#they didn’t just part ways guys it’s temporary I promise

[theofficialpresidentoftheusa]

And another thing!!! I see people confused about how and why Ed and Stede just let the crew go off like that when they just established that they’re family and that they’re going to work together to get revenge for Izzy.

I think all it is is that Ed and Stede need a break! They just want some time to be together and to start building their future together, and their future is not on that ship forever, their endgame is not piracy, that’s what they’ve determined. So while the crew sails and pirates regularly- probably gathering intel about the English, figuring out a good plan of attack- they stay behind and build something to come back to. And the crew will and does come back (regularly, in my mind at least)

Because I don’t think the inn will be just for Ed and Stede! I think it’s going to be a labor of love that they all participate in and all work on together incrementally. When the crew needs them, they’ll be there. And when Ed and Stede need the crew, they’ll be there too. At the end of it all, they’ll all be together. As the family that they are.

[prettyfastcars]

Owned | Mob!Lando - part 2

Read part 1 here

Summary: Lando finally gets what he wants. Sure he had to use crooked ways to get it, but all’s fair when one is in love, isn’t it? 

Themes: dark!mob!lando, breeding kink, smut, fluff, explicit language

“Did you do it?” 

You asked as you were both in bed in your apartment, your head resting on his chest while his hand gently caressed your back. Your fingers mindlessly toyed with the chain around his neck. 

Lando had been here with you every single night ever since you’d learned about your ex boyfriend’s tragic accident which happened on the same night you decided to break things off with him. 

That night, you two had an argument and it was messy. After that he stepped out for a walk, then unfortunately got hit badly. The days following the accident were rough. You called Lando the morning after, crying as you told him what happened. He told you not to worry and that he was coming to take care of everything. 

The moment he got there at your doorstep, everything passed by in a blur. You barely even remember the funeral, the headstone at the cemetery, mourning with your ex’s family. All you remember is Lando was right there. 

And now that all of that was over, now that you had taken time to work through your emotions and feelings, and now that you had a taste of normality again, you couldn’t help but ask that question. 

Lando sighed, “What makes you say that, baby?” 

He had taken every precaution. His guys had even made sure there were no cameras around where the ‘accident’ happened. 

“Just wondering,” You murmured. You went to get up, to pull away from him and get out of bed but Lando stopped you by rolling on top of you before you did. The heat of his body, the feeling of his warm skin against yours, suddenly you didn’t want to get out of this bed. Ever. 

“You think I would lie to you about something like this? You think I would put you through all this on purpose?” His pretty eyes looked down at you. His soft lips, his messy hair, that chain hanging from his neck slightly brushing against your chest as he hovered above you. “Hmm?” 

Of course, Lando knew he could never tell you the truth. It was better this way. He hated lying to you, but this was for your own good. He saw the way guilt immediately filled your eyes at the sound of his question. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “I think I need some more time to process everything.” 

As much as he hated the thought of you being engrossed in the thoughts of another man, he nodded, agreeing. 

He leaned in to kiss the corner of your mouth softly, “The kids miss you.” 

You gave him a slight smile then. “I miss them too.” He had told you that he had hired a temporary nanny for them, until you were ready to come back to work. He also said how they didn’t really like the new nanny and asked about your whereabouts each morning and night. “I’ll be back soon.” You promised. 

He moved his mouth on top of yours and kissed you passionately, biting your lip before shoving his tongue past your lips and kissing you like he’s famished. 

He’d been doing that a lot lately. Whenever he found you too deep in your thoughts, he’d find a way to distract you and make you forget for a while. Most of the time, you both ended up in bed. 

Like right now. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you kissed him back. You moaned and whimpered, your bare body squirming under his. Lando's mouth left your lips as he kissed his way down your body, pulling the covers away in the process until he settled in between your legs. His handsome face just inches away from your dripping core. 

“I miss having you in my home, you know that?” He whispered before he leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease. “I miss seeing your face when I get home from work.” 

Your body felt hotter and lighter as a pressing need to release formed deep inside you as you felt his tongue stroked your most sensitive parts. He looked up at you and found you with your eyes shut, head thrown back in pleasure. 

“Look at me.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble.

You opened your eyes and supported your upper body up, your elbows digging into the mattress. You watched how his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to him. He maintained eye contact as he licked in between your wet folds again, making you whine as he teased you. His touch was deliberately slow, and pleasurably agonising. 

“Come home with me.” He whispered before he teased your entrance with the tip of his tongue. His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud until you came undone, thighs shaking as he kissed his way up your body again, hovering over you.  

“I will,” You answered. “Soon.”

“How soon?” He leaned in to kiss you on the lips. 

“Maybe in a couple of days.” 

“You’re torturing me.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, “Am I?” 

“Yes,” He insisted. “I miss you.” He repeated. “When you come back to me, I’m never letting you leave my bed.” 

You giggled again, running your fingers through his soft hair as he leaned in to kiss you again. His hand slipped in between your legs with ease, caressing your inner thighs again. You couldn’t help but moan into the kiss given how sensitive you were. 

You squirmed under him, and Lando smirked through the kiss as he slid his cock easily into you, pulling your legs up to wrap them around his waist. You moaned out loud again as he filled you up entirely. 

He grabbed both your hands, laced your fingers together with his and pinned your interlaced hands down above your head, whispering as he fucked you slowly, “Gonna put a baby in you.” He gasped, “Then you’ll be mine forever.” He stared into your eyes, lips parted as he fucked you gently. 

His lips found yours again, swallowing your moans while he rolled his hips against yours. He pulled out and pushed himself back into you, and watched in awe how you squirmed under him. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He mumbled breathlessly as he pushed deeper into you. “You’d be safe with me, just us and the kids. Huh, baby?” 

“Yes…” You whined. 

He bit your lips, kissed your open mouth, and shoved his tongue past your lips while he pounded into you. Your legs trembled around his waist, he thrust deeper into you fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. 

“I can see it already,” He whispered, “You, walking around with a baby bump, in your little dresses,” He pressed the palm of his hand against your lower abdomen while he kept pounding into you incessantly. “I can’t wait to spoil you rotten, baby. I’ll worship your body even more than I do now, I’ll buy you anything you wanted, fuck I’ll do anything for you.” 

“Oh… Lando, please,” You whimpered. 

You tightened around him as you felt him quicken his pace, pounding into you. You felt the pressure in between your hips grow until you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

His hand toyed with your clit, making you tremble. “Come for me.” He murmured, his voice now deeper. “Take all that cum, it’s all yours, baby. All yours.” 

With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls. 

You couldn’t hold back anymore, and came with a loud moan.

Lando came right after you. He didn’t pull out, but remained buried inside you. Both of you catching your breaths and hearts racing in sync. You were a whimpering mess as he collapsed on top of you. 

“I fucking love you.” He whispered, breathless. 

- 

Lando left in the early hours of the morning. He hated leaving you, but his kids would need him. He left after giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He murmured against your skin. 

On his way home, Lando got his phone out and immediately pulled up the camera footage. These past days, you’d been sleepier than usual so he had ample time to bring his guys in and have them install even more discreet cameras all over your home. 

He didn’t see it as invading your privacy. But he had to make sure you were alright at all times, right? 

So he watched you as you slept. Warm and safe under your blankets. “Everything’s gonna be okay, baby.” He whispered as he watched you shift around until you found a more comfy position. “I’ll take care of you.” 

—

He couldn’t have been happier the day you decided to come back to work. Neither could he keep his hands off of you the moment the kids were napping during the day or sleeping at night. 

“You’re moving in with me,” He growled into your ear one night, as he fucked you from behind while you were bent over his desk again. He grabbed you by the hips, pulling your body into him each time he thrust into you. “I don’t want you living in that apartment anymore. You hear me?” 

You whined, barely able to hold on to the desk as he pounded into you. “I can’t…” You gasped, “I can’t just move in, I–,” 

“Why?” He barked, “Why can’t you?” He leaned over you, his damp, warm chest pressing against your back. “Hmm?” 

You turned your head to the side, gasping in pleasure as you tried to form a coherent sentence. “I can’t just… ” You desperately tried to get the right words out. “Maybe later, in a year or two if we’re still–,” 

“Years?” He growled, fucking you harder. Your body crashed against the desk with each of his thrust, and you moaned at how his cock reached all the right places. “And if we’re still what?” 

You whimpered when he bit down on your shoulder before pounding into you harder than before. “Together." You answered. "What if–,” 

Lando pulled out, pulled you up from the desk and twisted you around so you faced him. He did it so quickly you barely processed any of it. One moment you were bent over his desk and the next you were facing him with his hand wrapped around your throat. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked into his eyes. You secretly loved this side of him. Unpredictable. Wild. Dark. 

“What did you just say to me?” He whispered, his voice surprisingly deeper than you’d ever heard. It made you shiver. “You think there’s even a slight possibility that you won’t end up being mine forever?” He leaned in just enough so his mouth brushed against yours. “You think this is a joke, baby? You think I’m just messing around with you?” 

You trembled as he sat you down on the edge of the desk and slid his cock inside you again. The room was dark, the only light came from the dim scones on the wall and the moonlight coming in from the wide windows. Lando looked angry. 

He tightened his grip around your throat just enough to make you whimper again as he resumed fucking you. “You’re mine.” He hissed. “There is no if,” He kept fucking into you even as you came, moaning and whimpering as you clenched around his cock, “You will be mine forever.” 

You were too far gone, high on the orgasm he’d just given you that you didn’t hear the dark promise dripping from his words as he came inside you. 

— 

A couple of days later, one night as you put the kids to sleep, you received a phone call from a panicked neighbour of yours. What she said over the phone made you rush to Lando, trying to keep yourself from freaking out. 

You found him in his bedroom and you couldn’t help the tears then. 

“What’s going on, baby?” He wrapped his arms around you and held you until you were able to speak again. "What happened?"

“My neighbour called and… they’re being evacuated because–,” You took a deep breath, “My building is on fire, it’s… it’s pretty bad.” You sobbed, hugging him tightly. “My apartment, it’s all gone.”

“Hey, hey,” He cupped your face in his large hands and said, “Calm down, I’m here. Okay? I’ll handle this, baby. Don’t you worry.” 

You buried your face into his chest, sniffling. 

He hugged you tighter, kissing your temple and rubbing your back to comfort you. He hated it, being the reason behind why you were crying. But this was necessary, wasn’t it? You refused to move in with him because you liked your apartment. So he got rid of the apartment. The whole building in fact. 

“I’m sorry, baby.” He murmured against your skin as he repeatedly kissed your forehead while you cried on his shoulder. I had to do it. He thought. How else would we live under the same roof? 

—

You had no choice but to live with him after that incident. Apparently the authorities couldn’t find what started the fire, and any evidence was probably ash too. 

As much as you missed your cosy apartment, living with Lando was like being in a dream. 

You’d wake up in his arms, spend time with the kids, have breakfast like a family, then Lando would leave for ‘work’ and you’d kiss him goodbye at the door. You’d spend your entire day with the kids, reading, baking, playing in the yard. Then he’d come home and you’d spend the evening like a family again. 

After putting the kids to bed, Lando would always, always drag you straight to bed where you’d fuck until one of you passed out, then resume in the morning and repeat. 

Everything was perfect. 

And just weeks after moving in with him, you found out you were pregnant. When you broke the news to him, he was almost giddy with excitement. 

He refused to leave your side, to the point where he’d try to be home as much as possible and would only ever leave if something desperately needed his attention or intervention. 

Many times you’d find him in the kids’ playroom, talking to them about having a newborn baby around. They were all excited.

It had become impossible for him to keep his hands off you, especially once you started showing. “You’re too beautiful to resist.” He’d tell you. 

You would often wake up to find him wrapped around you, nuzzling your bump and kissing it. He would find you at random times during the day, and pull you into a room or drag you to his office or your shared bedroom and fuck you until you were both completely spent. 

“I can’t get enough of you.” He’d whisper each time. 

You noticed he would be extra careful with you. His touch was soft, he would always fuck you nice and slow, always looking at you to confirm he wasn’t hurting you and that you were enjoying it as much as he was. 

“You don’t have to be so careful all the time, you know?” You whispered to him one night, your hands running through his hair while he laid his head on your bump, kissing it occasionally. “I’m just pregnant, I’m not made of glass.” 

He left a kiss on your bump then lifted his head to look up at you. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” He whispered, “Or the baby.” 

You smiled at him, caressing his pretty face. “We’re okay. You worry too much.” 

He kissed his way up your body, his hips settling in between your legs again. You giggled as he slid inside you again. It was the third, or fourth, time tonight. 

“You never get tired these days, I see.” You whined, back arching off the bed slightly as his mouth latched on to your sensitive nipple while he moved in and out of you in a pace that made you lose your mind. He knew you were extra sensitive these days, and he took full advantage of that. 

–

Lando ended up hiring a helper to aid you in taking care of the kids. But the kind lady ended up doing all the work and you’d often find yourself with nothing but free time to do whatever you wanted. 

You went to Lando regarding this, and the moment you showed up in his office he pulled you onto his lap and helped you ride him instead. 

“This is a serious…” You gasped as he lifted your hips up before bringing you down his cock again, “...problem.” 

“Mhm,” He mumbled, lips wrapped around your nipple again. His hands held you by the hips and he slowly thrust up into you. “Is it?” 

“Yes,” You argued, placing your hands on his shoulders. You looked down and smiled at your growing bump, before you glared at him, “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? Told me she was just here to help when in fact you hired her to do my actual work.” 

He pulled his mouth away and smirked up at you. “You need rest, baby.” He thrust his hips up slightly harder, deeper each time until you were coming undone all over his cock again. It didn’t take much given how sensitive you were these days. When you both calmed down he said, “Now you have time to do all that you want.” 

“I’m gonna get lazy.” You mumbled as you cuddled up to his side, your bump always got in the way but Lando still got as close as he could to you, wrapping his arms securely around you. 

“You’re carrying our new baby, you’re allowed to be as lazy as you want.” He kissed you on the nose. 

“So what, I’m just gonna be here doing nothing all day? Just read, and bake and make babies for you?” 

“That’s not a bad idea.” He chuckled. 

"Whatever." You groaned, “I’m too tired to be angry at you.” 

He laughed. One of his hands reached out to caress your bump. “Let’s get you in bed.” He murmured against your forehead. “Okay, baby?” 

You nodded. 

–

By the time he got you cleaned up and in bed, you were already fast asleep. Lando checked on the kids one last time before climbing into bed with you. Pulling you close, he kissed you one more time. 

Everything was perfect, just as he intended. There were some secrets he would take to his grave with him, some he would never share with you. Some truths he would never let come out; mainly the accident, and the fire. 

But this right here was all that mattered, you and him together.��

[nyoomerr]

i think it’d be really funny if for a fic drabble it’s just hot food blogger luo binghe who’s dated every woman on the block scrambling cuz he thinks his boyfriend who hes totally gone for likes another man’s cooking more then his (jokes on him, shen yuan’s talking about HIS videos, he just doesn’t wanna admit it)

picky food critic sy and mean but brilliant chef lbh is one of my favorite pairings in the world, actually

---

Luo Binghe had always taken pride in both his cooking and his presentation. 

When he was younger, the meals he made served as a tribute to his mother. He ate well both because he knew she’d have wanted it for him and because the part of himself that would always be a hungry child of a poor single mother couldn’t stand the thought of being able to eat good food and choosing not to.

Then, when he was a bit older, cooking presented a new, more literal value: money. The daughter of a rich businessman had taken an interest in Luo Binghe from the meals he brought in to school, and Luo Binghe had by then already become wise to the fact that using empty-headed rich kids like her could pull a person out of the station they were born to. Luo Binghe used that girlfriend’s money to put himself through the first year of college; after that, he found someone with deeper pockets and won them over with his cooking as well. 

Well. Perhaps by that point Luo Binghe had learned how to win a woman over with more than just his cooking, but seduction was temporary. A woman would sleep with a pretty man that could promise to be a good lay; she’d only empty her wallet for a man who could measure up as something more permanent, and providing her with good food was the most surefire way to prove a man’s worth as a longterm boyfriend. 

So Luo Binghe cooked for his mother, and for his own hunger, and for the bills he had to pay by means of vapid girls who he cared little for but were easily swayed by good food.

After college, Luo Binghe became a chef, and then a sous chef, and then a head chef of a restaurant that he more or less controlled completely. He made a name for himself beyond being known as the pretty gold digger who’d dated half a dozen rich young ladies, and a wealth of his own that only multiplied when he began raking in advertiser’s money from blogging about his food on top of just selling it.

Luo Binghe’s food was good, and he knew exactly how to use it to position himself advantageously through life until he didn’t need advantages anymore. It had given Luo Binghe his life and his wealth and - most recently - his love, so Luo Binghe had no reason to feel anything but confidence in it.

“Binghe, can we have mapo tofu tonight? I’ve been craving some ever since I saw that video that’s been going around, ah, it looked so good…”

Luo Binghe feels his eye twitch. Nothing but confidence, he reminds himself.

“It’s rare for Shen-ge to want food he saw online,” Luo Binghe says sweetly, without answering Shen Yuan’s question at all.

“Is it?” Shen Yuan asks, not looking up from his phone. He’s currently sprawled inelegantly over Luo Binghe’s couch, giving Luo Binghe a perfect view of the way his shirt rides up, teasing him with a perfect sliver of Shen Yuan’s soft stomach. “I feel like I end up eating the food I see online way more frequently than the average guy, honestly.”

“Shen-ge frequently eats it; it’s rare for him to want to eat it,” Luo Binghe clarifies.

After all, this is how Luo Binghe had met Shen Yuan, the harshest food critic online. Luo Binghe had idly thought the small challenge of getting such a picky eater to endorse his food would have been good for his business, and invited him to try some. 

Shen Yuan had accepted. He’d then proceeded to eat Luo Binghe’s food with an enthusiasm, blissed out expression, and a symphony of erotic noises that had Luo Binghe, known playboy and talented sex-haver, feeling as if he’d just experienced the sexual awakening of a teen facing their first set of nudes.

That was fine, though, because Luo Binghe would simply seduce Shen Yuan the same as any other pretty face that could be swayed by good food, and - 

- and Luo Binghe could let Shen Yuan stay a bit longer, if only to hear the earnest way he praised Luo Binghe’s cooking and wished to hear about what it meant to Luo Binghe and asked if he could help Luo Binghe with the dishes -

- and inviting Shen Yuan back again and again would be strategic, because being the only chef who managed to not only wring a five star rating but a glowing review from such a notoriously harsh critic had been quite good for Luo Binghe’s business after all -

- and adjusting his menus to both suit Shen Yuan’s preferences and lean into heavier, fattier meals was good for Luo Binghe personally, because a lifetime of being a picky eater had let Shen Yuan grow up into skin and bones, which was bad for both Luo Binghe’s tiny remaining morality that was reserved for feeling bad for people who looked hungry and Luo Binghe’s sex life, since someone so skinny wasn’t very good for holding -

- and somehow, in the past year, Luo Binghe’s life has once more given cooking a new meaning: it’s what brought Shen Yuan to him, and got Shen Yuan to stay, in a way far more meaningfully than it ever got those rich young ladies to stay with Luo Binghe in the past.

It has also allowed Luo Binghe to grow into an ugly, wretchedly possessive thing, knowing that Shen Yuan likes his food best, that it’s his food that has filled in the little fat on Shen Yuan’s hips and thighs. A part of Luo Binghe becoming a part of Shen Yuan, and Shen Yuan enjoying it -!

“Well,” Shen Yuan says, “I want to eat this food. So - mapo tofu?”

Luo Binghe grinds his teeth. It makes the possessive parts of him howl that his picky eater boyfriend could be made hungry by another chef; if Shen Yuan had not specifically asked Luo Binghe to make the meal for him, and instead had genuinely sought out the online chef, Luo Binghe might have truly snapped.

…Perhaps this is a level of ownership that Luo Binghe should not feel over Shen Yuan’s eating, if their relationship is to be a healthy one. After all, if Shen Yuan were to ever be apart from Luo Binghe for longer than Luo Binghe could prepare meals for in advance…

Luo Binghe resolves to never be away from Shen Yuan for so long a period.

“Mapo tofu, then,” Luo Binghe agrees, smiling with sharp teeth at Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan finally glances up from his phone, beaming at Luo Binghe. 

“My Binghe’s the best after all, ah!” He says, clearly smug with himself, and some of Luo Binghe’s irritation slips away. 

For Shen Yuan, he really…

…He’ll really make mapo tofu better than anyone!!

Luo Binghe had made some just the other day actually, for a video for his blog, but he doesn’t bother to make it the same way this time. Food made specifically for his cooking blog is always slightly altered from how it truly tastes best - it must be designed to look good for the viewer, rather than tasting or feeling good. Besides that, Luo Binghe is not above altering recipes before giving them out so that his own cooking would always taste best, preventing copy cats from stealing the clientele of his restaurant. 

And, more importantly, this is the mapo tofu that Shen Yuan has specifically asked for, spurred on by a impotent online stranger who probably made a good-looking meal out of luck and nothing else. If Luo Binghe makes mapo tofu that is only good in a normal way, it won’t successfully prevent Shen Yuan from thinking of that stranger’s cooking ever again, ah!

So: a doubanjiang sauce that Luo Binghe has been fermenting personally, rather than store bought, and scallions instead of garlic greens to suit Shen Yuan’s preferences specifically. Tofu cut into chunks that Luo Binghe knows will be just the right size for Shen Yuan’s perfect pink lips and tongue, and the final dish plated in a way that is messier than is presentable for pictures but will have a better ratio of sauce to food, and -

Shen Yuan frowns. Luo Binghe, who has not seen Shen Yuan frown at a meal he has personally made in all the time he has known him, feels a spike of panic. 

Is his food not Shen Yuan’s ideal, anymore? Has Shen Yuan found another standard that he prefers, another chef to feed him? No one could feed Shen Yuan as well as Luo Binghe can, he’s sure of it, so why -!

“This doesn’t look like the mapo tofu you made the other day,” Shen Yuan says.

Luo Binghe blinks at him. “The mapo tofu that… I made?”

“Yeah? Didn’t I say I wanted it because I got hungry looking at your latest blog post?” Shen Yuan pauses to take a bite of the dish, his eyes fluttering shut and a low noise in the back of his throat escaping him in his bliss. “Ah, fuck it, this is way better than I thought it would be, forget the blog post!”

Saying so, Shen Yuan digs in to the meal in earnest, and Luo Binghe is left to watch him as he makes peace with the fact that he had, in fact, called himself an impotent fool when he thought it was someone else who had made mapo tofu that Shen Yuan liked the look of. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

All The Reasons We Can't

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (Lucy's roommate)

Summary: When you move in with Lucy Chen, you don't expect to fall for her ex-boyfriend.

Warnings: unspecified age gap (r is younger than Lucy), angst, fluff, spoilers for s6! (it's canon-divergent but still has spoilers)

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

A/N: If you are looking for a happy ending for Lucy and Tim, this is not the fic for you lol.😆

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Lucy!” you call, waving from your seat in the back of the restaurant.

She rushes to you and pulls you into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for coming,” she whispers into your embrace. “I needed this.”

“You’re my best friend, Lucy, I’ll always be here for you.”

Lucy nods as she releases you. You take the seat beside her rather than across from her. She’s dealing with a lot, and you know that she needs a friend right now.

“So, how long are you staying in town this time?” Lucy asks as she picks up the menu.

“Uh, about that,” you begin slowly. “I was thinking I’d just stay this time. You’re here, a lot of other things I love are here, and I just- I think it’s time to stay in LA for good.”

“You’re moving?” Lucy exclaims. “Please don’t be kidding, I can’t take that right now, girl.”

“I’m serious,” you promise her. “I’ve been looking for a new job and a place. Lucy, I want to be close to you; I need you in my life all the time, too.”

“It’s been too long,” Lucy agrees as she takes your hand. “I do have an idea though.”

You hum, inviting her to share, and her smile grows.

“Why don’t you move in with me? Tamara moved out, so I have the room. Even if it’s just temporary until you find your own space, I’d love to be roommates.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of change, Luce, and I don’t want to get in the way of you processing everything.”

“I’m really sure.”

“Then, yeah, I’d love that, Lucy.”

Lucy squeals, drawing the attention of an older couple sitting across from you. You wave awkwardly before they look away, then laugh with Lucy. Moving in with her sounds perfect and being right there for each other is part of why you decided to move.

“Hello,” you greet when Lucy returns from work. “Dinner is in the oven.”

“You’re the best friend ever,” Lucy sighs. “Where have you been all my life?”

“Wasting time until we met online mostly,” you answer. “How was today?”

“It was- uh, it was better. Tim and I still have a lot of work to do, mostly on ourselves. We’re going to try to be friends, though, because there’s no way either of us could ever just go back.”

“I get that. Being friends will be good for you, Lucy, even if it’s hard. Especially since you have to see him every day.”

“Yeah, it’s just still hard. Really hard sometimes, to wake up and remember he’s not there.”

You pull Lucy into a hug, which she gladly accepts. The oven timer dings, and you release her with a smile and an apology to finish preparing dinner.

“What would make it better?” you ask. “I know you’ve been thinking about it.”

“Honestly, I know I’m not ready to get out there yet, but I think seeing Tim with someone else – even just platonically – could help. He deserves it, too. For everything that he did and didn’t do, he’s a great guy, and he needs a friend or two that he can be himself with. Or does that sound selfish, like I’m trying to push him away to forget?”

“It doesn’t sound selfish at all, Lucy. You want the best for him, and if he’s trying to be friends, it seems like he wants that for you, too.”

“Yeah.” Lucy taps her fingers on the counter.

“I’ll get you a sign for the door,” you joke, trying to make her smile. “Lucy Chen, Platonic Matchmaker.”

It works, and Lucy smiles as you slide two plates onto the counter. She’s your best friend, and if she thinks Tim Bradford needs a friend (even after breaking her heart), then you trust she’s right.

“Hi,” Tim greets softly when the elevator opens.

Lucy nods once in greeting as she steps inside. “Good morning.”

Tim presses his lips together in the awkward silence. He knows he made the right choice by letting her go to get the better things she deserves, but it doesn’t make this part easier. “Big plans this weekend?”

“Not really,” Lucy replies. “My roommate is making me dinner tomorrow night and we’re just going to hang out, I think. Tamara and some other friends are coming over this weekend.”

“That’s good. You got a new roommate already?”

“I did. A friend I met a few years ago moved here, so…”

“Nice.”

“Yeah.” The door opens and Lucy steps forward. “Plus, she knows every little thing there is to know about me and you.”

Tim’s eyes widen and Lucy laughs as the elevator door closes behind her. Shaking his head, Tim smiles because Lucy looks happy again. His phone buzzes with another reminder about her cop-iversary, a term she coined to celebrate the anniversary of when she graduated to short sleeves. It’s the first year he hasn’t celebrated with her, but he’s still celebrating for her.

On the day of Lucy’s cop-iversary, you wake up early to surprise her with her favorite breakfast. When you have the food done and decorated for her big day, you realize that she should be awake by now. You walk to her bedroom door and knock lightly.

“It’s open,” Lucy calls from inside.

Gently pushing the door open, you see her finishing her hair. With the last clip in place, she sighs and looks at you. Her eyes are bloodshot, she looks tired, and there’s no sign of excitement for her big day.

“What happened?” you inquire.

“Yesterday was awful. A cop got shot, and I got roped into an undercover thing that almost blew up in my face… I’m just stressed and tired, I think. Everything’s piling on, you know?”

You extend your arms toward her, and Lucy hugs you tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “What is that amazing smell?”

“That’s your cop-iversary breakfast. Go eat, I’ll tidy up in here for you.”

“I love you,” Lucy sighs. “You’re the best person, friend, roommate, human, ever.”

“Back at ya,” you reply happily. “Now go before you run out of time.”

Lucy presses her hands together in another silent thanks as she walks backward out of her room. If she hadn’t told you about the rough day yesterday, her room would have. There are some clothes spread around on the bed and floor, her desk is disorganized, and there’s an overflowing backpack shoved in the corner. Her go bag, you realize. You pick a place at the back of the room and begin gathering the loose items; it’s the least you can do for your best friend.

In the kitchen, Lucy takes a bite of food and closes her eyes in appreciation. Before she can continue eating, someone knocks on the door. As she stands, she grabs a piece of food from the edge of her plate and pops it in her mouth on the short walk to the door.

“Kojo!” she squeals.

She drops to her knees without greeting Tim, opting to welcome Kojo into the apartment rather than the man who brought him over. Lucy takes the leash from Tim and leads Kojo to the couch.

“Can I come in?” Tim asks from the hall.

“Yeah,” Lucy answers, not looking away from Kojo. “What are you two doing here?”

“Heard about yesterday,” Tim says as he closes the door. “Thought you might want some Kojo comfort.”

“Kojo comfort is my favorite.”

“Happy cop-iversary.”

You survey Lucy’s room once you’re finished. With a satisfied nod, you turn toward her door. As you open it, you realize that Lucy has company.

“Sorry,” you say softly as the man looks toward you.

You recognize Tim Bradford from Lucy’s description of him and the pictures she refuses to delete. Now that they’re friends, it’s fine, but you didn’t approve of the folder while she was lying awake every night.

“I’m just gonna…” you trail off and walk toward your room.

“No, you can stay,” Lucy says. “You live here, too. This is Tim. Kojo and I will be right back.”

Lucy stands, and Kojo follows quickly behind her. She gathers her plate from the counter before she and Kojo disappear into her room and the door closes behind them.

“Hi,” you tell Tim. You remember that Lucy never actually said your name and offer it.

“Nice to meet you. And glad to see Lucy got a good roommate,” Tim replies.

You nod and look toward her door before you drop your voice to say, “Thank you. Lucy told me how you’re trying to do everything right after the breakup. Friends and all that. Plus, she needed to see Kojo today.”

“It is quite literally the least I can do,” Tim replies.

“I disagree. You seem like a great guy, Tim, and the fact that you’re trying at all means a lot. To me, at least.”

Tim isn’t sure how to respond to that. He blames himself for so much of what has happened recently, yet as he stands here with you, that guilt and the memories fade. He just wants to know about you.

“So, you and Lucy have been friends for a while?” he asks.

“Long-distance friends. We met online and then ran into each other in person a while back. Everything just kind of fit between us.”

You’re taking up every thought in Tim’s head, he realizes. Even as you’re talking, he wants to know more, to know you. But then a small voice in him points out that you’re young. Whatever it is he’s feeling doesn’t matter; you’re younger than him, younger than Lucy, and there’s no way you’d be interested in him. The realization fails to silence the other voice that whispers about how he feels alive, like himself again.

“How are you?” you ask. “Not just like how are you, I mean. Uhm… How are you doing with everything?”

The whispering voice rises to a yell. Tim’s heart knows exactly what it wants. Back to life in his chest, Tim acknowledges its cry that he needs you. Tim Bradford has feelings for Lucy’s younger roommate.

“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping your boundaries,” you add when Tim doesn’t answer. “It’s just that Lucy had me, Tamara, plenty of people to talk to after the breakup. From what she’s told me, you may not have had that same community to help you.”

“I don’t,” Tim agrees. His heart hammers in his chest as he wishes he could come home to you and your arms, where nothing else would matter.

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugs half-heartedly and offers a small smile. You see right through them to the sadness and guilt beneath. Living with Lucy has accustomed you to touch and physical affection, and you don’t think twice before you hug him.

Your arms wrap over his shoulders, and the brief moment where you think he will pull away ends when his strong arms tighten around your waist. He drops his face to your shoulder and holds you tighter as he clings to you. You feel it, and Tim does too, as he melts in your arms and releases the baggage he’s been carrying for far too long.

“You have people now,” you whisper.

Tim nods against you and raises one arm toward your shoulder to deepen the hug before he pulls away.

“Do you have your phone?” you ask, your hand still on his arm. “I can give you my number so you can call or text any time you want.”

Tim passes you his phone and watches your eyes as you type your contact information. As you place it back in his hand, you repeat your invitation.

“Anything you need, just to talk or listen, I’m here, Tim.”

“Thank you,” Tim replies. He holds your eyes for a moment then asks, “Is Lucy going to give Kojo back?”

You tilt your head back and laugh, and Tim smiles at the sight and the melodious noise. “Nope,” you answer.

“Maybe I should take her roommate to get even,” Tim jokes.

You smile at him as you shake your head. “Take a seat, she’ll be a while. There’s plenty of food, too, so help yourself.”

Tim happily takes a seat, more than willing to pass the time with you while Lucy gets comforted by Kojo. The minutes pass quickly as you and Tim get to know each other. When Lucy’s door opens again, Kojo trots to Tim’s side and Lucy calls that she’s just getting her stuff and she’ll be ready.

“Great, I’m a chauffeur now,” Tim grumbles.

“Tim, you should come over more often,” you suggest. “Only if you’re comfortable with that, of course. I think it would be good for all of us, though.”

You pat Kojo’s head as Tim promises, “I will. And if you ever want to come to my place or meet somewhere, you have my number.”

Lucy emerges before you can answer Tim, and she hugs you tightly to thank you for the cop-iversary present. She tells Tim he’s free to go, to which he rolls his eyes but leaves anyway. You know that you’ll be texting him soon.

“You hugged Tim,” Lucy accuses after he leaves.

“What?” you ask, turning back toward her after watching Tim leave.

“I’m not mad. You’re really good for him.”

“Lucy, I promise it was not my intention to-“

“I know,” she assures, reaching for your hand. “But Tim and I are friends, he clearly likes you… If you want to try, I’m rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

She picks up her bag and steps toward the door. “You didn’t ask how I knew you hugged him.”

“Cologne?” you guess.

“Happiness. I saw it on him too, and it’s been a very long time since it was that obvious.”

After she leaves, you unlock your phone and see that Tim has already sent you a text. With his comments and Lucy’s approval, there’s no reason why you shouldn’t pursue whatever it is that’s blooming between you.

“Thanks for the hug and the talk,” you read. You smile as you type a reply: Meet at my favorite restaurant on Friday for more?

The message says ‘delivered’ then ‘read,’ but there’s no reply. A minute passes and you lock your phone. Maybe you misread everything, and he really did just need a hug, and now he’s done. You try to shake it out of your head and begin to clean the kitchen. You’re nearly done when your phone rings.

“Hello?” you answer as you dry your hands.

“Why?” Tim asks.

“Hmm?”

“I’m older than you,” Tim points out. “And I dated your roommate and then dumped your roommate. I kept secrets and lied and nearly lost my job. There are more reasons than I can count that this wouldn’t work.”

“I know you’re older than me. And I don’t care. Tim, for all of the reasons you just told me that this- that we wouldn’t work, did you think of any reasons we would?”

Tim exhales before he admits, “No.”

“Then I’ll see you Friday, because both of our hearts already know, and for every reason that your brain tells you no, my heart is telling me yes. If yours isn’t, tell me now and we walk away.”

“Mine is too,” Tim whispers.

“Good.” You smile as you say, “Hey, can you get the early bird special, so our first date is cheaper?”

“What do you care? You’re not paying,” Tim replies, an addictive, teasing lilt in his voice.

“I’m glad you came over today, Tim. I needed that hug, too.”

“See you on Friday for more.”

[madaqueue]

manicured

synopsis: painting their nails

featuring: choso kamo, satoru gojo, suguru geto

a/n: see i can write fluff guys i promise (just don't look too hard at geto's lmao)

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ choso kamo ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

choso absolutely loves your nails, he’s honestly fascinated by them. he’s never really understood the purpose of something like this, as it doesn’t serve any functional use and is only temporary, but that only intrigues him further. whenever he sees you posted up on the couch he sits next to you and just watches intently, observing the way you gracefully and precisely glide the polish across your fingers.

“could you…do mine?” he asks hesitantly.

a grin forms on your face at his request. “of course, cho,” you smile.

you paint both of his pinkies a dark, rich black. he loves the way it looks with his rings, and he can’t help himself from staring fondly at his hands and blushing when he catches a glimpse of your work.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ satoru gojo ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

satoru enjoys being pampered, often making comments about how lucky you are to get to spend time getting your hair done or eyebrows touched up. he sees it as self care, a way to make yourself look as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside. when he finds you getting ready in the bathroom before one of your dates, seated on the floor with a bottle of nail polish next to you, he immediately wants to be a part of your little routine.

“ooooh me next!” he chirps, plopping down next to you on the cool tile and holding his hands out.

he initially picks out a bright blue to match his eyes, but after you tease him - “isn’t that a bit self-centered, toru?” - he instead opts for one that matches your irises, a way to remind him of you whenever you’re apart.

at dinner, he forces everyone to look at his nails, holding them out with a toothy grin. “aren’t they pretty? my amazing perfect girlfriend did them for me,” he boasts through a smile to anyone who will listen.

༝ ˚ ｡⋆ suguru geto ༝ ˚ ｡⋆

suguru thinks your nails are cute, that it’s sweet how delicate and dainty they always make you look. whenever you come home from an appointment he inspects them closely, complimenting the design or color you picked out. his favorites are french tips, mostly because they look so classically feminine when they’re wrapped around his cock, but he also loves the surprise of seeing what you choose each time.

as he’s admiring your fresh set, he jokes, “how come you never do mine?”

“i didn’t know you wanted me to,” you can’t help but giggle.

“you never asked,” he teases back.

he lets you choose a color for him, landing on a light pink that nearly blends into his skin but is just noticeable enough. he only does his pointer and middle fingers, sneaking in a joke about how those are your favorites, too, when he’s knuckle deep in your pussy, displaying them subtly, knowing it’s just for him.

[aothotties]

Mommy Chaser

ART WORK IS NOT MINE!!

Part 1 is finally here! It's not much more than the preview but I've already started on part 2!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 623 

Eren

You and Eren met at a Jean’s birthday party and he swears that’s when he fell in love. He repeatedly asked Jean to introduce you to him, to which he said no each time.

“Why not?!? You’re married so what does it matter anyway?” He complains and crosses his arms angrily.

Jean scoffs and Mikasa comes up next to him with a smile on her face.

“She’s a single mom, Eren. She’s already been through enough heartbreak and she’s not looking for something temporary.” She explains and his face softens.

He looks past Jean and watches as you talk to Sasha, and smiles at the cute face you make when you laugh.

“So what? Maybe I’m ready for something long term. Come on Jean do this one thing for me” Jean looks over at Eren with a raised eyebrow.

“Eren Yeager, are you begging?” He smirks as he teases the blushing man next to him.

“Jean, you're so mean sometimes. Eren, if we introduce you to her you’ve got to promise to be gentle with her. And don’t waste her time if you’re not feeling it anymore.” She tells him while poking his chest.

Eren nervously swallows his drink and just nods in response.

“I love her so much” Jean mumbles under his breath as he watches the two of them make their way to you.

“Y/N, this is ‘the’ Eren we’ve told you about.” Mikasa steps to the side as you shake hands with the tall brunette.

“It’s nice to meet you, Eren. I've heard a lot about you.” You smile up at him and he feels his heart speed up immediately after.

“I’m hoping it was all good things, but knowing Jean probably not.” He says and you laugh in return.

“It’s all good things, I promise. He actually speaks very highly of you at times.” You tell him and he can’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry, Jean and I can be ‘playful’ at times.” He says before sipping from his cup.

The rest of the night is spent with you two getting to know each other, at some point the music gets too loud so you two decide to finish talking in his car.

“So not to be in your business, but I heard you’ve got a kid?” He looks at you nervously trying to make sure he didn’t overstep a boundary.

“I do, he’s turning 4 in a few months actually. He’s my best friend.” You gush as you show him photos of the both of you.

“He’s handsome, you clearly do a great job at raising him” He compliments you and you and you smile fondly in return.

There’s a silence that washes over the two of you, but the thoughts inside Eren’s head are screaming.

“Hey uh, I hope this isn’t too straightforward, but do you think that maybe we could go out some time?” He looks at you and you grab his hand in return.

“Eren, you’re really lovely and I can tell you’re a great guy, but-” His heart steadily drops, but he’s not giving up this easily.

“Wait! Please, Jean and Mikasa told me you’re not interested in flings. I want us to be more than just that. I’m not getting any younger, and you seem like such an amazing woman. Will you please give me just one date with you.” He blurts out and you just stare in shock at his outburst.

“You know what, you’ve got yourself a deal. If it goes well you can take me on another dte and we’ll see what happens.” You hold up a hand for him to shake and he kisses the back of it instead.

“Then let the games begin darling.”

Ari

@sinsensual1 @lily-sinclair-2006

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ ||

a/n: Hello loves! So sorry I kept y'all waiting for part three, I hope you enjoy this! Just wanted to let y'all know that I'll be flying off to South Korea for a vacation, and will only be back on the 22nd of June so updates will be paused till then. I'll try to continue writing on my trip, but there are no guarantees I won't be too tired lolol. Love, pumpkin.

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

Blackmail — The act of attempting to force someone to do something or give up something valuable by threatening negative consequences if they don’t, especially revealing negative information about them.

That's what the online dictionary says anyway, which is perfect! 

As such, it wouldn't be blackmail as much as it would be....persuasive negotiation. Which is the exact opposite of blackmail, which, again, is perfect! 

Yeah, you’re getting nowhere with this.

You stifle a defeated groan as you collapse onto the plush mattress of your bed, dragging your hands down your face. Your phone beeps with a message, startling you out of your thoughts.

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: Did you find what you were looking for?

Nicole [ 7.15 PM ]: ? 

Nicole [ 7.30 PM ]: Update me tomorrow.

Right. Nicole. Your hand falls limply to the side, fingers loosely gripping the device.

Crap. 

How would you explain it to her? She’s always been good at sniffing out your lies. To tell, or not to tell. That is the question. Maybe you should just pretend nothing happened. That’d be the only reasonable thing to do in this situation, right? 

But your art is at risk here. And if it’s anything you’ve learnt over your many years of living, it’s that you’re a stubborn bull that can’t back down once you’re set on something. And right now, you’re set on getting Spiderman to be your model. 

You might get your mojo back if you draw him enough times. Maybe your art block won’t be so constipated anymore, and perhaps you might even get into the art school you have your eye on.

And maybe, just maybe, you might catch the eye of the art scouts at the end-of-year exhibition.

So there’s no way you can afford to give this up. 

You’ll convince him. You have to.

— — — — — 

“So, why’d you ignore my messages yesterday?” 

You flinch away from the sudden hand on your shoulder, fingers decorated with rings glinting in the sun. Michael winces from where he’s standing opposite you, taking a long, slow sip of his juice box. 

You stammer out Nicole’s name in surprise, the girl in question looking at you with a raised brow and serious eyes. She scans your nervous smile and flushed cheeks, letting go of you with a nod. 

“You met him. How was it?”

Damn it.

“I didn’t end up meeting him,” You say with a defeated sigh, hoping it’s not excessive. Being under Nicole’s observant gaze is one of the scariest experiences in the world, with pigeons in close proximity a close second. 

“Okay,” Her dubious tone gives you a slight sense of hope, only for your heart to drop at her next question. “So, why’d you ask me for Miles’s photo?”

“I, uh, ran into him and thought he looked familiar. So, I asked for his picture to double check,” You admit, hoping the truth mixed into some lies would be enough to convince her. 

“Right…What’s your impression of him, then?”

“Cute?” You blurt out without thinking, recalling the framed picture of his young self with his parents on the small table.

“You think he’s cute?”

“M-maybe?” You try, but it clicks once you see the disgust in her eyes. “Yes! I do, in fact, find him very attractive. One might even say that he is now my…crush?” 

You pray she doesn’t notice the underlying wince in your words. Nicole shudders, taking a small step away from you. “You need to get your eyes checked or something. I’ve known the guy since we were in diapers, and trust me when I say that he’s nothing but trouble.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise. Besides, I’m sure the crush is just temporary. It’ll blow over before you even know it!” Mainly because you don’t have a crush on the guy in the first place. But you do need to figure out a way to trap him to persuade him into being your model.

“Wait, you met Miles?”

“Why’re you glossing over the fact that she likes him?” Nicole says incredulously, gesturing to you with wide eyes. It’s probably the most expressive you’ve ever seen her, save for the time you invited them to go cafe hopping with you on a sweltering Monday. 

You’d never heard so many variations of curses before, all of which Nicole unintentionally introduced you to. Since then, you’ve learnt to only hang out on cooler days with better weather and cafes within walking distance.

“So?” Michael shrugs nonchalantly, but the amused smile on his lips suggests otherwise. “Why are you so affected?”

“Because it’s my best friend liking Miles Morales - the guy I’ve known since we were babies. He’s not good enough for her.” Nicole decides with a frown. You turn to her, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you place your hands on your heart.

“I’m your best friend?” Nicole rolls her eyes at your words, crossing her arms. “You can drop from that tier anytime, so you better watch out.” She replies simply with a halfhearted glare, but her words have no bite to them. Her ears are tinted red.

“Aww,” You coo, throwing your arms around the girl who baulks in surprise, almost falling to the ground had you not steadied both of you. She wriggles under your tight hug, giving up quickly with a groan. 

“Let me get in on that, chicas-” Michael is cut off when you kick his ankle, biting back a pained cry while you continue to hug Nicole, who has a satisfied smirk at your action. “Good job.” She pats your arm, and you reluctantly let go, dramatically wiping the tears away.

At least you succeeded in distracting her.

The rest of the day practically flies by, your body on autopilot and going through the motions of taking out your textbooks and doodling on them. Math, Science, and History were all meaningless in your eyes as you tried to make another plan to meet him. The past three attempts had shown you exactly how difficult it was to meet with the hero, much less alone. 

You’re not one to give up, though. You stare down at the piece of paper filled with doodles and scribbled words — an outline of a plan, circling Spiderman’s name in red. 

Okay, let’s try this again. 

Attempt #1: Meet Him At The Park - The Friendly Way.

You take a tentative glance around. Good, No dogs are in sight. You look over to the park's far end, where you had set up a sign saying that dog treats were being given out for free if they assembled there.

Sometimes, lying is an essential means of survival. Another quick scan of your surroundings confirms that no one is in the path of the taco truck, and feeling only slightly guilty when you spot the owner’s surprised expression, wondering why his usual customers aren’t present. 

However, you try not to linger on that, choosing to double-check if everything you need is on you.

Phone? Check. Earbuds? Check. Wallet? Check. Spiderman?

You grin once you spot the masked hero landing in front of the taco truck, right on schedule. 

Check. 

Standing up, you slowly make your way over, giving him time to place his order. Every step is light, your heart oddly calm as you approach him. Yeah. You got this. It’s just getting him to agree that’s the hard part.

Okay. You got this. Play it cool.

Walking up to the taco truck, you clear your throat, propping your elbow onto the small metal platform near the baskets of condiments. You casually glance at him, scanning his suit from head to toe before meeting his eyes.

“Hey.” 

“Hey,” he replies slowly with a slight tilt of his head, surprised by your sudden presence. He taps his fingers against the cold metal of the taco truck in a steady rhythm. You take a slow breath. You can take your time. It’s just a boy under the mask, after all.

“So, how’s being Spiderman going?” You ask absentmindedly, looking down at your nails and only now noticing that you’re in desperate need of a manicure. 

“It’s going good. And you?”

“Could be better.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Is it anything your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman can help with?” His words are filled with worry, now giving you his full attention.

Got him.

“Well…” You trail off, barely managing to hide the excitement in your eyes and voice. Now’s the time to approach him carefully. If you’re careless, you could lose one of the few opportunities to get him to be your muse. 

“Uh-huh?” He grabs the paper bag of tacos the owner hands him, handing him a crumpled bill from a hidden pocket in his suit with a quick nod of thanks in one smooth movement. However, he hears a slight commotion a short distance away, eyes narrowing as he tries to determine the source.

“I’m an art student, and I need a muse,” You continue, encouraged by his questioning hum and failing to notice the way his gaze is focused on something happening behind you. “So I was thinking-”

“Right, uh, miss. You seem like an absolutely wonderful lady. I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to continue this conversation another day. Duty’s kinda calling right now. I’ll pass by the basketball court tomorrow, and you can ask me your question there?” You can’t tell if he’s smiling, grinning, or even scowling under the mask. But it didn’t exactly sound hostile, so that’s that you suppose.

“Meet me at the sub shop on Fifth Avenue, two lefts after the huge statue and a right at the Lego store. Two-thirty P.M.,” You reply immediately. Why Mr Perez’s shop, in particular, you didn’t know. But you’re not about to chase after his ass again after the last few times. Not a chance in hell.

He agrees with a quick but apologetic nod, already swinging off with his paper bag of tacos and heading toward the angry horde of dog parents around the sign you placed earlier. You watch him land before them, trying to calm the group down.

Well, at least you got an appointment with him tomorrow. The problem now is how to make sure he accepts. Plus, him constantly running off isn’t the most ideal scenario in your situation.

So, you have to make sure he stays put.

You walk off, heading to the sub shop with the beginnings of an idea. (While simultaneously forgetting about the horde of dog parents who’re growing increasingly angrier from the absence of promised dog treats).

— — — — — 

“Mr Perez, nice shirt! Did you separate the whites from the colours? It looks so clean!” You greet as soon as you walk in, taking a deep breath and smiling at the scent of pickle brine. The store is relatively empty, the last customer leaving through the door just as you walked in. 

The store owner walks to the glass door, flipping the sign around to read Closed. He sends you a wary glance, walking back behind the counter to start cleaning up while you lean against the glass display case.

“What do you want?”

“Who said I wanted anything?” 

“You only compliment my laundry when you want something.” It’s true. You do tend to do that. You suppose it’s time to be rid of the habit. But not today, for you have much more important goals to pursue. 

“Okay. I need to borrow the storeroom for, like, a couple of hours tomorrow afternoon. No disturbances, complete privacy. Not even Didi is allowed in.” You get straight to the point, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“...Are you doing drugs?”

“That’s gross. And unsanitary. If I were doing drugs, I’d do it in the Science lab at school.” You point out, scrunching your nose in disgust. 

“Are you smoking? Vaping?”

“No, and no. C’mon, Mr Perez, I thought you knew me better than that!” You huff, though you know that he’s just joking from the amused twinkle in his eyes. 

“Fine. Just give me the signal. Besides, Didi’s at preschool tomorrow till five.” He says simply, wiping down his workstation with a clean cloth. 

“Really? No takebacks!” You say with an exaggerated gasp, not expecting him to actually agree. The bright smile on your face makes him chuckle, shaking his head fondly as he washes up the kitchen knives in the sink. 

“What time will you be coming?”

“Two-thirty. Remember, you promised no questions asked!” You call out over your shoulder as you exit while raising your hand in a quick salute. You saunter on home with your hands in your pockets, chest swelling with pride that you got a guaranteed meeting with the very boy you’ve been trying to convince to be your muse. 

You’ve definitely got this.

— — — — — 

Attempt #2: Kidnap Meet Him At The Sub Store - The Friendly Way.

Two-fifteen P.M.

You glance over at the IKEA clock hanging from the wall opposite you in the storeroom, tying the string securely around the metal shelf. Taking a step back, you survey the setup, scanning it for flaws in your otherwise perfect plan.

You arrange the chair to sit behind a wobbly table that’s about to break any day now due to countless playtimes with Didi’s mischievous ideas. (And maybe some of your own, but Mr Perez doesn’t need to know that.)

The bright light in the slightly cramped storeroom only adds to the ambience (of what, you don’t really know yourself). The punching bag hanging in the corner of the room is definitely no cause for concern. Maybe he’d think that you’re really into exercise. All that’s left is for Spiderman to get caught in your perfect trap. You’re pretty sure he won’t get hurt in the process. 

The only thing left now is to wait. You head out into the front of the store, waving Spiderman over as soon as you see him enter. He follows with a skip in his step, only to slow down when you guide him into the storeroom. 

“Uh…This is new, even for me.” He comments, looking around at the stacked boxes and metal shelves, unsure of what to make of this sudden change in vibe. You gesture at the chair, closing the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I just needed a place away from prying eyes.” You sigh, discreetly watching him take a seat. He does so without hesitation, and you immediately grab the end of the string that’s hooked onto the metal shelf, using all of your strength (and the help of a pulley) to yank it. 

Spiderman yelps, dangling from the ceiling by a tightly secured string around his ankle. “What the-? You said you needed help!” 

“And I do!” You reply, a tinge of desperation in your words. “Just…just hang on.” You breathe out, taking the frying pan on the shelf next to you after securing the string and leaving him dangling still. You approach him, Spiderman failing to notice, too preoccupied with trying to escape.

“Michael better be right about this,” You mumble under your breath, taking a quick swing and hitting the spot on his head that Michael promised would knock anyone out instantly. Spiderman’s eyes close, his cry of protest cut off as his hands fall limply to his sides. 

“Oh.” You stare down at him, squatting down and reaching your hand out to gently massage the spot where you hit him with a guilty smile. You hadn’t expected it to actually work. “Sorry, Morales. My goals aren’t to harm you, promise.”

Standing back up with a wince, you can feel the joints in your body popping from the sudden stretch. You never really bothered with exercise, categorizing your sketching and painting as such.

You huff, grabbing his arms and pulling him across the room after untying him from the string around his ankle. “But one of them might be to start working out,” You say through gritted teeth, finally reaching the punching bag. You take a deep breath, doing your best to pick him up and hold him against it while you tie him up.

“No-” Your muffled cry is cut short when your arms give out, and you fall onto your back with the unconscious hero lying on top of you. You groan, pushing him off you, eyeing the punching bag with distaste.

Another repeated attempt ends in the same result, and your back starts to ache from the impact of the hard surface against your back. You see him starting to stir, your eyes widening in panic, instinctively grabbing the frying pan and hitting him again. He falls back to the floor with a hushed groan while you breathe a sigh of relief.

You stand back up, eyeing the punching bag, before an idea hits you. 

Finally, you sit in the chair in front of the punching bag, taking out your sketchbook from the bag you'd placed on one of the shelves this afternoon and beginning to sketch him leisurely. You spot him slowly blinking, regaining his consciousness as he realises that he’s tied up.

"So..." You drawl, leaning back in your seat with a lazy grin. The city's local hero, Spiderman, dangles upside down in your trap. You actually did it. You got him to stay put.

He struggles to get free from the tightly bound ropes, almost tugging off his mask in the process before giving up seconds after. “Not again…” You hear him groan in defeat, looking back up at you with a deadpan stare.

"I have to admit, I love the new suit." You comment, grabbing a pencil and doing a quick sketch, ignoring his earlier words.

"What do you want from me?"

You pause, looking up from your sketchbook. "You sound pretty young to be a hero." You purse your lips, trying to guess his age.

"W-what? No, I don't." His voice turns gruff, and you chuckle from how obvious he was forcing it to be.

"I don't really want much. Just to draw you is all." You hum, flipping a page and letting pencil meet paper.

"What?"

You don't respond, eyes trained on sketching the dimensions of his midnight black suit. "I like the spray paint."

"Thanks," He's surprised by your comment, hands still furiously working to free himself. 

"Aren't you a villain?" He questions, unable to hold back his curiosity. You weren't really doing anything to him either, not like the muggers or robbers that roam the streets at night.

You were just... drawing him.

"I just thought the suit was cool." You respond simply with a shrug, looking straight at the white material on his mask that hides his eyes.

He flinches, surprised by the sudden eye contact. "And you trapped me because...?"

"I wanted to draw it."

"You could've just asked."

"I tried. You weren't really paying attention, or you weren’t available. Hero duties and all, remember? "

Now that you mentioned it, the hero does remember you from the mugging and the excuses he’d made, shrugging sheepishly in response. 

"Oh. My bad."

The corner of your lips tugs upwards into a slight smile. At least he has the common decency to admit it.

"Could you untie me, though? It's getting a little uncomfortable." He voices out, fingers still trying to wriggle free.

"Sure, but I'll need something in exchange."

He sighs. Of course, you did. People always wanted something from him as Spiderman, be it a photo or to gain clout.

"What is it?" He's wary now.

You grin, hands closing the sketchbook with a loud snap as you place your pencil on your chair, getting up.

"That's easy," You walk towards him with ease, eyes filled with certainty. You're inches away from his upside-down figure, leaning in slightly until your lips are next to where his ear would be under the mask.

"Be my model, Miles Morales.”

He stills at the mention of his name. “Wh-what? I don’t know who this Miles guy is, but I’m obviously not him.” He laughs nervously, shaking his head.

You can practically see the waves of panic flooding through his mind. “You just changed the pitch of your voice,” You point out casually instead, leaning back against the wall with a smirk, your hands in your pockets.

“I’m telling you, I’m not this Miles guy you think I am. Though I’m very sure he may be cool enough to be Spiderman, I am not him.” He almost trips over his words, flinching when you move your hand close to his mask.

“Then I guess you won’t mind if I take this off?” You hum, spotting him trying to use his electric powers to break free. “Don’t bother. The strings are made out of insulated material.”

He flinches away from your fingers brushing against the side of his face, his eyes meeting yours and knowing he’s already lost this battle. “Fine.” He surrenders, his eyes narrowed into a hostile glare directed at you.

“Don’t be like that,” You chide, sitting cross-legged in front of him with a disapproving shake of your head. “Besides, I’m just here to make a deal with you.” 

“Is this about the model thing?”

“Yeap,” You confirm, popping the ‘p’. “Here’s all I’m asking. Let me meet up with you twice a week. I’ll even pay you ten bucks per session. All you gotta do is sit there.” The intensity of his glare lessens somewhat, though you can still sense his wariness. Makes sense, though, considering you’ve just essentially ensured he can’t say no. Besides, your terms and conditions aren’t half bad either.

You wait patiently for his response, giving him time to mull over it. 

“Deal. Now let me go.” 

“Uh-uh, not just yet,” You tut, moving over to your bag, grabbing the makeshift contract you drafted last night, and showing it to him with a triumphant grin. “I even added two different lines for both of your signatures. Spiderman’s and Miles Morales.” 

He rolls his eyes, and you take that as a good sign, cutting him loose. He falls gracefully to the floor, landing in a perfect superhero pose. You applaud, giving yourself a mental pat on the back for staying calm throughout the entire exchange. He takes the pen you hand to him, scrawling his name on the dotted line. You smile widely and keep the contract back in your bag, practically on cloud nine with this accomplishment.

Unfortunately, the euphoria makes you forget you’re still in a cramped storeroom.

Wincing when your elbow knocks against a loosely stacked box, you and Spiderman watch it slowly topple on its side, landing on the floor with a loud bang before looking at each other with wide eyes. 

Okay, so maybe you don’t got this as much as you thought.

You freeze when the door opens, looking behind you to see Mr Perez with his hand on the doorknob. His eyes flit from you to Spiderman, his gaze settling on the open box on the ground with vegetables spilling out of it before looking back at you with furrowed brows.

As soon as your eyes meet, you smile sheepishly. 

“I’ll babysit on Friday.”

— — — — — — —

taglist: (definitely not because I forgot I said I'd tag people lol)

@oh-kurva @brunnetteiwik @queerponcho @sleepingnova @1theestallionyas

[greenleaf4stuff]

I saw lot of posts about Hancock and The Ghoul/Cooper Howard meeting which is a cool scenario to think about for sure, but may I present you this:

Hancock and *Norm* meeting

Those two have a surprising amount of similarities in the character arcs/backstories.

[Spoilers for FO4 and the Fallout TV show up ahead!]

Like. They are both guys who knew that something *wrong* was going on around them; Hancock knew that McDonough’s campaign against the ghouls and how Diamond City exiled them was wrong, and later on he disliked how things were going in Goodneighbor before he became mayor. Norm knew there was something up with the ‚vaulties‘ from Vault 32 and later on knew that Vault 33 wouldn’t send out ppl to get his and Lucy’s father back, and that something was going on with vault 32 (or, actually, all the three vaults).

They both felt as if they were cowards when faced with great danger and injustice; Hancock didn’t oppose McDonough’s actions as much as he (felt he) could have and also felt like a coward when thugs beat up ppl in Goodneighbor. Norm felt like a coward for hiding during the attack of the raiders and didn’t follow Lucy into the wasteland, saying he is ‚too chicken‘ to do so.

And then? As a consequence to these injustices, to their own cowardice, they both decided to say ‚fuck that‘ and do the right thing, even in the face of massive opposition and everything stacked against them. Instead of backing down or being intimidated, they turned around and used their skills to try and make a change.

Hancock tried to help the exiled ghouls, and later on became a ghoul himself, got inspired by the historical John Hancock, found himself a group of people and took out the thugs in Goodneighbor. And then became mayor of the town – not quite turning it around 180 degrees, but still making the town a safe haven for all the ‚misfits‘ of the wasteland; fellow ghouls, assaultrons, ppl who didn’t think they belonged anywhere else. „Everybody ’s welcome“. An anti-thesis to what his brother stood for in Diamond City.

And Norm, he asks uncomfortable questions. He needles people for information. He finds a temporary ally in Chet, who despite his own cowardice promised to protect Norm for Lucy and helps him to get into vault 32. Norm puts clues together, hacks into terminals, reads, asks further questions – even causes some unrest, especially when it comes to dealing with the imprisoned raiders. He has managed to outsmart everyone around him and find out the secret of vault 31, an act that required courage especially considering Norm cannot just up and leave the vaults. Even if he makes it back to vault 33. He had to know that getting caught would have dire consequences one way or another, and still he persisted in his quest.

And (extra warning – heavy spoilers here!) they both can make some very horrible discoveries about their family members. John Hancock – originally John McDonough – can find out that his older brother, who exiled all the ghouls from Diamond City, has gotten replaced with a synth doppelganger. Probably even before he drove that hate campaign against the ghouls, making Hancock question whether he even hated the ‚right‘ person aka whether he had hated his brother for the wrong reasons all these years.

And Norm finds out that Hank Maclean has been alive before the bombs fell, and got thawed out of cryogenic slumber. That his own father lied to him and Lucy, is part of an ‚elite‘ class of people who manage vaults 32 and 33 while keeping their inhabitants in the dark about their true purpose – to be breeding stock in an attempt to create the perfect managers and re-populate America in their vision. The vision of Vault-Tec.

The person they saw as their family might have just been someone they didn’t truly know.

They share a lot of similiarities, and I think they would get on like a house on fire.

This is just headcanons from this point onwards, but I can see Hancock appreciating and valuing Norm’s perception and intelligence, as well as his subtle way of communicating that he knows more than he lets on. And I can see Norm understanding Hancock’s approach to his town and how he leads it, how he makes sure that his people are safe. (Remember, Norm made the suggestion to kill the captive raiders because they killed his fellow vault dwellers and kidnapped his father – his and Hancock’s brand of justice might not be that much different.)

I also think they could have epic verbal spats and very, very witty banter together.

If Norm had Hancock in the vault and voiced his suspicions to him, Hancock would have followed him and helped. No questions asked. He likely would have been pissed on Norm’s behalf too.

And if Norm had been there when Hancock planned to overthrow the mayor in Goodneighbor, Norm might not have taken up arms, but he would have used his skills to take care of turrets, terminals or locked doors/safes. And he wouldn’t be afraid to give Hancock a piece of his mind if he felt the mayor was too far up his own supply of chems.

Tl;dr – I think there are a bunch of parallels when it comes to Hancock and Norm Maclean and therefore them meeting could turn out incredibly interesting. Also I think both characters are really neat.

[hawkins-losers]

EDDIE MUNSON MASTERPOST

* = smut/18+ content

10 Things I hate about you

Eddie fucked up, so you write him a poem telling him that you hate him - except that you don’t hate him…not in the slightest

A new look

Eddie cut his hair. You don’t know how to feel

As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you | Henderson!Reader

Things are not going well for Eddie. After a static-y call on Dustin’s walkie, you find him at Skull Rock

Between two shelves

You and Eddie have a little make out session between two classes

Blind date with the freak

You get set up on a blind date with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson as a joke from your friends. The joke’s on them because you end up having a really great time

Caught dancing with the devil * | Hopper!Reader

You get the tremendous idea of sneaking Eddie in your room while your dad is home. Things escalate under the belt  - naturally - and Hopper gets suspicious

Darling, don’t you ever grow up | Dad!Eddie

Eddie becomes a dad. Spoilers: he’s the best dad

Drunken serenades

Drunk Eddie decides to serenade you with a song - his plan doesn’t go as planned

Dungeon Master I’m pulling your strings * | Henderson!Reader

You show interest in D&D and Hawkins’ Dungeon Master offers to teach you in the privacy of his trailer. At some point during the lessons, D&D is forgotten

Handcuffs *

They weren’t all wrong about the whole freak thing. Eddie Munson was a freak, just not the kind they thought

I've still got you all over me | Rockstar!Eddie x Henderson!Reader

When Eddie and the band rose to fame, your relationship was brought to an end. Four years later, Dustin plots behind your back and invite his former Dungeon Master to his birthday party without telling you

The girl from the magazine

You find one of Eddie’s erotica magazines and start comparing yourself to the woman in the comics

Grease stains and coveralls | Mechanic!Eddie

During a hot day, you pay Eddie a visit at the auto shop and the sight of him in his coveralls is hotter than the July weather

Lonely, aching hearts | Hargrove!Reader

The aftermath of losing a twin brother, a temporary nightmare fix and a neighbor with a heart of gold 

  part 1 part 2

Morning kisses

Eddie doesn’t get what he wants this morning

My equal

The Dungeon Master wants you to sit on the throne with him

My hero

Following his attack by the demo-bats, Eddie is left with a new insecurity

The one that got away

You find the perfect guy, but you miss the imperfect relationship you and Eddie had

Private guitar lesson *

You can’t pick up how to play guitar, so Eddie tries a new way to teach you

Talk nerdy to me

It’s Halloween, everyone’s entitled to one good scare..and some fun

Tiger stripes

After your first time with Eddie, you open up about your body image insecurities

Thunderstorms *

You and Eddie are long date friends. One rainy evening in his trailer causes you to ruin the friendship

Wake me up  when the battle ends

You and the Hawkins gang prepare for the grand battle to defeat Vecna, which includes getting separated from Eddie. Or, you and Eddie say your last goodbyes

Wake up

You and Dustin gets Eddie out of the Upside Down. He is now in a coma

What died didn’t stay dead | Henderson!Reader

When someone dies in the Upside Down, they don’t always stay dead

Would I make a great cheerleader

You and Eddie meet in the school’s woods

You’re my best view 

part 1 

You play Eddie’s guitar - he’s in love

part 2 

You fulfill your promise and take polaroids for your boyfriend

BLURBS

I’m naked

Late call on the walkie

Eddie discovers he’s in love

Stargazing in the back of Eddie’s van

Pregnancy scare | Hopper!Reader

Getting caught by the rain

Head scratches

Uncle Wayne

Running to Skull Rock

Bathroom sex during a concert

Eddie makes the long drive to California | Byers!Reader

Sick!Eddie

Snowfight (strange-mas)

Before heading to battle | Henderson!Reader

Riding Eddie on his throne

Eddie gets horny on stage because of you’re wearing stockings - then ruins said stocking | Warning: smut, thigh fucking, semi-public sex

You ride Eddie in his throne after Hellfire | Warning: Smut, p + v action, riding, semi-public sex(?), almost caught

[earthtoharlow]

Favorite Almost

3) the part where your heart is broken

Jack Harlow x Reader

a three part series

As the weekend approached, Jack approached you with an unexpected offer. “Hey, I know this is last minute but my DJ got sick and I could really use your help at my concert this weekend in Vegas. Would you be up for it?”

Your heart leaped with excitement at the thought of accompanying Jack to his show. You couldn’t resist the opportunity to be by his side as he performed.

With a grin you nodded eagerly. “Hell yeah! I’m down!”

As you traveled with Jack, excitement was coursing through your veins. Watching Jack do what he loved filled you with pride, and you couldn’t help but marvel at his talent and dedication.

The crowd cheered loudly as you finished your set. Jack pulled you aside, his eyes filled with admiration. “You were amazing out there,” he said, his voice tinged with genuine pride. “I’m so proud of you.”

His praise meant more to you than he could ever know, and in that moment, you felt a deeper connection to him than ever before.

Jack leaned in to kiss your forehead, a rush of emotions washed over you. The tender gesture filled you with desire to hold onto this moment forever wishing you could tell him how you felt.

***

Your heart swelled with affection as you gazed into Jack’s eyes, fingers tracing gentle patterns across his chest.

“You mean so much to me.” he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. “I never want to lose you”

A pang of longing pierced your heart as you listened, the urge to confess your growing feelings threatened to spill from your lips. But as you opened your mouth to speak your courage faltered and you swallowed back the words, masking your emotions with a forced smile.

Your voice barely above a whisper “You mean a lot to me too, Jack. More than you’ll ever know.”

As those words left your lips, a hollow ache settled in your chest. Deep down you knew that Jack’s declarations were little more than fleeting whispers, empty promises that crumbled like dust at the first sign of adversity.

And yet, despite the overwhelming sense of doubt that clouded your mind, you couldn’t help but wish that Jack meant every word he said. That he saw you not just as a temporary distraction and a warm body, but as someone worthy of his love and affection.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness as Jack wrapped his arms around you as he went to sleep. In that fleeting moment, you wished for nothing more than to tell Jack just how deeply you had fallen for him.

***

As the loud music filled the air, Jack couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you danced with another guy across the crowded club. Despite the fact this relationship was casual, a surge of jealousy gnawed at him. Twisting his insides with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and longing.

Every move you made with the other guy felt like a dagger to Jack’s heart, igniting a fierce sense of protectiveness over you. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that washed over him. Jack felt a strong urge to reclaim your attention. To assert his presence in your world.

As Jack continued to watch you two sway to the music, a storm of emotions raged within Jack’s mind. Insecurity mingled with desire, jealousy intertwined with longing, creating a tangled web of conflicting feelings that threatened to consume him.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Jack made his way through the throngs of partygoers, his steps fueled by a sense of urgency he couldn’t ignore. The distance between you seemed to stretch infinitely, driving him to the brink of desperation.

Finally reaching your side, Jack couldn’t suppress the surge of relief that washed over him. Without a word, he gently pulled you away from the other guy, his touch possessive yet tender as he wrapped his arms around you.

Before you could question him, Jack pulled you closer and swayed to the music. Jack felt a sense of triumph wash over him. You were his, and his alone. It didn’t matter how many women he spoke to. You were his favorite.

***

CURRENT DAY

Rain continued to fall outside as you felt like your heart was being drowned in a storm of your emotions. Sitting across from Jack you had mustered up the courage to tell him how you really felt, as you were leaving in 2 weeks. You were met with a response colder than the rain hitting the pavement.

Jack’s hurtful response pierced the silence like a lightning bolt. “Falling in love was never part of the deal.”

Your heart shattered into million pieces at his words. You were shocked at how heartless he sounded. “I never signed up for this!” Jack’s words, harsh and unforgiving. The pain of his rejection cut deeper than any knife, leaving you feeling raw and exposed.

“You’re just kidding, right?” You whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re telling me you don’t feel anything for me?”

Jack’s expression was stoic, his eyes betraying no hint of remorse as he delivered another blow. “I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. I don’t have feelings for you. I never did, and never will.”

“You’re lying,” you cried, voice cracking with anguish. “All those moments we shared, all the times you told me you cared about me… They meant nothing to you?”

He remained unmoved, as he spoke again. “You were just a temporary distraction, Nothing more.”

You recoiled as if struck, the venom in his words poisoning your soul with each syllable. How could he be so heartless, so indifferent to the love you had shared? Anger bubbled within you, fueling the fire of betrayal that raged in your heart.

“You’re a coward,” you spat, voice dripping with as much venom as you could. “Leading me on like this, pretending to care about me when all along you were just playing games. How could you do this to me?”

Jack’s gaze devoid of any empathy as he delivered the final blow. “You knew what this was from the beginning. I don’t have time for this emotional baggage.”

Lightning flashed through the house as Jack continued spewing out hurtful insults. Jack stared at you watching as you tried to control your emotions in front of him. For the first time since he arrived, Jack finally looked regretful. But it was too late for that now.

“Are you done?” You asked with a shaky voice. You wanted him gone, not even able to look at him any longer.

All Jack could do was nod as he walked out the door. When you heard the door shut you began to cry harder. You would never be able to forget the hurtful words Jack spoke, nor the sweet moments you shared together that were now tarnished by his words.

You walked down the hallway towards the guest bedroom where you had been staying all summer and started frantically packing your clothes. You needed to get out of Kentucky. Desperate to escape the pain and the memories that were beginning to hunt you.

With a heavy heart, you texted Cassie apologizing for leaving without properly saying goodbye. Telling her that you would explain everything when you arrived back home.

You caught the first flight out of Louisville. As you got settled in your seat on the plane you looked out the window in thought wondering how you were going to get over Jack. You had the time of your life this summer. Now you felt lost and confused.

You knew that deep down you would eventually find a way to move on. You refused to be consumed by a love that was never meant to last, no matter how much it hurt to let go.

***

ONE YEAR LATER

“You look so happy.” Cassie said, pulling away from the tight hug she had you in.

And you were happy. After leaving Kentucky you went back home and put all your effort into your career as a DJ. A year later you found yourself in a better place. You were doing multiple events every month, and making connections with tons of industry professionals. You had invited Cassie to a Spotify event where you were playing for a couple hours.

As you were about to ask Cassie if she wanted you to grab her a drink. Her eyes widened, spotting something or someone behind you. “What are you looking at—“

“Wait, don’t look!”

It was too late as you had already turned around and there he was. Jack Harlow. You hadn’t thought about him in months. His presence stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within you, but you remained composed.

You always thought that if you ever saw him again that old feelings would come back but you felt a sense of detachment wash over you as you looked at Jack. Realizing that you no longer held any romantic feelings for him.

“Hey.” Jack said as he walked towards you, a hint of regret in his eyes. “It’s been so long. I’ve missed you.”

“I wish I could say the same.” You told him calmly but before Jack could respond you felt a hand on the small of your back and a soft kiss to your forehead. “Hey baby!” Your boyfriend’s presence was comforting and reassuring.

“Is everything okay here?” he asked, casting a protective glance at you.

You smiled gratefully at him, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, your gaze lingering on Jack. “I was just saying bye to an old friend.”

Jack nodded at you both before tucking his tail and walking away disappointed. You couldn’t help but wonder what you ever saw in him. Jack would always be your favorite almost, but as you leaned into your boyfriend’s embrace you knew that you finally found the happiness and closure you had been seeking for.

***

AN: i hope you enjoyed this mini series! Let me know your thoughts 💋

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @mace23477 @snows-blog-of-fiction @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @halfmoondaze @babybardi2 @vinniehackersbaee @cassies-cookies

[faillen]

a little conversation I imagined happened before the bachelor party/wedding

---

"Hey," Tommy said, twisting his index finger into the hem of Buck's t-shirt sleeve. "Been meaning to ask—"

Buck tipped his head back against Tommy's shoulder to make eye contact. "Mhm?"

"How do you feel about PDA?"'

"Oh, I'm fine w—" Buck found himself stuttering to a stop, and his own hesitation had him flushing, stomach turning. "I—Actu—"

"Hey, no, you don't need to answer right now," Tommy said. "I just wanted to make sure I asked."

"Yeah, no, th—" this angle was shit for eye contact. "Actually, can we—" he lifted Tommy's arm off his shoulders and over his head, twisting so that he was sitting with his good leg tucked underneath him, facing Tommy and meeting his kind, open eyes. The thing that had threatened to topple loose in Buck's chest resettled.

"Evan," Tommy said, adjusting so that he was sitting the same way. He reached out and pulled Buck's hand into his lap. "There's no wrong answer, I promise."

"Right," Buck replied. "I know, it's just."

He liked PDA, he liked the easy affection of slinging his arm around someone's waist, or dropping a quick kiss. PDA was really, really nice when it came from feeling secure with who he was with.

But at the same time, there was still—when he and Tommy were in public together, there was still a part of him that was almost expecting someone to jump out from behind the bushes and yell that he was a "faker, fake! This guy isn't bisexual, he's a FAKE! Look at this asshole, pretending that he's a que—"

"Evan?"

"Sorry." Buck said quickly, snapping back into focus. Tommy's brows had dipped together, but he didn't say anything, just squeezed Buck's hands. "Sorry, I—" Buck took a deep breath. "I don't want to, y’know. Stick you back in the closet. But."

"Not being comfortable with PDA is not sticking me back in the closet," Tommy replied. "It's just you not being comfortable with PDA."

"But I am comfortable with PDA," Buck protested. "I just—" he hunched in on himself, unable to finish the sentence in a way that didn't inadvertently sound like a personal indictment of Tommy. Or suggested that he wasn't ready. "I think I need more time. And that doesn't feel fair to you."

"Evan," Tommy said slowly. "There's no expectation here. We can take it slow, I don't mind letting you lead."

Tommy's patience, Buck was beginning to fear, was endless. Which made him feel all the worse for saying things with the expectation that Tommy would interpret the worst out of them.

"You've been letting me lead with everything though." Buck swallowed. "Don't you want things, too?"

Tommy looked momentarily taken aback. "Of course I do," he said. "But I don't want things that make you uncomfortable."

"Right. But I know I hurt you," Buck pointed out. "On our first date, when I was uncomfortable. I know you said it was—but—I mean, I know it must've hurt."

Mouth pursing, Tommy sighed. "Alright, it did," he admitted. "But that's different. It's not like this—I don't. Okay, I actually don’t really know why this feels different, but it is. I suppose it’s because I know that you want this. And not wanting PDA doesn’t mean that this doesn’t feel real.”

“Unlike me acting like we were going to go pick up girls.”

Tommy tipped his head to the side, shoulders shrugging up. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean, I did say that I didn’t want to push you. And I think it was both. I was hurt, and I didn’t want to ask for more than you were ready to give.”

“And get more hurt.” Buck exhaled heavily. “I want to give you things,” he said. Because he did, he really, really did. “I’m not going to make you wait forever.”

The corner of Tommy’s mouth ticked up. “I know,” he murmured, the words laden not with a sense of expectation, but with a sense of surety that Buck would catch up with him eventually. “I’m not worried about that, Evan. Promise.”

“But if you ever are,” Buck said with a pointed look.

“I’ll tell you,” Tommy replied. He smiled. “So, temporary hold on the PDA?”

“Temporary hold,” Buck agreed. Then paused. “Wa-wait, does that mean hugs, too?”

Tommy laughed. “I think that’s up to you. Do you want to hug me, Evan?”

Buck grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

And then he tackled Tommy into the couch.

(And then they did a little more than just hugging.)

[literatecowboy]

Dr. Feelgood

3. Physical Exams

Part 4

Start at part 1 here!

Summary: You've been in trouble at work several times before for "lack of professionalism" but now you've gone too far. You've been reassigned to Task Force 141 as a temporary doctor to replace the ones they've made quit out of frustration. You must either prove yourself and earn your former position back at a prestigious military hospital in California or face dishonorable discharge. Author's Notes: This is my first fanfiction - please be gentle. Additionally, the reader's callsign is "Feelgood." I have done my best to write the reader as ambiguous regarding appearance, but she/her pronouns and AFAB anatomy will be utilized. I hope for this to be a slow-burn romance with Simon "Ghost" Riley.  Warnings: Gunshot wounds, medical terminology and procedures, finger up the butt, touching, allusions to NSFW

-----

Ghost lay alone in the medical bay, thoughts racing through his foggy mind. For once, he’d gotten Feelgood to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. After his flirtation you’d squeaked, snarky reply dead on your lips, and made an excuse to leave before bustling out, the door slamming behind you. 

You were infuriating. The way you bossed his colleagues around as if you had some sort of authority over them, the ways you tried to control him by cornering him and forcing him into bed, allegedly “for his own good.” The softness of your skin against his as you held him while he collapsed during his panic attack. The way he wished he could shut your smart mouth up with your plush lips wrapped around his–

The door to the med bay swung open and pulled him from his thoughts. Gaz poked his head in and glanced around, raising an eyebrow at Ghost.

“Where’s Feelgood?” he asked, wandering into the room with Soap trailing behind him. 

“Left.” Ghost grunted, shrugging his shoulders and scowling under his balaclava. 

“Where to? Price was asking after her and I think she has some questions for him too,” he said, peering into the office through the window in the door. 

“Didn’t ask.” the masked man grumbled. 

“How you feelin’ L.T. - seems like the lass is doin’ a lovely job,” Soap remarked, plopping down in a chair at his lieutenant’s side. 

“She’s competent.” Ghost said. What he wanted to say was ‘She’s a feisty little thing. I quite like her.’

“She’s scarier than you, mate. If I ever get shot, promise you’ll protect my arsehole?” Soap asked, snickering. Ghost fixed him with a glare. 

“Bring that up ever again, sergeant, and you’re a dead man,” he growled lowly. 

“Bring what up again?” you called out as you strode back into the med bay, a tray piled high with food in your arms. 

“Got you something to eat from the mess, Lieutenant,” you said with a smile, setting the tray by his bedside. 

“Hey, Feelgood, Price was askin’ after you earlier. Said you should head down to the office when you get a minute.” Gaz said, coming out of your office and offering you a smile. You returned it. 

“Thanks! I need to ask him about hiring medical support staff for this place. I’m sure you guys would be happy with more than just me poking at you all the time.”

“Hey lass, what does Feelgood mean? Where’d you get the callsign?” Soap asked, leaning back in his seat. 

“Oh, it’s stupid. Do you like classic rock?” you asked with a laugh, sitting down and sweeping your hair back into a ponytail. 

“I know enough to know Dr. Feelgood is the title of a song - Motley Crue, right?” Gaz asked, sitting next to you. 

“Yeah! I got it when I was still doing fieldwork and running missions with soldiers on the ground as a medic in the marines. One day three of us are headed into some little village and we get hit by an IED and the Humvee we’re in flips. So I crawl out, and my guys are still alive but they’re fucked up pretty bad. 

“My buddy Marston’s lost an arm so I tourniquet it and pump him full of drugs and he starts feeling good again before he passes the fuck out. And I figured fuck, why stop there? We’re all fucked up and bloody and we might die here in the sand so why not go out feeling better than just comfortable? So I offered some to Duncan after I’ve finished bandaging him up and he was like, ‘Sure, why the fuck not?’

“Then I patch myself up and put the needle in my thigh. Next thing I know I’m waking up driving a little donkey cart down the road and there are evac vehicles coming towards us. Marston’s passed out in the back and Duncan’s singing something made up - I think pretending to be the radio. 

“Anyway, I got into a metric fuckton of trouble even though we all made it out alive. I fucked my shoulder badly in the wreck, too bad to keep doing fieldwork, so they shipped me off to work in the base hospital’s emergency department. I got my shit together and went to medical school after that. 

“But the name - when my buddies came around enough to joke about it with me, they started calling me Dr. Feelgood after the song. See, it’s about a drug dealer called Jimmy who manages to evade trouble for a long time, but at the end of the song, he finally goes down on charges. They kinda reckoned my story mirrored Jimmy’s, but instead of going to prison, I got reprimanded and put in a more boring environment.” You finished. 

“Steamin’ Jesus lass, that’s–”

“I wasn’t aware you did field missions.” Ghost’s voice cut through Soap’s, silencing him. You smiled thinly. 

“Used to. Now the closest I get is coming with evac to stabilize wounded soldiers before they reach a proper hospital,” you admitted. 

“Sorry, Feelgood, but that’s pretty funny,” Gaz said with a grin, patting your knee before standing. 

“I just feel bad for whoever’s cart that was,” you admitted with a laugh, making Gaz shake his head. 

—

You went to see Price not long after the conversation died down under the assurances that Gaz and Soap would watch over Ghost. The door to his office was shut so you knocked softly. 

“Come in!” he called. You stepped in, taking in framed pictures and documents lining the back wall. A little plant sat atop the sill of the little window on the left wall and a couch was leaned against the right wall. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, slipping inside, the door shutting behind you.

“Yes! I wanted to let you know that I’ll be going on a mission with Soap and Gaz in a few days. It won’t last more than a week, but I wanted to check in with you and ask your professional opinion about Ghost’s condition before we leave. How’s he healing?” he asked, closing the laptop on his desk and fixing his gaze on you as you sat down. 

“Ghost is healing remarkably quickly and I’m confident he’ll make a full recovery provided he follows my instructions. Whether or not he does that is a matter of question,” you admitted with a smile. 

“Ah, I understand. I also wanted to ask - do you have any other concerns about the medical bay? Are there any supplies you’d like me to request for you, are we running low on anything?” Price asked. 

“What I need the most right now is support staff. Nurses, care assistants, other doctors? I know that those positions might be difficult to fill, but I’m one woman. I’m also not an anesthesiologist, an orthopedic surgeon, or a psychiatrist - my scope is very limited. 

“I also looked back at old records and I’ve noticed that none of you have ever provided medical history or undergone a physical. Before you leave for your mission, I’d like to do that for each one of you to get a baseline to compare later records to,” you said, counting each thing off on your fingers. Price nodded. 

“I can get the boys to get looked at for sure, but extra staff will take time to find. If there’s ever an emergency that you can’t tackle, we go to the general base hospital, but that’s discouraged due to the secretive nature of the work the task force does,” he explained. 

“Sir, I’d like you to undergo a physical too. Not just the boys. Do you have any reservations about seeing me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t doubt your competency, Feelgood, and I mean no offense, but I…dislike the idea of being prodded at.” Price admitted. You nodded sympathetically. 

“What if I gave you a questionnaire and you wrote things down? I’d settle for that and a check of your vitals - that’s really what I want from you guys anyway.”

“I’ll think about it.”

—

“Oh, come on, you’re telling me you aren’t appreciating being pampered and doted on by a cute girl while you’re laid up in bed?” Gaz asked teasingly. Ghost grunted. 

“I’d rather not have been shot, Sargent,” he said dryly, poking at the buttons on the side of the hospital bed. The bed alarm was blaring, signaling that he had gotten up, but you were too far away in Price’s office to hear. 

“But you think she’s cute, right? Come on, how could you not? And she’s got fire, too, I like her.” Gaz teased, making Ghost roll his eyes - but he didn’t respond. He finally figured out how to silence the bed alarm and the room went quiet again.

“Oh my god, you do think she’s cute! Come on mate, at least ask if she’s seeing anyone!” Soap almost shouted, laughing in disbelief. 

“If anything, I’d like to see less of her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere, buzzing around me. Won’t shut the fuck up.” Ghost said. This was a lie - he just didn’t want his teammates to see how you got under his skin. Soap and Gaz groaned in unison. 

“You should see if she’ll come out with us before we leave. I wonder if she likes bars?” Gaz wondered aloud. Ghost stiffened where he stood. 

“You’re leaving? All of you?” he asked.

“Less than a week, it’s a quick one this time. It’ll just be you and the–” Soap’s eyes widened in realization.

“Steamin’ Jesus it’ll just be him and the doc!” he exclaimed, turning wide-eyed to Gaz. 

“If anything happens–”

“Watch your mouth before you end up with me here in the med bay.”

“--you’ll tell us, right?”

“It’s perfect, you’ve got a whole week to flirt with her without him bothering you,” Gaz said, jabbing his thumb back at Soap.

—

Gaz was your first physical patient. You’d offered to take him back into your office for privacy but he said he didn’t mind Ghost sitting in. Ghost was on his phone on the couch in the corner with a cup of tea and hardly paying attention to the world - it was a compromise you’d come to once you found out he’d broken the bed alarm and he’d threatened to go back to his room permanently. 

“I didn’t know your name was Kyle. I like it, it suits you,” you remarked as you took his blood pressure. 

“Thanks, Feelgood.”

“Makes you sound like an American frat boy.” Ghost quipped from the corner. 

“Hey, be nice. Is HIPAA a thing over here?” you asked. Gaz laughed and shrugged and you went forward with the exam.

Overall he seemed to be in exceptional health and you were satisfied with your findings. Gaz seemed oddly relieved when you told him so, almost as if he was worried he’d fail the health exam. You sent him outside and called Soap in. 

“Hey, lass, no finger up the arse today right?” he asked nervously, sitting down on the gurney you’d set up as you took his temperature. 

“Not unless you’re into it,” you said dryly, earning a surprised cough from Ghost and a laugh from Soap. 

Soap’s exam went as well as Gaz’s had and he walked out with an inflated ego when you informed him that he was in excellent physical shape. You decided to approach Ghost next. 

“Your turn big guy,” you said, gesturing for him to raise his arm so you could attach the blood pressure cuff.

“I’ve been in this fuckin’ bay for days, don’t you have enough?” he grumbled but reluctantly obeyed - only so he could feel your warm hands against his skin as you secured the cuff. 

“I’ve been managing your wound and making sure you don’t get infected, not doing full physicals every day,” you said with a laugh. “Give me your hand?” 

He held it out to you and you took it, gently attaching the clip. His hand dwarfed yours and your face warmed slightly as you lowered the hand back to his thigh. Ghost watched you attentively, doing his best to read your expressions. You cleared your throat. 

“So, got anything cool you like to do on leave?” you asked, doing your best to strike up a conversation. 

“No.” Ghost grunted, a little too harshly. He winced and immediately felt bad. You took the equipment off of him when it had finished reading his vitals and tucked it away in the corner again, a little hurt. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after a minute as you fiddled with your stethoscope. “I didn’t mean to say that so aggressively.”

“It’s alright. Can I listen to your heart or would you rather me not touch you?” you asked briskly, watching him. 

“S’alright,” he grumbled, sitting forward and tugging his shirt off. 

“Oh, you didn’t have to– that’s okay, I can check your bandages afterward,” you said, your face hot as you took the sight of him in. Scars and old wounds crisscrossed his chest and a large bruise extended from beneath the bandages near his side. 

You put a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned forward, carefully listening to his heart through your stethoscope. His skin was warm and it made butterflies take flight in your stomach. 

“Can I hear from your back?” you asked softly after a moment. Ghost grunted his assent and bent forward. You leaned over his shoulder slowly, pressing your stethoscope to his back. 

Ghost couldn’t help himself as you leaned over him. Your soft skin practically burned him where you touched him and his heart rate picked up quickly. He took a deep breath and gently wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying his hand on your lower back. 

You looked at him in surprise but didn’t pull away. He met your gaze for a moment before pulling away and sitting forward again. 

“M’ sorry. Should go get something to eat.” he grumbled, picking his shirt up and moving to put it back on. 

“It’s - uh…it’s okay! Can I…change your bandages first?” you asked softly, your voice coming out as almost a squeak. Ghost nodded and waited patiently as you gathered the supplies you needed. The feeling of your touch against him made him shiver when you returned. 

How he wished he could reach out and sweep you up in his arms, press a kiss to your lips, whisk you back to his room, and never leave. As you changed his bandages, he watched and imagined you trailing those delicate fingers up his chest to ruck his mask up and pull him down into a kiss. 

“Thanks,” he uttered as you finished, and that’s all he did. He tugged his shirt on and was almost to the door when he turned around. 

“Soap and Gaz wanted me to ask you if you’d come out with the lot of us before they leave,” he said. You didn’t have to think about it. 

“Of course!”

-----

taglist: @iamaliceinwonderland, @itsmeamysworld, @ghostlythots, @oranoyaora, @keiva1000

[ktwritesstuff]

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 3

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: ~2000 Summary: Playing house with Joel is not all it's cracked up to be. As always, lovingly beta-read by @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (below cut) | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Content Notes & Warnings: mentions of assault, depression, p-in-v sex, & violence.

I consider my personal brand to be "All your faves want to fuck fat chicks" but the post-apocalyptic setting makes that harder to convey. Given that the diet culture of the 90s and early 2000s fucked us all, be on the lookout for body talk and mentions of disordered eating.

Atlanta 2007

It was a miracle you were alive.  That was what the doctors said when Joel and Tommy managed to find a FEMA clinic nearly 48 hours later.  The bullet had hit Joel first, just grazing him, but slowed down enough that when it struck you the impact didn’t send you into cardiac arrest.  It entered a few inches below your right shoulder, missing the lung, the subclavian artery, and the bundle of nerves controlling your arm, and exited the top of your chest before lodging in Sarah’s stomach where it tore her apart from the inside.  Some miracle.

The clinic doctors decided to send you to Dallas by helicopter, where there was supposed to be a working trauma center.  Of course, by the time you got there everything had gone to shit.  But the fluids and antibiotics they had already pumped into you kept you stable.  You hunkered down for a few weeks until Joel and Tommy decided it was safe to move you.  

From there you headed east, eventually making your way to a refugee camp in Atlanta.  It was a fucking mess–most folks had fled their homes without gathering important documents, but the bureaucrats were still insisting on trying to verify peoples’ identities.  The people outside were begging and bribing for someone to vouch for them.   

With Tommy being military, the government knew everything down to what underwear he had on; Joel managed to hang on to his wallet so thankfully he still had photo ID.

“This is my daughter,” he said, pushing you in front of him at the gate.  “Sarah.”

The powers that be immediately pressed Tommy into service helping to control the crowds and guard supplies, leaving you and Joel to get settled into one of the canvas tents on site.  It wasn’t much, but you had a cot, a toothbrush, and a bar of soap, which was quite a bit more than you had arrived with.

“Why’d you tell them I was your daughter?” you asked.   

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s still frowned upon for grown men to be traveling with a random teenage girl,” Joel replied gruffly.  “It’s just temporary.”

But after four years this temporary stopover looked more and more like home and you felt more like a mother than daughter: washing, mending, cooking when there was food which there usually wasn’t.  You had lost more weight than was probably safe, but you weren’t quite as rail-thin and sallow as most of the other evacuees haunting the camp.  

Still, you regretted all the time you had spent starving yourself when there was plenty of food around, desperate to shrink down to nothing.  Your body had kept you alive in impossible circumstances and you had promised yourself you would do what you had to to take care of it. 

With Joel, it was a different story.  About a month into your stay at the camp, a man whistled at you in the breadline for weekly rations of beans and government cheese.  It was so strange and unexpected that you didn’t even realize it had happened until Joel had jumped the guy.

“Stop it!”” you screamed, helping two other guys pull him off.  “You’ll kill him!  Daddy!”

Even after one of the guards slammed his rifle into the back of Joel’s neck, he still wasn’t satisfied.

“I’ll kill you, you son of a bitch!  She’s mine!  I’ll fucking kill you!”    

The guards probably would have hanged them both if not for Tommy running interference, but that didn’t keep Joel from picking fights wherever he could.  He had a death wish and that made him dangerous. 

Losing Sarah had broken something inside of him, how could it not.  Keeping you and Tommy safe had kept him grounded for a while, but now that things were (relatively) stable, he had no reason to keep going.  You sympathized, of course, with the unfathomable grief of losing a child.  That didn’t mean you were content to stand by while he self-destructed.  

It was past noon and Joel was asleep, passed out, you realized as your toe connected with the bottle that had rolled under his cot.  

“Get up,” you said, pushing on his back.  “Laundry day.  Get up.”

Joel grunted, balling up under the blanket.

“Well that’s just great,” you said.  “You want to drink a week’s worth of rations in one afternoon, fine.  But if you think I’m gonna let you get a staph infection from sleeping in the same filthy clothes for weeks, you’ve got another thing coming.”

You grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled with all your might.  Joel fought you, growling and thrashing, but ultimately you managed to wrestle it away.  Joel harumphed and turned over in bed.  You threw the blanket into the laundry basket and stormed out of the tent.

Tommy was on rounds and you passed him on your way to the little stream that ran through the east side of camp.

“You need to talk to him,” you said.  “Cause I am at the end of my rope.”  

Joel had been shutting down for weeks and things seemed to be getting worse and worse.  You knew he wished you had died instead of Sarah.  As if it wasn’t bad enough that you'd always be left to wonder if you hadn’t turned around when you did, would that bullet have passed through Sarah and killed you.  You would have taken her place if you could.  This wasn’t the life any of you would have wished for, but this was the life you had.

“Cut him some slack,” Tommy said.  “Birthdays and anniversaries are always rough.”  

“I’m sorry,” you said, as Tommy walked with you toward the edge of camp.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you–I know how much you loved Sarah and we can’t even talk about her.”

Tommy shrugged.  “You compartmentalize.  Deal with it when it’s safe.”

“So never?” 

“That’s the job,” Tommy said.  

You shook your head.  “The job sucks.  And we still need to figure out what we’re going to eat this week.  I already traded my last tampon for the month.”

“Don’t tell me that,” Tommy chuckled.  “I don’t need to know that.”

“Yeah, well, I figured your back was getting tired from carrying us,” you teased.

Tommy waved you off, jogging back to his post before his C.O. noticed he was gone.  

You sat down by the river, sprinkling your weekly allotment of laundry powder onto the stones.  Having to do all the scrubbing manually certainly gave you time to think.  When weekly assignments came around, you usually asked to be on the cleaning crew–it wasn’t a desirable chore, but you liked knowing that the communal showers and horrible pit latrines you had to use were as sanitary as possible.  Besides, as long as you weren’t greedy you could get away with pocketing extra hand sanitizer and disinfectant–that shit was better than gold around camp.  

But FEDRA was trying to get a factory up and running about a mile outside camp, hard work, double shifts, and shit pay.  But there were fringe benefits for those willing to take the risk.  This dude called Axel had a pot farm on the other side of the fence.  He was always looking for people dumb enough or desperate enough to move his product–they were always getting caught at the gate.        

So you wrung out and hung the laundry and marched down to the big house to sign up for the next truckload of workers leaving camp.

You worked the graveyard shift, and made it back through the gate the next afternoon with half a kilo of weed in the hidden pocket you had sewed into the lining of your jacket.  As you suspected, the guards were more interested in groping your breasts and between your legs during their pat-down.  You headed back to your tent with the most money you had ever held in your hands–before the outbreak or after.  

Your euphoria at your success was only somewhat diminished by the realization that Joel and Tommy had spent the morning tearing the camp apart looking for you.

“Where the hell have you been?” Joel said.  He looked frantic, disheveled, cold sweat, the works. 

“Working,” you said, digging the wad of ration cards out of your bra and handing it over to Tommy.  “Maybe you can find us some real food now.”

“Jesus, kid,” Tommy said, flipping through the cards.  “Where’d you get this?”

“Why? They’re good, aren’t they?”

You toed off your shoes and pulled off your sweatshirt as you came into the tent.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Joel followed after you, wiping a hand across his forehead.  “We’ve been worried sick–thinking you were dead in a ditch somewhere, or worse–and that’s all you have to say for yourself?”  

“Can we have this conversation later,” you groaned, shimmying out of your bluejeans and collapsing on your cot.  “I’m exhausted.”  

When you finally woke, Joel was sitting on the folding chair beside your cot.

“So what are you a whore now?” 

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you groaned, sitting up, pulling the thin blankets up around you.  “Does it fucking matter?”

You had considered sex work, but the truth was there wasn’t much of a market for it.  Assault was more common than toilet paper in the camp–there was hardly a woman who hadn’t been groped (or worse) or a man that hadn’t been mugged for that matter.  You figured the only reason you had been spared so far was that Tommy and Joel were so fucking scary.  

“Yeah, it fucking matters, Sweetpea,” he growled.  You had never seen him angry before, not like this.  You would have been terrified if you weren’t so goddamn tired.  

“I am responsible for you.”

“Oh, spare me the sanctimonious bullshit,” you said.  “I’m not a child.  I am grown.  I’m certainly not your daughter.”  

“You think I don’t know that!”  Joel grabbed you by the chin.  You met his gaze; for a moment, you weren’t sure if he wanted to hurt you or something else.

“Prove it,” you said, the corner of your mouth lifting into a sneer.  “I fucking dare you.”

In the space of a breath, Joel had crushed his mouth against yours.  You moaned against his lips, leaning back in bed, but Joel held the back of your neck, keeping you close.  You put your hands on his face, running your fingers into his hair.

Joel climbed on top of you in bed, the thin mattress sagging under your combined weights.  He sat up long enough to unbuckle his belt and paused.  

“Say yes,” he instructed, leaning down, planting his lips in the space where your jaw met your neck.  

You sighed, gripping his shoulder, turning your face to expose your neck to him.  

“You have to say yes.”

“Yes,” you breathed, pulling your ratty t-shirt off over your head and dropping it on the floor.  

Joel pulled down his jeans and ran his hands down your back, looping them into your panties, pulling them down.  You kicked them off to hook your ankles behind Joel’s thighs as he kissed your throat.  

He pressed into you all at once; you were so exhilarated you hardly felt anything.  Then pressure and a sharp tug behind your pelvic bone as he withdrew and pushed deeper. You gripped his arms and squeezed your knees into his sides. 

“Good?” he asked, kissing and sucking a trail down your chest, grazing the mounds of your breasts with his teeth.  

You took a few deep breaths and relaxed your face which had tightened into a grimace.  

“It’s a lot,” you said, running your hands down his back.  

“I know,” Joel breathed.  “I know, Sweetpea.  I got you.”

Joel moved one hand between your legs, to the bundle of nerves at the peak of the wishbone where your bodies met, massaging in circles with his rough fingers.  You felt something coiling inside you, hot and tight.  You arched into him.

“That’s better?”  

“Mmhm.”  You nodded, relaxing your thighs.  “That’s nice.”  

Joel moved against you, hips flicking up into the bowl of your pelvis as he massaged you.  He cupped one breast with his spare hand, pressing his mouth over the other, tongue circling the sensitive nipple. 

“That’s nice.”

He bucked into you harder; you bit your lip to stifle a cry.  You could feel the knot in your belly spreading, unfolding.  Your body stiffened and relaxed and with a low moan, Joel dropped his weight onto you, tired and spent.

You felt your heart rate slow and your breath grew deeper.  Joel rested his head on your chest and you ran your fingers through his hair.  You noticed it was damp and smelled faintly of mint.

“Did you shower?”

Joel nodded, his beard rubbing against your skin.  You smiled.

“You do listen to me.”

“Mmhm.”  You ran your hands over Joel’s shoulder girdle; felt the tight knots of muscle relax under your touch.  

Joel’s lips found the ragged scar under your collarbone where the bullet had left your body.  He kissed the scar gently, running his fingertips over it.  For an instant you felt like he was worshiping you, in awe of you.  And you marveled at your own sweet self for being able to give such pleasure.  

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” Joel said.  You pressed your eyes closed.

“I may not have a choice,” you sighed.  “Axel wants me to do another run at the end of the week–I don’t think he’ll take no for an answer.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he said. 

After a moment, Joel rose from the bed, pulling on his pants as you pulled the blankets up over you. 

“What are you going to do?” you said.

“I said I’d take care of it,” he repeated.

“Joel,” you warned.  “You can’t narc on him…you can’t kill him.  Don’t kill him, Joel.  Please.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning over to kiss your cheek.  “Eat something.  Tommy brought you peanut butter.”

You had half a mind to try and stop him from leaving, but who could resist peanut butter.

Baby's First Taglist: @stilllivindue2spite, @amethystwonders11 & @teacupcollector

[amberskywrites]

Eternal

Chapter 24 - Consequences

Chapter 1 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 25 || Masterpost | AO3 Link | FF.net Link

Fandom / Genre: Nanatsu no Taizai (Seven Deadly Sins) / Canon-Divergent and Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Meliodas/Elizabeth, Zeldris/Gelda, Meliodas & Zeldris & Elizabeth & Gelda

Overall Story Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, Canon-typical violence, Canonical character death, Canon temporary character death, Cursed characters, Lmk if I need to add anything else!

Chapter Warnings: None, lmk if there’s anything I need to add!

Author's Note:

So, so incredibly sorry for how long it's taken to get back to this! A lot of stuff ended up happening - younger sibling was dealing with a lot of health issues, family tensions reached a new high, I'm no longer on speaking terms with someone in my house, so much uni work. And now I'm trying to get to a point where I'm no longer reliant on that someone financially, trying to plan to move out later this year, and am now working retail part-time before uni starts up again alongside an internship I was accepted for. I can't promise that updates will be more frequent or be on any kind of schedule; but what I can promise is that this story will not be abandoned. If you ever want an update on how it's going - or just to ask me what's up - message me anywhere from here on Ao3 to Tumblr or Instagram ^^ Thank you all, genuinely, for being patient and for the love you have shown this story - I truly appreciate it!

Story Summary:

Eternal…

life.

reincarnation.

silence.

and chains.

For 3,000 long and painful years, these four have been doing all they can to lift their curses. They have failed, again and again and again. With only a sliver of hope left, they try once more.

-

Or, what if Zeldris accepted Meliodas’ offer to go with him 3,000 years ago?

King’s eyes were wide, and his voice caught in his throat. But even if he wanted to say anything, he had no words. All he managed was a strangled gasp before he heard the distorted and so, so painfully familiar voice of his baby sister come from the lights.

“Ban, what happened? How did you get that scar?”

She didn’t even acknowledge him, the lights tilting slightly to the side but still near Ban, still not moving away from the man who should still be petrified.

Ban scoffed and tilted his head King’s way, but didn’t actually look at King. His expression was… if King had to name it, he’d say fond, faux annoyance plastered on his face.

“I thought you guys watched over us from the other side?”

“It… it really is her- Elaine!” King choked out, and he was vaguely aware of Ban glancing at him, but King couldn’t- he just couldn’t be bothered anymore. Not when… “Please, show yourself to me too!”

Ban continued looking at him, and he said something, though King didn’t hear it. It wasn’t too quiet, but everything suddenly seemed muffled, and all that mattered was Elaine. He had to see her again, make up for his mistakes.

The orbs of light swayed slightly, side to side, as if she were shaking her head. King’s heart settled in his throat as tears stung his eyes.

“The Necropolis allows people to see each other even after death, but only through strong emotional bonds.”

He looked down, finally tearing his eyes away from the pair. He couldn’t help but laugh quietly to himself.  “So you’re still angry at me… for abandoning you, the forest, and everything we believed in…” King mumbled, feeling the tears collect at the corner of his eyes and trying to blink them away. He clenched his fists, trying to distract himself.

There was an explosion in the distance. The power was almost overwhelmingly familiar, followed by a certainly familiar aura of magic.

“A holy knight?” Ban hissed, whipping around to look in the direction they had come from. King glanced up, seeing the immortal posed to run that way. At this point, King didn’t really care.

Elaine’s voice stopped them both - Ban from running off, and King from continuing to wallow.

“Ban, why did you come here?”

Ban didn’t even turn to face her. He just paused, and even when he began speaking, his face gave nothing away.

“I came to say one thing to you: that I will one day take what is mine.”

Despite his expression never changing, King could only imagine what the man meant by that, and his despair over Elaine refusing to let him see her easily morphed into a rage that heated him to his very core. 

“What more could you take from my sister, Ban?!” he snapped, but Ban didn’t even look at him this time. King ground his teeth together, fingers twitching, calling Chastiefol back and about to transform it.

The only reason he stopped was because of Elaine.

“Thank you, Ban.” Her voice was softer than it was before, and King was frozen in his confusion.

Ban didn’t wait a second more, running off towards the remnants of the explosion.

-

Elaine watched her brother drift to the ground, head hanging, the tears finally slipping down his boyish cheeks. She watched impassively, the only thing she would allow herself to feel regarding her brother.

Too many years she had wasted in sorrow and anger and confusion. He didn’t deserve more than impassion from her.

“Why?” he was whispering, she realized. “What could Ban give you that I can’t? When he’s the reason you died?”

She said nothing, but she did drift closer, if only to hear more of what he would say on the things he had no knowledge of.

“How can you forgive Ban?”

How could she forgive him?

What is there to forgive?

Ban didn’t do anything to her.

…

Well. That’s not true.

Elaine didn’t inhale, because she no longer needed to, but she thinks if she still had to breathe she would have. She let go of the impassion, the indifference. And she let the pain in her heart soul boil to the surface as she stared at her big, foolish brother.

“You left,” she starts. “You left, and I was forced to spend hundreds of years in solitude.” She could hear her voice reverberate off the crystalline walls around them, so far away still. But his breathing had hitched, he was listening, and she could see the moment his heart skipped a beat when she finally addressed him. She could feel the way his heart ached, the pain that plagued it, the pain that he had no right to feel when he left.

The pain was familiar. The pain was her own as much as it was his.

Her next words were clearer, grounded in her instead of around them. His head snapped up.

“Seven hundred years after you abandoned your country, after you abandoned me. And Ban… Ban erased all the loneliness in just seven days. He made those centuries feel like nothing more than a nightmare.” 

He couldn’t find words, his mouth opening and closing but not even a stranged sound could escape. She narrowed her eyes, just slightly. He was still her brother, after all, and she would not allow her rage and hurt caused by him to take over her soul. She would not.

“You ask how I can forgive Ban. But I have to ask, how can I forgive you?” 

The anguish on his face didn’t bring her any satisfaction. It only sparked a fury in her chest, and she ached with the anger. She took a faux breath, if only to ground herself, and smoothed the glare away, dragging back the indifferent expression to her face.

“You don’t know him, brother. You don’t know him at all.”

-

Zeldris hauled Meliodas out of the rubble, the brothers hunching behind Gelda a moment later as she blasted one of Guila’s incoming attacks.

“We’re getting nowhere,” Meliodas huffed, “and only being driven back to where Elizabeth ran.”

“We’re getting somewhere,” Zeldris said. “We’re being good distractions.”

“I wouldn’t call you distractions. I haven’t forgotten about Princess Elizabeth,” Guila said from where she stood on a high crystal that Diane had made in an attempt to attack her. “However, I have no intention of passing up the chance of fighting two of the Seven Deadly Sins.” She tilted her head, regarding Gelda and Zeldris with a contemplative frown. “Well, two depowered Sins and their… family, if the reports are to be believed. I must say, it is a mystery as to why two people so seemingly as powerful as the Sins would not have fought alongside them over ten years ago. I must ask-”

“None of your business!” Diane swung a hammer-shaped crystal at the pillar Guila had claimed, forcing the possible holy knight to leap to another. Before she could get her bearings, Diane swung again, aiming for Guila’s feet, and again with every move back she forced Guila.

“Interesting,” Guila mused on the fifth swing, before twisting her body and propelling herself back on Diane’s make-shift hammer. She flipped back and created an explosion beneath herself, bringing her higher than the giant and keeping herself in the air with multiple smaller explosions. The next time Diane swung, there was a warning shout from Zeldris, but it was too late, and Guila blasted the hammer swinging at her with a large ball of flames.

The explosion forced the hammer to swing in reverse, and Diane narrowly avoided being slammed in the head by it, but lost her footing in avoiding the bludgeon. Guila took the opening and barraged her with explosions, and two, three stumbles back, Diane finally crashed.

Guila aimed another explosion at the downed giant, dismissing the fact that Gelda and Zeldris were in front of her. They braced for impact, both Gelda and Zeldris creating a barrier of purple and red flames in front of them and Diane. Guila’s frown deepened and brow furrowed. Something about the aura…

It didn’t matter. The flames would just bolster her power.

She sent the blast forward.

When it made contact, she expected the explosion to absorb the flames and continue on its path, smashing into the three.

It absorbed the flames.

It did not collide.

She had just a second to dodge her own blast.

[gothicprep]

two things I’ve been meaning to comment on: the redlettermedia video on the death of movie theaters, and The Usual Suspects of z-rate youtube movie critics blaming furiosa’s failure at the box office for being too girlboss. I promise i’ll tie these together in a way that makes sense.

there are a lot of reasons why theaters aren’t doing great right now. the biggest one is attendance, and how it hasn’t bounced back since lockdown. this has been exacerbated by a lack of product in the marketplace, driven by the wga and sag strikes. this isn’t anti-labor union sentiment on my part. I want to be extremely clear about that. it’s not a comment on the negotiations. just an objective statement about how two large guilds striking = less movies = less butts in seats. I’m surprised the rlm guys didn’t consider this.

but there are two salient other things to bring up with what’s going on with the box office rn specifically.

one of them is that movies are still performing in the way you’d expect them to in the box office rn, relative to other seasons. furiosa is a great example of this. fury road, commercially speaking, was not a big hit. furiosa had a higher budget. and mad max movies tend to stand on their own. no further proof of this exists than most americans thinking that the road warrior was the first mm movie, because WB really shat the bed on the distribution for the original. they’re highly tethered to the anxieties of when they came out. the pre-apocalyptic nature of mad max dials in on what kept people up in the 70s. the road warrior is evocative of OPEC and middle east/oil anxieties. thunderdome confronts our 90s fears of tina turner. fury road deals in environmental collapse, right down to how the manpower in the citadel is imagined. Furiosa breaks from this format in a few ways. max not being in it is the obvious one. the other is that it’s so reliant on fury road that its end credits contain a supercut of the movie. this is unusual for a prequel, at least in its extent.

this all to say, there’s no universe where this movie made a lot of money. it was never going to happen. contrary to what some may tell you, it was never a girls get it done thing. i know furiosa was great, but you need to remember that critic and general audience reception are very different things. if you’re someone who likes to talk and write about movies, you’re in a place that’s closer to critic brain than you are general audience brain.

If you had a normal release schedule for, say, may, this would be sort of a nothingburger. but remember – marvel movies have pretty much always dominated may. marvel is in sort of a weird position rn post infinity war, and there was no marvel movie to come out in may.

the second one is more related to the strikes. haulted production is a temporary hiccup. within a year, things should normalize a little. think of it like the recovery period after a surgery. something is wrong. you get it fixed. but there’s a time period after that where you can’t do much of anything. in the end, you come out healthy. your strength may be diminished, but you move on. we’re in the recovery period rn. perhaps theaters are a dying business, and this is one of those situations where you carry on but are a bit weaker. but it’s recovery. not death.

ah well, those are just my thoughts on it.

[ashes-writing-corner]

Hey guys! I am so sorry for the super long delayed update to this. I've been super busy, I've been sick, and I've had an injury I'm recovering from. I'm doing better, I just messed up my tailbone a while back. And i've also been super dedicated to getting my book done. But you're not here for that! You're here for the Ghosts that We Knew! Let's gooooo!

Taglist: @stargatenovus @poisonedsultana and @cedar-bees

Tw: none really, maybe a mention of Necrophilia, hinted Spectrophilia but it doesn't go into details. So yeah...

Ghosts That We Knew

Part 14. Spectrophilia

“Are you and mama mad at each other?” Ellie asked one afternoon as she put aside the doll she was playing with.

Ghost was watching her from a corner in the room, as he always did when the girl was home and playing by herself. She had seemed somewhat somber these days, since you had figured out who he was and what he did. Ellie had felt the tension. She was doing everything her little mind could come up with to try and make them happy again, and it seemed to work to a degree. But there was still a sort of intensity whenever you and Ghost were in the same room. You hadn’t completely stopped talking to him, but you seemed hesitant to say anything.

“No lovey, we aren’t mad at each other” he answered quickly.

“Mama seems upset about something” Ellie pointed out, looking at the ghost who looked so comically big in that small corner.

Ghost sighed a little. “I…did kinda do something”.

“What’d you do?”.

Now to come up with an explanation a little kid would understand. That was the hard part. Ghost wasn’t stupid. He knew kids were smarter than adults usually gave them credit for. However, this wasn’t her fight to sort out. This wasn’t her problem to solve. This was between you and Ghost, whatever this was.

“I kept a secret that I shouldn’t have” he said.

“But I thought that’s the point of secrets?” Ellie cocked her head.

She wasn’t wrong. Thankfully he had a good counter for that.

“Sometimes yes. But serious ones, ones that could hurt people, they need to be told. Not be secrets. Surprises are temporary, secrets aren’t. I kept something from your mum that seriously hurt her feelings. We talked about it and I thought we were doing okay”.

“What was the secret?”

Now that was something he didn’t want to tell her. Not yet. Not to mention it really wasn’t his place to tell her. It was yours, and he wasn’t about to take that from you.

“Your mum will tell you when you’re older, I’m sure”.

“But I wanna know now,” Ellie said, “Please?”

Behind his mask, he couldn’t help but smile. “I appreciate the manners, kiddo, but I can’t tell ya. No matter how much I want to. It’s gonna be alright. I promise. Your mum just needs time and we gotta wait for your little brain to develop a little-”.

Ellie frowned. “You think I’m stupid…”

“What? No! No, never! I could never think that way about you, lovey. You’re a smart kid. It’s just that, problems between adults should stay between adults” he carefully sat down just in front of her on her bed, “What gave you that silly idea?”

Ellie put her hands on her head. “I hate talking about my brain”.

“Why?”

“Makes me feel dumb”.

“Sweetheart, you are anything but dumb. There’s just some things that you don’t understand yet. But I promise you, someday you will. It’ll take a while, but you will. And I’ll be there when your mum wants to tell you. You’re not alone Ellie, and you never will be if I can help it”.

With that, he hugged the little girl as best he could. It was cold, but Ellie didn’t seem to mind it. She was still worried about the situation though, she couldn’t help that.

“Can you and mama be friends again?” she asked.

“I’ll try to talk to her and see what’s going on. I caused this and I think only I can fix it. But seriously, Noelle…Do not for one second think you're dumb, stupid, ugly, or whatever negative thing is in your little head. You are remarkable. You’re sweet, kind, and you have the biggest heart of any kid I know. What or whoever is saying otherwise-”.

“My brain says it…” she admitted with a frown.

Behind his mask, Ghost frowned. Depression in such a young child was hard to swallow. He understood what she meant and that was a sad thing. But at least he knew.

“My brain used to say things like that too” he told her.

“Really?” she asked.

Ghost nodded. “A lot, actually. I…Only I didn’t hear my voice in my head saying things like that”.

Ellie cocked her head. “It wasn’t your voice?”

“Nope. My father was very mean, he’d say terrible things and do terrible things. Whenever my brain said negative things about me, I’d hear him say it”.

“What would you do to make it stop?”.

He couldn’t tell her that in the end, the voice had won over. No, he wouldn’t let her be without hope like he had been. He couldn’t do that to her.

“I’d tell him to shut up. That I was doing the best I could, and if nothing was good enough for him, then I’d give him nothing. Pay him no mind, give him no credence. No attention. Nothing. I would listen to music. Think of things that I liked, things that made me happy. And most of the time, he would stop”.

Ellie looked thoughtful. “Can you tell my brain to shut up?”

Ghost chuckled. “I can do something better. Close your eyes for me”.

The girl did as he asked and he put his hands on either side of her head. Again, his touch was cold, but she didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Hey, Ellie’s brain…be nice” he whispered, “She’s got it rough enough as is. She doesn’t need you makin’ it worse. If you aren’t nicer to her, I’ll come in there, and you’ll be very sorry”.

Ellie laughed and her eyes fluttered open. “Will it help?”.

“Well, when your brain starts saying mean things, I want you to remember that. I want you to hear my voice in your head saying just that. Sometimes our greatest bullies are the ones inside us. But it doesn’t need to be. When that happens, tell me or your mum, and we can make those thoughts go away”.

Ellie nodded in understanding. “Thank you” she wished she could hug him.

She didn’t need to, as Ghost reached his arms out and embraced her in an icy hold. “There isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for you, sweetheart. Remember that”.

“I’ll try…” she answered.

“That’s all I can ask” he replied letting her go, “I’ll try talking to your mum. I promise you, none of this is your fault or anything. It’s purely mine. I’ll take care of it. I promise. You just worry about being the best dang Ellie there is”.

Ellie smiled widely and nodded. “I’ll try. Thank you!”.

“You got this little one” he stood, “Now to go talk to your mum. Whatever you hear, I promise: It’s not your fault. Alright?”

“Not my fault”.

“Exactly. If you have to, cover your ears and keep saying it”.

“Are you guys gonna yell?”

His eyes softened more at that. “I’ll try not to. But your mum is really upset with me. Not you, me. Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise”

He remembered being that young and being afraid of his parent’s raised voices. He didn’t have anyone to protect him then, and he would be damned if he failed to protect her. It was bad enough the poor dear suffered from depression already. Ghost refused to make it worse if it could be helped.

Now it was time again to face the music, and figure out what exactly was bothering you now…

You were sitting in your room, having just washed up from dinner and now settling into your night routine. You were still looking for a therapist, as you weren’t about to go back on your word with Ghost, despite the new information you had. Soap had messaged you not too long ago, but you weren’t sure if you could talk to any of them without anger. You weren’t even really sure why you were angry at them. Price, Gaz, and Soap hadn’t actually done anything. They were just there the night of your transplant.

It was bad enough your mom and sister were there. You hated that they saw you like that, on the verge of death and needing a transplant. You hated that Ellie saw you like that. A chill passed by you and you set your book down, turning your app back on so you two could communicate somewhat.

You…okay…

“About as good as I can be in these circumstances” you answered.

Angry…me.

“You’re angry?”

No…you. Me.

“I’m still processing everything and I actually learned something else”.

What?

“Your friends were there that night”.

That took him by surprise. The guys were there? Why? Was it time? Were they coming to say goodbye? Did they still think that fondly of him at that point? He didn’t know what to say to that.

“Price called me, he left a message. I thought of calling him back, but I haven’t had the time and I don’t wanna run the risk of screaming at them. It was bad enough that my family saw me in that condition. I didn’t want your friends to be subject to it too”.

He wondered if they were actually there for him. It would make sense…

For…me…not…you.

“It’s possible. I just…I hate thinking of all those people’s eyes on me. I was sick, and I needed help. Not pity”.

You got help.

“I know but…I just have mixed feelings about it”

That didn’t answer his question though. You had been really tense with him as of late, and he wanted to know if perhaps he did something wrong.

Wrong?

“What?”

Something…wrong…I…did.

You sighed. “As I said, I just need time to process everything. I didn’t expect to get so tangled up in the military again. After my partner’s passing I didn’t want anything to do with it anymore. Now I’m caught in it forever. I just feel awkward around you now, it’s weird”.

Awkward?

You sighed and looked over at the end of the bed where you assumed he was sitting. It was now or never, and he had a right to know.

“You…Okay, I don’t want you to feel weird like I do, but I think it’s important” you got up and closed your door, careful to make sure you didn’t make too much noise as Ellie was about ready for bed by now.

With the door shut, you went back to the bed, heart hammering in your ribcage like a bird trying to get free. You weren’t sure how he was going to take this. Hell, YOU didn’t even know how to take this. It was so…bizarre and maybe wrong on some deep moral level. You weren’t sure. You opened your mouth to finally talk.

“When you touched me the other night…my chest and everything…” you were looking at your hands, trying to keep your palms from sweating, stifling the urge to pick at your arms, “You made me feel something. Some kind of way. I…haven’t felt anything like it since before my partner died”.

Uh oh…

Oh god…

No…no…no…

Red flags were going up in Ghost’s head. A voice in his mind, for once not his father’s, was screaming: “Go away, go back to the closet right bloody now and do NOT come out!”. This could not be going where he thought it was going. Even so, he couldn’t move. He wanted to, oh gods he wanted to, but something just held him in place. He was stuck in some kind of nightmare scenario and there was no getting out of it.

When he didn’t reply, you continued.

“Maybe I’m just crazy, or lonely or something…but…I liked it. I liked it…definitely more than I should have. I mean, I totally get it, you didn’t mean it in like a sexual kinda way, but…” your words failed, “Fuck…”.

An awkward silence hung between you. Simon had NO idea what to do or say. You actually liked that he touched you? And he definitely didn’t mean it in that sort of way, but it felt…nice. He hadn’t felt warmth like that in ages, softness in even longer a time. He didn’t find the action to be entirely unpleasant and you definitely didn’t either.

Weird and yet, it felt so right…in a strange way.

Simon snapped back to reality. No, this wasn’t some weird romance novel shit. This was actually happening and it was wrong. He was dead, you were alive. To wish for such things would be black mark on both of you. He would be holding you back. And you, if anyone ever found out, would be ostracized as a…well…was there a term for someone who wanted to sleep with ghosts?

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I feel so damn stupid” You shook your head and kept your gaze still on your hands, “I’m not a necrophiliac I swear…”

I know.

“It’s wrong. It’s so wrong…”.

Feel wrong?

“Feel wrong?”

Did…it…feel…wrong?

“Well no because you asked permission first. All I wanted to do was show you the scar, to show you what you did, in a way” you answered honestly, “And again, I know the intention behind it wasn’t-”

Again?

You stopped, stunned. Hell the question even took Simon off guard. But gods be damned he…he actually wanted to touch you again. As he had said before there were things he missed about being alive, warmth and softness being chief among them. A ghost's afterlife tended to be empty and cold. But you…you made him feel like he actually existed…

You were almost too stunned for words. “I…I think I’d like that…a lot”.

You felt a blast of cold over you as you laid back against the pillows, like he was moving on top of you. It was a heavy feeling, but not exactly physical. It was hard to describe. You felt the same chill softly bristle your cheek, like something was gently touching you. As odd a sensation it was you didn’t find it at all unpleasant. You drowned out the voice in your mind screaming that this was wrong and that you shouldn’t want this. But goddamn…did you ever want something so badly?

You felt both of his hands on your cheeks, your head moving seeming on its own accord. You felt almost hypnotized as the deathly cold traced your cheeks and down your face. Your heart hammered again inside you, your stomach was doing odd flips. You closed your eyes, something taking over you. Your lips felt suddenly cold and you just knew…you just knew.

Ghost was kissing you.

You were being kissed by a dead man.

A dead man whose heart beat in your chest.

Knowing this only seemed to heighten your senses as you felt his icy hands roam over your mostly bare arms. The straps to your simple cami fell to your shoulders as the kiss intensified. You seemed to meet those cold lips with the same intensity, closing your eyes as you felt your stomach go warm…and something further down started to ache. It had been so goddamn long…

When you opened your eyes, he was there, mask half up to reveal his graying skin and violet tinted lips. You weren’t afraid. You had never been afraid. And you sure as hell weren’t now.

“You alright lovey? Is this alright?” he asked, his eyes intense and his voice a little husky.

You let out a few quivering breaths before you answered. “This is fine. I’m okay. I promise”.

“Do you want me to take this off of you?” he asked, eyeing your cami shirt.

You felt your cheeks go warm as he asked, but you could only nod. Ghost took it as silent approval and moved his icy hands to your waist so he could pull the shirt up and over your head. Still ignoring that damn pesky voice, you raised your arms a little to let him pull it off. Your eyes found his as he flung it away and put his head to yours.

“Don’t you worry about a thing tonight love…I’ve got you” Simon kissed your head.

Something in you settled a little and you knew for certain that he was right. This was right…

Sorry guys but I'm not a smut writer, I leave that to the pros cause I sure as hell am not one. Maybe I'm a coward or maybe it's cause I'm on the ace spectrum. Who knows?

Anyway if you guys liked this part please feel free to like, comment, tag, and please reblog. I really appreciate it. I hope yall are having an awesome day and I'll hopefully be back soon ^.^ thank you for your patience!