreading through you as the throbbing in your cunt grew more and more pronounced, like a second heartbeat. Dazai’s hands connecting with the flesh of your ass and thighs only encouraged it, little stings of pain serving as a deliciously contrasting sensation to the soaring electric pulse flowing through you. “Oh god, Dazai…just a bit more…” you burbled, nearly incoherent with pleasure, thighs trembling and your legs aching, but you didn’t care, you didn’t care at all, you just want to come. “Fuck, yes, just like that…” He used his tongue to thrust against your inner lips, growling wantonly as he did it, knowing you liked it when he got a little primal, a little feral, and his efforts were rewarded. That sweet, addictive flavour flooded Dazai’s mouth as you came, moans that were downright pornographic filling his bedroom, your voice rising to the ceiling like steam. “Nnn…Dazai-!” It took you a couple of seconds, with your orgasm flooding your brain, sending tingles shooting up and down your body, to remember where you were. When you did, you hurriedly shuffled back and Dazai’s face appeared beneath you, his mouth still shiny. He wiped it on the back of his wrist and smirked up at you. “Good job, baby. I told you you’d like it, didn’t I?” You laughed breathlessly, not sure why he was praising you when he did all the hard work. Still, you combed your fingers through his hair and Dazai leaned into your touch, like a cat, practically butting against your palm. “Yeah, that was…wow.” You said, feeling strangely shy, but Dazai’s smile was warm and reassuring. …That was all for two seconds, until he suddenly grabbed your sides and flipped you, squealing, so that you were on your back beneath him. You giggled wildly, staring up at Dazai as he looked down at you, and the way his pupils were black and shiny told you he hadn’t quite had his fill of you, not yet. “Hold back on the review for just a little longer, darling.” Dazai purred and, as you watched, mesmerised, slipped a thumb into the waistband of his boxers and began to slowly slide them down his hips. “There’s something else I’d like tonight…” ~ The next day, you sat at your desk. When you’d walked into the Armed Detective Agency that morning, it had proven rather tasking on your body – you were still a little knock-kneed from last night. Kunikida even asked you if you’d pulled a muscle. “Yes!” you say, pouncing on the ready-made excuse with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. “Yes, I-I was moving furniture. I guess I forgot to lift with my knees.” While Kunikida tutted over your shoddy technique and reminded you that if you suddenly had the inexplicable urge to decorate your living room, Kenji would only be too happy to do all the heavy lifting, Ranpo glanced up from his desk. He had his feet kicked up like he was on holiday, a lollipop wedged in his mouth. When Kunikida went to go look for Dazai, who had yet to arrive at work, Ranpo sent you a knowing smirk that made you blush. Don’t tell me he knows! When you sat at your own desk, setting down your morning can of Coke and agitatedly rubbing your lips together, you felt reasonably confident you’d managed to get away with your lie. That was until Ranpo’s teasing lilt floated over to you. “I guess Dazai skipped breakfast this morning, huh?” You glanced at Ranpo, trying to play it cool. “What do you mean?” you asked, and quickly regretted asking when Ranpo’s eyes opened, amused emerald green meeting your flushed face. “Because any breakfast isn’t going to compare…not when he had that kind of midnight snack.” “RANPO!”

[eternal-kosmo-ghoul]

*°:⋆ₓₒ day 6. wax play

.｡❅*⋆⍋*∞*｡ “candle queen”

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — ❤︎ the scent of the candles just made this year extra cozy, maybe sodo has some tricks up his sleeve for how to make things cozier

pairing: sodo ghoul x afab!reader

a/n: i want sodo

cw: nsfw content. making out. wax play. bondage. tail fucking. sodo is a little shit.

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“fuck you turn me on, especially when you’re covered in all of that…” —❤︎

┅✦┅

a long day from running christmas errands really took out a piece of your soul.

slamming the doors shut with a relieved sigh, you dragged the many bags from your holiday haul. what a relief that was, you finally knocked out all of the important stuff on your list.

groaning from the fatigue of carrying so many items all at once, you dragged your body over to the living quarters where all the ghouls resided, standing in the middle of the halls with one bag in hand. the halls were decorated to fit the seasonal festivities of christmas. cute little decorated plushies filled the shelves, small pine trees with glossy and colorful ornaments hung up on each one. paper snowflakes strung up on the ceiling to simulate that crystallizing beauty of snow falling on the ground.

the sight of it was just gorgeous, and rather touching. it almost made you forget about your exhausting trip. however, there was a reason you went out on a chilly winter night.

a certain fire ghoul had requested you buy something specific for… “special reasons”, as he phrased it. you had no idea what the little scamp could possibly be thinking of doing with the items you got for him. but the way he spoke to you about it, it indicated something much more intimate.

“hello?” you called out, trying to coax out that devilishly handsome firecracker, the sound of your voice echoing off the church halls.

and speak of the devil himself, as you were about to turn around to exit the ghouls dorms, a pair of charred arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into their chest. you looked down to see the recognizable brazen hands of sodo, who’s face was buried into the back of your shoulder, nuzzling into it affectionately.

“missed me that much?” you asked with an amused chuckle, and the little spitfire only let out a cute little ‘hmph’, before burying his face into your shoulder more.

“more than you can imagine.” sodo replied in a slightly hoarse voice, his breath hot against your delicate skin, making you shudder.

the fire ghoul took notice to this, and immediately started nipping his teeth at your skin, being careful to make sure his fangs didn’t pierce your flesh. you let out soft, quiet gasps at the feeling, and he grinned into the crook of your neck.

“did you get them?” he asked, fangs ghosting over the lobe of your ear. you let out a shaky sigh.

“yes.” you replied.

sodo let out a satisfied groan at that answer.

“good.” he practically growled into your skin. “let’s use them now.”

“now?”

“you know i’m an impatient ghoul, and my dick is already hard down here.”

it was true. you could feel sodo’s not-so-little friend poking you behind onto your ass. you snickered at this, and teasingly pushed your lower body against his clothed dick, making sodo groan with need and frustration.

“fuck.” he uttered out.

“wow, you’re really hard just from the sheer thought of what we’re about to do.” you teased, turning around to face him. “horny little ghoul.”

“shut up.” he spat back, but when he met your gaze, he couldn’t resist a cocky grin forming on his blazing features.

the two of you shared a look, before sodo leaned down to whisper into your ear. “let’s take this to my bedroom now, shall we?”

you nodded in agreement, feeling your excitement pool into the core of your stomach and between your legs.

“lets.”

—

“lay down on the bed for me, darling.”

an amused grin made its way to your face at the fire ghoul’s sudden command.

“so demanding… and we haven’t even done anything yet.”

“mmmh, shut up, come here.”

sodo let out a devious purr, his hot breath tickling your skin before he pulled you in for a fierce, searing kiss, his lips pressed against yours that screamed for lustful contact. the two of you giggled into the kiss and continued to make out like your lives depended on it. his lips tasted ashy, and with a hint of bitterness, like there was a light layer of brimstone on his lips, but his taste was addicting. sodo pushed you down onto the bed, crawling on top of you while his lips remained locked with yours.

sodo didn’t waste any time discarding your clothes. he was unraveling your naked body like an early christmas present, in which it felt like it was. he didn’t stop until both you and him were completely bare for the world to see.

his tattooed fingers gripped your wrists as he continued to make out with you, pushing his forked, ghoulish tongue into your mouth to intertwine with yours, creating lewd, sloppy sounds that had you both drooling and moaning.

“shit… you’re so fucking addicting.” sodo groaned, his tail reaching for something in the nightstand. he then pulled out what seemed to be red rope.

you just let out a lusty chuckle, eyes half lidded from the pleasure. “yeah, i know i’m hot shit”

sodo scoffed playfully at your arrogance.

“narcissist.”

“not my fault you’re so desperate to get into my pants.”

the spitfire only muttered a quick ‘shut up’ before bringing the rope to his hands, forcing your wrists upwards and tying your hands to the bed frame with swiftness and precision. the force of tightness binding your wrists together made you curse.

“fuck. that hurts.” you rasped out, voice hoarse from all of the kissing.

“that’s the point.” sodo snarled out quickly, licking his lips at the sight of your body completely bare and immovable, all for sodo to have fun with.

sodo’s hands greedily grasped at any bare flesh he could get his claws on, softly kneading the smooth skin underneath his palms. his demonic tail coiled over your leg, and the spade of it flicked teasingly against your aching clit, making you gasp.

“fuck!” you managed out, and sodo chuckled darkly above you.

“ah, there they are. that’s the naughty little pet i know.” sodo sung lustfully, before he grabbed another item.

it was the thing that you bought during your christmas errands— shea butter candles. sodo wanted to keep things extra cozy for the holiday season, and to of course stay close with his lover. so, he had an interesting, yet exciting idea on how to do that.

taking one of the candles, he straddled your legs and lit one of them with a flickering flame dancing on his fingertips, watching the wax slowly melt from the base. his tail was still teasing your sensitive folds, and sodo was reveling in how you were reacting. you were gasping and grunting, mostly from anticipation, and he was having such a power trip.

“now, let’s get started.”

the shea butter wax has this almost silky texture to it as it was melting from the top, and the fire only softly illuminated yours and sodo’s features in the dark, creating an atomosohere that screamed kinkiness and desire. the wax dripped onto your smooth skin, and sodo rolled the candle in the fingers to allow more of it to drip onto your body.

the feeling of the hot, almost scalding wax made your body jolt with both pleasure and pain, but the pain wasn’t actually harmful— only created a sense of excitement that electrified throughout your body.

as you let out airy and high pitched moans from Sodo pouring the wax all across your arms, legs, chest and torso, his tail stayed between your legs and teasing your soft, puffy cunt.

“s-sodo..” you moaned out, the burning hot wax making every other touch on your body ten times more sensitive, but it only fueled your arousal even more.

“that’s it…” sodo whispered into your ear, the spade of his tail finally entering your hole. you cried out at the feeling, and your legs twitched. the red rope binding your wrists kept them secure, and you squirmed around when sodo’s tail started to thrust in and out of your wet, needy walls. your pussy clenched around sodo’s tail refusing to let go.

“fuck you turn me on, especially when you’re covered in all of that…” sodo growled out, his lips attacking your neck briefly. his cock was hard and was leaking precum, which shimmered underneath the soft glow of the candle.

he kept the candle dripping all over your thighs, some of it even going between your inner thighs.

the heat radiating off of the wax only made you more wet, and sodo’s tail was brushing up against all of the right crevices and corners inside of you. you could feel an orgasm approaching soon.

“s-sodo… fuck! i-i’m gonna cum…!” you warned, wrists clanging against the bed frame and toes curling into the bedsheets from how good sodo was fucking you.

he let out a soft chuckled and pushed his tail deeper inside of you.

“then cum for me.” he encouraged teasingly, watching your face contort into one of pure bliss.

you screamed, and came hard, the sensitivity from the wax making your orgasm more intense. cum coated sodo’s tail, leaving a sticky, gooey trail of the viscous liquid as it dribbled out of your sensitive hole. your body was left shaking from the aftershocks, and it felt so, so damn good.

you panted heavily, and sodo grinned, snuffing out the candle and putting it aside, before brushing the hair out of your sweat-slicked forehead.

“that was hot.” he whispered. “both literally and figuratively.”

you laughed at his little joke, still tired from your climax. “you’re so corny.”

“yeah, i know i am.” sodo grinned.

his claws traced over the wax that stuck to your body, watching it harden and stay clamped onto your skin. sodo chuckled and untied the ribbon, before scooping you up and smiling affectionately at you.

“now let’s get this all cleaned up.”

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[daisygirlwrites]

Little Things (Simon "Ghost" Riley + Reader "Crash") Platonic Headcanons

Part Three to Rough Start & Olive Branch

a/n: hey hey! been a minute, sorry about that ;-; also sorry that this is a bit shorter than usual but i might write some small fics about a few of these headcanons in the future. should be posting again sometime soon though! thank you so much for reading!

taglist: @bobfloydsgf , @itsscromp , @d4z01

Being friends with Ghost is like putting a puzzle together except all of the pieces are scattered. Finding some of them would bring you delight and while others give you a better understanding of the man. Throughout your long years of friendship, you come to an understanding that there will be pieces of him that you will never get to see, some forever gone. And yet, even if the puzzle is incomplete, you had most of it together. You’d rather have that than nothing at all

That being said, your first year with the team was quite good, besides the constant threat of almost dying and a certain member of the team being mean for almost half of it

But after bonding over knife throwing and tea for the last couple months, you and Ghost have grown close. To him, at least. From your perspective, after getting your new callsign, you felt like your relationship with him hasn’t progressed much

However, it’s the little things that you’ve noticed with him:

Like making your tea in the early morning. Half of the time you would join him and other times when your nightmares don’t show up, he’d leave your mug in the microwave

Knowing that you were raised in the Rocky Mountains, it kind of surprised him to learn that you hate the cold. So during missions in colder climates, after watching you shiver like a wet cat, he’d give you his extra pair of balaclava and gloves.

“It’s a little big on me” “Fine, give it back then” “No >:( “ 

Another thing that he does for you is taking your first watch during missions. In the first couple months when you joined, Soap and Gaz had a list of “Rookie Responsibilities” and of course one of them was to take the first watch. It wasn’t really mandatory but being a people pleaser, you did it anyway. 

It went well at first but in the last couple months, Ghost noticed that you, in his words, looked like shit after missions. And of course, you’d volunteer for the first watch. Sometimes, when it was his turn, he’d find you somehow looking worse, giving him the frog blink and thumbs up, before watching you immediately pass out on the cot or couch. 

You’d make a fuss when he would take the first watch and he had to basically pull rank to force you to go to sleep

Still calls you Rook/Rookie besides your callsign. Would sometimes call you Tiny and Mini-Me just to piss you off

Isn’t a surprise but Ghost is really observant. Knows your nervous ticks and honestly reads your emotions well. He didn’t do it before but he does check up on you 

Head pats is a thing that he does. Used to do it to his nephew and Joseph would look up to him with his cheeks puffed and whining “Uncle Si!”. You’d have the same reaction except with calling him Uncle Si, you’d usually say “Ghost, what the fuck”

You find out that Ghost doesn’t like talking about family and Christmas. Hearing some bits of info from Price, it broke your heart to learn about the reasons why he’d always gone on missions during the holiday. But at the same time, you understood him

You kind of do the same thing, taking on missions instead of going on leave. Kind of surprised Ghost when hears that he’s going to get paired up and with you of all people

“I figured you’re the type to celebrate the holidays” “Oh, I am, Just didn’t want to see my dad, that’s all.”

He opens his mouth to comment but chooses to not say anything at all. He gives you a nod instead. Ghost understands your family dynamic, it mirrors his.

Would copy his accent to make fun of him over coms. Yes, it was very bad but it did make the team giggle. He hits you back with an equally horrible American accent that made you cry

He accidentally told you one of his favorite dishes during a stake out. He was listening to you talk on coms about how much you missed pizza and how you can’t wait to go back to base to make some, silently nodding in agreement. 

“I would kill for a bubble and squeak right about now,” he thinks out loud, not realizing that his coms were on He became slightly concerned when heard you stop talking for a moment, before repeating to him, “A bubble and squeak?!” Even without seeing you, he can tell you had a big grin on your face, “I’m gonna keep quiet.” “No no, LT. I’m not making fun of you,” you assured him, “Tell me, what’s a bubble and squeak?” Ghost lets out an audible sigh before he gives you an explanation, “Basically mix some leftover mash, vegetables and roast and then fry it up in a pan." "Holy shit , that sounds delicious.”

Taught him some gen z slang because you notice that he would eavesdrop during your conversations with Soap and Gaz sometimes

Share the same type of humor. When you, Soap and Ghost got separated in Las Almas, they would hear you cackle on coms

Both of you wear your balaclavas as a second skin and would forget to take it off sometimes. Would sit in silence together as the rest of the team roast you for getting your masks wet with tea

Crash : “I have no soul. Have a nice day! :) “ Ghost : “I don’t have one either.”

Honestly, he finds you annoying but in a good way. Having you talk to him gives him the comfort that the relationship is improving but at the same time, he wants to smack you upside the head

That’s when he realize how much you remind him of his brother

When the queen died, Ghost wasn’t too upset. That is until you reminded him that Charles is now king

Due to some previous events, you’re the one driving Ghost everywhere when you guys hang out. Is offended when you straight up tell him that he has shit driving skills. 

Calls him Passenger Princess as a joke

Ghost is more into books than movies. So it does come as a shock that he mentions that he hasn’t seen the LOTRs movies. You basically force him (and the rest of the team) into a movie marathon for a day. He grumbles about how some of the scenes are different from the book but he does get into it during the Mountains of Moria

Impressed with how you handle your liquor. Watched you beat Soap and Gaz in a drinking contest before drunkenly demanding chicken nuggets and then passing out

Ghost is surprisingly decent at video games. During game nights, he’d beat everyone at Mario Kart and Super Smash Bros. You accuse him of cheating and of course, he denies it. Had to be held back by Price as you repeated “These hands are rated E for Everyone.”

Your face wasn’t a mystery to him or to anyone in the team. You took your mask off regularly around them. But like many others, you saw his face in Mexico. There was a greater sense of trust that you felt when you made eye contact with him. He gave you a soft smile and you returned it

"Huh, didn't think you'd be a blondie," You remarked as you both head towards the truck "Didn't think you'd be short but here we are," Ghost jokes back

He will never admit it in front of you that he's sees you as more than friends. That you have the best qualities from his family; his mother's compassion and his brother's humor and determination. Hell, at some points, you even resemble Joseph with your optimism.

He has someone to call family again

Bonus Memes:

[deathsbestgirl]

okay @calimanc i think i can finally do this!!

first, i tend to think of their relationships in phases. like:

season one: building trust and bonding. they genuinely like each other but it's a process! it takes time to create that bond & partnership. they really create such a good foundation naturally. they don't force it.

seasons two & three: BEST FRIENDS. they trust each other, they love each other, they rely on each other. their roles are set, their bond just gets stronger. season two really sets the tone for true friendship & personal value, not just work.

seasons four & five: it's a Struggle. their relationship is shifting but they're not there yet. it makes things hard but their partnership & friendship are solid. that is not the issue. (although, bad blood is also peak best friends)

season six: tension. surrounding their feelings, trust and getting their shit together lol (genuinely the season of them figuring it out)

season seven forward: THEY ARE IN LOVE. they are all in. s7 they're putting s6 lessons into practice, their communication is improving. s8&9 are hell for them but their love is never the question. coming back to each other is also a process (season seven is them putting the lessons into practice)

iwtb: married. everything is good & terrible. they are haunted, always haunted.

revival: coming back to each other, learning they can be together again despite everything. they never let go and they never will.

i think there's been a lot written about their characters and journeys, at least somewhat related to this. i think i'm recalling some of @randomfoggytiger meta posts about their different struggles, characters, trauma, etc. (the ones i think about a lot: scully teaches mulder to hug, milagro, how the ghosts stole christmas, mulder + s5, mulder / scully family in depths, mulder / scully typing, mulder / scully fight flight freeze — highly recommend, i think foggy puts a lot of things into words that are behind my reasoning)

in the beginning, mulder believes scully is sent as a spy. he's kind but he needles her about aliens, her thesis, her science and she gives back as good as she gets. but scully is so genuine and earnest. she cares about the truth and victims and justice. i've always thought she was excited to work in the field and specifically with mulder. whatever she thought of his spooky moniker, she also knew he was a brilliant man & a good agent. she was prepared to learn from him, regardless of what their cases would be. i don't think she believed all the rumors, i think she's intimately familiar with the rumor mill. and scully always had more of an open mind than anyone gives her credit for.

SO she spends the pilot trying to solve their case and get as much information out of him as possible, she wants him to trust her and she's trying to show him that he can. scully's got him chasing after her on their second? day on the case. she shows him real vulnerability, and imo, a tendency to believe despite her skepticism. and that's when he starts to give her a real chance. mulder's smile when she runs into his arms says sooooo much. AND THEN!!! he is vulnerable with her. he tells her about samantha & it's all he cares about. and she takes him at his word.

to me, this is something that sets the tone for most of their relationship. scully follows him because of his passion and belief, because she believed him when he said the truth was out there. she accepted that work was what mattered most to him and despite her crush, she chose to stay and follow him. she makes that decision over & over again. even when he makes her crazy, even when he gets himself into insane situations. and season one is all about building their trust, radicalizing scully. already before the end of season one, they trust only each other. mulder may show that trust slowly, taking bigger chances with her as time goes on. sharing the personal, letting her know about his informants, introducing her to his friends & eventually deep throat...he listens to her advice, her skepticism, her science and he genuinely appreciates it even if it frustrates him a lot. like when he thanks her in e.b.e., he's frustrated but it's real. he was listening. he recognizes her value to the x files and himself by season two. that conversation in sleepless about 'oh yeah, it's great. i don't know how i put up with you for so long' and 'i learned that from you' and 'i still have my work, and i still have you. and i still have myself.' and this is the "safe" territory for them. they know how to work together and they understand what that means. or they think they do, until scully is abducted and the stakes are raised. (kae wrote about mulder recognizing love in loss once. that's always really stuck with me.) mulder's guilt complex runs high. it's a huge part of his reaction in never again, scully's "my life" and 'we're not even going in circles, just an endless line' and "not everything is about you" is piercing in a very specific way to him. in that moment at the end, they choose silence and it persists for a long time. as does the way they talk around their feelings, their relationship. and mulder specifically is very avoidant. he makes several comments throughout their partnership about her leaving, not wanting to ruin her record or hold her back. and it's just so crazy, because scully eventually tells him that she holds him back, he doesn't need her. scully wants to be needed, and mulder wants her to stay but he 'doesn't want to see her hurt.'

the whole point is they put the work first, their partnership. it was a conscious choice. eventually we learn they both had relationships with people they worked with. i really do think it would make both of them hesitate to get involved with a work partner. generally speaking, scully is a "rule follower" but she doesn't have a problem breaking rules when she thinks it's justified, when she believes it's the right thing to do. no matter who's instincts she's listening to. that's a pattern we see very early on.

THEN they get so comfortable in their roles, believer mulder & skeptic scully, that later on as those things start to shift, they're afraid to change. mulder tells scully her science saved him over & over and in season six she clings to that (completely misunderstanding what he ~really meant, like kae talked about). season six is all about them figuring out what a relationship between them would mean.

but by that point, they had started to figure out some of their own issues. like in never again, scully is struggling with her patterns. so she does something she doesn't do often (i don't think one night stands are ooc, but they're not necessarily her norm. it seems like a periodic thing she may do when she gets That feeling.) scully needs to know she matters, she needs to see her impact. in never again, after paper hearts & el mundo gira, i think she's really hurting in that respect. she doesn't see at this point the impact she's had on mulder or as an agent. you can't tell she works in that office -- no desk, no nameplate, barely any personal items. just some books. initially, they're having two conversations and only partially aware of it. at the end, mulder doesn't seem to understand the issue, but at the end of leonard betts, mulder validates scully. verbally!! directly to her!! he starts to get it. they're not very good at talking directly, that's why never again and the cancer arc, and after, are so difficult. they talk about everything with metaphors, or they're okay sharing little pieces of them. their trauma & pain when forced to.

and season five is ... fraught. as so many other times, but scully nearly died and mulder feels guilty. randomfoggytiger talks about mulder in season 5 here. and the thing about these two, they're traumatized over & over again and they just keep going. but they are deeply affected. i've talked about how not okay scully is, and it takes her so much time to freely lean on mulder. she relies on him & their work, but she doesn't necessarily let him in too far. she holds people at a distance, she's so aware of loss & death and the effects of it, like she talks about in emily. and it isn't really that they need to work through their trauma. it's so much more about letting someone help shoulder the burdens, see them vulnerable. they do that and they do it for each other freely & often. but...for scully, she's always the strong one. she isn't really, but she thinks she has to be. she doesn't want to be another crusade for mulder, someone else he needs to protect. but at the same time, that's what partners do. she takes that "job" very seriously and so does mulder. (but so early on, it isn't because it's part of their job. i think that's extremely clear with scully in tooms & e.b.e., mulder's reaction in lazarus, to her abduction. you can see the progression so clearly.) but they can't protect each other from everything. mulder couldn't save her from being abducted, getting cancer, emily, or being burned alive...scully can't protect him from what happened to samantha. and that's a hard truth. it's something they accept for themselves as fbi agents, but is nearly impossible for them to accept for their partner. it's why scully threatens boggs, why mulder wants revenge on the men responsible for her abduction, why they go as far as they do for each other. they are relentless. (for mulder, he's always blaming himself. often, he wants to protect scully from himself even though he isn't the danger. he isn't the one harming her and he knows how far scully would go. like in endgame 'why didn't you tell me?' 'because i knew you wouldn't let me go through with it' and he runs off on his own because he doesn't want her to risk her life for his crusade, for the answer he needs & seeks.)

and season six!! it's so special because scully knows she's important, he gave her a whole speech about it. they nearly kissed. but they don't talk about it, the silence is maintained in favor of their partnership. and season six is a special brand of putting them in situations. at certain points, their partnership & trust are tested and leading up to those points, they tend to show how solid they really are. like in drive, when their communication is cut off but scully can understand that mulder is avoiding the police traps for a reason and he knows she'll catch onto the clues he manages to drop & that she's working hard to figure out the science/medicine, that she's doing the legwork on their cases that she always does. scully's asking him to get out of the car, but not to abandon it and they spend most of the season slowly putting together a blueprint for a relationship between them. knowing there are feelings between them, on both sides, completely reciprocated but it's a struggle. they learn something, and it's erased. or like the lesson in the unnatural, it takes a while for them to really get it. to put it into practice more consistently. there's a new freedom after one son too, with most of the syndicate killed at the hands of their own stupidity. and literally, neither of them can actually let go because the x files is both of their lives, they both have a very significant stake in the work and that will always connect them. (no matter how they're forced away from it at different points, no matter how they hesitate sometimes.) but it's also always deeper than that. because "you made me a whole person" wasn't just true of mulder. scully is never more herself than she is with mulder. i've said it a few times, but the x files was scully's dream job lol not only does she get to use everything in her arsenal, but she cares & she can be weird & a little mean. mulder gave her a very special kind of safety. scully loved teasing him for his beliefs, she always found it endearing and i just. think that's for a reason. he believes what she can't, and she believes what he can't. (you know, my usual)

i just think about the difference between all souls & all things. mulder is terrified of scully's believe in all souls, but in all souls, he interprets her words through her faith. he wasn't afraid. it was from a distance in all things, but she's also talking about a man she considered the love her life & might have married. but scully's sitting on his couch telling him all about it.

in the revival, scully comes back to the x files for mulder. but she's the one loving the case in mulder & scully meet the weremonster. and where mulder's disbelief & cynicism in the patient x/the red and the black scare her, she's not afraid of it weremonster. she kindly tries to guide him back to it, or rather, gives him the opportunity to find it himself. like he helps her light the candles & talks to god through her in nothing lasts forever. they're not really together but they're always together. it's always about working through something, understanding themselves & each other, and accepting/embracing some truth. like in all things, "what if there was only one choice?" in a way, there is only one choice. the one they made over & over. scully in squeeze & tooms & little green men, mulder in one breath & redux & requiem. all their choices lead to the other, and they almost mourn other choices. but scully would do it all again, she wouldn't change a thing. mulder can't do it alone and there's hope. the truth they both know. the only one they know.

[toshidou]

oddly specific british hcs . . .

characters // the 141 (simon "ghost" riley, john "soap" mactavish, kyle "gaz" garrick, john price)

an // don't ask me what this is, because i really don't have an answer for you. my brain just spat this out at me mid walk and for some reason i decided to post it here. i am so sorry.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

He's scared shitless of Year 7s, despite knowing full well that he was one of those little bastards when he was a kid. Not much puts the fear of god into him, yet something about a group of little shitheads who think they own the world has him crossing to the other side of the street at the sight of them.

Got suspended from school one time for stealing one of the dildo's from the RE classroom and supergluing to the seat of the kid who tried to bully him.

Got good grades at school. Not because he put in the effort, but because he stole all the exam answers from his teachers desk and spent the night before the exam memorising it all. "Work smarter not harder" was his motto.

Once got lost in a Primark. He was only looking for some cheap sleep wear, and ending up somewhere stuck between rows of Disney clothes and screaming children on leashes.

Has an unhealthy obsession with Monster energy drinks, he once drank so many in a row he went temporarily blind in his left eye. Still drinks them to this day.

John "Soap" Mactavish

He once had a full on mental breakdown in ALDI because the cashier was scanning things too quickly and he couldn't keep up.

Has started several fights in pubs because someone insulted Iron-Bru, both Simon and Price have had to drag him out of nearly all of them kicking and screaming garbled Scottish insults.

Used to dip his sherbet dib dab in dirt as a kid.

Once got in trouble in maths class for spelling "80085" on his calculator and laughing so hard he pissed himself.

The only time he laughed that hard again was when the Queen kicked the bucket. Price looked nothing short of disturbed.

If one more person comes up to him and yells "DISGUSTANG" in an exaggerated and shit Scottish accent, he's going to commit serial arson.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Went to private school, and gets bullied for it by the entire 141 as soon as they find out. They rib him even harder after they find out he was head boy.

Got invited to a night out in London by one of his rich acquaintances from school, which ended up being The Box. That night single-handedly gave him more PTSD than any mission he's ever been on.

Has personal beef with Percy Pig after he almost choked to death on one, and to this day he will never live it down that Ghost had to give him the Heimlich.

Has an unhealthy addiction to the Spice Girls. Sometimes he forgets he lives on a military base and still sings "Wannabe" at full volume in the showers. He's had to swear Soap to secrecy on numerous occasions.

His favourite Spice Girl is Scary Spice.

Captain John Price

His biggest guilty pleasure is listening to Take That. He'd first heard them first thanks to his mother being worryingly obsessed, and started mockingly singing along to their songs on brief phone calls from his barracks after he'd first joined. Little did he know that soon he too would unironically love their music. And yes, he cried when Robbie left the band. It's a secret he's taking to the grave.

Hates Waitrose with a burning passion, he once threw a fit over the price of a packet of peanuts and scared the middle-aged woman and her baby two aisles down.

Saw Gaz choking on a Percy Pig, and then proceeded to buy him every available Percy Pig related merchandise for Christmas.

Loves vinegar on his chips from the chippy, and when he found out the smell makes Soap gag, suddenly he loves his chips drowning in it.

[ohtobeleah]

Can we see the reader opening up a little more to Rooster in ToE please Leah. Obsessed with this series.

I don’t know if anyone will noticed but I’ve been binging Shameless again and it’s sneaking into all my recent fics. Here’s the Masterlist for previous chapters.

Warnings Ahead: Mentions of domestic abuse, sexual assault.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Of course on your day off it would be raining. The weather had been nothing but pristine throughout the working week–but as you laid in bed, completely encapsulated by Bradley Bradshaw– you could hear the gentle sound of raindrops pattering against the window.

After spending half the night learning how to wrap all sorts of presents for your daughter with Rooster, you’d snuck into Jake's bedroom as quietly as you possibly could and fished out a pair of sweatpants for him to borrow. It almost felt like you were a teenager again, sneaking a boy up into your room. Only there was no sex and your daughter slept soundly in her own bed in the corner of the room.

“Holy shit–” Off with the fairies, you hadn’t noticed when Bradley had woken up. But as he stirred you felt his hold on your tighten, pulling you in and closer to his chest. Kissing your forehead gently as he extinguished a deep sigh of content. “You look so beautiful, never seen you like this before.” There had been a definenate boundary shift with Bradley last night, he’d never stayed the night before. Sure you'd wanted to ask a handful of times but something about last night, how he was so invested in helping you wrap presents before neatly placing them under the Christmas tree just made your heart grow a little bigger for Bradley Bradshaw. Plus, he’d managed a seamlessly flawless pick-up when you'd asked him to step in to pick up your daughter from daycare. He hadn’t even hesitated.

“Beautiful huh?” You cooed as you let your fingers trace his jaw. “I don't know about that–”

“The most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of getting to know.” You never thought you could fall in love with an octave change before, but as Bradley stirred–his muscle flexing whenever he shifted in the early morning light cracking through the shades covering the window, you feel a little harder. His voice was deep and gruff and oh so perfectly mesmerising, like his own version of a siren song. “What's that smell?” Rooster sniffed out the smell wafting from underneath the bedroom door. “Maple syrup?”

“It's Saturday morning, Jake does breakfast on Saturday mornings.” It was weird when you first moved in, getting used to having someone cook for you almost religiously as a sign of affection. Acts of service was a love language Jake Seresin spoke fluently. Every Saturday, a slew of eggs, bacon, hash browns, oats and whatever seasonal fruit was available would be on the dining table before you had a chance to protest. “He’s probably down there cooking up a feast–”

“He doesn't know I stayed the night though, does he?” You shook your head no as you beamed up at Bradley, pushing yourself up as you checked to see if Dot had woken up yet.

“Nope, but I'd be surprised if he hasn't spotted the Bronco still in the drive.” Rooster couldn't take his eyes off your ass as you called down to the end of the bed, the grey Naval Academy shirt you wore to bed just barely ghosted your cheeks. His eyebrows frowned for a split second at the appearance of what seemed to be a poorly healed burn—a brand of some sort. The type that you give the cattle to mark them before sale or whenever they go into a boarding yard.

“Hi bubba.” Oddette was just coming to, her sleep drunk face was one of your favourites. Hoisting her up onto your hip, Bradley couldn't help but to drink in the sight of you, he was in love–no doubt about it. “I bet uncle Jakey has some oats ready for you huh?” The little girl, the spitting version of you with her curly locks and her big eyes caught the sight of Bradley as he sucked her thumb into her mouth. “Can you say morning to Rooster baby girl?”

Bradley took that as his sign to get up and out of bed, throwing the covers off as he let his legs hang off the edge of the bed as he stretched his arms out for your daughter. Without a single second of hesitation, you handed her over, falling in love with the way Dot mimicked the way Braldey reached out for her, reaching out for him to take her into his arms. Strong and muscular.

“Good morning miss Dot, you are just as beautiful as your mother in the morning huh?” As you watched Bradley bond with your daughter, you couldn't help but to think he liked you out of focus. Not understanding just how complicated a relationship with you would honestly be, how much baggage came along with you. He’d argue until his dying breath he liked you in the moment and with everything that came with you, a package deal. “The mark on your ass? That something I should be concerned about?”

“Oh—“ Not really sure how to answer that you just paused for a moment. “It’s nothing, well—it’s something but nothing to be concerned about anymore.” Lies. You constantly worried about him, if he’d show up in the middle of the night to get his revenge on you for leaving or if he’d one day decided he wanted custody of Odette. It was a constant state of existential crisis that you lived in–allowing Bradley Bradshaw into your life just made it all the more bearable even if you'd consider it to be a selfish act. He deserved a non battered woman. Period.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say that’s a cattle brand?” Bradley wasn’t trying to pry but as he held your daughter on his hip he tilted your chin up a little more to meet his gaze. “You don’t have to tell me, but whatever you’ve been through you’re safe here—you know that right?” He was being genuine, there was no push to tell but the door had been left wide open for you if you wanted to.

“I know, but the more I tell you the bigger the chance is you’ll hightail it in the opposite direction and I just know that I wouldn’t be able to handle that.” The way you said it made you sound so vulnerable, always the first to deny anything was really there between you and Bradley. Always the one who pushed away first, slowed down the pace if things were moving too quickly. Rooster was more than happy to take the passenger's seat while you held onto the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white at the pressure, but the way you said you wouldn't be able to handle it if he decided he couldn't hack it made his heart shatter in his chest.

Bradley had always been an action speak louder than words kinda guy, deciding that diving into the deep end to kiss you was the best response to the fact you were adamant you weren't good enough for him. Your daughter was quick to giggle as she felt squashed between the pair of you, Bradley was expertly balancing her against his hip with one arm as he held the back of your head with the other. Lips melding with yours as the sound of rain pouring outside filled the silence.

“There’s nothing on this planet that could make me turn my back on you.” Fuck he was being genuine as all hell wasn’t he? Once again, you felt like you could open up just the slightest bit–Braldey had dumped you out of your box, sifting through all your puzzle pieces trying to get a look at the bigger picture. Who were you really and what led you to him?

“My ex—I was, we were uh.” It was still hard to say it, you hated saying it–it had never been sex or love with Jaidyn. It was always something more sinister. Bradley got the gist of what you were trying to explain, he nodded in agreement just so you could keep going. Only if you wanted to. “I tried to run that morning, but he’d caught me, dragged me back in and had been laying into me for the better half of the day.” The tears were noticeable, but you kept going. “Decided that he needed to remind me just who I belonged to I guess.” Wiping away the tears that fell down your cheeks you sighed and braved a smile. “He had a very twisted view on the blurred boundary of pleasure and pain, when I gave him what he wanted he branded me at the same time.”

“You aren’t anyone’s property Y/n, no his, not anyone’s.” Rage. That's all that you could see written across Rooster’s face. From the way he clenched his jaw to the way his hand had wandered down to hover over your ass, fingertips softly dancing across the raised skin that had healed poorly without any real medical intervention.

“I found out I was pregnant three weeks later–a rose amongst a sea of thorns.” A knock against your bedroom door interrupted the moment of vulnerability you were having, Bradley was sure he saw in real time your shutters go down as you shook yourself back into reality.

“Are you joining me for breakfast?” Jake shouted from the otherside. “Or is it just gonna be me?”

“Coming!” You replied as your eyes never left Roosters. “Please don't tell anyone, Jake doesn't even know how bad it got sometimes, he knows most of it–but I didn't have the heart to tell him the father of my daughter banded me when he made me orgasm.” Even if it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to listen to, Rooster nodded in solidarity, leaning in to kiss your cheek as he readjusted your daughter on his other hip.

“Anything you ever tell me in full confidence, I won't ever repeat to anyone gorgeous.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Much to your own surprise, Jake hadnt noticed the Bronco still sitting in the driveway. He’d been too busy cooking up a feast–way more food then needed for two and a half people. Dot would eat maybe a few spoonfuls of oats, some squished blueberries and a small cup of juice. Why on god's green earth Jake insisted on massive Saturday breakfast you'd never understand, but you enjoyed the food always.

“Morning sleepy head!” Jake beamed as he crouched to scoop up your daughter who'd come pattering his way with a cheeky smile and a loud chuckle. “Did your mamma sleep in? Did she? I think she did and–” As Jake looked up he saw Rooster standing shirtless behind you with a grin plastered on his face. His hand lingered on your hip as he drew you closer to his side. “Hang on a damn minute are those my sweat pants?”

“Thought you'd be able to tell by the way my ankles are hanging out the bottom?” Rooster teased as he sauntered over into the kitchen. “You need help shorty or have you got this covered?”

“Nope, uh uh, i'm not gonna be baratted in my own home!” Jake placed Dot gently onto the tiles and she was off running–her dollhouse had been calling her name. “You stayed the night?”

“Sure did.” Rooster said it in a way that had you fighting off a smile. He was sweet you'd give him that. “I’m making coffee, you want one?” he asked before you sent him a soft nod.”

“Please, two sugars.” Jake was still staring at you, like you owed him an explanation as to your overnight visitor. “It was late by the time we finished wrapping all the presents alright, get off my dick.”

“Did you guys wrap all those gifts?”

“Sure did, even wrapped a couple with a nice little bow for you Hangman–” Bradley had his back turned to you and Jake as he made his coffee alongside yours. Jake just looked at the back of his wingman's head for far too long before turning back to you as you shrugged your shoulders, pretending you had no idea what Rooster was talking about. “And I'm kinda hurt, you've clearly been holding out on the team man, no invite to Saturday breakfast feast before?”

“I dont cook for strays–” Jake teased as he went back to flipping his pancakes. The bacon was almost done, sizzling away in the pan on the stovetop as you picked fresh strawberries from the bowl of cut up fruit.

“That's exactly what you've been doing though?” You mumbled through a mouthful of food before chucking to yourself. Bradley was once again at your side as he handed you the mug of coffee, tailored just the way you liked it. “Can you wrangle Dot? Gotta get her in her highchair for breakfast.”

“Yes ma'am.” Without a second of hesitation Bradley was off, darting around the corner into the living room. Out of sight out of mind for a mere ten seconds before he was racing back around the corner with your daughter throwing over his shoulder in a fit of laughter. “One Odette Dolan ready and reporting for duty Fe.”

“Wooster!--” Odette couldn't have contained her joy if she tried, her hair was flopping around as Braldey swung her around. “Wooster!!”

“Jesus Chris I’m gonna be sick.” Jake sighed as he stacked the final pancake onto the plate. “Rooster, man—you’re killing me.”

“What? She's gonna be a pilot isn't she? May as well start getting used to G-forces now.” her cheeks had caught a little air as Bradley continued spinning her around in a fit of giggles. Two peas in a pod the pair of them were. It just melted your heart.

“Faster Wooster faster!” Dot was riding a high of energy, her enthusiasm this early in the morning only matching bradleys as he handed you his coffee mug and decided taking off around the house with her on his shoulders was the most appropriate thing to do.

“Lieutenant Dot Dolan requesting permission from green range to enter point alpha” It was hard not to laugh as Dot held on for what looked like dear life, her legs strung over Braldeys shoulders as she held onto his hair. His hands on her knees securing her. “Permission granted, let's turn and burn baby!”

“Turn and Burn!” Dot repeated as Bradley raced around the kitchen, dodging both you and Jake and just looked at the pair of them like they were crazy.

“I’m losing my place at her favourite aren’t I?” This is what Saturday mornings should have been like for your daughter always, surrounded by those who loved her unconditionally. Who wanted to protect her always and fill her mind with core memories she’d remember forever. It hadn’t been though. “If I lose my spot to Rooster I’ll be pissed Fe—“ Jake took a bite of the bit of bacon he snatched off the plate. You were too busy making up Dots breakfast to even send him an eye roll.

“You’re the one who meddled, don’t forget that.”

“I didn’t think it would lead to Bradshaw sleepovers so soon! I haven’t prepared for this!” All you did was sigh, chuckling softly before you noticed the caller ID lightning up Jake's phone on the countertop. You couldn’t contain the groan that escaped. “Jake, what the fuck is Frank calling you for?”

“Huh?” Jake’s eyes landed on his phone and that’s when he sighed in annoyance as well. “Shit—“ He didn’t hesitate to pick it up though, just as Rooster and Dot were coming in for landing. “What do you want, Frank?”

“Who’s Frank?” It was a question you normally wouldn’t have answered, but as Bradley placed Dot into her high chair you turned your attention his way briefly as Jake placed his phone on speaker.

“My dad—“

“Have you seen my daughter around recently?” You hadn’t heard your fathers voice in just shy of a year. He only ever called when he needed money, an addict through and through. He’d never been around and when he was it was always chaotic.

“No Frank I haven’t, fuck off Frank.” You sent Jake a look as if to say watch his cuss words around Dot, covering her ears as you gritted your teeth. “Sorry—“ He mouthed with a soft grin. “Y/n doesn’t come around anymore, haven’t seen her since—“

“Jacob, if you're lying to me I’ll be thoroughly upset.” You had changed your number when you’d run to Jake for safety, uprooting your life and leaving with only a few personal items you could fit in a bag. Dots birth certificate, important documents. “It’s Christmas time! I’m trying to rally the family together for a good old Y/l/n shindig.” If you had rolled your eyes any harder, they would have popped out of your head.

“Is Jacob his real name?” Bradley felt like he’d just unlocked Pandora’s box when you nodded quietly in response, fist bumping the air as he bit his bottom lip in excitement. “Holy shit so many endless possibilities—“

“I highly doubt any of your children want anything to do with you, Frank.” It was as if Jake had been through this a million times before, Rooster couldn’t help but to wonder how many times your father had called him looking for you over the years. “But I haven’t seen Y/n in a few years now—so you’re shit outta luck and outta cash.”

“He doesn’t call you?” Squishing blueberries between your fingertips before you aeroplaned them into Dot's mouth was probably one of the most domestic things Bradley had ever seen you do.

“Doesn’t have my new number, kinda wanna keep it that way.” The pair of you were being careful to keep your voices low while Jake entertained your estranged father. “He’s a junkie, only ever calls when he needs something—“

“Well if she’s not with you where the hell is she? Jaidyn said she took off in the middle of the night a few months ago! And if she’s not with you what if she’s dead in a ditch somewhere?” You couldn’t hold back the scoff that escaped. Frank had never cared before, this time was no different. He wasn’t concerned about your wellbeing, just about his atm.

“Honestly that ditch would probably be a safer place for her to be then with that dickhead.” Jake seethed as he started becoming increasingly more irritated, running his hand down his face as Bradley leaned over the counter to snatch a piece of bacon. “Bye Frank—I can’t help you, don’t call me.”

“Jacob wa—!” He’d hung up before your father could get another word in.

“Hey so your dad’s looking for you” Jake teased as if you hadn’t been sitting there the entire time. “Should call him, thinks you’re dead.”

“Thanks shit for brains I’ll log that away on my not to do list shall I?” Dot coughing on a mouthful of her oats had you turning all your attention back to her. “Oh, careful sweetheart, can’t have you choking huh.”

“Franks a piece of work Bradshaw, don’t ever let that piece of shit near these two if he ever comes sniffing around.” For a moment there the lovable brother act Jake had been fronting for the last few weeks had faded and something a little more serious had tested its ugly head. The protective best friend had come to the party—Bradley hadn’t seen this look in Hakes eyes since the night he’d first met you. “He’s a deadbeat.”

“Noted.”

“More mumma, pwease?” Odette cooed as she tried to take the spoon from your hand, you let her with careful guidance. Watching her like a Hawk as she took a spoonful to her mouth.

“I remember this one time we were living out of car, uncle Nick had kicked us out and we couldn’t find anyone else to take us in.” Your eyes never left your daughter as Jake and Bradley both listened intently. Both leaning on the island bench as they picked bits and pieces. “My older brother’s were sleeping at friends' places but me and my younger sisters, the twins—got stuck trying to sleep in the backseat when Frank pulled over in the middle of the night.” Looking up you saw the faces of two of the most influential men in your life staring back at you like you were some damsel in distress. You were, but still, it didn’t leave a good taste behind in your mouth when all you’d ever know was the opposite of love.

“He told me to take the girls and sit on the curb and he’d be right back—I think I was seven at the time, few hours later and we’re still sitting on the sidewalk, Lila’s head was burning up and she’s hysterical.” Bradley felt like he couldn’t breathe listening to you open up about your childhood. He wanted to call your father back right now just to tell him off. “I didn’t know what to do—so I ran down the street, Lila under one arm and Georgia under the other trying to flag down help.” It honestly felt like a lifetime ago but at the same time you could still smell the snow in the air and hear Lila’s painful screams. “It would’ve been easier scorning crack then a ride to the clinic—but I finally made it on foot, they said Lila had a fever of one hundred and four and that if I hadn’t brought her in, who would’ve known what had happened in a few more hours.”

“Y/n—“ Bradley reached out to grip your hand, you held his back a little tighter, pressing your lips together to stop your bottom lip from quivering.

“I didn’t find Frank till a few days later, first thing he asked me? How much money I had on me.” You looked at Bradley as he took in everything you had just told him. “I wish I could say that was the only time too but it was only the beginning—“

“I think deadbeats an understatement Jacob.” You couldn’t help but to smile, Jake just groaned as he stood up, slapping Bradley across the back of the head. “Not gonna let anyone hurt you ever again you hear me?” Soft lips were pressing against your forehead before Rooster was turning around to point a stirn finger at Jake who’d backed off slightly. “Hit me again, see what happens pal.”

“You’re wearing my pants in my house! I’ll hit you all I goddamn want.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: @a-serene-place-to-be @lilyevanswhore @thescarletknight2014 @blindedbythelightt t @averyhotchner @emma8895eb @blairfox94

[likeadevils]

What songs hasn't she played and why do you think she hasn't played them?

color coding because most of these fall into one of three categories: ouch, forgotten it/thinks no one likes it/ doesn't like it herself, and it is not christmas yet

album songs:

that's when: i also think it might have been too much of an ouch to play in mid may 2023, when keith urban came to the eras tour. but if keith comes back i think we might hear it

bye bye baby: she also might be holding out for the last day of the tour?

girl at home: according to a fan who got rep room: So we just kind of kept talking for a few more minutes and she asked if we wanted to take a picture, and I wasn’t about to miss my chance to bring up my baby Girl At Home. So I said, “yes but before I have to ask you what on earth do I have to do for you to play Girl At Home? Just once!” And she looked at me like and straight up said “Do you know how much shit I would get if I played that song? People hate it!” And then made a few more comments on it and I told her that I personally LOVE that song and she laughed and said “I know, but it’s at the very bottom of the list I’m so sorry” and gestured all adorable at the floor to show me the chances are like the lowest of low.

ronan

forever winter

soon you'll get better

cassandra: she might be holding on to it for rep's birthday in november, or mayyyybe a mashup for rep tv announcement, but idk if we're getting it on this tour. i think there's a relatively solid chance we'll hear this by the end of tour though

non-album songs below

Christmases When You Were Mine

Christmas Must Be Something More

Beautiful Eyes: there also might be some weird licensing thing going on with it?

I Heart ?: same as above, maybe a weird license thing, i don't know entertainment law

Best Days Of Your Life (Kelly Pickler)

Two is Better Than One (Boys Like Girls)

Half of My Heart (John Mayer)

Both of Us (B.o.B.): also b.o.b was recently accused of some pretty horrific stuff

Highway Don't Care

Beautiful Ghosts

Christmas Tree Farm: i wouldn't be surprised if she busted this out in december. in fact i'll be a little surprised if she doesn't

Only The Young: maybe once we get closer to the election, but idk

Gasoline (HAIM): too much of an ouch in july/august when haim was on tour with her, wouldn't be surp

Renegade (Big Red Machine): i think it was too much of an ouch last summer, but if aaron pops out now i think there's a good chance we'll get this

Birch (Big Red Machine)

The Joker and the Queen (Ed Sheeran)

The Alcott (The National): again i think it was too much of an ouch last summer, but if aaron pops out now i wouldn't be surprised to hear it

[mostofthingsmostofthetime]

I just finished the first episode of Heartstopper, so here are some of my thoughts in no particular order.

The opening song is cool (will probably look up the shows soundtrack like I did with XO, Kitty).

Why did the camera focus so much on Charlie's bag & Elle's drink? Is it product placement?

Wow, no hate to the actor, but Charlie's eyebrows are THICK!!!!

Tori is beautiful but also kind of looks like a ghost (I think she’d be great for the role of  Violet Baudelaire from A Series Of Unfortunate Events) & why was she so pushy about the "dream guy" thing? Like let the poor boy breathe.

Is Nick's actor that much taller than Charlie's? I hadn't noticed.

I’m sorry, but knees are so weird to me lol. Also obligatory, 🎵 she's a runner she's a track star🎵.

Wait, is that PE teacher that will later interrupt the team theorising about Nick & Charlie's relationship? It's crazy how they’ve found actors who look so much like the characters in the graphic novels (other casting directors should take notes).

Ok fair enough about wanting your team to be good & wondering if the quiet, skinny, nerdy, boy is even into sports but the shit about him being gay is so stupid (bet it was Harry that said that).

Glad Charlie didn't get injured learning rugby, lol.

Nick's shorts seem a lot smaller than Charlie's ones do, but maybe that's the costume designer's way of helping Charlie’s actor look more skinny?

Omg Stephen Fry, what are you doing here lol?

Wow, people weren't kidding. Olivia Colman really did show up just to say one line. What a legend, lol.

Ben, did you really make Charlie walk all that way for such a lame ass kiss? Also, let him talk about his Christmas, you jerk!

I don't think that Form tutor is very good at his job (while Nick thankfully turned out to be nice) it’s usually not a great idea to put the skinny, gay, nerd that has already been bullied with the bigger, popular, seemingly straight, athlete, especially at an all boys school!

Ben, you dick. Like I get wanting to keep your relationship secret, but you did not need to pull the 'who the hell are you!' card. All you had to do was say hi in a confused/uninterested tone (then apologise later). If anything, your reaction came off more weird than what Charlie did.

I'm sorry, but I don't get the leaf animation. I mean, I GET it, just why leaves? Why not flowers or hearts or something? It just doesn’t seem that impactful to me, but maybe they have a deeper meaning that I'm just not grasping yet? If so, please let me know.

Ok, so I'm torn over the gay teacher. Like artistic? That's cool. Those glasses? Cute. Him giving Charlie a safe space to eat lunch? Great. Him being worried over Charlie potentially being bullied again? Awesome (take notes, Form guy), but his advice to Charlie seemed slightly lacking. Obviously, honesty & communication are important in relationships, but I'm a little surprised that possible safety concerns weren't addressed at all, especially from a fellow gay guy. Like I get that he doesn’t know the kind of guy Charlie's "dating" & that just because someone doesn't want to come out yet doesn’t mean they should be labelled as dangerous but internalised homophobia can make some people lash out & after everything Charlie's been through his clearly more likely to be vulnerable to situations like that.

Nick is a golden retriever in human form, they're 100% correct 😊.

Isaac? What happened to Aled? I hope he still shows up. He may be quiet, but he was so cute during Charlie's 15th birthday in the graphic novel.

Interesting to get to see Elle's time at Higg's (fuck that transphobic teacher & whoever was throwing sandwiches at her). Sad she doesn’t have any friends but I'm sure that'll change when she meets Tara & Darcy. Wow, is it strict over there, though, like you can't even be on your phone at lunchtime? Damn! Surprised they did it this way, though, as I was assuming they'd just make Truham co-ed so all the characters could be in the same place.

Tao, my guy, the drink thing is sweet but that hair is.....certainly.....a choice 😅.

The shots of Charlie looking at food, without eating, make me ☹️.

I gotta be honest, the montage of Nick & Charlie saying hi to each other was a little cringy to me compared to how it came across in the graphic novel, but they're meant to be teens, so I'll let it slide. It's also an effective way to highlight how differently Charlie's "boyfriend" treats him compared to an acquaintance.

Ben's hand covering up Nick's smiley face got me like ☹️/😠. They're not even together yet & I already felt like telling him to get off Charlie, like that boy is not for you! It’s ridiculous, lol.

Ben what you did was fucked up but it's hard to be scared of someone who looks so much like a meerkat in a wig (no hate to the actor) also did it seem like he just....skidded away when Nick pulled him off Charlie? Like, was the actor wearing Heelys lol? Or had someone just mopped the floor without telling anyone? Also, it's lame to wear a coat when you're cold? What in the toxic masculinity are you fucking on about Ben?

Omg the bathroom scene was so adorable, but I wanna know what kind of pen Nick was using because being covered in that amount of ink is crazy 😆.

Overall, it's very cute. I like Nick & Charlie. It’ll probably take a bit longer for me to really care about the other characters. Ben can catch these hands! And I’m looking forward to watching the Narlie relationship develop.

So while not overly ground breaking (though obviously important for LGBTQ+ rep) it's definitely enjoyable in a comforting sort of way which (considering medias fascination with marginalised suffering) is obviously important for queer youth but also must be quite healing for queer elders. Because you deserve wholesome, cheesy, romance just as much as anyone else.

[someonexsomeone]

In A Rowdy Room

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Johnny "Soap" McTavish x Reader

Summary: Ghost catches you and Soap in a secret moment

Warnings: fluff, Ghost does a lot of watching my bad if it's creepy lmao

Authors Note: MERRY CHRISTMAS to those who celebrate it and HAPPY SUNDAY to those who don't! I tried to do something a little fun and have him referred to as Soap when he was acting and Johnny when he was vulnerable just like I've seen others do with Ghost/Simon. I don't know if that was a good decision or not because I worry it may have made the flow a little confusing but eh. I already wrote it lmao

They were not being sneaky at all. Despite the years of training, the grueling hours, the countless missions, gone both right and wrong, one would think that at least some level of stealth would make its way into that thick skull of his. Ghost scoffed to himself, not so subtly watching the two as they giggled and talked quietly to themselves. It had been Soap’s idea to come to this bar, to mingle and take their minds off the past couple of missions, and yet here he was, tucked away in the corner with you. Ghost should have suspected he’d be ditched the moment they arrived at the bar, as it happens nearly every time he concedes to Soap’s endless nagging that he’s a shut-in with no life (no shit, Johnny, that was the point), but it was usually a hoard of people, both higher-ups and recruits, trying to get a speck of Soap’s attention and fun-loving energy. Soap really did command the mood of the room, even if he himself wasn’t aware of it.

But not this time. Ghost had arrived late, spending an extra hour or two to complete the rest of his paperwork before remembering he promised to pop in for a drink tonight. He sighed to himself, wondering if anyone would even notice if he didn’t show up, despite Johnny’s promised that his presence was needed, that the new recruits should get a look at him in multiple scenarios to see that Ghost was just as cool and unaproachable in any setting. He scowled at those words at the time, knowing his teammate was full of crap and was using useless flattery to get him to concede, but also knowing that he would do anything Johnny asked. Knew that Johnny was never going to intentionally put him in an uncomfortable situation.

One drink. Harmless in of itself, and he did always manage to have some sick enjoyment in watching the newbies squirm whenever his eyes passed over them.

Johnny spotted him across the bar as soon as he arrived. Hard not to, what with Ghost being so large. Johnny managed to pry himself away from the group that was chatting him up enthusiastically, smoothly detangling himself and slipping between the crowd on the floor. Johnny smacked a good-natured hand on his shoulder, before shouting Ghost's drink of preference to the smiley bartender. Once the drink was in his hand, straw included, Johnny steered him towards the table containing some other 141 members. Price and Laswell smiled pleasantly at him upon his arrival, but made no move to force him on their conversation. Across the room, Ghost spotted Gaz laughing with a group at the bar. Soap barely lasted a minute before a group of rowdy recruits tugged on his arm, pulling him away for some reason or another. A round of darts, Ghost thinks, but he could hardly make out what they were saying over the cacophony of voices.

An hour, Ghost reasoned to himself. No one would expect him to last longer than that, and he could safely depart. Plus, he thought, bringing the straw back to his mouth, this was some good whiskey. Who was he to waste a drink he didn’t even have to pay for?

Now, over an hour later, Ghost was glued to his chair, eyes fixated on the scene in front of him. From the table up, you looked like simple colleagues chatting away, but, from where Ghost was sitting, he had a clear view of the thing the high-top table was failing to conceal. One of your legs was gently folded over the other, splayed across the distance to rest over your companions. Johnny’s hand was absentmindedly caressing your leg, from ankle to upper thigh, fingers drawing endless looping patterns with intermittent pauses for affectionate squeezes. Ghost's drink was still halfway to his lips, having not moved from the spot since he laid his eyes on you two.

Shock maybe wasn’t the right word, Ghost reasoned to himself, but surprise no doubt. Soap was an open book on the field, his heart worn on his sleeve and his mouth speaking faster than his mind can think. A breath of fresh air in a usually bleak environment, one Ghost had come to appreciate, even though sometimes Gaz and Soap deserved a good smack on the head to stop their constant back and forths. Those moments were the ones when Ghost felt a flare of kinship with his Captain, their knowing eyes locking for a moment. A passing gaze of annoyance and fondness that didn’t need words. That same emotion was no doubt, at least in Ghost’s mind, why the two of them were so popular. Their easy ability to chat up a storm made him envious at times. And now, as Ghost watched the two of you nearly sink into each other, watched as you gently ran your fingers up Johnny’s chest, brushing over his dog tags to rest your hand on his no doubt thumping heart, your sweet face leaning in to whisper something in his ear that made an easy smile spread across his face, Ghost couldn’t help the same aching fondness for you as it flared inside him.

How many times had Ghost arrived at a party and watched as Soap practically ran himself ragged to mingle in every group, take a shot of every alcohol that was passed to him, play every game that was suggested? Welcomed newcomers and rookies that had yet to find a place amongst the others? Purposely seeked Ghost out to check on him and share his excitement to see him? All to wake up bright and early the next morning to work his butt off on missions that sometimes asked for far too much? It was only now, watching as you and Soap had a quiet moment in a rowdy room, that Ghost really appreciated all that Johnny did for them. Because in that moment, Ghost wasn’t seeing Soap, easy extrovert and deadly killer. He was seeing Johnny, a selfless man that hid behind his crooked smile. A selfless man who deserved to have someone dote on him, to care for him as he cared for others. And, by the goofy grin that spread on Johnny’s face, he had found the perfect person to do that in you.

You were not an unfamiliar face, Ghost thought as he spared you another glance. He had seen you around here and there, taking an extra second to appreciate your beauty before moving on with his day. Despite knowing you sometimes carried important files and that occasionally he saw you entering or exiting the infirmary, Ghost had no information on who you were. To be fair, there were countless people that worked on this base, let alone the hundreds that used it as a temporary hub between or on missions. After a moment of thought, he did recall seeing you a fair few times with Soap, talking quietly to each other in hallways or in break rooms, but he didn’t think much of them. Watched you hand him coffee with a pretty smile or gently fix his crooked uniform. After all, Soap was easy to talk to and highly sought after. What would make your interactions any different? Well, he thought to himself, any different before tonight. Now, as he watched Johnny move his hand to your upper thigh, squeezing it lightly and pulling you towards him in a way that had you teasingly scold him, how could he not? You two were always standing closer to each other than Soap’s usual crowd, in a reciprocal way rather than the one-sided smother Soap usually got, and on nights like these Ghost recalls seeing you and Johnny chatting more than a couple times. Ghost wanted to smack himself. How had he not seen it before, especially with both of your obvious lack of subtlety!?

Pulled out of his thoughts, Ghost spotted, out of the corner of his eye, a young recruit hustle towards your table, eyes set firmly on Johnny. With practiced ease, the two of you split apart, fainting the ‘two innocent friends that had to get closer to hear one another over the loud atmosphere’ and not the ‘two lovers taking a moment for one another’ that you obviously were. Despite not seeing it before, and only coming to the realization himself a mere moment ago, Ghost couldn’t help himself think how could the rookie fool not realize he was interrupting a private moment. Ghost watched as you both smiled politely at the young recruit in front of you, listening intently as the rookie animatedly talked and waved toward the group by the dart boards. Watched you nod politely, and then nearly jumped as the recruit grabbed Soap’s arm, unknowingly prying his hand from your leg to tug him to, no doubt, join them in another round. Watched as your face remained completely composed, but your legs drooped almost sadly back onto the floor and away from Johnny’s warmth. Separating you two once again into your own personal bubbles.

Without paying attention to his previous tablemates' questioning sounds, Ghost slammed his glass on the table, nearly throwing himself off his seat to stride toward them. It was easy to make it to them, the sea of people parted without much resistance as they saw the hulking Lieutenant coming towards them. The recruit nearly jumped out of their skin as Ghost appear behind them, slapping a hand on their shoulder.

“Why don’t I join your game, kid?” Ghost murmured, low and growly, in the same tone he usually kept reserved for the field and not a night out on the town. The goosebumps that appeared on the rookie's neck were hard to miss.

“W-well, Lieutenant, Sir, I was-, We were-,” the rookie stuttered, not even being able to look Ghost in the eye.

“Gotta problem with me joining?” The rookie turned pale, Ghost’s hand adding just a little more pressure where it lay.

“N-no, s-sir. Not-not at all, Lieutenant.”

“Excellent. Lead the way, rookie.” Despite his words, Ghost used his grip to forcefully steer the rookie away from the table, back towards the dart boards on the other side of the room. He spared a glance over his shoulder, locking eyes with Johnny, whose eyebrows were pinched together in confusion, questioning his usually introverted friend. All Ghost had to do was flick his eyes in your direction once to get Johnny’s face to break out in a goofy grin.

Damn, Ghost thought, sighing to himself, ignoring the way the rookie jumped, Johnny's never going to let me live this down.

masterlist  l  mw masterlist

[ladylaviniya]

The Spirit of Christmas Eve

Masterlist || Chapter 1 ll Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After an unexpected visit from your younger, overly pregnant and concerned sister- you are yet again put into a terrible mood. You receive a night visit from the ghost of your predecessor and fall into an abyss of confusion.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Disrespect to Homeless People, R4pe Fantasies, Masturbation, Dark Joke about Abortion, Hinted Xenophobia, Humiliation, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Drug Use, Classism.

Word Count: 5k

Author Notes: This is a parody of the classic "A Christmas Carol" story by Dickens, I hope you come to enjoy it even though the pov holds cruel, toxic and abusive traits.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

09:00am, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Oh how you hated the holidays. You hated the red and green colouring, you hated the carolling groups and bands singing every day in December leading up to the wretched twenty fifth. You hate the baby Jesus in a manager nativity set ups.

‘Jesus wasn’t even fucking born on Christmas. He was a January baby according to Jewish scholars. It was all a ploy to satisfy and celebrate Yule with pagans before encouraging indoctrination!!’

And the smell of peppermint, gingerbread and fatty sugary foods left you feeling sickly.

“Unnecessary calories to dissolve the enamel of my teeth when it comes back up in the  goddamn toilet.”

The cold air and the slippery frost brought you no delight. Along the way you would kick the snow men in your walking path. You despised the bratty children sitting on the Santa laps in the malls.

‘Their parents should know half of those fat ass Santa actors are just paedophiles getting their kicks once a year? Yea I’d love a little boy all prim and plump to sit on my lap if I was a sicko in a red suit too.’

You hated the fact they were bringing Christmas trees in the day after Halloween.

“Sure, it spins the wheel of capitalism but God, do they have to look so trashy? Christmas is once a year, not two months long.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you strutted the street to your work place.

Your senior associate Marlene who you could’ve considered your friend had a heart attack early that year. She was a woman in her prime, at forty years old she had managed to build her business empire. No husband, no kids, no pets. She didn’t need those things, not when she raked in over four million dollars a year. She drank and smoked like a chimney, you wondered if it contributed to her death in the end. She was rumoured to be found naked, getting fucked by some no name sexy twenty-one year old playboy from South Korea. And among her blissful orgasm, her heart just couldn’t handle the pressure and faltered.

Imagine his horror. Balls deep and not knowing she had died. Little shit tried getting her money in the inheritance scheme. He tried pushing that he was her long committed boyfriend. One threat to the immigration department sent that kid running for the kills back to Seoul.

You were named successor in her Will. Now, it’s not like you needed her millions, you already had a full pocket. At twenty five you’d made your first million all because you picked the right pattern in your investments and put every cent into them. You worked instead of partied. And many had said behind your back that it made you a miserable sourpuss bitch with no friends. You didn’t need friends. Marlene was just a funny coincidence.

Some might have called you careless, impulsive, and greedy. But what that translates to you was the word ‘Wealth and Success’. You were wealthy and money made you happy. The more numbers, the more joy in your cold heart.

You entered the building that was now yours. Oh did I forget to remind you...you were the CEO of your tax collecting firm. I think that’s important for you to know.

Entering the sleek grey, white and black minimalist foyer you sighed in relief. No Christmas or holiday bullshit in here. You had banned all decorations and affiliations.

And you refused paid leave to anyone asking not to work on Christmas day. You remember scoffing last night at the amount of requests you had received about time off for the holidays.

‘I’m running a business, not a charity.’

Christmas was the best time of year for your job. So many stupid people take out stupid loans they can’t afford especially during the holidays period when gift giving is the centre cause of financial stress. You got a thrill out of denying loans and upping payment interest rates for those suckers who didn’t make their payments on time because they chose to spend the money meant to be going into your pocket on some disposable wrapping paper and a cheap pharmacy gift last minute.

As you stepped into the elevator you smiled cynically at the empty space. You could look at yourself in the mirror and pick apart all the things you loved and hated about your body. It was strangely therapeutic. Something about the critiques gave you a massive high.

But just as the elevator doors where closing a hand slammed hard through the gap.

“Wait!” came a familiar cry. Your face fell and you felt a tight discomfort seeing the face of your younger sister. Caroline.

Your eyes shot down to her belly. Big as a house in the ugliest knit Christmas sweater.

‘Pregnant again. Jesus Christ. What’s this? Number four now?’

You clenched your handbag tighter. You tried recalling some sort of baby shower invite from months ago, you totally forgot about it once you moved it to junk mail.

‘If she fucking asks me for money again, I swear to god she’s risking an abortion voucher in a Christmas card...are abortion vouchers even a thing?’

Caroline had married her highschool sweetheart, he was some sort of mechanic or something. A bum, like your Dad. You couldn’t believe she was dumb enough to breed with an imbecile like him. Mind you, her first son was clearly an teen pregnancy accident that sealed them together. And every year, she just seemed to pop out a new one. And every year that meant you gave her a fat cheque, usually six thousand dollars.

You ground your teeth as she forced herself inside and pressed the button of the doors shut immediately, not at all taking notice of you until mid way moving up in the building.

Her face lit up and she shrieked in delight at seeing you.  You strained a smile.

‘Yea, definitely looking for a handout.’

“Oh my god! I was about to fight security to come see you sissy!” she forced her arms around you. You bit your tongue. You hated hugs.

“Well…lovely seeing you too,” you muttered before awkwardly patting her back.

Her breath hitched at seeing the look on your face, “Sorry about not pre-warning, I did try calling you but your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

‘Oh good, she still hasn’t figured out I let them ring out.’

“And you didn’t reply to my emails.”

You fought a smirk, ‘because they go straight to junk mail’.

She smiled and babbled happily, “Anyway, I had to come here because I need to give you-“ she huffed and swiped a bead of sweat from her forehead before reaching into her nappy bag (that she treated like a handbag.) and retrieved a thick red envelope.

She handed it to you. Your manicured nails pinched the ugly stickers one of your nephews or nieces had chosen. Scribbled in absolute chicken scrap handwriting was your name, most likely also done by your nephew or nieces.

The elevator opened and you sighed, marching out to enter the offices with your solo office space down the hall with the largest window and finest view of the city below. You didn’t expect your sister to tail you. She waddled like a fast duck following you.

“I was thinking you should meet this guy that babysits-” She was talking to you about something but in all honesty, you weren’t listening until she mentioned the cursed words, “-Christmas Party.”

You deposited your handbag on your desk and spun on your heel. Your eyes wide, your smile straining into a sneer.

You snickered cruelly and laced your fingers together, “How many times have we discussed this? I. Don’t. Celebrate. Christmas. I don’t do presents, I don’t do carolling, I don’t do secret Santa’s and I sure as fucking hell don’t do Christmas Parties. I’m glad that you and Tim have fun with your kids and do all that meaningless stuff to shield them from the big bad world. I however am not in the mood for it. Work comes first. This is one of the busiest years of my life, the market is at an all time high in interests rates.”

She looked like she was growing smaller with every foul word that dripped like acid rain.

“It’s just one day, not even a full day. Just a few hours, not far from you,” she whispered and rubbed her belly comfortingly.

You shook your head and circled around your desk, “Might as well get this over with, you don’t need to ploy me with booze.”

You pulled out a cheque book from your drawer and slapped it down. You bent over and fished out a pen, pressing the ink to the slim piece of paper.

Your voice came out like a bark, “How much are you wanting this year?”

“Wh-what?” your sisters eyes grew wide.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, with a condescending tone, “How much money do you want to cover all the gifts? I hear Disneyland is great this time of year in Florida. I need a number. I have a busy day ahead of me so I’d just like to get this over and done with.”

Your sister didn’t answer. You glanced up. Her face was no longer smiling. She looked in pain. Her hand sat on top of her belly. She hissed and breathed out hard.

Her eyes were dimming down. She lost the joyful spark. She waddled to the guest chair in front of your desk and sat down.

She put the nappy bag on the floor.

 ‘great, thanks for the smell of cornflakes and breast milk on the carpet.’

Her breath turned husky and you started to reach for your desk phone ready to call a bloody ambulance to take her to the hospital. You couldn’t tell what the hell was wrong with her and prayed she wasn’t going into labour. You didn’t need to waste five thousand dollars on a carpet replacement because her waters might break.

Her eyes glared up at you as she tried to focus on pacing her breath. God, she looked like your mother with that look. It hurt. She got the best genes you had to admit. Even while pregnant she had this way about her that made men just want to beg for her number. You couldn’t tell if it was her ditsy personality or just good looks.

“Jim," Caroline corrected with strain, "-and I don’t need your money. We don’t want it. We have never have wanted it. This year, I just want you to put in the effort to spend Christmas with us as a family. You and I haven’t shared a Christmas since I was in middle school. My kids want their aunty to visit because I tell them you’re the coolest person alive...” her eyes narrowed, “Put the fucking cheque book away, and come to fucking Christmas dinner at least. It’s going to be at my house if you look at the invite that your nephew and nieces made special for you. They don’t want presents, they just want to see their aunty. Besides.... I told them you’d come if they put extra love into it.”

You chewed your inner cheek and stood up straight, crossing your arms and sat on the edge of your desk.

“You shouldn’t lie to your kids, Caroline,” you coolly said with icy impact.

You watched her eyes start to shine and water.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “Don’t fucking cry.”

She broke down immediately. You sighed with annoyance. ‘why did she have to come today of all days and act like this. It’s not a big deal. God.’

“You’re such a bitch and my kids have done nothing to you except love you unconditionally. The least you can do is show up,” Caroline struggled to stand out of the chair and when you reached out to help, she snapped like a firecracker and hissed, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She groaned as she bent down, holding her belly and reached for her nappy bag, that she let you help her with. She suddenly looked so tired and deflated compared to when she had ducked into the elevator. You started to feel a tick of that itchy sympathy. Pregnancy always looked hard. Her first birth was so difficult, the second slipped right out but she didn’t have an epidural and the third time was an emergency c-section. In fact you weren’t even sure if she was meant to be having this fourth baby. It would be too risky. She could honestly kill herself. Now that was a bolt of fear that coursed through you.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you sniffled, trying to distract your little sister from her anger.

She looked even more offended and scoffed, “You know, if you had even tried to come to my baby shower, you could’ve eaten one of the gender reveal cupcakes.”

‘Ouch.’

You looked down at your Valentino pumps. Seven years younger than you and she still managed to put you in your place with the snap of her fingers.

She rubbed her wet eyes with the tips of her fingers.

“I worry about you...” she mumbled, “You might have a lot of money Y/N, but money can’t buy you everything. Don’t you want to share memories?”

You tried hiding the laugh limbing your throat,, “Not this argument again...come on, I’ll walk you out and hire you a cab.”

You escorted her back to the elevator, all your employees watching and whispering about it. You knew your office needed thicker glass.

As you quietly pressed the button down, your sister finally said, “It’s twins. A boy and girl.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually you only nodded and whispered, “Congratulations. You and Tim must be excited.”

“Jim," she grounded, "-and I are flat out on our feet with the others but yea...I’m thinking about naming the girl after mom.”

Again you didn’t respond. You wanted this interaction to be finished. You wanted to go to work and drink away the days leading up to New Year’s. Maybe you should take a trip overseas. You might run into a handsome one night stand with an attractive accent.

Your sister turned and hugged you again, she rubbed her sweet face into your shoulder and sighed, “I’m sorry for snapping. Please don’t be mad. Please promise me you’ll come to the party, even for five minutes.”

Her pleading eyes finally cracked your ice wall.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The squealing giggle of delight made you groan internationally instantly regretting your words. Nonetheless you took it upon yourself to at least hug her back. God help you, you didn’t know how you’d survive.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:00pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

On your way home you discovered with aggravation all the cabs and ubers nearby had been booked up and the traffic in the city horrendous. Of course. On Christmas eve it would look like this.  You decided to march your way to the subway. It would be the quickest way back home.

You had to cross the park to get there though.

And among your walking you passed a man laying down on a bench. He wore a baseball cap that hid his face. He wore a blanket over his shoulders. A puff of cold air escaped his pink lips.

His shadowed face peered up at you and held up a piece of cardboard that read the following: Homeless, please donate a food and blankets.

And something inside you cracked again. You fought the urge to pull out your purse and give him the only hundred dollar bill you had. You looked him up and down. And froze. Next to him was a bottle of liquor. Something malicious dripped from your lips. Words filled with cruelty and hate. It was bold and dangerous. But you bet he was drunk.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t there any shelters taking in scum? Are all the prisons full? Maybe if you got off your ass and got a real fucking job, you would be too busy making money instead of swilling down booze!”

He did not react in the way you expected. He smiled at an ankle, winked and held a finger up to his lips.

Your face curdled in disgust and hacked back your throat, spitting on him.

“Booze bum,” you muttered, and marched on, away from him.

Your chin jerked high. It was a method of teaching you had learnt in your youth. Shame someone until they commit to a goal and out perform it. To this day you are still doing that very thing, why not share that gift of knowledge with others?

You scowled the entire train ride home and flicked through your emails.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

11:10pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Alone in your penthouse apartment, you padded your way to bed scrolling through your phone. In your hand you cradled a wine glass and set it on the bedside table.

Beneath the soft cotton covers you sighed happily and used your phone to command the fireplace to be lit up. A fake flame on a flat screen tv with heaters all around you, filling your place with warmth.  Laying back into your pillows you scrolled your phone and frowned at all the Christmas themed posts online, all the tutorials and recipes you’d never follow and all the Christmas stories you’d never read.

Tossing the phone beside your wine glass, your hands snuck down into a drawer and retrieved your absolute best friend in the world. She was thick, long and quiet, totally sky blue and had twenty different settings. You slid the vibrator under the covers and shimmied out of your underwear. Your fingers fumbled, touching your wet cunt.

The alcohol was finally hitting you, warming you up. You weakly reached for your vibrator. You knew it would be a comfort to take away the anger and stress away from your day at work.

You pressed the silicone to your clit and switched on the toy. A soft sigh came from you as you rubbed it along your lower lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and tried to imagine a person and you having sex.

‘A policeman? No. College professor? No. Loser doorman? No…’ and then your eyes flickered in a quick vision of the homeless man from the park… ‘Yes. He must be miserable, pissed off, angry, he smiled but that would have been a lie, his long finger he held to his mouth should stuff itself inside me.’

Your hand slid up and pulled down the front of your night down. You dug your nails into your breast before tugging your nipple hard. You whined as you bucked your hips into your toy that you playfully prodded and tore out of you. You imagined that same stranger ripping your dress from your body and dragging you into the snowy woods.

Rape fantasies weren’t uncommon for you. It was something about the power struggle that sent thrills up and down your spine. You liked the pain. You liked being forced to give up your control. You slid the plastic cock deep into your slick pussy and mewled.

The homeless man would hold a knife to your throat and bend you over a log, no, no, that bench, so out and open and public for anyone to catch him tearing you apart. His hand would lick your skin in stinging slaps. The alcohol on his breath would be putrid. He’d call you names, whore, slut, bitch, cunt, fuckpig. And you would be totally helpless…

You lazily rolled over onto your belly and forced your ass up, your bed sheets falling down your thighs.

You pushed the dildo back in deep and turned on the highest setting, biting the pillow under you. You fucked yourself hard until it hurt.

The homeless man fantasy went on and on, forcing you to cum and cry. You didn’t care if neighbours or tenants below you heard. You imagined this terrible man after fucking you raw making you sit in his filthy lap, fucking you with the empty liquor bottle neck and letting strangers walking past the chance to spit on you and slap you until you cummed.

The fantasy didn’t have a fanciful ending fleshed out. You could only imagine him dragging you back to some ghetto homeless tent village under one of the city bridges and whoring your cunt out to his homeless buddies. You wanted to submit, to be used like that…

But not in the real world. Fuck no. Your reputation mattered greatly. You were too stubborn to willingly date a man and ask him to do something taboo like consensual non-consent play.

You tore the blue cock out and pressed it to your clit, riding out an ultimate orgasm that left your body feeling like jelly. Slumping forward you groaned into the pillows, you knew you had to eventually get up and pee. The alcohol still in your system made the journey feel almost impossible. But when your bare ass hit the seat, you leant back and sighed. 'UTI prevented!'

Getting back to bed wasn’t as hard as getting to the bathroom. You breathed in the smell of your own sexual prowess. No shame. You put away your toy and before you could search for your discarded underwear, you heard your phone pinged. You grunted with annoyance.

You glanced at the screen; it was a text from Caroline.

*Told the kids you are coming tomorrow! They’re so excited to see their aunty! Xoxo*

‘oh right…her Christmas party…it’s tomorrow…' you still hadn’t even looked at the invitation. Anger started burning its way into your chest when you saw the emojis and gifs she attached. Santa and reindeers and snowmen. God you fucking hated Christmas!! She didn’t need to remind you. You didn’t plan to be there longer than the strick three hundred seconds. The miserable evil stabbed your heart again.

It out you so over the edge you began to type, *Tell them I changed my mind, I’m busy.*

Before your thumb could slam on the message send, something strange occurred. The penthouse apartment lights started to flicker on and off repeatedly.

‘A circuit must’ve snapped. I know I turned off all the lights.’

You slammed your phone down and ripped off your bed sheets. Marching over to the telecom beside you door you prepared the mental speech of anger and abuse you’d deliver on whatever poor soul was handling the front desk of the apartment complex tonight.

You pressed the button hard and when no welcoming comment came you decided to wait.

You waited and waited and still no one acknowledged you over the telecom. There was a noise coming from it though. It was a sound of ragged breathing. Squinting with absolute judgement you hissed into the microphone.

You sobered up your voice and rubbed your eyes. Your wine was knocking around your insides at that point, it had polluted your blood. You just needed to stay awake for a little longer.

“This is penthouse three. Your lights are dimming and flickering out. I want someone to change all that bulbs and check the power wires immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

The unusual panting was still there and getting louder. You shook your head. Someone should’ve been repeating back your request and discussing a mode of action.

“Hello?” you angrily huffed into the microphone when no answer came for a long time.

You hissed, “Now you listen here. I don’t give a fuck it’s Christmas eve. You’re job is on the line if you cant fix my fucking lights.”

And then the line went totally dead and your apartment was entirely darkened. You groaned with anguish. Using your phone flash light you returned to your room.

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pulled the covers Of your bed back again, “Probably too drunk on eggnog to give a damn. Say goodbye to those two dollar tips dickhead.”

You laid back and fished out your bonnet, carefully lipping your hair inside the protective layer. You rolled onto your side under the covers and shut your eyes.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

12:00am, 25th December 2023, New York City.

For some reason at 12am you received a very obnoxiously loud phone call. Blindly you reached for it and accepted the call. You had a suspicion it was a prank call from overseas.

“Y/N,” said the caller. Your eyes cleared up fast at the sound of a voice you knew too well.

You almost dropped your phone. Surely it wasn’t her calling. You had seen her body at her funeral. She chuckled on the other side, her voice was just as rusted as you remembered. In the dream she had come over to your house and had a sleep over together.

Your eyes widened, “Wh-who is this?” you asked, “Do you fucking know what time it is?”

The identical voice of your passed companion echoed back, “In life you knew me as Marlene Jeong.”

You hung up the phone fast and sat up straight. Her hands trembled and the phone screamingly made another phone call from the same unknown number.

You answered it and heard her shriek, “Don’t you know hanging up like that is rude.”

You took a deep breath in. And shut your eyes. No. It couldn’t be.

“This prank isnt funny,” you barked into the receiver.

“Well I’d hope not. You know I wasn’t a fan of funny,” she grumbled back.

You picked up the phone and huffed, “If you’re really Marlene...tell me something only I would know...”

The phone went quiet and clicked off. You smirked, 'Yea, that's what I thought you sick fuck.'

The air around you grew colder. With the power out you accepted that the central heating was out too. Getting out of bed you stumbled down the hall to the linen cupboard and pulled out a few more thicker blankets. When you returned back to your room you screamed and jumped ten feet in the air, dropping the load of blankets.

Marlene was sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. She was not herself and yet was at the same time. She looked the same except for the fact her entire body was a light blue and translucent. She was naked. And you could see her translucent organs. In her hand was a false spiritual cigarette. Smoking rising from the tip and faded into the darkness. And don’t let me forget a important detail. She was floating and parts of her body wrapped in chains.

Hearing you, she turned her face away from your phone and winked. You slammed back into a wall, trying to get away from her as she floated closer to you. She took a mean drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke into your fear filled face. You could’ve fainted. The smoke didn’t smell like anything and was rather a cold breeze to your cheek.

You flinched and whimpered, “Marlene...what the fuck.”

She smirked and rolled mid air upside down,

“Long time no see. Or well...you can’t see me but I see you basically every day,” she cackled.

Your lips fell apart, “Wha-how- why...why are you hear? Should you be dead?”

She flicked the cigarette of ash that turned into blue light specs and disappeared before touching the floor.

“Oh trust dear, I’m dead, dead as a doornail. Little Kyong gave me a killer orgasm, literally,” she took another long drag, “I had no clue what was coming and poof! I’m on the floor choking and groaning and next thing I wake up to, is you moving your shit into my office and my penthouse. But I digress sweet snake...I’m not here on a social call...I’m here to send you a warning.”

Your head felt dizzy, “A warning? The fuck? Am I going to die soon or something?” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

She smiled and shook her head, “Oh no...no, no....something a tad more painful. See, I have been sent to play 'angel Gabriel' so to speak and inform you of a supernatural message.”

She floated around, chains at her wrist dragged behind her as she did. Marlene sharpened her gaze at you.

‘Woah did I take one too many Percocet with my wine...I must be high.’

“You are saveable unlike my dead cold self,” she said flying back to your bed and lewdly laying down, “My dead frozen heart could not thaw,” she sighed and tapped her chest.

You could see inside her at the organ most resembling heart was literally made of icy and was not beating. It was disturbing.  

“I’m destined to float while tethered to the world unseen, unheard, unloved…forgotten. But you? You still have a chance to atone. A spirit shall arrive and come to you in three shades…Christmas past, present and future. It shall greet you hourly between one and three o’clock.”

You timidly stepped closer.

“You need to open your mind and open your heart or else-“ she floated above you and groaned, “This will be your future fate.”

You rubbed your eyes and slapped your cheek. Marlene’s ghost was still there. She held up her wrist, showing off the manacle around it, “This is a fate no one wishes, trust me on that.”

Her face leant in closer to your face. Her hair floated around her like water tendrils.

She rattled the chains together, clinking them and explained, “The spirit will test you. And they will test you fairly. They will decide what to do with you after. They call themselves, Christmas past, present and future.”

When she had said these words, Marlenes ghost faded away, disappearing into the cold, quiet night. It took you a few minutes to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe or make sense of it and no matter how many times you pinched of slapped yourself, you found yourself still in the unexplainable dream. You tossed the blankets from the floor onto the bed. You had another drink of wine before you chose to return to bed. You tugged the warmest and softest blanket up to your chin. You were scared and confused. Your eyes grew heavier as you forced yourself to forget and ignore the apparition of Marlene chained nude and talking in riddles.

You laid your cheek into the pillow and fell into a deep slumber.

HELPINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline services

India Helpline Services

[uselesssomebody]

𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕪 - bucky barnes x reader

complete masterlist | mcu masterlist | bucky barnes masterlist

words || 𝟠𝕜

summary || in which the reader's holiday is hijacked

a/n || new years eve post besties. but it's late and i rushed it.

➵ not yet proofread 

➵ send me requests if you have ‘em. enjoy!

warnings || fluff/angst

when she'd said 'merry christmas, and happy holidays!' to her last customer for the evening, she hadn't expected it.

when she'd bid her sole employee an early farewell, reminding her to spend time with her family, she hadn't expected it.

when she'd finished locking up her store, gotten into her car, and had finally parked in her driveway, marveling at the beautiful lights she'd put up. she really hadn't expected it. 

she had expected her boyfriend - the one with whom today would have been her third christmas eve - to be snuggled onto the couch, languidly kissing at his special someone's cheeks and neck. she just hadn't expected that person to not be her.

she looked in horror at the sight: her boyfriend, far too cozy with another girl that she didn't even know, too preoccupied with her to even notice his actual girlfriend coming up.

his name falls from her lips in shock, unable to process it, and he finally jerks, turning, a bewildered expression on his face, somehow shocked by her reaction.

"babe? oh, shit - oh, shit-" he mumbles, rising to his feet in an instant, the girl next to him looking just as confused as her.

"what - what is this?" she's on the verge of tears, but she won’t give him to satisfaction, swallowing the growing lump in her throat.

"it's not - it's not what it looks like, babe, i swear-" when she opens her mouth to smite him, to curse, to scream, all that comes out is a sob, a whisper of her sadness echoing in the house.

"get out. get out!" her eyes have welled up, and she can't particularly see him or the girl, furiously grabbing the things he had strewn around the living room - some may have even been hers, but she didn't much care - and desperately flinging the front door open, throwing them out. she can hear the ghost of his pleas in the back of her head, but his voice sounded akin to nails on a chalkboard, "get out - oh, god - please, just leave." for a moment, he goes silent, before complying, just hesitating for a moment to grab his coat, before leaving. the girl had since risen from the couch, a litany of apologies and 'i didn't know!'s spilling from her lips. though it comforted her - only slightly - she pleaded that the girl leave as well. it takes minimal convincing, and she closes the door behind her, a final sorry left hanging in the air.

it rang out in the empty house.

though she'd tried not to cry in front of them, when she'd had the house to herself, she'd sworn she'd cried for the whole of christmas straight. she'd cried whenever she'd looked at their christmas tree, the one they both had helped decorate. she'd cried as she'd attempted to bake gingerbread cookies, not even her passion stirring any feasible ounce of delight in her. and she'd cried as she'd rewatched the holiday for the first time that season - though she could find a bit of sympathy in her cause from what had happened to both amanda and iris.

she, at least, found some solace in the fact that she could take a break from work. her employee was planning a long trip to see her parents and her boyfriend's - sob - parents. and, it'd be easy enough to increase her bakery's closing period from the three-day christmas weekend to a week. she had no pending orders, everyone having licked her supplies clean as the new year approached.

in fact, it was her first break in over two years. she'd been working non-stop for the past couple building her bakery, creating a customer base and making delicious goods for the population of the city. all that while juggling a relationship had left her constantly exhausted, with not a moment to rest her weary bones.

she reminded herself of the movie she'd been watching, and how amanda's character similarly struggled with her work-life, and her boyfriend. all that culminated in, similarly, her boyfriend cheating, and what did she do?

well, she thought to herself, a holiday sounded lovely. getting out of town, to a small cottage, far away from others and able to have a christmas in her own company. she'd binge watch all the christmas movies her boyfriend hated, bake all the goods that he'd berated, and make new memories that weren't unnecessarily belated.

and, though she didn't hold out hope for a lovely graham to whisk her away from her sadness, she wasn't sure what surprises her holiday would bring.

though she would occasionally feel uncomfortable booking places to stay with airbnb, she'd found a stellar offer that had just what she'd been looking for: a one-bedroom cottage, far away from the main city center. she figured she'd grab everything on the way there to last her a few days, and then not interact with, well, anyone, until she had to come back.

her flight was booked and she was at the airport by the next night. a breeze had made its way into the airport somehow - or the heating was minimized, but whatever - so she was fully bundled into several layers of clothing as she boarded the flight.

as quickly as she'd discarded the layers on the flight, she'd flung them back on before exiting, soon greeted by the equally chilly air of her destination. she'd booked a taxi to her cottage, and the drive was simple enough. an older gentleman sat in the front seat, far too cheery for her own peace of mind, but just enough for her to crack a smile a few times as he made a joke or recounted a story. she'd waved him goodbye as he'd dropped her off, right in front of the gated driveway.

the gate was easy enough to open, and she quickly checked her texts in one hand as her other gripped her suitcase just a bit tighter. sam, the owner, seemed to be a lovely host, though a bit anal over her cleaning up after herself. not much of a problem for her, though, as she wasn't exactly planning on leaving it a mess anyway. he'd reminded her that the keys for the place were in a small box by the door, for which he'd also given her a code. she'd fished it out with her fingertips, her hands freezing a bit, and she hastily jammed it into the lock and turned the handle. the door swung open with a loud creak, and she stepped out of the cold and into almost a burst of warmth.

the interior was almost all wooden: wooden walls and floor, wooden furniture and - well, maybe not wooden, but still a rustic brown - counters. there were throw pillows and faux furs strewn on every available surface, all pointed towards a large fireplace in the living room.

she's as excitable as ever, and she's sure it's the first time she's felt properly giddy in the past few days. she hangs her coat on the rack, gently placing her suitcase down by the couch, and practically ran to the bedroom - minimally furnished, but with a large, comfortable spread. in fact, the whole place opted for comfortable over showy, and she was in love with it. she peeled off her sweater, tentatively sliding under the covers, and practically sinking into the sheets.

sam wilson had saved her christmas. she'd have to send him a basket, alongside with her payment.

bucky barnes was not a man to feel close to collapsing, but his last mission had emotionally drained him. worse, as much as he'd been looking forward to getting back to the tower, and maybe grabbing a beer with steve or sam, he was in for an unfortunate surprise.

"buck?" sam's voice rang in his ear, and it made him snap his droopy eyes open, sitting farther upright as his eyes refocused on the empty country road.

"yeah, sam?" his voice is gruff, and he knows that sam's aware of his condition.

"we can't fly you in; their cataloging any flights in and out-"

"what?" bucky's car jerks to a stop as he pulls over, unable to believe what he's hearing. the city he was in was practically in the pocket of a national gang, of whom he'd just infiltrated and stopped a major plan from occurring. they were on high alert for him, but he figured he'd already be back in new york by the time they'd even realize who he was, "why can't you use that ship - the one that becomes invisible-" usually, sam would laugh at bucky's inability to remember the names of their tech, but he found himself too sympathetic for the guy this time.

"it's still being repaired, remember what happened in siberia?" how could bucky forget the mission that essentially blew one of their ships out of the sky? he just figured it wasn't that ship, "but don't worry: we've got a safehouse that should be set up for you about 12 miles east from your current location." bucky's brows furrowed.

"a safehouse?" bucky wasn't aware that the avengers had any one of those: he'd never used one before.

"yeah, stark's got a lot of random, small properties he owns all over the world. shield uses them as safehouses if necessary. it's a nice place, just hole up for a bit until we figure this all out, alright?" bucky bit back a groan.

"yeah, yeah, sure." even without the groan, sam could hear the ice in his voice.

"uh... merry christmas, buddy?" okay, then he groaned.

"go fuck yourself, sam."

she jolted up from her seat on the couch, gently snugged into the cushions as a mug of hot chocolate teetered at her lips, coming dangerously close to spilling all over her, as she heard a car pull over in the driveway. she peered out of the window, and saw a sleek black vehicle, a tall brunet stepping out of it, seemingly on the phone with someone. her eyes widened.

a home invasion? goddammit, this wasn't even her place; just her luck that she'd be burgled on her holiday. she wasn't quite sure what to do, but she sprinted to the kitchen, grabbing a heavy pan that she'd used to cook her eggs that morning, before ducking behind the small bit of wall between the counter and the entrance to the kitchen. it was far too close to the front door for comfort, but she didn't really have time to go any further. she hears his steps onto the porch, but he stops, lingering at the door for a moment. she can hear him continue to talk, but can't decipher what he's saying.

on the other side of the door, bucky was furiously looking around for the keys to the place, with sam on the end a bit confused as to why they weren't in the designated box for them.

"look, buck - uh, whatever. i think there's an extra one in the potted plant hanging from the top - ya see it?" bucky glanced up, and sure enough, there was a decorative potted plant above him. he reaches into it, fishing for the keys, and grasps the metal, pulling his fingers out, alongside a solid pinch of dirt.

"yeah, i got it, sam. i'll let you know once i'm done settling in." sam cheerily agrees, attempting to soften the annoyance of his friend. the line clicks off, as bucky places the key in the lock.

she hears this, and wonders if he's lock-picking. she's also wondering if that would fuck up the lock - shit, she was definitely losing her deposit.

the door swings open with a hearty creak, and she hears him step inside. she doesn't peek over the side of the wall, though she wants to, and she clutches the pan to her chest, barely breathing.

he can hear her, though. he can hear the sound of a beating heart, the sound of shaky, small breaths, and the sound of clothes rustling as her chest rises and falls. he grits his teeth, wondering if the gang had managed to intercept his comms, and had set up camp to ambush him. he hesitates for a moment, before turning the corner at lightning speed.

she hears him, raising the pan as high as it will go, and bringing it crashing down over his chest. except, the impact never occurs as - as though with superhuman reflexes - he catches her arm, pushing her almost painfully into the counter. he's got a cold - almost scary look on his face, but upon hearing her pained whine as her back made contact with the glossy, hard material behind her, both his expression and his grip soften.

"i'm sorry - oh, i'm so sorry - please, just don't hurt me - take whatever you want, i-" she cuts herself off with a sob, and his countenance completely shift, from one of wariness to that of confusion.

"what - ah, shit." he releases his hands, taking the pan from her light grasp and setting it down. she doesn't want to look up at him, but she wonders why he hasn't started taking things or hurting her, "just - goddammit - just come with me, okay?" she wrenches her body away from him.

"i'm not going anywhere with you!" he sighed: of course, why would she?

"look, will you just-" he fished into his pockets, and her eyes widened again, trying to book out of the kitchen. she doesn't get anywhere, though, fruitlessly struggling against the door that was his torso. he'd finally managed to procure his shield identification, showing it to her to prove that he wasn't some low-level criminal, "there, i'm not here to hurt you." she glanced down at the card. though she wasn't quite sure what 's.h.i.e.l.d.' was, she knew that the government seal on the card looked official enough. she finally stopped struggling.

"what - uh, is this house - or am i under arrest-?" her mind rushed with questions, and he can extend some sympathy to her obviously frazzled state. in the few short seconds he had, he'd glanced at the hot chocolate, the book by the coffee table, and the snack on the counter: this girl had not a clue what was going on.

"i've - uh, i've gotta ask you a couple questions, yeah?" she swallows nervously, but nods. he gestures to the couch, and he takes a seat on one of the other chairs in the living room. he opened his cell, calling sam and putting him on speaker, letting the phone rest on the table between them.

"hey, buck? place isn't too bad, is it?" bucky suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 

"there's a civ in the safehouse. you're on speaker, care to explain what we should do?" she looked between the phone and the man - buck? - as she tried to process the situation. this place was a safehouse?

"a civ? i don't-" the man on the other end went silent, and bucky looked at the phone in confusion, "oh. oh."

a terrifying conclusion dawned on sam. there was a bustling on his end, as he frantically attempted to find natasha. thank all his lucky stars, she was on the other end of the controls room, assisting in an hostage situation clint was solving. he'd just got the hostages out, and nat assumed a moment of reprieve, stretching her arms to get more comfortable, when she heard sam practically screaming for her. 

"sam? what? what's going on?" sam panted, gesturing to his cell, of which both bucky and his current housemate could still hear him.

"which of those places did we rent out? number 212 or 112?" she's confused by the question, but opens up an adjacent tab, checking their bookings. 

"2 - 212!" sam curses, collapsing into the chair next to her. 

"sam? what's going on?" bucky holds the phone closer to him, and her eyes widen.

"wait, sam? like the guy who owns this place?" bucky furrowed his brows at her before swallowing, light understanding glossing over his expression. 

"alright, wilson explain yourself." he heard a hard swallow from his friend on the other side. 

"okay - fuck, okay. look, this job doesn't pay well, right? i'm always complaining to you about it?" bucky doesn't respond, "anyways, s.h.i.e.l.d.'s got a bunch of these safehouses that practically no one uses, and so we figured that it wouldn't be any harm to occasionally rent them out. we booked someone for this place - 212 - but when i was talking to you, i misread the location, and assumed i'd routed you to 112. so - yeah. she's not a spy or anything, definitely a civilian." 

upon hearing sam's monologue, they both sighed deeply. 

"alright, so. what do we do? why don't you just find another one nearby?" bucky's quick to respond, just wanting to get out of this situation as soon as possible.

"right, yeah, of course. uh - just one little problem with that." bucky, once again, doesn't verbally respond, but does close his eyes in annoyance, "uh, yeah, there are no other available places." bucky glances up for a moment, at her almost distraught face, and sighs.

"'lright, wilson, you've done enough for now." before sam has an opportunity to respond, he hangs up, sighing as he chucks the phone on the table. he leans back a bit further, as she settles further into the cushions. she looks down - worse than him, somehow, so he clears his throat, "look, i'm sorry about - uh, back there. if i hurt you." she shook her head.

"no - it's, uh, it's fine." her eyes flick to his for a moment, but she looks away just as quickly. she's not quite sure what to say, but swallows her slight annoyance at the disrupting of her solitude, and tries to look at him. she gives him her name, holding her hand out for him to shake, "i - i suppose it's nice to meet you." she'd perfected a customer service voice, and she layered it on just slightly when speaking to him. 

"yeah - my name's bucky." he says after a moment of hesitation, but figures that there's not much else to do, considering that they were essentially stuck together. she looked around, wondering what to say next, when she glances back at the kitchen. 

"have you eaten yet?" 

she'd made her way to the kitchen after he'd confessed, needing a bit of prompting, that he hadn't eaten - at least, not anything substantial - for quite some time. a burger that he'd grabbed at the drive-thru at a nearby mcdonald's - as she so readily reminded him - did not constitute a proper meal. 

after staring at her now empty spot on the couch for a moment, wondering what had just happened, he'd gotten up, following her. she'd already opened the fridge, and he nearly smacked into the door as she rummaged in it. he watched her take three trips, pulling out an assortment of vegetables, some cream, and cheese. then, from the pantry, she pulled out a few more ingredients, and he watched in near-wonder at the quick pace at which she was working. 

"uh - what're you doing?" she glanced back at him for just a moment, furrowing her eyebrows as if it was obvious. well, it was, it's just that he wasn't particularly used to seeing people cooking - believe it or not, barely any of the avengers make good cooks. especially steve. 

"well, i like to think i made a great creamy pasta and -" she poked her head up from finding a pan in one of the cupboards, "i suppose i'm letting you be the judge of it. not really much of a cook otherwise." bucky found it hard to believe that, and laughed lightly at the comment. 

"i'm sure you're better than me." he mumbles it under his breath, and he's not sure she'd heard it over the sound of her beginning to chop up vegetables, "wait - uh, here, let me." she looks back at him when he lightly stops her movement. he discards the thin jacket he's got on, putting it on the rack, and he comes back in a short-sleeved black shirt. she's not even paying much attention, as she's turned to begin washing the pasta, when she sees him settle in beside her. she glances over as he grips as the bell peppers, neatly slicing them, when a sort of hiccup-gasp leaves her mouth. he doesn't look at her in confusion, though, owing to the fact that he was expecting it, "helps with cutting," he attempts a joke, flexing the fingers of his metal arm slightly higher as if to show them off.

"hmm? oh, right, of course." she looks like she had to remind herself to look away from it, clearing her throat and forcibly turning her head. 

they made a surprisingly good pair, and in record time, not only is their pasta finished and plated, but the both of them are also holding fun, though discreet, conversation. 

after all, she wasn't exactly particularly keen to disclose her relationship status, and he - well, he was technically a federal agent, and to mention much more, he was sure, was essentially treason.

so, instead, she discussed her job, and the various customers she was dealing with, as well as the desserts she was baking up. bucky found it to be, initially, a far simpler and more quaint life than his, until he realized how much some of her customers sounded like director fury should things stray from script on missions. similarly, he would tell her about his own band of friends - the good, the bad and the ugly of their adventures.

though she still found some annoyance towards sam, she had to admit - the guy did sound cool.

as they wrapped up, the sun had set, and the cold of the winter had begun to seep into the cottage. bucky, however, seemed practically unphased as she chattered away in the cold and - soon enough - she realized why. when she'd brushed past him to place the dishes into the sink - god! he felt like a furnace, and she really had to resist the urge to fall into him and finally put her out of her cold suffering. 

she was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of the door clicking unlocked. without a word, he had fought to go back out into the snowy evening, and she watched him trudge to his car at the end of the driveway, mouth a little agape. he hadn't even put his jacket back on - for christ's sake - and for a moment she worried his arm would practically short-circuit or die in the wet cold - much like her phone sometimes does. 

no, instead, he simply pulled a large cloth from out of the backseat, and she averted her gaze quickly as she turned around, turning towards her suitcase and opening it gently, rifling through it for a pair of woolen socks and a jacket, sweater of something warmer than the full-sleeved, cotton top she had on. 

he comes back in, a gust of cold air accompanying him as he does so, and she glances back at him, noticing the similarly large sweater in his own hands. 

"way too cold, isn't it?" she mumbles, realizing they were both looking for the same thing. he looked down at the neatly folded sweater by her and nodded, a small smile on his lips.

"yeah - definitely." she can hear him walk over to the couch, and, finding her book still there, he's careful to slot his finger between the last two pages she was on and hand it back to her, "uh - would you like this back?" she turns, a bit confused, but takes it from him anyways. she watches, then, as he seems to make himself a bit too comfortable on the couch - and that is when she protests.

"wait, are you - no, absolutely not: go sleep on the bed." she sounds a bit like her mother, and she's sure bucky hears it too, because he looks up at her in slight amusement. 

"no, don't worry about it; after all, i'm the one hijacking your vacation, right?" he attempts to make a joke, but it doesn't change the look on her face.

"you're the one back from some - i don't know - top secret foreign mission, right? you deserve a good night's rest." it's a bit comical, the both of them arguing over this.

"well, you've already made up for that with the dinner." he smiles at her, and god - had he been that gorgeous previously as well?

"which you helped make..." she swallows a bit after her mumble, taken aback by her realization about the man in front of her. 

of course, she'd noticed he was attractive. but that was a bit more subdued when he'd knocked her against a counter. then, it'd been further subdued by her annoyance at the loss of her lonely vacation. but now, after an evening of laughs and smiles - of homely activities and domestic pleasures, she found herself wanting to hold his gaze for longer - if only to lose herself in his pale eyes. 

"well, if you want me to take it, you'll have to carry me there, which - well..." he gestured between the both of them, trailing off, and the ghost of a smile fell over her lips, cracking the otherwise determined expression on her face. 

"but -" she caught herself, sighing instead, "alright, then. i'll - ugh, i'll take the bed." though she'd obviously gotten a better deal, she almost sounded as if she had it worse. 

she bids him a goodbye - and, though it was an early night for both of them, she was knocked out soon after dimming the lights.

she supposed a near home invasion would do that to ya. 

she feels a bit lost, looking outside the door of the cottage. there's something in the distance - she can't tell exactly what - but, as it nears, she can make out the 4 distinct limbs of a man. she swallows, unsure of whether to scream at the oncoming person, to run from them, or to hide. she decides on the latter, curling into a little nook between the couch and the wall, peeking for just one last moment over the window to see what distance he'd made. 

he was already at the door - and there was a knock. she couldn't see his face - nothing but an almost lecherous smile. there's another knock, and then another, and then she hears a faint shout. it doesn't sound aggressive - rather, it was almost scared. she held her breath as the shouts became louder and more agonized and she just knew she had to help him. she had to help him, she just had to help him-

she sits bolt upright, gasping as she realized she'd been dreaming. that allowed her a moment of calm, until she realized the shouts she was still hearing weren't the echoes of the ones in her dream, but rather ones she was hearing from the living room.

she scrambles to her feet, almost tripping over her covers, before flinging open her door with a rather loud bang. usually, she'd wince and hope it hadn't hit the wall in any harmful way, but she was so focused on figuring out what had happened that she couldn't have cared less. she turns the corner and the couch comes into view. 

the ringing in her ear hadn't even allowed her to realize that the shouts had stopped, as bucky had been awakened from his fitful slumber by her opening the door. she saw his hands over his face, the metal allowing the flush on his cheeks to cool.

"bucky?" she mumbles it - suddenly feeling intrusive.

"hmm?" he mumbles from behind his hands, before wiping his face and widening his eyes, forcing himself awake, "i'm alright." for a moment, she listens to his shallow breaths even out, standing a bit awkwardly in the doorway, before making her way towards the kitchen. he actually doesn't notice, assuming she'd gone back to bed, and he swallowed heavily in guilt of waking her up. 

there's a dull replay of his dream in his ears, so he doesn't hear her as she walks up, lightly setting down something by him. only when she gently touches his shoulder, does his face snap up, eyes meeting hers. she handed him a mug, warm to the touch - though her smile feels warmer. 

she turns to the other side of the couch, prompting him to raise his legs to make space for her, before also sitting down. the looks at the mug, seeing a sweet-smelling, brown liquid face him, and he hears her sip.

"um - hot chocolate tends to help me with them." she gestures to his cup, speaking almost shyly. 

"them?" he asks, his brows furrowed.

"nightmares." she clarifies, taking another sip. he blinks, wondering how she'd figured, but decided against asking, taking a shaky breath before sipping on the drink. 

it filled his chest with warmth, the cold of his thoughts almost melting as he glanced at her. she wasn't looking at him, so he allowed his eyes to, similarly, drink her in. her hair was a bit of a mess, and her eyes had puffed up a little because of her rest - and she was smiling. she did it a lot, he realized, and this one looked a little hesitant, as if she was expecting something. he cleared his throat.

"it's nice." she meets his gaze.

"i'd hope so." 

he hopes she won't ask him any questions and, to her credit, she doesn't even speak much. she's glancing between her drink, the couch and him, and he's curious as to what she's thinking.

her eyes were lingering on the many scars on his bare chest, finding a deep sadness in it. the skin of his metal shoulder was littered in them, and she wondered how he'd gotten the arm. she knew better than to ask, but she became further interested in the truly mysterious man in front of her. 

both of their drinks dwindled, but it didn't prompt conversation. in fact, she'd taken his drink without a word once he'd finished, and was ready to go back to bed in a similar fashion, when his voice stopped her. 

"thank you." she's not sure if she's meant to hear it, but it makes her smile, allowing his thanks to soothe her mind after his shouts. 

the next morning, she was woken up to the smell of toast and eggs, and she, rather groggily, takes a moment to freshen up in the bathroom, before joining him in the kitchen. 

"how'd you sleep?" she asked, as she'd opened the fridge to help take out the butter. 

"perfectly." she assumes it's a joke - as, well, duh - but he was in fact, very serious. 

many of his nights were littered with not only one nightmare, but several, and he'd anticipated more after he'd closed his eyes once more. though, maybe because of the hot chocolate (though he felt more inclined to think it was just her), his affliction did not reappear. 

they ate and, afterwards, she'd taken over the couch, while he'd gone into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. seeing him tucked in there, she checked her phone, and, seeing a few rather worried messages from her mother, she decided to give her a ring. 

her mother was more than relieved to hear back from her, but that joy dissipated quickly at the knowledge of why her daughter had become so distant. 

"he did what?" her mother was furious and, though she wanted to, refrained from reminding her daughter that she had, in fact, found herself to be distrusting of her boyfriend. 

"on christmas, ma! can you believe it?"

"so what did you do?" she counted her lucky stars at the strong woman she'd raised when her daughter recounted her banishing the disloyal bastard. 

she'd been sure to speak quietly and, figuring as even the shouts from last night had been massively muffled by the bedroom door, and that bucky was behind not one, but two doors, her personal life would remain just that - personal. 

of course, she wasn't exactly privy to the fact that bucky's hearing wasn't exactly mortal. he'd nearly nicked himself shaving as he'd heard her recount the story, his eyes widening, and then his chest depressing in sympathy for her rather horrible ordeal. 

when he'd come back out - though he was no actor - he'd given no specific indication that he was aware of anything. okay, maybe he'd acted a little overtly stupid, but she'd bought it, continuing to flip through the pages of her book. 

around mid morning, as she'd begun to look in the fridge for lunch preparations, she realized how low she was running on goods. after all, she'd only bought enough for herself over the course of the week, unaware of the second person the home would be housing. 

so, after lunch, bucky had offered to drive her to the nearest market - going against her initial plan of calling a cab. he figured he owed that much to her after the previous night and - hey, she wasn't exactly going to turn down the offer. 

the car was bigger on the inside than it looked, but she still felt impossibly close to the man in the driver's seat, sinking further into the plush cushion of the passenger. they'd made light conversation about the scenery on the twenty-odd minute drive, but the majority of it had been left with the radio faintly playing in the background.

after they'd parked, she'd swaddled herself into the scarf she'd brought, and quirked her brow when she saw him wear a pair of sunglasses. sure, the sun was out, but she supposed she wasn't accustomed to seeing them in winter. 

he'd waited as she'd closed the car door, and patiently stood on the balls of his feet as she tried to remember the way to the outdoor market she'd been to previously. once she had, though, he's quick to follow her. 

the place was bustling, with people walking up and down, a great deal of chatter in the air. vendors called for her and him, attempting to entice them towards their goods. one of them had stepped in front of her in the hopes of convincing her to pay for a necklace she'd less than glanced at a moment ago, and she only manages to circumvent him due to the firm grip that bucky suddenly wrapped around her hand, pulling her closer to him to avoid the other man. 

in fact, this was a great help, his large body pushing through the crowd while making sure she didn't lose her way, and they were at the fruit vendor in record time. she glanced around, looking for the freshest fruits available, urging him to do the same. 

she was quick to pick up some apples and bananas, some grapes and clementines. he contributed by picking up some plums, citing them as his favorite fruit, and she teased him by saying 'dude, peaches are definitely better'.

they'd made their way over the market, picking up fresh produce and ingredients. there was a small flower vendor at the end of the street, and she dreamily looked over the bouquets of irises tucked a little farther to the back, roses and tulips dominating the front of the shop. 

the first time she'd watched the holiday with her boyfriend, he'd bought her the flowers as a homage to her favorite character in the film. he'd mentioned that the woman who'd sold them to his said they were sometimes used to indicate faith and trust, and had let the sentiment hang heavily in the air. 

she gulped, averting her gaze, and hoping bucky hadn't noticed. if he had, he'd done a good job hiding it, and they're quick to make their way back to the car. 

as they get home, she's quick to unpack her groceries, telling him to settle down on the couch - maybe put on a movie. she hands him a fresh plum as she returns, a clementine in her own hand, and the first movie on the only english channel was the one they resorted to, cracking jokes at the campy nature of it. 

the sun begins setting as the credits roll, and he offers to make dinner. she agrees, only on the condition that she would adjacently bake a batch of cookies; how could he say no to that?

she'd unveiled more about her love for baking over the process, quick to swipe the mixing bowl away with a playful scolding when he'd attempted to dip his finger into the dough. he pouted, and she smiled, getting a spoon for him instead. 

god, it tasted good - and he wondered if he should be paying for them. 

the dinner's lovely - he's a better cook than he thinks - and his endless praise of her cookies makes her hope that he can't feel her flush when he reaches over her to grab another one. 

as he'd gone to the bathroom, she shifted her things to the couch, determined to get him to sleep on his bed, hoping it would minimize his bad dreams. she was already half-way asleep when he'd realized, and he looked at her a bit expectantly, as he crossed his arms. 

"what's this?"

"go to sleep, bucky." she mumbled back.

"you're gonna throw me off. i'll just be thinking about the fact that i left you to sleep on the couch. my ma didn't raise a son like that." she rolled her eyes a little, an obvious smile on her lips. 

"oh well. if you want me off, you'll just have to carry me." she recounts his ultimatum from before, smiling happily to herself, before turning so that she couldn't see him. she heard him hum behind her, and expected him to give up and walk back, but, instead, she heard increasingly loud footsteps.

she squeaks in shock at the feeling of him actually lifting her up, fully still swaddled in her blankets, and making the short trek with her to the main bed, setting her down shockingly gently. 

"there ya go." he smiles down at her, pursing his lips to avoid laughing at her confusion.

"huh - how did - what?" she looks up at him, still stunned by the effortlessness of his actions.

she scrambles back up into a sitting position, a small smile on your lips, but saw that his expression had turned just slightly sour in the meanwhile. she patted the space on the bed next to her, and he looked at her in shock, until she rolled her eyes and simple pulled him down into a sitting position.

"what're you-" bucky looked at her, trying very hard to maintain a victorian distance from her. she looks at his own hard expression with a curious one of her own.

"do you wanna talk about it?" she mumbled, gauging his reaction.

"what?" he hoped it wouldn't have come to this.

"your - uh, your nightmares? it tends to help me a lot when i could vent to someone about them and sort of rationalize the really bad stuff and -"

"no." his face's turned from hard to cold, finding himself suddenly defensive, "why would I ever want to do that?" her brows furrowed in shock: the outburst was nothing like what she'd previously seen out of him.

"what? i was just trying to help you!"

"you shouldn't be asking about personal things like that," he mumbles, as if he was chastising a young child.

"what, i can't want to help you after I hear you screaming bloody murder in the next room?"

"it's - it's personal! would you have appreciated me wanting to help you - to talk to you? about your issues with your boyfriend? of course not, it's personal!" he'd been looking away from her for the majority of this tangent, but when he finally turned around, his anger immediately softened. she had an aghast expression on her face, simultaneously bewildered as to how he could have possibly known about that, and also to how he would cross every single boundary they seemed to have established.

she contemplated leaving the room, finding some solace in a breath of fresh air, but he beats her to it, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him with panther-like silence.

the next morning, after a fitful night of annoyance, then anger, then worry, as to how this would all turn out, she’d risen to pin-drop silence. she’d climbed out of the bed sharply, quick to rub the sleep from her eyes, and left her room so quickly, she didn’t give herself much moment to fix her appearance. 

unfortunately, she had found no reason to have had to anyways, as the jacket that had hung by the door for the past few days had gone. there was no indication of a depression in the cushions of the couch, or any covers by it, and the pillows that had been placed there previously had disappeared, throw pillows neatly fluffed in their place. she peered past the slanted blinds, and the large black vehicle showed barely any sign of being there, save for the faint view of tire tracks, having grown hard to see under the continued heavy snowfall.

she sucked in a deep breath of solitude. and she hated it. 

the looked down at the phone in her hand, the glaring face of the date staring back at her. she released the balls of her feet, thumping down onto the barren couch - to spend new years eve alone. 

she wasn’t quite sure what to do. she’d watched a movie, and then two, and she hadn’t really cracked very many smiles and laughs. she’d listened to music and podcasts as she’d cooked, hoping to distract herself, but had found the meal to be a bit bland and unappealing by the end of it. finally, she’d settled down with a hot chocolate and a book, curling as far into the covers as she could. it was still early evening, and though she thought she’d be staying up this new year, she was now sure that she’d simply will herself to pass out by 8 or 9. 

her eyes had begun to flutter shut, and the book had become a little harder to read, when she heard a knock on the door. she took a moment to register it, and, by that point, there had been another knock. she got to her feet slowly, wary as she’d been the second day she was here. she peered through the blinds, and the car was back, leaving her to spring to the door with a more collected manner. 

she swung it open, and, seeing a very apologetic bucky behind it, the hard expression she’d been willing to put on faded. her eyes took in his slightly flushed, seemingly out-of-breath appearance and, believing it to be from the cold, she ushers him in. 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers to her, as she leans over to help him with his coat. 

“i know.” she mumbles back, and when he turns around, she can see a smile on his lips. 

“i’m serious.” he doesn’t really look it, but he is.

“i am too.” his metal arm, having been ducked behind him for the previous few moments, finally sprung out, and with it, too came the emergence of a small bouquet of blues and purples, and drooping petals of a handful of irises having come into her - suddenly ecstatic - view. she looks at them with a great deal of shock, unbelieving that her moment of reminiscence had been so observable for him. 

“i shouldn’t have said it - i’m sorry, i overstepped-” as he speaks, she gently takes the flowers from him, before swinging his arms around his neck, his large build, though having been in the cold, warming her from the freeze of the morning. he’s tentative at first, shocked by the gesture, until he realized the joy in her frame, and obliged, wrapping his arms around her. 

“you scared me in the morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

“i’m happy you’re here, you can stop saying sorry-”

“i’m sorry.” she detaches, a large grin on her face, and she’s quick to lead him to the couch, her hand not even close to enveloping his, but trying nonetheless. 

“didn’t realize how much i wanted a normal new years.”

“you think this is normal?”

“i’m spending it with someone who makes me happy. what could be more normal?” he felt a warmth in his chest form at her words, not shy to hold her close to himself as they found a comfortable position, wrapped in the heat of each other. 

there was only a few hours until the new year, and until a new beginning. one they hoped be true for the both of them.

when sam had called bucky early the next morning, it had been her who had heard it, the ringing of it on the nightstand by the bed shaking her out of her sleep. she reached over the still sleeping body of it’s owner to answer it, before shaking him awake so that he could take it. 

at first he found the gesture sweet, wanting to take a moment to appreciate her in her natural state, until that beautiful mood was slightly soured by sam’s teases. 

though, he was quick to be informed that the surveillance on flights had lowered significantly in the past few days, and that they were sending the quinjet down to pick him up. 

she’d been a bit surprised to hear the news, having hoped for more time for this new beginning to blossom, but realized the implications of entangling - truly - a stranger in a foreign land. though he didn’t seem all that strange, and the cottage didn't feel all that foreign.

they’d prepared breakfast in wait of the aircraft, and she’d made these amazing pancakes, ones he wouldn’t have minded gorging on a thousand times over. he’d asked her about how long her stay would be, and she pondered it for a moment too.

“i’m leaving by tomorrow. i’ve got to set up shop in a couple days anyways.” he’d asked her of the address, and she’d scribbled it down for him, promising him a free tray if he popped in between his top-secret missions. he’d laughed, pocketing the note, and kissing her cheek when he’d heard the aircraft’s discreet, but not quiet, turbines outside.

he’d entered it, an agent he wasn’t very familiar with piloting it, and he sat back when he decided to fish the note out. it consisted of an address that, not only he knew, but he was also very familiar with. 

with her bakery just about a stone’s throw away from the avenger’s tower, she’d seen a few of them jog by for a coffee or a morning donut. sometimes scott lang, sometimes clint barton, and many time happy hogan on behalf of tony stark. what she’d never expected, however, was her to have switched the sign from closed to open two days from then, and have a customer come in immediately. 

she’d never expected herself to feel excited by the sound of his voice, and have her eyes light up at his smile. 

she hadn’t expected to serve him, and have him convince her to sit with him, before any other customers came in.

and she hadn’t expected it to become a ritual between them, her even opening the shop just a little bit early to accommodate for his schedule. 

though, she supposed, she’d never really ever expected to have met him.

[promptthebear]

Kissmas Day 4

Prompt: Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

CW: Dom/Sub dynamic, the use of the word "Sir" in a BDSM type context, mild cursing and spicy but not explicit. Also Billy is kind of a sugar daddy

“What the hell are you wearing?”

You turned to face your fiancée, Billy Russo, who was standing in the doorway of your shared apartment. He had just come in from the snowy evening outside and had yet to take off his black peacoat, leather boots and matching charcoal hat and gloves. Even bundled up to his neck in wool and flannel, Billy still cut a striking figure. Everything had been tailored to fit, hugging his trim waist ever so slightly and accentuating the broadness of his shoulders.

“It’s a sweater” you finally replied, pausing to lick some of the cookie dough off the spatula you were holding. The way Billy’s eyes lingered on your lips and tongue certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

“You look like a Macy’s display. What was wrong with the Prada one I bought you?”

“Nothing” you said, turning back towards your bowl and reaching for the jar of cinnamon next to it “But I didn’t want to get it all messy while I was baking.”

“Wear an apron then,” Billy’s retort was half muffled as he reached inside the hall closet to hang up his jacket “Or better yet, nothing at all. You’re washable.”

“Any excuse to get me naked”

“Damn right, sweetheart.”

The ghost of Billy’s breath against your ear and the sudden feeling of his hands coming to snake around your waist almost had you jumping out of your skin. Even after four years living together, you’d often forget how quickly and quietly Billy could move…until he snuck up on you.

“Shit!” You cried, turning and smacking at his chest with the flat of your palm “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry princess,” Billy replied, his wide smirk suggesting he wasn’t sorry in the least “But you make it too easy”

“Such a fucking jerk,” you mumbled, already forgiving him as you slung your arms over his shoulders “How was your day?”

“Fine. That big client who we were scouting finally signed a contract with us, the new batch of trainees has been really promising and I found another little something for you on my way home”

You rolled your eyes, thinking back to the already massive pile of wrapped gifts under the tree in your living room. Despite Billy’s promises to go easy on the shopping this year, you knew he had about as much self control with his Amex card as a starving man in a steakhouse.

“Billllyyyy” you couldn’t help but let a little bit of a whine sneak into your voice “You’re spoiling me. I don’t need any more presents”

“Clearly, you do,” he replied, tugging at the bottom of your sweater “Or why else would you be wearing something like this?”

You glanced down at your torso. A glittery snowman surrounded by pompom snowflakes and embroidered candy canes stared back up at you through button eyes. The sweater in question had been a gift from your college roommate some years ago, though the two of you hadn’t kept touch after graduation. It wasn’t chic or stylish by any definition, but you had thought it was charming, in a kitschy sort of way.

“It’s cozy.” you said, looking up at Billy through your eyelashes and pulling an exaggerated pout “But I guess I’ll just have to be festive enough for the both of us, so we don’t compromise your carefully crafted image, Mr. Russo.”

“Watch it” Billy’s voice dipped low, taking on a gruff edge that sent a tingle down your spine. One of his hands had travelled down to grab your ass, a warning of things to come if you kept teasing “Bratty girls don’t get Christmas presents.”

“Sorry” your voice was a breathy whisper, your mouth so close to Billy’s you could smell the drink he must’ve had a lunch today. It was a stronger liquor than you favoured, and the way it blended with the spicy tang of his cologne made your head spin

“Sorry…what?” he was almost growling now. The hand on your ass squeezed, making you gasp softly.

“Sorry, Sir.”

Billy grinned at you, white, wide, and devastatingly beautiful. You could feel his fingers start to twine in your hair, and the sound you made when he pulled your head back made him chuckle softly. He leaned down, bringing those perfect teeth mere inches from the column of your neck.

“Mmm. I wonder, do you taste as good as you smell right now?”

“You won’t know unless you try.”

That was all the incentive Billy needed. He bit down against your skin, none too gently, giving you no time to prepare for the pleasurable agony that followed. You all but whimpered, already beginning to tremble underneath Billy’s touch. He laved his tongue over the spot, soothing the pain as quickly as it had started.

“So sweet for me, like a Christmas cookie. Would you like that? If I covered you in frosting and licked it off?”

You tried to babble a response, please, thank you, yes sir, very much sir, but your brain all but short circuited when Billy pressed his mouth against yours. It was a rough, heady kiss, his tongue already pushing at the seam of your lips. You let him in without resistance, eager to take whatever he had to offer and then some.

It was all you could do to stay upright as Billy continued to lavish attention on you, each kiss more heated and electric than the last. You were about to suggest you take things to the bedroom, when you suddenly felt Billy’s hands push underneath your sweater. You gasped, in spite of yourself. Apparently he hadn’t had much time to warm up between now and when he came into the apartment. His fingers were freezing, and if the shit eating grin he was giving you was anything too go by, he knew it too.

“What the fuck” you whispered, emphatically. It was like someone had just run an ice cube down your spine. Billy couldn’t help but laugh at the betrayal in your eyes. As always, you made it too easy.

“Hey. I told you, I want it off”

“Yes Sir.”