#this one fits all three because I have The Range
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it is absolutely asinine the type of shitty, shitty products American specialty footwear companies will put on the market and boast about on their websites. like you fuckin idiots, your "top-of-the line quality!" boot has only 20 reviews on it and they all say that the damn things literally fall apart at the seams on the first or second wear!!!
#look i know tumblr isn't the place for this but I'm so fucking fed up with this bullshit. been trying to replace this wonderful pair of#hunting boots i had back in college for THREE YEARS NOW and i cannot for the life of me find anything even remotely sufficient#(that would actually fit me.......... looking at you men's footwear retail sizes đđđđ)#like legitimately all of it is either 1) total cheap garbage or 2) WAYY out of my price range#or 3) got some kind of vibrant pink or ''ooh look we made an Outdoor Productâą but for âšladiesâš'' nonsense about it#OR 4) is from an otherwise reputable compwny but has the stupidest most non-ergonomic design in the world????????#for god knows what f-ing reason.#like seriously Irish Setter you've had that shoe design for 3+ YEARS NOW and you've been getting poor customer ratings on it the ENTIRE TIME#because it makes literally no sense to wrap the sole up around the boot and make the exact place that the shoe should *bend* with your foot#be stiff instead of fucking flexible???? like? news flash guys this is a fucking SHOE. you're supposed to WALK in it.#um. anyway.#sorry for this it just infuriates me and I'm so done. SO done.#I'm just gonna have to learn how to make my own goddamn shoes since no one else can do it right#shoulda followed my dad's footsteps (hah đ) and gone into footwear
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â§âË⧠â[ under your roof ]â
ft. logan howlett x f! reader â xmen, marvel
â°â⧠your baby daughter really likes uncle wadeâs roommate, and logan would be lying if he said he didnât form a quick attachment to the two of you as wellâ2.9k words; prt one (here), prt two, prt three coming soon!!
setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: probably occ logan, heâs on his best behavior, mostly fluff with a little side of angst, single mother reader with an unspecified age, this chapter is mainly between logan & your daughter, reader has a bad relationship with the father & heâs an asshole, one joking threat of stabbing
†author's note: this was so much fun to write! single mom reader and her daughter are so lovely and i have two more part featuring these two and logan coming up! i hope you guys enjoy
kids donât like logan. itâs not a profound discovery nor is it a surprise to anyone who learns this fact. heâs intimidating enough to make some full-grown men piss themselves with so much as a glare, much less little babies who start sobbing uncontrollably when they see a giant scary man walking around believing that he would eat them or something even though heâs literally just standing there. whether the little ones have an instinct that signals him out as a mutant or he simply looks like a bad man from one of their fairy tales, he isnât sure, but itâs not the best feeling either way when heâs trying to settle back into normal life with the constant weight of knowing that heâll never fit in.
it doesnât help that, in general, he isnât good with kids either. heâs generally patient with their immaturity since they donât know any better, but he finds the crying and whining extremely headache-inducing to his sensitive senses without a clue how to calm them down.
moving in with wade and acquainting himself with his friends was a start, but the missing part of his life to make him finally feel loved and at home was the family of two who lived downstairs. the first time he met you was also the first time he met your daughter when wade told him to dress a little nicer because the two of them were invited to your place for dinner. he explained that the two of you were practically siblings and that it would probably be something he should get used to, reminding him to âturn that frown upside downâ because he was about to meet someone who âputs gordon ramsey to shame.â
the last bit sounded great to him, especially because no one in their household knew how to make anything more complicated than noodles without setting it on fire and the cost of outside food was really starting to tally up. still, he just wore some cargo pants and threw on a leather jacket, running his fingers through his hair once which was already a lot more effort than heâs ever put into meeting anyone else before.
wade didnât even bother knocking, just being himself and picking the lock as he so typically does, kicking the door open and yelling a loud ass âdaddyâs home!â which echoed throughout the apartment as well as the hallway they were standing in. the mouth-watering smell of grilled salmon filled the air, making wade hum in excitement, âdo you need help with anything? taste testing, perhaps?â
âno, do me a favor and stay away from the kitchen!â your voice rang out loud and clear, sounding much like a mother scolding a teenager for the thousandth time. âiâll stab you, do me a favor and just hang out in the living room.â
âokie-dokie!â he responded in an annoying sing-song voice, âcome on, peanut, take off your shoes.â the said man could already tell how at home his roommate seemed in this place, just as comfortable as he was back home, walking with steps heâs taken many times before and prompting logan to do the same (except he was mainly keeping to himself and being much more mild-mannered in this unfamiliar area).
the place was as spacious as the small area could be and tastefully decorated, but all sharp corners of furniture were taped over to dull the edges and the carpet had multiple kinds of colorful toys littered about. in the center of it all, was a little toddler about two or three years old, playing with a kitchen set and trying to copy what her mom was doing by running back and forth between the living room and the kitchen. she didnât even notice the two men at first, not until wade called out her name and she dropped the plastic utensils to clap her hands together before waddling over to him.
âhey, baby! how are you doing? did you miss me?â he cooed in the high-pitched voice reserved only for mary puppins, reaching down to pick up the girl by her underarms and kissing her cheek, spinning around with her in his arms as she giggled uncontrollably. âdo you wanna meet the big scary wolverine while i go bother your mommy? who am i kidding, of course you do!â he then dropped her onto the couch, making sure that she didnât bounce up too high on the cushion and hurt herself. âokay, you keep her company while i go see whatâs for dessertâ bye!â
before logan could say anything, he was already gone, disappearing around the corner into the sound of sizzling foods and the scent of herbs. pursing his lips together and shuffling his feet around for a second, he grunted and braced himself for the child to start sobbing uncontrollably because she was left alone with him. the first time he meets you, whom heâs heard so many good things about, is going to be when you have to kick him out with his tail in between his legs for disturbing the peace of your home.
but the cries never came, and his eyes met her big curious ones as she just stared up at him in silence. it was honestly a tad bit unnerving like she was sizing him up and carefully thinking about her next move.Â
and then she started giggling like earlier, kind of a more gurgling noise of playfulness more than anything, standing at his feet and waving around her short outstretched arms to signal that she wanted uppies from him.
âoh noââ heâs not sure why he even let out a word or protest to begin with when he knew she wouldnât listen, but it was pure instinct since, once again, he had no idea how to handle children. although she would probably also start crying if he didnât listen to her, so he reluctantly bent down to pick her up, holding her close to the side of his chest and nervously awaiting her next move.
she was motionless for a minute with a little hand on her chubby cheek and the other trying to clutch onto the thick leather of his jacket, eyes darting around like she was seeing the world from a new perspective for the first time even though he was a hundred percent certain wade held her like his when they are the same height.
âkitty!â
âwhat?â
she pointed at the top of his head, his hair tuffs specifically, and reached out to pull on one of them curiously.
ânoâ not a kitty!â heâs never going to escape that fucking nickname, he wouldnât be surprised if his roommate taught her to say that before she met him in person, able to perfectly envision wade crouching in front of her with a stupid picture of him on his phone and training her to say âkittyâ every time she saw his photo by rewarding her with candy or something since there is no way she associated someone who looks like him to a kitten so quickly unironically.
âno kitty?â
ânoâ logan, lo-gan.â
she tried to pronounce his name a few times before giving up after getting stuck in the second syllable, blowing a raspberry and going back to what she was doing earlierâ finding the most fun in tugging on his cowlicks like she was trying to figure out if he naturally woke up like that with the inability to brush them down or styled them with gel every day.
he sat down on the couch, the cushion sinking under his heavyweight, and sat your daughter down on his lap instead, except she didnât want to sit down. standing on his lap and pressing her little feet into his thighs, she began to climb onto his shoulder like he was a jungle gym, using his arms as stepping stones to reach her destination while he bent over at the waist to allow her to crawl onto his back without falling behind him.
âyouâre like a little lemur,â he muttered, still in slight shock that this kid seemed to like him and wasnât freaking out like he was the big bad wolf. he wouldnât admit it, but it was a really nice feeling that gave him a sense of normalcy like he was just some guy rather than the killing machine mutant most knew him as. she wouldnât stop giggling and holding onto him, which made him feel his ice-cold heart melting like snow by springâs first touch.Â
all the while, he could hear you and wade chatting away in the background: something about him needing to step away from the stove, how you needed to trust him because him starting âthat fireâ was a one-time thing, what was for dessert, and then taking a sharp turn when the conversation suddenly shifted to the topic of the father.
he felt somewhat guilty about listening in, but he knew that deadpool was going to tell him eventually, so there wasnât really any harm in a bit of eavesdropping (besides, it would have been difficult to ignore considering that your baby was being very well-behaved and his hearing wouldnât have been able to pick up on anything else.)
âso⊠any news about her dad?â the solemn tone of a man who was hardly ever serious a day of his life was more terrifying than anything heâd ever witnessed in his long life.
â... he suddenly wants to be a family man, i guessâŠâ
âwhat the hell does that even mean?â
the sound of a knife chopping vegetables against a wooden surface slowly came to a stop followed by a sigh. âlike he wants to have a family⊠just not with the one he already started⊠heâs busy planning his wedding with the girl he cheated on me with and told me not to contact him again for any reason.â
âoh my god, what an asshole! fuck that guy!â
âi canât believe that was the guy i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life with, could you imagine? i donât even know what i could have done wrong for him to be like thisâ i asked him so many times and he just said that heâs âfallen out of love,â has âmoved on,â and that i would âbe cruelâ to ask him to stay even if it was for the sake of our childâŠâ
âwell if itâs any comfort, he would have been on the next episode of forensic files the second i got a moment alone with himâ i mean, the last time we saw him, he literally pushed his own daughter away when she tried to hug him! what kind of sociopath wouldnât adore such a cutie patootie, especially his own flesh and blood?! â
âitâs fine,â you hissed, gritting your teeth at the memory. âitâs not like heâs done anything to deserve getting to be called a father to an angel anyway, iâll take care of her myselfâ wait⊠didnât i also invite your new roommate? did he not come?â
âno, heâs in the living room, heâs been here this entire time,â he informed, taking a bite out of an apple like an asshole from a film.
âand you didnât tell me?!!!â you quickly ran into the said area, finding logan and your daughter together on the couch. âhi! oh, iâm so sorry i didnât come to greet you properlyâ and left my daughter for you to look after tooâ god, iâm just a terrible host!â you tilted your head, âwhatâs your name?â
he then realized he was staring which was rather impolite, mouth slightly agape too like a fish out of water which left a few seconds of awkward silence in between. âi-iâm logan,â he managed to sputter, ânice to meet you..â
wade raised a nonexistent eyebrow at his strange mannerisms before a wide, shit-eating grin split his face.Â
âaww, baby, why are you bothering this poor old manâ come to mommy, itâs dinnertime,â you clapped your hands and held them out fully expecting her to reach out and grab onto you as she usually does, but instead she looked up at you with big pleading eyes and held onto him even more tightly like a koala clinging to a branch. âoh, did you get attached already? you really are my daughter⊠logan, could you do me a favor and put her in her high chair while i plate everything?â
âyes, of course.â
you turned back into the kitchen, leaving the two men to follow with one holding your baby in his arms. all it took was one look to understand what he was thinking, logan didnât need to be a telepath to know.Â
âif you donât shut the fuck upââ
âi didnât even say anything!â
âgood, keep it that way.â
love at first sight, wade has seen it plenty of times and understands it well, something so unpredictable and powerful, that it could bring the wolverine down on his knees. itâs even more potent when he trips over himself seeing you in your natural environment instead of all dressed up for a first date, slightly sweaty from the heat radiating off the stove, unkempt hair sticking to the sides of your face, no makeup or defenses upâ just you as yourself to the core.
âalright, bub, let's get you seatedâŠâ it took a few tries to get her in because she refused to align her little legs into the holes of the plastic piece, but she eventually got into it just fine and he pulled up his own chair to watch you place a one of the most decadent plates of pasta with chunks of salmon heâs ever seen in front of him with a word of gratitude.Â
âsorry it isnât anything special, i completely forgot that i arranged this in the first placeâŠ.â
âoh, no, itâs perfectââ
âyouâre damn right âitâs perfect!ââ wade interjected, âlemme tell you, wolvie, this simple plate of pasta is better than sex, i know damn well youâve never tasted anything like it in all your two-hundred years!â
âwell, now that you say it like that, heâs going to have high expectations and it will taste like ass compared to the actual best pasta dish heâs ever had.â
âhe likes ass, donât worryââ
the said man cleared his throat to steer the conversation back around, feeling the foreign sensation of embarrassment burning his face hit him at full force. âitâs delicious, thank you, truly the best iâve ever tasted.â
âaw, you donât have to say that.â
âno, heâs right, i think you really outdid yourself this time!â
the dinner was carried by cheerful conversations and fun stories, and despite just meeting you today, logan almost felt like he knew you for years and this was something a commonplace tradition between loved ones which was something heâs been yearning for for as long as he can remember. as he watches you laugh and feed your adorable baby, he canât help but wonder about the idiotic man who was willing to throw away something so wonderfulâ something which would complete his life and fill the void in his heart.
âwell, you two can hang around while i clean her up and put her to bed. thereâs some wine and beer inââ you watched as deadpool had already opened your fridge and was digging around like a raccoon in trash before fishing out two bottles of beers and closing the door with his hips. âalrighty then, iâll join you two in a bit.â
he watched as you disappeared into the hallway before diving headfirst into the couch next to the wolverine and handing him his beer, kicking his feet and smiling as if he was a middle-schooler at an all girlsâ sleepover. âokay, so she has a solid job as an accountant, has her own place and car, is funny and pretty, but most importantly for you, single. she doesnât like flowers as gifts, but if you gift her groceries or cleaning suppliesââ
âshe wouldnât want an asshole like me,â he grunted, taking a sip from the bottle. ânot when she just got free from another one.â
âpeanut, i met the other guy, youâre infinitely better than him! as much as i would like to keep you to myself, i have already planned out my speech at your wedding as your best man, so just keep in mind that iâm your wingman, okay? donât lie to me either, i know you have a little crush, and i think she does tooââ
âno, she doesnât.â
âquit cutting me off, you motherfucker!â
it was easier to try and suppress the sprouting seed of infatuation before it bloomed out of control. he didnât want to hurt you or himself by chasing something that shouldnât be in the first place. you deserve better, you and your daughter. you both should have someone who was younger and had the energy to be a good father and husband, not some old mutant who was freeloading off of his roommate and terrified of losing more people he cared about. if you knew about the blood on his hands and the claws embedded in them, you would probably be worried that you allowed him to hold your baby and shun him permanently.Â
and yet he was already attached, sitting here imagining domestic life where he could see her grow up through the phases of life and help her navigate its complexities while also waking up next to you in his arms and seeing your beautiful smile everyday.Â
maybe he wonât let that glimmer of hope die out and just hold onto it for a little while longer, allowing it to leave a little lingering smile on his weary face.
#đ. her works#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#x men#x men x reader#marvel#marvel x reader#deadpool and wolverine#wolverine#wolverine x reader
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Lesson learned
PART 3 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST
Unit Chief!Spencer x BAU!Reader Your boss decides to teach you a lesson when you question the motivations behind a certain case.
Content: (18+) 6k, breath play, fingering, a little case description, BDSM discussion, softdom Spence but borderlines to dom because hello this is breath play and reader being judgy judgy but donât worry heâs here to teach you a lesson or two a/n: The initial plan was to make him a hard dom but breathplay is already overwhelming so I decided to go the educational route. I am, by all means, not as smart as him, so there might be some inaccuracy
You would think that after joining the BAU for two years, youâd start to understand the twisted logic of a criminalâs mind. But you donât. Not really. Youâve dissected motives, uncovered patterns, and profiled suspects more times than you can count, and yet this case makes no sense.Â
Your eyes go over the photographs pinned to the board again. And again. And again. Itâs become almost a ritual now, like maybe if you look at it just one more time, the pieces might finally fall into place. But all you find staring back at you are three victims with the same marks on their necks. There was clearly a sign of struggle, but not one of fear. Not one that fits any pattern you know.
âI donât get it,â you say. âThe profile suggests the victims knew their attacker, but this doesnât look like anything close to rage. Or brutality.â
Spencer shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours as he leans closer to the board. âIt might not have been an act of violence,â he observes thoughtfully. âNot in the traditional sense, anyway.â
You furrow your brow. âIf it wasnât violent, then what was it?â
âThe bruising pattern is too symmetrical, and thereâs no sign of panic or defensive wounds on their hands. I think thereâs a chance the victims might have willingly participated.â
âWillingly?â Your eyes snap at him. âWhat do you mean, âwillingly participatedâ? No one willingly gets strangled.â
He meets your eyes for a second before looking back at the board. âI know it sounds unlikely,â he admits, âbut not impossible. See how the bruises are evenly spaced? They wrap around in perfect circles. The pressure is distributed just enough to leave a mark but not to crush the windpipe.â
âSpencer, thatâs exactly what happened. The windpipe was crushed.â
âYes, but not immediately. Thatâs the point.â He turns towards you again. âThe intention wasnât to kill them outright. The unsub wanted to bring them to the point of unconsciousness but not over it. At least, not at first. He was counting on their trust before pushing it too far.â
You let out a huff. âThatâs insane.â
âIt might seem that way to you, but itâs not unheard of. Sexual asphyxiation is a consensual act for some people. The lack of oxygen when someoneâs airflow is restricted can trigger a euphoric sensation which intensifies pleasure."
You stare at him like heâs just spoken a different language. âSo, you're saying they get off on... not breathing?â
âMore like they find excitement in giving up that control."
You cross your arms and study him, tilting your head with a skeptical frown. âHow do you even know this?â
The corner of his mouth twitches in a half-smile. âI read,â he says simply, as if itâs the most obvious thing in the world.
âYou have a book on sexual asphyxiation?â
âItâs more comprehensive than that. The book covers a wide range of kinks, fetishes, and other forms of sexual exploration which are considered extreme by societal standards.â
"Youâre telling me you read up on BDSM practices in your spare time?â
"I think of it as research,â he replies. âItâs part of understanding human behavior. You canât afford to be ignorant about the complexities of people's desires."
"Huh." Your eyes travel back to the images again. "You know, I still don't understand. I mean, willingly letting someone cut off your breath? Thatâs not just trust thatâs⊠I donât know, crazy?â
His eyes narrow towards you as if he's carefully considering how much to say.
âIt's not crazy,â he insists carefully. âFor people who engage in it, itâs not only about losing control. Itâs about reaching a heightened state of awareness, finding excitement in walking that line.â
"But what if that line gets crossed? What then? How could anyone think that sounds⊠fun?â
âWell, have you ever tried it?â
âOf course not!â you reply quickly, almost laughing at the absurdity. âWhy would I?â
âThen you wouldnât know,â he counters, his tone calm but pointed, like heâs presenting a fact rather than an opinion. âYou canât really understand the mindset until youâve experienced it. Itâs not something you can fully grasp from the outside.â
"I donât think I could ever trust someone enough to do that to me."
âMaybe you just havenât found the right person to trust.â
You scoff. âWhat? Are you offering?â
You laugh at your own joke, and you expected him to do the same. Or perhaps a quick âOf course notâ, even some rambling about how he didnât mean it that way. But when all youâre met with is silence, your laughter dies down, and your eyes dart back to him.
Spencerâs not looking at you, his eyes are fixed on the photographs pinned to the board. Heâs studying the bruises, the faces, the details like he always does, but thereâs a stillness in his expression, a tension in the set of his jaw that makes you think heâs considering something else entirely. And for a moment, youâre not sure if heâs really thinking about the victims or the case at all.
Maybe you shouldnât joke about things like that. He is your boss, after all, and even though there isnât exactly a strict superior-subordinate dynamic between the two of youâheâs always been more of a peer than an authority figureâyou wonder if maybe this time you crossed a line.
Spencerâs eyes remain on the photos for a long, agonizing second, and you think maybe heâs not going to respond at all. But then, slowly, he turns his head and looks at you, and the room suddenly feels impossibly small.
âIf I were to offer,â he says quietly, âWould you take it?â
His words knock the breath from your lungs, and all you can do is stare back at him. You donât know what to make of the question. Was it a dare? A test? Or perhaps something more?
Thereâs a part of you that wants to laugh it off. The conversation was absurd to begin with, so brushing it away like itâs nothing would feel like the safest option. The easy way out. But thereâs another partâone you donât want to acknowledgeâthat canât help but wonder what it would mean to say yes.
What if you did? you ponder.
What would it feel like to trust someone like that?
What would it feel like to trust him?
But before you can reply, the door to the meeting room creaks open, the noise echoing through the dimly lit space of the police precinct. A uniformed officer pokes his head inside.
âDr. Reid, we found a new lead on the vehicle.â
Spencerâs eyes stay locked on yours for just a beat longer as your heart hammers in your chest. Then, without a word, he nods to the officer, and any trace of whatever passed between you dissolves like it never happened at all.
The next few days turn into a blur. The lead on the unsubâs vehicle takes you across town, a chase that ends with the suspect cornered in an abandoned old house. Itâs almost anticlimactic how quickly it all happensâsirens blaring, doors kicked in, and in less than an hour, the unsub is in handcuffs. The case is finally closed, and itâs the kind of victory that usually brings a sigh of relief.
But today, you canât find that peace.
Back at the precinct, the rest of the team has already moved on to debriefing. Youâre left cleaning up the mess of photographs and notes scattered across the table. But your movements are slow, distracted, your fingers fumbling over the papers. Thereâs a prickling awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you know exactly why.
Itâs because Spencer is watching you. You donât even need to look to feel the weight of his gaze. Heâs leaning casually against the doorframe, hands tucked in his pockets, but thereâs nothing casual about the way his eyes track your movements.
You pause, photos in hand, and finally address him. âWhat?â
He doesnât answer right away. Instead, he pushes off the wall and starts walking toward you. He stops just short of armâs length.
âHave you thought about what we discussed the other day?â
You feel a rush of embarrassment, and the awkwardness of the moment makes you shift uncomfortably. Clearing your throat, you turn your attention back to the table, hastily grabbing a stack of photographs and shuffling them into a folder.
âWe didnât discuss anything,â you mumble, avoiding his gaze. âIt was just a joke.â
âWas it? You donât joke about things like that unless youâve thought about them at least a little.â
You let out a dry laugh, keeping your eyes firmly on the table. âI wasnât being serious. We were in the middle of a case, and we were all exhausted. I just said whatever came to mind.â
Spencer tilts his head, the way he does when heâs analyzing something, his eyes flickering over your face as though heâs cataloging every twitch of your expression.
âMaybe,â he concedes, and takes another step forward. âBut the offer wasnât a joke, and you didnât say no.â
Your fingers freeze over the photographs, the papers crinkling under your touch.
âI didnât say yes either.â
You mentally wince at how weak that sounds, almost as if youâre trying to convince yourself. You slowly look up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all you find are those intense brown eyes staring back at you.
It unnerves you how calm he is, how easily heâs holding this conversation when your mind is spinning in a million directions.
âYou do realize what youâre offering?â you start to press, feeling the need to put it out in the open. âWhat this means?â
Spencer doesnât flinch, doesnât break eye contact for a second. âI do.â
âDo you? Because it seems to me like you might be taking this too lightly."
âIâm not taking it lightly. Iâm acknowledging that thereâs more to it than what youâre seeing on the surface.â
âAnd what makes you think I want to see beyond the surface?â
He leans in closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, but not enough to cross any boundaries. âIâm offering a perspective, not forcing you to accept it. Understanding doesnât always come from reading about something. It comes from experience.â
You canât quite decide if his words make sense or if theyâre completely absurd. Itâs like heâs challenging your logic, your assumptions, but at the same time, thereâs a strange clarity to what heâs saying.
âWhy does it matter so much to you?â
Because heâs your boss? Because someone in his position always tries to make sense of everything for everyone else?
âBecause shaming people for their interests, for something they might find pleasure in⊠it isnât fair, and it isnât right.â
Now that was something you didnât expect him to say.
âI wasnât shaming,â you protest quickly, the words coming out defensive even to your own ears. âI was justâŠâ
âCurious,â he finishes for you. âAnd curiosity isnât a flaw. Neither is wanting to understand, and if youâre willing to explore that curiosity, then Iâd rather you experience it in a way thatâs safe. That you know is controlled.â
âSo what?â you snap back. âYou want to prove me wrong? Show me Iâve been looking at this the wrong way?â
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but itâs not playful. Itâs gentle, almost thoughtful, as if heâs carefully weighing each word. âNo,â he says softly. âI donât want to prove you wrong. I want to teach you.â
You blink at him. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first, the words tangled somewhere between shock and disbelief. It takes a few seconds until you manage to find your voice.
âYou⊠want to teach me?â
âA lesson, if you will,â he explains, and the way he says itâso calm, so certainâmakes your heart stutter. âNot to prove you wrong, but to help you understand. You have your perceptions about⊠control and trust. I think the only way to really understand is to experience it yourself.â
You donât know what to say, what to do, and all that comes out is a shaky, barely-there laugh.
âA lesson,â you repeat, trying to make sense of the concept.
He nods, and thereâs no pressure in his voice, just an offer. Simple and clear. âBut only if itâs what you want.â
You arenât sure what to feel, much less what to say, and the uncertainty must show on your face. Sensing your hesitation, Spencer takes a step back, giving you space.
âItâs a lot to consider, and Iâm not expecting an answer now. But the offer still stands⊠whenever youâre ready.â
And with that, he gives you one last smile and turns away, leaving you alone with your conflicted thoughts.
Youâre pacing in your hotel room, your footsteps muffled by the worn carpet as you make the same path back and forth over and over again. Every time you try to sit down, your leg bounces with restless energy, so youâre back up again, moving without purpose but unable to stop.
You tell yourself itâs just stress. The case, the pressure, the weirdness of being in a small-town motel with creaky walls and awful lighting. But you know better. You know exactly whatâs got your mind spinning and your stomach doing flips.
Spencer. And his damn offer.
You scoff to yourself, trying to laugh it off like you always do, but the joke doesnât land when itâs just you, alone with your thoughts. And, really, whatâs the harm in admitting the truthâto yourself, at least? That maybe the whole concept doesnât seem as insane as it did a few days ago. That maybe youâve found yourself wondering what it would feel like to trust someone that much.
You stop pacing, staring at your reflection in the mirror across the room. There it is, that nagging curiosity, that flicker of intrigue that Spencer saw before you even knew it was there. You let out a sigh, the weight of the realization hitting you.
God help you, but youâre actually curious.
And that might just be the scariest part of all.
You slip into your shoes and take a deep breath before stepping into the hallway. The motelâs quiet, most of the rooms dark as you walk past, and for a moment you hesitate, wondering if this is a mistake. The teamâs staying one more night here, the last bit of downtime before flying back tomorrow. A chance to decompress, to shake off the adrenaline of the case. Yet here you are, anything but relaxed, heading out because you canât stand one more second of pacing back and forth.
Your footsteps come to a stop outside Spencerâs room, and you stare at the numbers on the plaque for a moment. You could turn around right now. You could pretend you didnât walk all the way down the corridor with his words echoing in your head. But as much as you try to convince yourself that walking away is the logical choice, your hand moves on its own, and you knock.
Spencer doesnât look surprised when he opens the door. Without waiting for an invitation, you push past him, barging into the room before you change your mind.
âIf weâre going to do this, I have some ground rules,â you blurt out, the words rushing out all at once. âI donât know what you think this is going to be like, but I need control over some things. Non-negotiable.â
He closes the door with a soft click. âOf course,â he responds calmly. âI wouldnât expect anything less.â
âFirst,â you say, spinning around to face him. âIâm in control of when this starts and when it stops. If I say no, then we stop. Immediately. No questions, no convincing, none of that.â
âAbsolutely.â
âSecond, I need to know exactly what weâre doing. No surprises. You explain everything to me before we do anything.â
He quickly nods.
âAnd third⊠this doesnât leave this room. We donât talk about it to anyone else. Not tomorrow, not next week, not ever.â
He takes a step forward towards you. âThis stays between us.â
You let out a shaky breath, the adrenaline settling into a nervous, thrumming pulse beneath your skin. âOkay,â you mumble, more to yourself than to him, trying to process the reality of what youâve just laid out. âThose are my rules.â
Spencer takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faintest trace of him. A mix of something clean and warm, like soap and worn cotton, an understated scent thatâs distinctly him.
âThen those are the rules we follow,â he reassures you. âYour terms. Your pace.â
âThank you.â
He nods his head again. âIs there anything else you want to discuss?â
There is, actually. Thereâs a question thatâs been hovering in the back of your mind. It feels awkward to say out loud, but the uncertainty gnaws at you, and finally, you force the words out.
âAre we⊠are we going to have sex?â
He holds your gaze. âDo you want to have sex?â
You go quiet again, letting the silence settle around you as you think about what you want, what you came here for. You slowly shake your head. âNo,â you reply. âNo, I donât.â
âThen we wonât. Thereâs more to explore in this than just sex.â
âRight, thatâsâgood.â You clear your throat. âI have⊠one more question.â
He gestures for you to continue.
âYouâre not going to fire me for this, are you?â
His soft chuckle fills your ear, and itâs the first time youâve seen him genuinely smile tonight. âNo,â he confirms, amusement flickering in his eyes. âIâm not going to fire you. Whatever happens between us wonât affect your work, I promise.â
You let out a breath you didnât realize you were holding, feeling a little of the weight lift off your shoulders.
âOkay, so⊠now what?â
âNow,â he says gently, âWe take it slow.â
He guides you toward the edge of the bed, and you find yourself moving automatically, sitting down on the mattress. The bed creaks slightly as he settles beside you.
âIf weâre going to do this,â he starts, turning slightly to face you. âI want you to be comfortable. And that means talking. You can start by telling me what youâre thinking. â
âThatâs⊠it? Weâre just going to talk?â
Spencerâs mouth lifts into a soft smile. âYes,â he confirms, âIf thatâs what you want. Thereâs no pressure to do anything else.â
The idea of just talking feels safe, but thereâs also a flicker of curiosity that you canât quite shake. You shift on the bed.
âWhat if I want to do something more?â
Spencerâs eyes search yours, and he doesnât move closer, doesnât do anything that could make the moment feel rushed. âIf you want to, then we can. Something simple to start.â
Your fingers trace the fabric of the bedspread. âLike what?â
âSomething small. It could be as simple as letting me guide your breathing. A way to practice trust without anything overwhelming.â
You swallow, the idea feeling both intimidating and oddly⊠reassuring. Thereâs comfort in the way he talks about it, the lack of pressure, and the way he makes it feel like thereâs nothing to fear.
âOkay,â you agree softly. âLetâs try that.â
He moves a little closer to you. âWeâll take it slow,â he promises. âTry to focus on your breathing and follow my lead.â
You close your eyes, feeling your breath shallow and quick, your heart racing as you try to find a steady rhythm.
âTake a deep breath,â he instructs softly. You inhale deeply, feeling the air fill your lungs, and when you open your eyes for a moment, you find his face inches from yours.
âGood. Now let it out⊠slowly.â
You follow his lead, exhaling, and you canât help but notice heâs mirroring your breathingâhis chest rising and falling in time with yours. Itâs oddly comforting, and a little unnerving, like he's syncing with the rhythm of your pulse.
âAgain,â he guides. âDeep breath in⊠hold for a count of three⊠then let it go.â
You do as he says, feeling your nerves steady slightly with each breath. In, hold, out.
âYouâre doing really well,â he murmurs, leaning just a fraction closer. His lips are so close that you can feel his breath brushing your skin. âIâm going to ask you something, but I need you to know you can say no. At any point.â
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.
âCan I touch you?â he asks gently, his words so soft they almost melt into the air around you. âJust on your shoulder, or your hand. I want to see how you feel about being touched while you focus on your breathing.â
Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, but you manage another nod. His hand moves carefully to rest on your shoulder, but even with the light pressure, you feel your body stiffen. Spencer notices immediately.
âYouâre tense,â he observes, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder.
You let out a small laugh, one that comes out more like a nervous exhale than anything close to amusement. âItâs kind of hard not to be,â you admit. âI guess Iâm a little nervous.â
âThatâs okay. Itâs completely normal to feel nervous.â He pauses for a second before continuing, his tone thoughtful, like heâs considering what might actually help. "There are a few things that can help when youâre feeling this way. One of them is focusing on your breathing, which weâre already doing. But thereâs also physical touch."
"Physical touch?â
"Kissing, for example," he explains, âcan actually help regulate your nervous system. It releases oxytocin, lowers cortisol levels. Basically, it signals your body to relax."
Your eyes fall on his lips. "Really?"
A flicker of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. âYes, but itâs only helpful if itâs something you feel comfortable with.â He tilts his head slightly, studying you. âWould you like to try?â
You meet his gaze again and, before you can overthink it, find yourself nodding, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. âYeah⊠okay. We can try.â
Before you even finish the sentence, Spencer leans in, his lips brushing yours with the kind of gentleness that catches you off guard. It's soft at first, like heâs testing the waters, and you can feel the slight hesitation in his movements as if heâs making sure youâre comfortable. Itâs sweet, almost too sweet, and for a second, you wonder if this is how he kissesâgentle, thoughtful, deliberate.
But as the kiss deepens, you feel the warmth of him pulling you in. Your heartâs doing this erratic thing where it skips every other beat, and your mindâs racing to catch up with what your bodyâs already starting to enjoy. And sure, maybe the science behind this kiss makes sense after all, because thereâs a part of you thatâs actually relaxing, even with the buzz of nerves still humming beneath the surface.
Then he pulls back, just enough for your lips to barely part, his breath warm against your skin. âHow are you feeling?â
It takes three heartbeats to find your voice. âUh... yeah, good,â you manage, a little breathless, a little more flustered than youâd like to admit.
âDo you want to keep going?â
You pause, thinking it over, and despite the swarm of nerves in your chest, curiosity wins out again. You nod, maybe a little too quickly. The moment you do, Spencer leans in again, and this time his kiss is deeper, more intent. The softness is still there, but thereâs a quiet intensity in the way his lips move against yours, the way his hand lightly cups the back of your neck.
Then his tongue brushes lightly against your lower lip, and a ripple of goosebumps spreads across your skin. You part your lips for him, and the sensation of his tongue slipping past m has you gripping the fabric of his shirt a little tighter.
Just when you think youâre getting used to it, his hand shifts, sliding up to wrap gently around the front of your neck. Not tight, not restrictingâjust enough to make you aware of it. The warmth of his palm against your throat sends a jolt of something sharp right through you. He seems to notice instantly, and without pulling his hand away, he breaks the kiss.
âAre you okay?â His thumb gently strokes the side of your neck. âI donât want to push you, if itâs too muchââ
But before he can finish, you shake your head quickly, surprising even yourself with how fast the words leave your mouth. âNo, I⊠trust you.â
His eyes soften at your words, and his grip on your neck stays gentle, almost protective. âWould it be okay if I touched you more?â
Your pulse beats rapidly beneath his fingers, a rhythm youâre sure he can feel, as if your heart is answering for you. ââŠyes.â
âDo you want to lie down? Would that be more comfortable?â
You feel the heat travel along your veins. âI think⊠that would be good.â
Spencer nods as he helps you shift back onto the pillow. He stays close but doesnât crowd you, his hand returning to rest lightly on your neck, that same soft pressure that keeps your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.
âRemember, focus on your breathing,â he reminds you. âThe way your body responds is tied to how much you let yourself feel. Trust that.â
His other hand begins to move. His hand trails up toward your shoulder, then lightly brushes over your breast. Itâs barely a touch at first, like heâs testing the boundaries, waiting for your body to tell him how far to go. Your breath catches for a second, but when you donât tense up, he takes that as a sign to continue.
âIs this alright?â
âYeah,â you manage to whisper, your voice a little breathless than you expected. And, God, you mean it. Itâs more than okayâitâs⊠unexpectedly good in a way that feels almost too intimate to think about.
His hand moves lower now, tracing a path down your side, before sliding gently across your leg. You donât even realize youâre holding your breath until you feel his fingers brush against the inside of your thigh.
âHow about this?â
You nod, biting your lip as you meet his gaze.
Spencerâs lips curls into the faintest smile. His hand inches higher, moving up your thigh with excruciating slowness until his fingers finally reach the heat between your legs.
Oh. Oh.
Your hips instinctively tilt toward him, your body responding before your mind can even catch up. The heat pooling low in your belly intensifies as his fingers press lightly against you.
âStill with me?â
You nod, but internally, your mind is spinning. He begins to move in slow, circular motions, his fingers dragging against the fabric in a way that makes you bite back a moan. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and you can feel your arousal sticking uncomfortably to your panties. It doesnât shock youâyou know understand how being touched like this will make you wetâbut what surprises you is how much more intense it feels when his grip around your neck tightens.
Your breath hitches, and before you can stop yourself, a moan escapes your lips.
He pauses for a moment, his grip relaxing just enough for you to catch your breath. âI want you to feel the difference,â he explains. âThe pressure changes everything. It makes you more aware of every sensation, more focused on how your body responds. But if itâs too much, you tell me, okay?â
You nod, your breath still coming in uneven gasps. âIâm good.â
His thumb traces the outline of your jaw. âDo you want me to continue?â
ââŠyeah.â
His hand travels towards your hips, fingers toying with the waistband of your pants. âShould we get rid of these?â
You donât have to think about it for long. The answer is already there.
âYou can take them off.â
Spencerâs fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants before tugging it down. But as the fabric pools around your ankles, you hesitate for a second before your hand instinctively reaches for your shirt. You fumble with the hem, glancing at him as you pull it halfway up, your breath coming out in a small, awkward laugh.
âI mean, itâd feel weird to be naked from the waist down and still⊠you know, fully dressed on top.â
His eyes linger on you, and his reaction is subtly amusing. âWhatever makes you comfortable.â
Without thinking too much about it, you tug the shirt over your head, tossing it aside. Your bra follows, quickly joined by your panties, and before you know it, youâre lying naked on your bossâs bed.
Or, technically, the bed heâs been sleeping on these past couple of days.
Spencerâs eyes move over you slowly, lingering on the curve of your perky breasts, your smooth skin, and the unmistakable wetness between your thighs. His gaze is careful, appreciative but never lingering too long in one place, like heâs taking you in while still giving you space to breathe.
âYouâre so pretty.â
Pretty? The word feels almost quaint given the situation, but the way he says it makes it feel like itâs more than that. Like heâs seeing all of you, the parts you donât often reveal, and he still thinks youâre beautiful.
And somehow, that simple compliment leaves you more exposed than the fact that youâre lying naked in front of him.
âI canât believe we're doing this,â you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
His hand brushes along your arm. âYou donât have to overthink it. Youâre in control here. We can stop whenever you want.â
âI know.â
He tilts your head with his hand. âIs this okay so far?â
You offer him a smile. âItâs okay.â
His other hand lands on your knee. âCan you spread your legs for me?â
You feel the nerves buzzing beneath your skin, but thereâs also a warmth, a curiosity, a pull toward him. You inhale deeply, letting the breath steady your nerves, and then, without letting your mind spiral any further, you slowly part your legs.
His palm glides along your inner thigh, and then he touches you again, only this time, thereâs no barrier between you. You can feel the rough pad of his fingertips as they gently caress your folds that it pulls a sharp breath from your lips.
âDoes this feel good?â
You nod. Itâs more than just goodâitâs everything. The way heâs paying attention to every inch of your body is overwhelming in the best way. His fingers trace a slow path along your skin, finally pausing as they brush against you between your folds. Without hesitation, Spencer slides a finger inside you. The sudden stretch pulls a gasp from your lips.
The slick wetness between your thighs coats his fingers almost instantly, and you feel yourself responding to him, opening up in ways you didnât even know you could. He studies the way his finger moves in and out of your cunt, and the more he touches you, the more your hips begin to move on their own.
He takes your response as a sign to continue.
"I'm going to wrap my hand around your neck again," he tells you, without waiting for more than a slight nod of your head, his fingers curl around your throat.
"The pressure here," he begins, his thumb lightly pressing at the side of your neck. "Isn't just about cutting off your air, it also means restricting blood flow to your brain.â
He pushes another finger inside you, and the increased fullness draws a sharp intake of breath from you.
âBy limiting the blood flow like this,â he continues, applying a bit more pressure around your throat. "It triggers your body to release adrenaline and dopamine. That rush youâre feeling? Itâs your body chasing euphoria."
Euphoria. You never really thought about it like this before, how something so controlled could unlock a part of your body that felt so overwhelming. The feeling isnât just pleasure, itâs a raw intensity that borders on something deeper as your cunt clenches around him. Your breath stutters, caught in a sharp contrast between the slow burn in your throat and the urgent heat flaring between your legs.
Heâs unraveling you, pulling you apart thread by thread, yet leaving you desperate for the moment he puts you back together again.
You need more.
âYouâre doing so well,â he murmurs soothingly. The words send a new wave of heat rushing through your body. Your hips move restlessly, and you can hear the soft whine escaping your throat, growing louder with each thrust.
Spencer notices immediately, his fingers slowing just for a moment. âToo much?â
You quickly shake your head, almost frantic, the last thing you want is for him to stop. The moment you do, his grip on your throat tightens slightly and your eyes flutter closed as a wave of euphoria washes over you. Head falling back against the pillows, your vision starts to blur. You feel the air restrict in your throat.
âI need you to breathe for me, sweetheart.â His thumb strokes lightly against your neck. âThe more you control your breathing, the better itâll feel.â
That word alone almost undoes you. It rolls off his tongue like itâs meant to be soft and soothing, but instead, it sends a bolt of pleasure straight through you. Your chest rises and falls as you do exactly what he says, because apparently, being called sweetheart with his fingers wrapped around your neck makes you want to obey him, more than youâd care to admit.
"Thatâs it, keep focusing on your breathing."
You force your eyes open, but everything feels hazy, unfocused. Youâre not sure if it's from the lack of air or the way heâs looking at you, but you can feel yourself losing control. Your eyes flutter half-closed again, lips parting in a breathless moan, and before you realize it, your tongue slips out, barely grazing your lower lip.
Spencer knows youâre close. His thumb presses just a little harder against your throat, not enough to stop you from breathing, but enough for your inner walls to grip his fingers tightly.
âI know, I know, I've got you,â he whispers. âYouâre doing so good, sweetheart. Just let go whenever youâre ready."
You canât decide if the sound of his voice is making it easier or harder to hold on. Thereâs a brief moment where you think you might hold it together, but then your body betrays you. Your muscles tense, your breath catches in your throat, and all the control you had slips away in an instant. Itâs as if your brain is giving in to exactly what he said it wouldâa surge of chemicals that makes your limbs feel heavy and light all at once.
Your orgasm slams right into you, the most intense thing youâve ever felt. It floods your senses so completely that your lungs struggle to catch up. The tremors rack your body, and itâs only when your legs give a final, uncontrollable shake that he finally releases your neck, allowing the air to rush back into your lungs in a dizzying, breathless moment of relief.
Before you can fully recover, his lips are on yours in an instant. He moves against your neck, kissing the very spot where his hand had held you. âShhh, itâs okay, youâre okay.â
When you manage to catch your breath and blink through the lingering haze, he lies down on the bed and pulls you into his arms. It takes a whole minute before your breathing fully steadies, his hand stroking your hair the entire time.
âHow are you feeling?â
You donât know what to make of it all, so you laugh breathlessly instead, the only response you can muster.
âLike Iâm about to pass out.â
âWhat?â He looks at you in alarm. âYou are?â
You shake your head quickly, offering him a small smile. âNo, no, Iâm fine. Itâs just⊠it was really intense.â But the worry doesnât completely leave his face, so you try again, placing your hand on his chest. âGood intense. Iâm okay, I promise.â
He lets out a slow breath and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. âSo I take it you liked it?â
A flush of embarrassment washes over you, and you canât quite meet his eyes as you nod. âYeah⊠I did,â you admit, your voice soft, almost sheepish. âGo ahead, you can gloat. Tell me I was wrong.â
Instead of taking the bait, he gently traces his fingers along your neck. âIt was never about proving you wrong. The judgment you made that day, about not getting why someone would like this⊠itâs hard to fully grasp until you feel it yourself.â
âI wasnât judging,â you murmur, feeling a need to defend yourself.
âMaybe not intentionally,â he says thoughtfully. âWhen it comes to BDSM, thereâs a lot of misunderstanding or assumptions people make from the outside, itâs really more than just control or pain. Thereâs trust, communication, boundaries. And I think, in a way, thatâs what happened tonight. You trusted me enough to let go.â
Youâre quiet for a moment, processing what heâs saying. âAre you suggesting I could be into all of this?â
âNot necessarily,â he replies carefully. âBut I think itâs possible that thereâs more to it than you realize. You trusted me tonight, and thatâs the most important part. Thatâs where it all starts.â
You chew on his words for a second. Itâs not something youâd ever considered before, but now that heâs brought it up, you canât deny that the thought has sparked something.
âSo you think I might want to explore this further?â
His lips curl into a soft smile. âItâs not about what I think. Itâs about what you want. If youâre curious, then we can explore it together.â He leans in slightly. âIs that you want?â
The spark you felt moments ago? It flickers stronger now. The idea is both thrilling and terrifying, but with him, it feels⊠possible. Safe, even.
You feel a tightness in your chest.
âI think⊠maybe, yeah.â
His smile deepens just a fraction. âWeâll take our time,â he reassures you, his thumb brushing lightly over your throat. âWe can talk about this when we get back. You need to rest for now.â
You shift closer to him, feeling the rustle of his clothes against your bare skin. âCan I stay here tonight?â
His chin lands on top of your head. âYou can stay with me as long as you want.â
What a dangerous offer, you think as you sink further into his arms. But not as dangerous as the way your heart flutters at the thought.
#kinktober 2024#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid x fanfiction#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid fanfiction
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Squeeze Me, I Squeak!
While your interactions with Lieutenant Riley started out cold and tense, he's been warming up to your secondary specialty. Apparently, you make for a great stress-toy. (In which Ghost is a brat with authority, but you don't mind. You're a bit of a brat too.)
Original AO3 Link (I posted this a million years ago to AO3 and it was my first ever COD fic, inspired by a Discord chat and Badjhur audios. I figured it's about time I added it to the Tumblr masterlist for ease.)
Content: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Fraternization (therefore power imbalance), Medical Care (non-descriptive), Body Piercings, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy
It starts with one simple catalyst: your cheeks.
Youâve been with the 141 for over half a dozen missions now. Three bullet grazes, two concussions, four sprains, and one nasty cold into your assignment under Captain Price, and quite pleased to be there. Heâs a good leader, trustworthy and steadfast, a bastion of experience and skill shielding your unconventional squad from red tape and repercussion.
Time is a little more fluid for you as the combat medic. Youâre awake about twice as long as youâre ever asleep. Anxiety tugs you from fitful rest to check on your patients â your boys â if any of them are laid up with more than a dislocation. It makes the days long, nights longer, and youâve lost track of how many calendar months since youâve officially been with the task force.
Long enough, though, that you feel like youâve got a handle on your squad and their personalities.
Captain Price is a grump about medical care. He understands the necessity, but resents the paperwork, time, materials, energy that goes into it. Heâs gracious to let you fuss (within reason) and youâre gracious to ignore his old man grumbling. And the cigars.
Gaz is an absolute peach. Sits still, asks for painkillers when he needs them, follows care instructions. The worst he does is whine, but thatâs only for the silly little injuries and the occasional flu shot. Heâs respectful, sometimes a little bashful, and friendly. He makes you feel welcome, bought you your first drink with the squad after a mission, and generally is a sweetheart.
Soap is fun. A bit rambunctious and fidgety on your table, but he tries, at least. Not as careful as youâd like him to be. Heâll give you a sheepish smile whenever you fuss that heâs pulling his stitches or straining a healing joint. He whines like a banshee over everything except the serious wounds, but paradoxically has to be strong-armed into painkillers for anything. He reminds you a bit of a husky.
His brand of friendliness comes with jokes and teasing, flirtations that heâs careful to never take too far. Youâll indulge him in return sometimes, especially if heâs having a rough go of it, but itâs all in good fun. A lot of your downtime is spent in his and Gazâs company, chatting about anything and everything, playing video games, or trying (the operative word here) to read. Heâs also, unfortunately, the one who came up with your nickname.
Then thereâs the lieutenant. You call him âthe lieutenantâ because you get the impression that heâd toss you out a window if you dared even utter his call sign.
The 141 isnât your first assignment; youâve been a combat medic for long enough that youâve seen the full range of patients in the military. Youâre no stranger to the puffed-up hyper-masculine men that practically resent your specialization.
âLike they think Iâll take their Man Card just for getting a plaster,â youâd once commiserated with a fellow medic.
The lieutenant goes a step beyond that. The best you can get out of him on a good day are one-word answers. A good day is if heâs hauling someone else to you. When itâs him that needs the care, well⊠you two often donât meet eye to eye. And not just because heâs roughly the size (and build) of a tank.
On your third mission with him, he suffered a knife wound to the hip. You hadnât been able to judge how deep it was between his gear and his evasiveness and youâd lost your temper.
âLieutenant Riley, stand fucking still,â you snapped.
âThe fuck did you just say to me?â he snarled.
And oh, you regretted every word youâd ever spoken in that moment. Had felt, with some certainty, that enemy combatants were not going to be what did you in. Cursed Price a little too, blaming him for this somehow.
But you were tired and a little pissed and had about a million other things to do that werenât chase after your lieutenant.
âI said standing fucking still,â you dared repeat, raising your voice.
âIâll have you booked with insubordination so fast, your fucking head will spin,â he growled.
âMedical treatment outranks everyone, sir,â you snapped back, just as fast. You were already snapping gloves on; he was finally still, after all, even if it was to yell at you. âSo if anyone can be written up, itâs you.â
âLassââ Soap tried, but you were already ducking down, eyes narrowed and gauze in hand.
You were relieved to see that it wasnât too bad. Slathered it with antibiotic and pinched it closed with butterflies, then straightened. It was done in under a minute and you were even more annoyed than before.
âAll that for fucking what,â you grumbled to yourself. Not quietly enough, apparently.
âThatâll do,â the lieutenant barked.
The unholy burning in his eyes informed you that youâd pushed your luck far, far enough.
You shut up and skittered off, had not been written up for insubordination, but received a well-meant âcool itâ from Price afterwards.
And Lieutenant Riley was⊠well, he was himself.
He doesnât make you bitch at him anymore, though â and you would be lying if you werenât a bit proud of that. By no means is he jumping to get treated, but he comes to you for the serious injuries and obliges if you manage to catch the non-fatal stuff.
Itâs not that you hold it against him. Medics are a sore spot for a lot of people, and Lieutenant Riley is more private than the average soldier. Heâs never actively rude, at least, apart from that one spat. Gruff and short maybe, but not mean. And youâre quite happy to have that, at least.
Besides, he watches out for you in the field, where it matters. Has literally hauled you to safety by your straps more than once. Ensures you get into exfil before him. Youâve even caught him giving you a quick, assessing check that all your gear was secure and ready.
You and he bicker at each other still, and you donât always come out victorious. There have been plenty of instances that heâs just marched away from you, long legs carrying him to some dark corner when he wonât entertain your nagging. Still, thereâs growing respect between you two, you sense. Heâs a solid CO, if much different from Price, confident and competent without being arrogant. And, well, he can be a bit rude (âabruptâ you demur to Soap, who cackles) but not disrespectful.
On his end, you think things change when he gets injured. Again. You donât know exactly whatâs happened, only that he was a little too close to an explosion. The edges of his balaclava are burnt, one damning edge melted to the skin of his neck. The real issue is the deep laceration thatâs sliced through the fabric. From what you can see, it starts behind his ear and slashes around his temple to take a sizable chip from the edge of his hard mask.
His bell has been rung enough that heâs silent when Soap drops him on your cot.
You do a concussion test â thank whatever higher powers there might be that he passes â and reassess the situation. Heâs bleeding, heâs burnt, his mask is a hindrance. Most other medics would pry the thing off and treat him regardless of his feelings on the matter.
But youâre not any other medic, youâre the 141âs medic. You have candy for Gaz and fidget toys for Soap and carry nicotine patches or gum for Price. Lieutenant Riley hardly even pulls his mask up to drink in front of you still. He doesnât trust easily (maybe not at all) but youâve managed not to fuck up this far and you wonât start now.
âNeed to take the skull off,â you inform him, âthe balaclava can stay.â
His shoulders drop just the smallest micro-fraction. Youâve made the right choice.
He lets you pull the hard mask away, eyes flickering to yours when you set it within his reach. You blink at him, just once, trying to convey that for all your differences and squabbles before, youâre his squad-mate, his medic, and youâre on his side.
Then you turn to the bleeding.
âGoing to cut a bigger hole,â you warn.
You donât know if heâs listening, if he cares, if heâd prefer you to be quiet. You do this for Gaz and Soap, and youâll do it for him until he tells you otherwise.
The surgical scissors make a perfect, neat line through the fabric. Blood stains dirty blond hair beneath your gloves, flattening the curls. Itâs a nasty wound, deep enough that itâll need stitches. You tell him as much as you clean it, efficient without being rough. You donât coddle your boys; they donât need it. The kindest thing you can do is always to just get it over with.
As you numb his skin and prep the sutures, you begin explaining the care instructions. Itâll cut down the amount of time heâll have to hang around after youâve finished treatment.
You fall quiet as you start stitching him up, bottom lip between your teeth to focus on speed and accuracy. On your little rolling stool, youâre trying not to loom over his prone form. Plenty of soldiers have bad reactions to being leaned over like this, and youâd expect it from any of the 141.
Your hand is starting to cramp by the time you get to the sharp cheekbone where the injury ends, but itâs done â possibly in record time. As you sit back to check your work, you catch his eye. His gaze is so heavy that youâre shocked you didnât feel its weight this whole time. Thereâs an odd glint to it, the calmest youâve ever seen from him. Especially on your medical cot.
âAll good, sir?â you ask.
âAffirmative.â
âThe burn now.â
You donât touch him, just direct his head at a good angle to treat his neck. You have to numb that too, see more of the tension drain from him when it takes effect. Christ, you hadnât even noticed. Heâs like a statue sometimes, bearing wounds that would have most other people in shambles.
âBurns are the worst,â you agree. âI hate getting them, hate treating them.â
âThere anything you like treating?â he grumbles.
You hum. âCommon cold. All you big boys get sleepy and nasally and pathetic.â
Thereâs a little puff of air that you recognize from comm banter with Soap â heâs amused. Youâve managed to get something like a laugh out of him. Buoyed by this, you proceed with the delicate process of treating melted fabric.
âPathetic, eh? Tell Johnny you said that.â
âI already told him when he got sick,â you gloat. âHe pouted. Might have a picture of it somewhere.â
When you chance to look away from your work, you catch his eye again, peering at you from his peripheral. You flash a grin â a little goofy from the high of a positive reaction â and then turn back.
âThat legal?â he asks. âPictures of patients.â
You arch an eyebrow, knowing heâll see it. âAre you going to lecture me about GDPR, Lieutenant Riley?â
âNot if it doesnât become my problem.â
You chuckle a little â heartened by your progress and by his unusual talkativeness. âHasnât yet,â you point out.
More likely to be Priceâs problem, anyway. Probably.
He lets you fall silent again to concentrate. Despite the severity, the affected area is smaller than you initially thought. Itâll be painful and scar like hell, but no skin grafts are necessary. You report this with obvious relief â good news all around as far as youâre concerned.
When youâre finally done, you scoot your chair back and turn to his (heavily redacted) chart, scribbling out the diagnosis and treatment. As youâre signing your initials, he calls for you by last name, tugging your gaze up.
âWas there something else, Lieutenant?â you ask, already scanning him for other injuries.
âNeed one more thing from you.â
You hum in question, folding his chart over. His hand comes up, still gloved.
And then he takes your cheek between thumb and forefinger. And pinches.
Your brain spits static, eyes going wide in shock and confusion. It takes you a beat to respond, and then only because his fingers tighten to the point it starts to ache.
âOw, Lieutenantââ you complain, still too surprised to really snap, one eye closing to express discomfort.
He releases you, staring at the spot he just grabbed. Itâs probably already turning red.
âAnyone ever tell you,â he drawls, slow and measuring, âhow round your cheeks are?â
Now youâre red for a different reason. You rub at the skin and scrunch your nose, unsuccessfully telling yourself that youâre not pouting like you joked Soap did.
âNo,â you huff, âbecause most people arenât dumb enough to say that to their medic.â
Your brain still isnât working right because thereâs no way youâd be implying that Lieutenant Riley is dumb if it was. The most personable you two have gotten before now was him buying you a drink after a mission, but heâd been buying everyone else a drink at the time.
âNot afraid of you, Squeaks.â
âIâm aware, Lieutenant.â
Youâre hoping heâll drop it, a little confused but also a little⊠flattered? Itâs difficult to parse what youâre feeling when heâs still staring at you with those dark, glittering eyes. Not that youâre looking. No, definitely not. In fact, you are doing your damnedest not to look at his eyes. Or his face.
Which is why you notice him tugging his glove off. And then reaching for you â for your face â again.
âHeyââ you start, but heâs already squeezing, just before the point youâd fussed last time.
âWant me to stop?â he asks.
⊠No.
âWant to know what youâre doinâ,â you deflect, brows furrowing.
Why are you letting him do this? You shouldnât let him do this. Itâs not that it hurts. Itâs just⊠principle. Military isnât an especially touchy-feely cuddly career field. Soap and Gaz are fairly tactile, true, but not⊠like this. But, well, maybe youâve missed it. This. Touches like this. Havenât seen friends youâre close to in a long time, donât have this kind of relationship with your family. Havenât had a partner in⊠a depressingly long time, and even then, it always took a while to get to this level of casual intimacy â if you got there at all.
âThought that was obvious,â the lieutenant replies.
The other hand, still gloved, finds your opposite cheek and pinches that one too. Your eyes are forced narrow as the skin is manipulated, bunched up. You make a noise in the back of your throat, tilting your head to accommodate.
ââS not,â you mumble. âWho are you, my auntie?â
ââM scarier than your auntie.â
You snort, edges of your mouth tugging up despite how heâs pulling your cheeks.
âNever met my auntie, then,â you giggle.
Noticing your grin, he lets one go, only to gently crush both in his ungloved hand. And god, itâs so big that he could span your jaw from middle finger to thumb. Instead, he smooshes your face until your mouth puckers. You must look like a fish â a dumbstruck, awkward fish.
âSir,â you slur out. He squeezes a little tighter, cutting off your ability to speak. Good thing, probably; youâre not sure what you would have said next.
âLike a little stress ball you are,â he muses, almost to himself.
That does prompt a laugh from you, the absurdity of the entire situation making you a little light- headed. Here is your huge, terrifying lieutenant, practically more legend than man, squishing your cheeks like a particularly long-suffering but beloved pet. You, the team medic, the person who pokes and prods at them more often than not. The one person in the 141 that you always thought he barely tolerated.
âNext time Iâm on the edge of tearinâ my hair out, Iâll just come to you for a squeeze.â
He emphasizes this with one last, extra scrunch that makes you humph in mild discomfort. But when he finally lets you go, you grin and shake your head, somehow more amused than annoyed or offended. It seems like you finally might be growing on your lieutenant. Thatâs nothing to sneeze at.
âTry it and youâll lose a finger, sir,â you tease.
âLike to see you try it, Squeaks.â
Your mistake was thinking that Simon âGhostâ Riley makes idle threats. (Not that you think that he was threatening you; if he was you know youâd know it.)
Heâs been out training recruits by himself â Gaz and Price on a mission, Soap laid up with a twisted knee â a task that already tends to irritate him. Add to that, the weather is fucking miserable. Hot as hell but also a little rainy, meaning that itâs humid as a swamp. Probably has been making his stitches and burn itch beneath the mask.
When he storms into the common room at the end of the day, you and Soap exchange looks. A lot of assassin-soldier to be barreling into a small room â and making a beeline straight for you.
âUh, sir?â you yelp. Consider a tactical retreat, but even that brief deliberation is too long. He crowds you against the counter you were making tea at and grabs your face.
He still has his gloves on, rough and uncomfortable on your skin. You wrinkle your nose, try to pull back, but his grip is too tight, so you just submit yourself to whatever is happening.
Apparently, âde-stressâ is happening.
His smooshes your face just like he had in the infirmary, and some of the tension in his shoulders drops. You blink as his grip relaxes, then tenses. And then again. And again. Again, again, again. It dawns on you that heâs literally treating your cheeks like his own personal stress ball.
You should be insulted. Outraged. Youâre not a toy.
âAll good, LT?â Soap ventures. Sounds like heâs defusing a bomb.
âFine, Johnny,â Ghost replies, almost absently. âLong day.â
âRecruits beinâ idjets, then?â
âFuckinâ muppets,â he agrees, less heated than heâd normally be.
Huh, you think. Is this⊠actually working?
You make eye contact with Johnny. He looks more blindsided than you, a bit like heâs witnessing your murder instead of being accosted by your strained lieutenant.
âCouldnât find their way out of a paper bag with a map.â
He squeezes a little tighter as he says it, prompting a noise of protest from you. It doesnât hurt yet, but your teeth are rubbing against soft tissue. He eases up again and meets your eyes, half-lidded and a touch warmer than youâre used to. The skin around his eyes eases bit by bit, and the line of his jaw beneath the balaclava looks relaxed.
You settle then, resting your weight back against the counter. Nothing untoward is happening, just Ghost being⊠honestly, a little weird. Itâs a nice thought actually, that your big scary LT is a weirdo. The kind of weirdo that would rather squish his medic than a stress ball.
Makes sense in a way, with how heâs always covered up and keeping a safe distance (physically and emotionally) between himself and others. Probably touch starved. Not sure why heâs picked you, but youâre happy that he did.
After a few minutes you pat his wrist, a gentle double tap. Like sparring. He lets you go.
âIâm making tea if youâd like a cup?â you offer.
âYeah, Sergeant. Earl Grey, left side of the cabinet.â
âYessir.â
You can feel Soap squinting.
âSince when are you two so chummy, eh?â he asks.
âSince always,â Ghost replies as if Soap is an idiot.
With your back turned, he canât see the grin that would surely give you away. âYeah, Soap, whereâve you been?â
âOch, now youâre taking the piss.â
You hand Ghost his tea and sit down to let Soap rant.
It has become a habit. Ghost gets annoyed at recruits, paperwork, bad intel â your cheeks get squished like itâs a family reunion. He starts removing his gloves at least. Warm, calloused hands are much more comfortable than textured gloves. Youâre starting to look forward to it, even.
Itâs not a long process. Heâll come find you, smoosh up your face until you wrinkle your nose, and then continues with his day, shoulders looser than when he appeared. You usually complain, whine that youâre in the middle of something, that he didnât even warn you, that his grip is too tight. But you never push him away or pull back. And he always honors your little tap-taps if you need to be freed before heâs ready to let go.
By this point, everyone on the team has seen it. Soap no longer brings it up, but sometimes informs you when Ghost appears with that Look about him. Gaz floundered the first time he saw it, stuttering and stumbling until Ghost told him to spit it out or shut up. Once after that, he asked if he could squeeze you for stress relief. You had to make Ghost let go from how tight his hand went. Gaz didnât ask again.
Price, shockingly enough, takes in the situation, then settles you with a nonjudgmental look.
âSolid, Sergeant?â
âYessir,â you manage around your pressed cheeks, adding a thumbs up.
âAs you were, then.â
And that was that.
Of course, with jobs like yours, some days are more stressful than others. Some days are hell on Earth. This mission wasnât quite that, but it did go to shit in a handbasket, and youâre ragged by the end of it. Gaz dislocated a shoulder, Soap is concussed. Price has a nasty road rash across one arm that he was a bit of an ass about tending â not that youâd say as much.
Even you are scuffed up. A hostile split your lip with a nasty jab that caught you off guard. (Ghost, right behind you at the time, stabbed the guy with vicious prejudice. Youâre trying not to be flattered and trying not to think about what it means that youâre failing.) Besides that, youâre exhausted, dehydrated, and youâre pretty sure you hurt your back trying to stabilize Soap at some point.
Ghost is the only one that made it out unscathed as far as you can tell. You also know that thatâs more likely to put him in a mood than if heâd suffered alongside you all. Cold and detached as he might seem, he doesnât like seeing anyone in the 141 hurt on his watch.
Youâre beside Soap, making sure he doesnât fall asleep on the transport back to base, but you can feel Ghostâs eyes on you. You make eye contact across the aisle. His shoulders are tight, arms crossed, hands clenching and unclenching. Heâs too disciplined to tap his foot or bounce his leg, but you know he would be if he was anyone else.
When you land, you send Soap to the infirmary for observation. Price decides on debrief after breakfast the next morning and slinks off to his office. Gaz follows after Soap to get painkillers and a sling. You shoot Ghost a long, tired look.
âCanât be a stress ball today,â you tell him, âmy mouth hurts.â
âI know.â
But still, heâs standing too close to you at the armory where youâve returned your weapons. His shoulders are bent slightly towards you, hands twitching at his sides. In all honesty, you wish that you could do your usual destress routine â because as much as he seems to enjoy having something/someone to squeeze, you enjoy having to sit still for a few moments of physical contact just as much.
And after thinking Soap cracked his skull, Gaz lost his arm, your captain got skinned, you need to decompress. And you need to do it with Ghost, who saved each and every one of you today.
âCâmon,â you say and, taking a chance, grab his hand.
He hums in question, but allows you to lead, careful not to grip too tight. The bones there are too delicate, and you need them in working order as their medic. He canât be so rough with them.
You practically drag him to the common room and put on the kettle. Understanding, Ghost preps the mugs and sachets of preferred tea. When the water is hot enough, you each make your tea, then tug him to the couch. You direct him into the corner â and itâs only then that you hesitate.
Instinct is to climb into his lap. Heâs a big man and you want to be cradled, but you also suspect the weight and warmth of another body would be soothing to him too. Instead, you clamber up as close to him as you can get, wedging your shoulder against his rubs and encouraging his arm around you.
It seems like he hesitates for a moment too. This is the most contact you two have ever had, regardless of how close he usually stands when heâs squeezing your face. Right now, youâre pressed together all down one side, your thigh overlapping his a little. After a moment, though, he releases a long breath and curls his arm around you. His hand settles naturally on your hip.Â
Itâs not long after that that the squeezing starts.
He's still got his gloves on and the skin on your hip is sensitive, usually hidden under layers of clothes, but youâre too snuggled in to disturb the arrangement now. Between the heat he radiates like a furnace, and your steaming tea, youâre quickly cozy and spaced out. The rhythm of his hand kneading plush flesh is soothing, something to drift back to while your mind goes blissfully blank of anything but safe, warm, comfy, quiet.
At some point, your mostly empty cup is plucked from your hand. You mumble a thank you and curl in closer, both legs over his lap now. His other hand rests on your lower thigh, just above your knee, and begins squeezing there too. Almost a massage, if not for the near-rough way he grips you.
âLike a cat,â you mumble, head lolling onto his shoulder.
âHm?â
âCat making biscuits.â
Thereâs a huff of air. You smile faintly and tilt your head away from the suddenly too-bright lights of the common room. Donât even realize youâve tucked into his neck until he rubs his jaw over the top of your head.
ââS nice,â you whisper.
He hums. You think it might be agreement. Must be, Ghost wouldnât be entertaining this if he didnât. Itâs a reassuring thought to drift off with, knowing that no matter what you want, heâll never do something just to be nice.
You wake the next morning horizontal, something too firm to be a pillow under your head. When you sit up a little, Ghostâs dark eyes are peering at you, heavy as usual, but not as sharp. His chest rumbles beneath your chin in greeting.
âMine or yours?â you mumble.
âMine.â
You hum, too sleepy to let the implications of such a big gesture make you anxious right now.
âYouâre a bad pillow,â you say instead.
Itâs a lie. Heâs a wonderful pillow. Jacked as he is, all that muscle is so plush and cushiony when itâs relaxed like this. Helps, also, that heâs still so warm.
âSlept on me just fine,â he grunts. âDrooled a little, too.â
âDid not.â
âExplain the wet spot on my tits then.â
You say the first thing that comes to mind. âLactating.â
âYouâre a freak.â
âStones in glass houses, sir.â
You close your eyes again for a moment, enjoying the dark room and heat beneath you. The best night of sleep youâve gotten in a long while, honestly. Especially with so much of the team injured.
Thereâs a tug at your hair, gentler than you usually get from Ghost.
âGet the fuck up, Squeaks,â he gruffs without any heat. In fact, he sounds like heâd rather you didnât. âNeed to piss and eat.â
âAt the same time?â you tease. Youâd sound more scandalized if you werenât still half asleep.
âYouâre fucking disgusting.â
 He rolls you onto the mattress and pushes himself up.
âMeet back here in fifteen. Fresh clothes, fresh face.â
âGonna squish it?â you ask.
âMaybe later, see how the day goes.â He pinches one of your cheeks anyway. Still rougher than most people would be, but for him itâs downright tender. You try not to lean into it, not sure if you succeed. Donât think either of you cares, really.
You lay there for another moment, listening to him bustle around his quarters, getting new clothes it sounds like.
âHow copy, sergeant?â
âSolid, sir.â
âFifteen.â
âYessir.â
You haul yourself up and trudge out of his room for a shower. Gonna need all fifteen of those minutes.
Breakfast is a quiet but pleasant affair. Gaz is using his sling and sore as all hell, but in high spirits. Soap is exhausted from two-hour wakeups and the sensitivity the concussion has left him with. The painkillers are helping, and despite all that, heâs in a decent (if slightly subdued) mood.
You snatch up a couple of dry muffins and an orange juice for Price before heading to debrief, plopping it all on his desk when you enter his office. Your efforts are rewarded with a fond smile.
Gaz and Soap take the two single chairs, probably afraid of falling asleep on the couch. Thatâs where you and Ghost end up, you pressed up against the arm and him⊠right next to you.
Not that youâre complaining. His thigh pressed against yours is a nice comfort. Reminiscent of how he made you feel the night before. A reminder that heâs here, that heâs solid and safe while you all recount the mission from the day before. If Price is shocked by you two practically nested up together, he doesnât show it.
Somewhere along the way, your hand reaches for something to fiddle with. Youâre not as restless as Soap, but you like something to keep busy while youâre thinking or anxious. Usually you tear up the inside of your mouth biting your lips, but you donât want to aggravate the healing split. Your fingers land on the pocket of Ghostâs cargos. The material is thick, the stitching an interesting texture, and the pockets have snaps that are quiet enough to play with during debrief.
Ghost lets you fidget in peace, only giving you a slight nod when you glance at him to check. His arm is resting along the couch behind you, and you can feel his fingers twisting into your loose hair. Fair exchange, you figure, and settle in.
Thereâs a brief call with Laswell to discuss next steps. You listen, but not closely. Youâre just a medical sergeant after all. Your opinion is considered when offered, but youâre not much of a strategist or tactician. Mostly, you go where you're directed, do as you're told, and keep everyone in one piece as best you can.
When itâs over, Soap helps haul you off the couch while Ghost stands, clipping his thigh pocket closed again.
âGood to see you two getting along,â Price calls as youâre leaving.
You glance over your shoulder, catch the smirk on his face, and stick out your tongue. And then promptly bolt, lest you be reprimanded for insubordination. Itâs a common threat in the 141; youâre not sure if anyone has actually been written up for it outside of a mission. You donât want to be the one to find out, though.
Soap cackles at you, Gaz calls you chicken shit. Ghost ruffles your hair and steers you towards his office.
âOi, where are you two off to?â Gaz asks.
âPaperwork,â Ghost replies shortly.
News to you, but sure. Some company would be nice while you fill out forms. That becomes mildly more difficult when he plops you into his lap, but you make do. Ghost keeps his office cold â all those layers, you figure â and the chair across from his desk is purposefully uncomfortable to discourage lingering. His broad thighs make a much better, warmer seat. The fact that he circles an arm around your waist, hugging you like a kid with a teddy bear is just a bonus. For all that, youâd figure out how to do reports on water.
You two should probably talk about this, or something. There are regulations or codes of conduct prohibiting this sort of behavior. Never mind that the interpersonal lines (the ones you actually care about) are starting to blur. But well, you donât have a problem with all this, and you wouldnât be breathing if he did. So, well, thereâs not much to talk about, is there?
âHey, LT?â
âMm.â
You watch him sign the bottom of a report, his signature an efficient and jagged thing, somehow still elegant. Like watching him practice with his knives. He flexes his hand when itâs done. You two have been at it for a while now. He hasnât said a word, but you know Ghost despises paperwork. You could both use a break.
âYou ever seen Halloween?â
âThe horror movie?â He pauses, thinks about it. âYeah.â
âThe next one is going to take place in the summer. Guess heâll be Michael Perspires.â
He goes still behind you. âWhat.â
âHeâs gotten a job as an electrician. Michael Wires.â
You keep your face forward and down, pretending to work, trying to swallow back hysterical giggles.
âSqueaksâŠâ
âHeâs into arson now as well. Michael Fires.â
His arm tightens around your waist. You wish you could see his face, but you know youâll break if you look. âShut the fuck up.â
âHe didnât tell the truth on his resume. Michael Liars.â
âIf you make another shitty Michael Myers pun, I swear to godââ
âYou donât like them?â you ask, grin so wide it hurts. âIâm going to Michael Cry-ers.â
âGod fucking dammit, Squeaks.â
You burst into laughter that is quickly cut short by his arm constricting like a snake. Even with your air supply diminished, wheezing a bit, you kick your feet in delight.
âG-Guess⊠guess youâreâŠâ you struggle to get it out between the lack of oxygen and your giggles. âGuess youâre M-Michael Tires of this joke.â
âIâm going to make you regret breathing at our next sparring session.â
And oh, you believe him. Your LT doesnât make idle threats. But youâre telling yourself that itâs so worth it this time. Soap is going to give you a fucking medal for this. You know, assuming Ghost doesnât snipe you when you try to tell the story.
Youâre still cackling, but it turns to squeals when you feel sharp pressure on your shoulder.
Heâs biting you.
âL-LT!â you gasp, scrabbling to push at his forehead without dislodging his mask. âFine, fine, Iâll stop!â
He growls, the sound burning through you, straight to the pit of your stomach. You choose to ignore that in exchange for the oddly ticklish sensation of him gnawing through your shirt.
Knowing by now that you wonât be free until heâs ready, you just try to sit still and not spur him on further. After a moment, he unlocks his jaw and speaks in your ear, voice low but unmistakably amused.
âMedic, stress ball, comedian, chew toy â anything you canât do, Sergeant?â he snarks.
You scrunch your nose at this new designation. âI am not a chew toy.â
âSeem pretty chewy to me,â he muses, sinking his teeth in again. You bark out reactive laughter and squirm, but his hold hasnât loosened a bit and youâre trapped against him.
âLT,â you complain like usual. âYouâre going to leave a mark.â
He doesnât respond verbally, but you feel his teeth dig in a little harder. Well, thatâs new. You still donât push him away, a not-so-small or secret part of you pleased by the idea of him leaving a bruise. It wouldnât even be visible. Just something to remind you of the trust your lieutenant has in you, in the bond you two have formed, unorthodox as it is.
You hand him a bottle of water when he finally releases you, to sooth his undoubtedly dry mouth. Thereâs a wet patch on your shirt (and probably your underwear) but you ignore it to return to your reports. He seems a little less reluctant to join you now, pleasingly.
Youâre not so sure about the âchew toyâ thing, but you definitely seem to be an effective stress relief.
Youâre having a great day. No one is injured, youâre caught up on paperwork. You pinned both Soap and Gaz during sparring earlier, earning a proud nod from Ghost and Price. There were pudding cups at lunch, and youâve made plans with the rest of the team to watch a movie in the common room tonight. Even your antisocial LT agreed to come.
In fact, heâs the first one there when you arrive in the early evening. You chirp a hello, heading for the pantry for popcorn. Soap and Gaz canât be trusted to make it without setting off the fire alarms.
Ghost hums in return, but he seems content to scroll on his phone, saving his energy for socializing. You donât mind his silence, never do. Not like he can chat when heâs biting you like a teething puppy. And he has been. A lot. His new favorite form of stress relief, apparently, apart from squishing your cheeks like usual.
If thereâs privacy for it, his teeth have been imprinting your arms, shoulders, even your hands in perfect pinpricked circles. Heâs not any gentler about it than he is smooshing up your face, and a couple times now youâve discovered bruises later on. You suspect thatâs his aim, especially when heâs more aggravated than stressed. A way to release aggression without wasting bullets at the range or beating the stuffing out of someone in the ring.
You donât mind, no matter how you complain aloud. It was a sudden step up in intimacy, but you like the feeling of his teeth on you. A way to get that soothing moment of forced stillness without losing the ability to speak, eat, or look around. And youâd be lying if you said you didnât like the mark either. Feels like a claim, one youâre not sure is actually being made â but youâre allowed to dream.
That said, Ghost is a bastard about it. If you thought he was pushy before, pinching your cheeks at inopportune times, the biting could almost be classified as a nuisance. Several times now, someone has walked into the common room to your forearm between Ghostâs jaws. Youâve lost count of how many conversations with Soap or Gaz have been interrupted by your lieutenantâs canines sinking into your shoulder or the meat of your thumb, tongue swiping excess saliva from bare skin.
Youâre ruminating on this as your fellow sergeants filter in, joking and laughing about something stupid the recruits did earlier.
Ghost has hardly looked up from his phone, only jerks his head in acknowledgement when they greet him. His shoulders are loose; heâs relaxed. You know better than to mistake it for being unaware of the environment, but⊠well, if there were ever a time for paybackâŠ
You leave the popcorn to finish in the microwave and stroll over to the couch. To your delight, Ghost shuffles a little to make room for you, an obvious invitation to cuddle up. Itâs almost enough to distract you from your mission. Almost.
You perch on the edge of the cushion, hook a thumb under the edge of his shirt. The break in routine draws his attention but doesnât seem to raise any alarms. He flicks his gaze up from the screen to catch your eyes. You lock gazes, tug the fabric up just the tiniest sliver. Then dart down and blow a deafening raspberry into the toned skin of his stomach.
Thereâs a moment of dead silence. Then you scramble up and bolt, yelping when you hear the heavy thump of boots behind you.
âSqueaks, you little shit!â he snarls, Manchester accent thicker than usual. And he gives Soap shit.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry!â you lie, revealed by your breathless giggles.
âIâll make you sorry!â
You believe him.
You skitter around Price, calling a frantic âhi, sirâ as you stumble to keep your footing. Ghost doesnât even bother with pleasantries, solely focused on getting ahold of you. Your only saving grace is being able to take corners faster than him, but his long legs eat distance like nothing and itâs only two hallways later that youâre snatched right off your feet.
You squeal, not sure if itâs in terror or delight, as he hauls you up and over one broad shoulder.
âGhost, wait no, I didnât mean it!â
âSure fucking seemed to,â he growls, manhandling a better grip on you.
You put up a bit of a struggle, but there's no question who would win even if you really did fight him. Instead, you press against his chest and arms, laughing as his fingertips dig roughly into your hips and thighs and waist.
âEarning your nickname today,â he mocks as he lugs you back to the common room.
When you arrive, Soap groans in dismay at your failure, Gaz taunts you for thinking you could get away with your stunt. Price just shakes his head, playing at exasperated but unable to hide his fondness. Ghost all but tosses you onto the couch and before you can scramble up, flops on top of you. All the breath is forced from your lungs with a little oof, feeling a bit like those animals that can flatten themselves to squeeze into small crevices.
âLT, I canât breathe,â you whine. âYouâre heavy.â
The cushions on the couch arenât luxurious by any means, but theyâre forgiving enough that you can, in fact, breathe. Itâs just a little more difficult than usual. Not difficult enough to tap out, though. You like the weight of him on you.
âShould have thought about that before being a little shit.â
You grumble; donât really have an argument for that but unwilling to cede the point.
âOi, you two done?â Gaz calls. âI wanna watch the movie.â
Price snorts. Soap, angel that he is, offers you the bowl of popcorn.
âNo one told you to wait, sergeant,â Ghost replies, bland.
âYeah,â you second, muffled and admittedly pathetic sounding. âTakes you five minutes to figure out the sound anyway.â
âWe all know youâre going to put the subtitles on, donât know why the volume matters,â Soap chimes in.
âItâs only for the Captainâs sake,â Gaz defends.
âNow what are you implying, Garrick?â Price asks, silky and dangerous.
You snuggle in happily, enjoying the moment of peace and companionship. No shooting, no bleeding, no nightmares. Just the five of you, alive and healthy, enjoying this little family theyâve built and brought you into.
You donât even realize youâve fallen asleep until the pressure is gone, Ghost wedging his arms between your lax body and the couch. Itâs cold without him as a personal blanket, and you curl into his arms with a discontent noise.
âAtta girl, Squeaks. I got you,â he rumbles.
You crack an eye open to check on everyone else by instinct. Gaz and Soap are leaning on each other, lightly snoring. It looks like Price is about to rouse them as well, but he shoots you and Ghost an especially soft look.
âTaking this one to bed, sir.â
âBe good to our girl, Lieutenant,â Price nods.
âAs good as she is to us,â Ghost agrees.
Youâre half-sure that youâre dreaming, but you smile at them both before tucking in and falling asleep again.
The next morning starts in Ghostâs bed, a place you find yourself often enough now that you recognize it as quickly as your own. Youâre all tangled up in each other, more than usual. There are fingers in your hair, scraping across your scalp. You could purr it feels so good, pressing your face into Ghostâs chest to let him get a new spot.
âDidnât even make it halfway through the movie,â he teases.
âSeen it before.â
âGaz is going to be cross.â
âHeâll understand â getting chased takes a lot of you.â
âDonât make me chase you down, then.â
You snort. If you have any say in it, youâll be instigating games like that much more. Something about the big scary Ghost dashing after you over a stupid little prank â and knowing that the worst youâll get out of it is a forceful cuddle â is not the deterrent it should be.
Still, thereâs a pattern to this little game of yours. You canât admit that you enjoy the play.
âNot my fault you canât take what you dish,â you reply, twisting to nip his chest through his shirt, as if to prove your point.
Itâs sharper than you would be with anyone else. Ghost, though, hums low and rough in his throat.
âIâve never done that bullshit you pulled last night,â he grumbles.
âLack of imagination on your part.â
He huffs, pinches your cheek and chuckles when you whine in complaint, muttering that itâs too early for his shit.
âCâmon, Squeaks, up and at âem. Before Soap takes all the blueberry.â
âYessirâŠâ you groan.
Ghost has been away. Price sent him and Gaz off on a stealth assignment, something that Soap is less suited to. Not that he couldnât do it if needed, but itâs more Gazâs specialty, so Price sent him. Soap isnât too bummed about it, though. Heâs been wreaking havoc around base with you casually egging him on from the sidelines, feeding into his chaos without being directly involved.
Not that Price would see it that way if he caught wind. But he hasnât, so youâre not in trouble yet.
You might be after this though.
One drink too many, Soap complaining that you always play it safe. And, to his credit, you do. He and Gaz are the troublemakers, you just like to watch and occasionally add your two cents to the explosive mix. Price has joked before that youâre the best behaved amongst the group, even over Ghost.
Not only are you the least experienced with combat, but youâre also the team medic. It often leaves you feeling like you have to maintain a certain level of decorum and responsibility alongside your officers. Itâs no wonder that you try to stay on the straight and narrow â the occasional snippy comment aside.
But this is beyond anything youâve dared.
Soap has had enough to point out the parlor down the street and dare you. Youâve had enough to be goaded into spitefully proving a point. If Gaz were here, he might be clever enough to dare Soap into something else to get him to back down. If Ghost were here, heâd scruff you both like unruly kittens and haul you back to base. If Price were here, youâd be running laps until you puke.
Instead, itâs just you and Soap. Ghost and Gaz arenât due back for a week and half, Price is probably buried waist deep in paperwork as usual. And thereâs no one to tell you not to.
And so Soap gets his nipples pierced and you get your tongue re-pierced, and you both wake up the next day a little hungover and a lot sore.
You consider taking it out but⊠well.
You kinda missed having it.
And you want to see how long itâll take Ghost to notice if you use your discreet jewelry.
You give Soap painkillers for his nipples and promise to hook him up with a good jewelry store recommendation. Then you spend the rest of the day trying not to talk. The rest of the week, really. If anyone notices, they donât mention it. Soap is always happy to talk for the both of you.
By the time Gaz and Ghost return, it hardly hurts anymore. Still healing, yes, but it only aches in the mornings now. You fit the flat-topped, clear ring into the piercing and go to meet the boys on the tarmac.
They exit the aircraft together, Gaz chatting about something and Ghost humoring him in characteristic silence. When the latter sees you, though, he makes a beeline. You let out a surprised but pleased noise as youâre scooped up, mask wedging into the space beneath your jaw to press against your neck.
âWelcome back, sir,â you manage, squeezing his shoulders.
He grunts in reply. You shoot Gaz a questioning look.
âIt was slow going,â he explains, âAnd the guys on the transport back were, uh, chatty.â
Ah. Set on your feet again, his gloved hands rise to squish your face like usual.
âDo the thing,â he gruffs.
You wrinkle your nose. Partially out of embarrassment, and partially because heâll see the piercing if youâre not careful.
âThat captain isââ
âThatâs an order, sergeant.â
You sigh. Then poke your tongue out as he smooshes your face further. He exhales like the first hit of nicotine for the day. You keep the jewelry hidden behind your teeth and are released a few seconds later.
âThatâs the stuff,â he says.
âChrist, LT, donât say it like that,â you complain.
Unsurprisingly, he ignores you, turning to Price.
âDebrief now?â
âIf you and Gaz donât need medical.â
They both shake their heads, and you make no secret that youâre pleased by this news.
As you head into the building, you find Ghostâs finger hooked into your belt loop, tugging you along to Priceâs office. You donât mention it, only arch an eyebrow when you catch his eye.
At the door, Price pauses, giving Ghost a long, exasperated look.
âYou know sheâs not actually a service animal, son?â
âThe intel isnât confidential.â
Price sighs, drags a hand down his face. âSuppose not. Get the fuck in, then, Squeaks.â
You get the fuck in.
As usual, Ghost stands, and youâre obliged to stand with him. In front of him, actually, his chin settling on top of your head while his hands settle on your shoulders, squeezing and kneading at the muscle. You tune out most of the conversation, only here for Ghostâs sake, apparently.
Not that you mind. Thereâs a large, loud part of you that is glowing with the knowledge that he missed you so much.
When itâs over, he doesnât even bother to stop at the mess hall. He picks you straight up and strides off to his quarters. You complain that he needs to eat, or at least drink water, but he doesnât even deign your fussing with a response.
He closes and locks the door when youâre both inside, then tosses you on the bed. It smells overwhelmingly of him: metal, gunpowder, standard issue detergent, and something spicy. Itâs a scent youâve become intimately familiar with â could get addicted to, if you let yourself.
You settle in amongst the crisp sheets and thin pillows, Ghost sheds his tac gear like a second skin. When heâs down to his undershirt and boxers, barefoot on the cold ground, you open your arms.
He climbs over you as you giggle, then unapologetically drops all his weight. You make your usual little oof sound, suspecting that he likes it, and tilt your head so he can press his face (without the skull mask) into your shoulder.
âSo how was it actually?â you ask.
âGaz was antsy the whole time. Said he sensed you and Soap up to something without him.â
You snort, relieved that he canât see the damning expression on your face right now.
 âThere isnât anything to get up to when heâs not here causing it,â you lie.
âDonât put anything past Soap, the crafty cunt.â
You grin, patting your hands lightly over his shoulder blades. âNice alliteration.â
He hums, slowly going boneless beneath your rhythmless tapping.
âMask,â he mutters.
It takes you a second to realize what he wants.
âYouâre asking me to pull it up so you can bite me?â you scoff.
âTelling, not asking,â he grumbles.
âOh for the love ofâŠâ
You do it anyway. Itâs not long before you feel his teeth, always sharper than you expect, latch onto the base of your neck. You tilt your chin back to give him comfortable access, staring up at the ceiling. How often does he sit here after nightmares, staring at it? Does he do it even when you sleepover, clinging onto him like a koala?
You lay like that for a while, fingers finding the fine blond hair peeking out from his rolled balaclava and scritching. One of his hands wedges beneath himself to find your hip, squeezing you tight enough that his nails scrape across your pants.
âSo what did you two get up to?â he asks, detaching eventually.
Your neck is aching pleasantly, mind drifting in peace, and you donât realize what heâs asking at first.
âWhat?â you ask.
You try to suppress a shiver as his tongue drags over the saliva he left on your neck. This is a normal part of the process, but that doesnât mean youâre immune to the pleasure it sends down your spine.
âYou and Soap,â he clarifies. âWhat did you do?â
âIt was mostly Soap,â you deflect, forgoing any attempt at innocence.
He snorts. âMy problem?â
You consider, humming. âProbably not.â
âProbably?â
You shrug. âDonât leave me unattended if you donât want paperwork.â
He nips sharply at the hinge of your jaw. âDidnât want to. Price said you donât have enough experience if things went to shit.â
You donât know how to feel that Ghost would have preferred you on a mission with him. Even over Soap? You know heâs fond of you, but you didnât realize it was enough to have you partnered with him on missions. It makes your chest warm and fluttery. The bastard.
âHeâs right,â you say instead of something unforgivably sentimental.
âImagine heâll overlook that when he finds out about your body candy.â
You squeak, eyes closing in regret. Well, it was a nice life while it lasted.
âThat fast?â you ask.
âSaw it as soon as you opened that pretty mouth,â he answers.
âItâs clear!â
âThought I wouldnât see a piece of plastic in your mouth, sergeant?â
You sigh, barely even noticing the bite he leaves on your collarbone. When he pushes his chest up to look at you, heâs half-lidded, almost lazy looking. But the corner of his mouth quirks up, just that slightest bit youâve become hypervigilant of. Your hands slide from his shoulders and curl into the front of his shirt.
âHow much trouble am I in?â you venture.
âA world of it,â he replies, voice pitching low and rough in a way thatâs just not fair.
âSoap did worse,â you complain, not above throwing him under the bus. This is his fault anyway.
âDonât care what Soap did. Care that you tried to hide it from me.â
He catches your chin between thumb and forefinger, gives it a little shake like a reprimand.
âWasnât hiding it,â you argue. âAt least not from you. Would have told you by the end of the week if you hadnât noticed.â
And you really would have. If Price hadnât been present on the tarmac, you had half a mind to show it off immediately, excited to be breaking the rules.
Ghost hums, eyes roving your face â apparently to determine the truth of your confession.
âDoesnât mean youâre off the hook,â he warns.
But you know that tone of voice by now. Youâre not off the hook yet.
ââŠWant me to take it out?â you try.
His eyes go from dark to pitch black. âNo.â
Oh?
Oh.
âWant⊠to see it?â
He hums. Not quite confirmation, but close enough. You donât even think before dropping your jaw, tongue rolling out over your bottom lip. He let out a short, hard breath. You see his jaw twitch.
Then he shifts.
His thumb lands on your tongue, much farther back than you expect but you donât flinch. He draws a line down the center to the flat top of your piercing and then presses down. You make a protesting noise, a warning because itâs still new and still sore. He doesnât let up but doesnât push any harder.
âSqueaks.â
You flutter your eyes open (when did they close?) and meet his eyes. They nearly absorb all the light in the room, twin blackholes drawing you in, inescapable and immutable. Thereâs a hunger lurking within, one you realize with a jolt youâve been seeing for a long time now.
Whatever he sees on your face, it makes him run his tongue along his own teeth â pearly white and perfectly straight. Then he ducks down and licks over your piercing, first in neat sweeps, and then in tight little circles around its circumference.
Trapped beneath him and mouth open, you canât swallow back the whine that peels from your throat. Youâd be embarrassed about it; except the noise you make when he stops is so much worse.
âTaste good,â he rumbles.
âThis another stress thing?â you ask, dizzy and flushed.
He smirks, chuckles deep in his chest. âIf it is, will you let me do it whenever I want?â
You nod, thoughts blurring at the edges. His smirk widens, but he obliges when you tug at his shirt, wanting him close, wanting him to do it again.
It takes a long time for it to evolve into an actual kiss. He spends what feels like a small eternity flicking his tongue over your piercing, around it. Itâs an unusual sensation, not quite ticklish, but decadent and erotic. At some point, quiet little noises start spilling from your throat and donât stop. He doesnât seem to mind, pressing down when the pitch goes higher â or maybe you pitch higher because heâs closer?
Eventually your jaw tires from hanging open, tongue aching at the stretch. You retract back into your own mouth, but Ghost chases after. Itâs like he forgot about actual kissing until that moment. And then he has something new to amuse himself with. His tongue explores your lips, the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat. He drags his sharp teeth over your bottom lip, growls when you return the favor in retaliation for the sting.
âThatâs my girl,â he rasps, âmy medic.â
You hum, reciprocate the thorough exploration he just gave you. He tastes a little metallic, but mostly he tastes like Ghost, like Simon, and itâs addicting.
âThink itâs a stress thing for me too,â you murmur when you pull away for air.
âYeah?â He trails his mouth down your jaw, teeth scraping. âAnxious while I was gone?â
You nod. You always worry about the boys when theyâre away, when youâre not there for a worst-case scenario. But you thought about your lieutenant especially, wondering at his mood, at his feelings, without your usual daily interactions. His absence left you feeling twitchy, a little unmoored. You wonder â hope â if he felt the same.
âTake what you need, then,â he whispers. âDonât mind returning the favor.â
You sink your nails into his shoulders, rake them down his back and sides, treating him like a scratching post. He shivers, puffs out a hot breath by your ear. Your mouth finds that strong, sharp jaw and latches on, sucking and biting, worrying the skin until you pull away to a dark bruise.
âGo on,â he urges.
You do, making a trail down his neck, then across. Tug at his shirt when it gets in the way. He leans back to pull it over his head. You nearly tackle him, mapping out the swell of hard muscles, licking over the angry lines you clawed into him.
âEasy now, precious,â he purrs. âNo rush.â
You make a disagreeing noise, lips never leaving his skin. One hand tangles in your hair, petting and holding, not guiding. His other drifts down to your ass and grips like a vice. It hurts a little; it feels so fucking good. There will be bruises for days.
When your nails scratch across his hip, he bucks, fingers spasming against your scalp.
âCareful,â he growls. âAsking for something you might not be ready for.â
You hum. âMaybe,â you agree honestly. âIâve neverâŠâ
He goes rigid. Worried, you glance up. His bare chest (marked up by your hands and mouth) is heaving. His jaw is slack, lips wet. You canât distinguish between pupil and iris anymore.
âYou swear?â he asks, rough. âYouâve never fucked anyone before?â
âNo,â you say, not embarrassed, not with him. âGot close, but never managed it. Things always got in the way. Used to be a joke with my friends, that I was cursed.â
A fire alarm, an oblivious roommate, police knocking on the door, the roof falling in, once.
âYou have experience,â he asserts.
âDefinitely.â You quirk a wicked smile his way. âPlenty of practice with my mouthâŠâ
He shudders, tilting your head to a vulnerable angle, neck exposed.
âAnd my hands,â you add, gasping.
âYou keep pushing, petâŠâ he rumbles.
You whine. âWant to, with you. Want it to be you, Simon.â
His lips crash into yours, messy and filthy, licking all the needy sounds from your mouth.
âStrip, sergeant. Now.â
You scramble to obey, wiggling out of your clothes as quickly as you can while still half under him.
âAlways so good for me,â he hums. âAlways follow my orders, my good little sergeant.â
âYours,â you breathe against his mouth.
The last scrap of clothing is barely off when he pounces, hand flattening on your stomach and pressing you down into the mattress. It nearly knocks the wind out of you, the force of it, pinning you. His eyes hungrily lock on your chest, on the smooth and unmarked skin of your breasts.
If you wanted to protest, you donât get the chance to. He descends on you like a starving man, all teeth and tongue, practically mauling you. You squirm, not sure where you want to go, just that itâs a lot of sensation all at once. He captures a perked nipple between his lips and sucks until you keen, knee bumping his flank like you want to kick him off.
He slots his hips between yours, presses up tight to trap you further. His free hand grasps at your other breast. Kneading roughly, then twisting and plucking at the rosy nipple until youâre crying out, nearly thrashing. When heâs satisfied, he switches his hand and mouth, spinning you up and up until your breasts are aching and the best kind of sore. He finally pulls off with a lewd pop, mouth slick, rosettes left all over you in his wake.
âTrying to kill me,â you pant.
He smirks, drops one last soothing kiss on your sternum. Then extricates himself to remove the last of his own clothing. His dick springs free from his waistband, slapping obscenely against his stomach. You freeze when the dim light glints off bits of metal.
âIs thatâŠ?â
âCome find out.â
You scoot to the edge of the bed and brush your fingertips over the hypnotizing ladder of studs along the shaft. Which, now that youâre closer and your hand is there for scale, is huge. Like, almost pornographic. You didnât know that existed outside of raunchy media. Thatâs been under you, snuggled up to you, beneath your ass â for months now.
âOh my god, Simon,â you gulp. âIs that going toâŠ?â
âIt will if you can be patient for me.â
âOkay,â you say, eyes never leaving the glittering silver row. You trust him. As rough as he can be, heâs never hurt you. Not in any way you didnât crave.
His hand catches your chin again, tips your gaze back to his. âAnother time, lovely. Give your tongue a break.â
You whine but sit back on your haunches, hands planted between your knees. âThen hurry up.â
His thumb caresses your jaw, presses in warning. âPatient, I said.â
âIâve been patient,â you argue. âGimme.â
That coaxes a chuckle out of him. He plants a hand on your shoulder and shoves. You land on your back again, stretch your legs to hang over the side of the bed. He lowers to his knees between them, thick thighs flexing. His hands slide under your hips and drag until your thighs are over his shoulders.
âFuck,â you breathe, âSimon.â
âThatâs it, lovely,â he coos, teeth grazing your hip. âJust lay there saying my name. Let me play with my toy.â
Youâre so wet that you can feel it all over your inner thighs, would be embarrassed if not for the absolutely feral noise he makes at the sight.
âMade a mess.â He draws his tongue up your thigh, sucks at the junction where it meets your hip, loud in the quiet room. âYou always like this for me?â
âMhmm,â you whimper out, squeezing your eyes shut. Itâs true. You canât count the number of times youâve gone back to your room just to change panties.
âThatâs my girl.â
He spends an agonizing amount of time licking, biting, and sucking your thighs. Your pleading and whining is met with indifference or absent chuckles. The need has long since tipped over into desperation, muscles twitching with little sparks of pleasure at every graze of teeth and sharp suck.
Youâre already both understimulated and overstimulated when he clamps down especially hard, think heâs broken skin for a moment. Frustrated tears have been dancing at the edges of your vision for a while now and they spill over at the blissful burn that shoots through your leg.
âSimon, Simon, please,â you sob, âplease, want it. Please, justââ
He shushes you, soothing the hurt with his tongue until your babbling trails off into little sniffles.
âHow copy?â he hushes.
âS-Solid,â you answer. âJust a lot.â
âTactical retreat?â
âNo.â You take a shuddering breath. âNo, please. Want to keep going, sir.â
His breath is also unsteady as it brushes over your sensitive skin. âAlright, precious. Tap out if you need.â
You snake a hand down the bed and find his wrist, digging your nails in as you squeeze. A promise to honor his command.
He groans low in his throat, eyes smoldering as he looks up your heaving body.
âPretty when you cry,â he rasps. âWill you do it more if I play with your needy clit?â
âN-no,â you lie.
He calls your bluff, pressing his mouth to your pussy and making a long, slow pass up your slit. You shake and whimper high-pitched, almost hurt sounding. He swirls the tip over your throbbing clit, sucks gently every few passes. You press your eyes shut, too gone to try to stop the reactionary tears any other way.
Itâs a quirk of sex youâve always had. Not prone to crying emotionally or from pain, but when the arousal or pleasure gets too intense, your eyes water like rivers. Some partners have found it off-putting, but the louder you wail and hiccup and cry, the more eager Simon gets. Like heâs got a direct line to heavenâs choir with his tongue.
Youâre gripping his wrist so tight that you must be close to drawing blood, but he doesnât do more than flex his fingers on your ass. Keeps you right there against his mouth, so that all you can do is take exactly what he gives you.
He seals his lips over your clit again, rubbing his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves as he sucks. It gets you to the edge so fast that youâre seeing stars, nearly kicking him.
âClose,â you pant.
He eases up just that little bit to keep you from tipping into orgasm. Youâre devastated. Afresh wave of tears drip down your temples to the sound of pathetic, helpless moans. Blessedly, he doesnât stop. Just keeps you right there as he slides a hand from your ass to your cunt.
Just one of his fingers is thicker than any of yours; sliding two into your dripping hole almost hurdles you into ecstasy. He pulls his mouth away as you clench around them, trickling down his wrist.
âSo tight. Didnât you ever get off to the thought of me?â
âAll the f-fucking time,â you admit.
âYeah?â
You nod, tongue laving over your bottom lip. âMy hands just⊠yours are bigger.â
He chuckles. âNo cute little toys to help you out?â
âLike to imagine itâs you,â you ramble, shame long gone. âEasier without a vibe.â
âFuck.â
He dives down to your clit again, tongue almost cruel as it tortures you with quick, rough strokes. You might scream; you donât care if you do. His fingers curl to pet your walls, find that spot as if he had his sniper scope on it. You thrash as he strokes you, steady and unrelenting. He sucks one last time and youâre gone, coming so hard that your fingertips go numb.
Youâre definitely screaming now; his name, specifically. He growls against your pussy, the vibration only prolonging that pleasure, writhing on his hand. You swallow air like youâre suffocating, Simon filling every part of you, drenching your senses. Heâs all you know right now, your heart beating to his name.
And he doesnât stop.
âS-Simon, what are â t-too much. Itâs too much, itâs tooââ His pins your hips down as he fits a third finger inside you, finger-fucking you so hard that the slick sounds almost drown out your sobs. Youâre overstimulated, riding the edge of pain in your pleasure, lower back tight and hot.
But you donât tap out, just fist the sheets hard enough to pop the seams.
Simon is single-minded, insistent, demanding. Itâs a quality youâve always admired in the field, and right now itâs pulling you apart piece by shivering piece.
âSimon, I-Iâm gonna â I canâtâŠâ You shake your head, crying freely and loudly, whimpering as much as youâre moaning.
He presses one of your thighs towards your chest, fingertips digging harsh into muscle. The shift gives him better access to that thrumming knot of nerves inside you. He presses against it hard and incessant as his tongue flicks repeatedly over your abused clit. Your second orgasm drowns you in waves, hips rolling, not sure if you want to get away or get more.
Simon strokes you through it until you subside into pathetic, shuddering noises, pushing weakly at him, pleading for mercy. When he pulls away, slick is dripping down his chin to his neck. The bottom edge of his balaclava is dark where itâs bunched over his nose. He surges up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
You stay that way for a while, letting him coax your breathing into something like normal again. A task made more difficult whenever his fingers tease your tender nipples, preoccupied with how your lungs hitch and your body jolts.
Eventually, your mouth strays to clean him up, licking yourself from his jaw and chin, messy but earnest. He captures your mouth again when youâre done, sucking your tongue like he wants to get every last drop. You shake at the thought, almost horrified to realize youâre still ridiculously horny.
He must see something in your face because he smirks a little. âPlaytimeâs not over, donât worry.â
His fingertips trace over your pussy, not dipping in far, but the threat of it triggers a new batch of whimpers and tears. He cocks his head at the sight, almost curious, then leans down and follows their paths with his tongue.
A hum, low and pleased, thunders in the heady sliver of air between you. Against your hip, you feel his cock twitch, hot enough to brand.
âTaste good everywhere,â he muses, tongue still lapping at your tears.
âGod, Simon,â you keen, squeezing your glassy eyes shut.
âWant you to do it again,â he murmurs. âCry for me so I can taste how good I make you feel.â
You moan, pussy clenching, feeling horribly empty. The teeth in your neck are an almost welcome reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure, grounding as they bruise delicate skin.
âWant to see you crying on my cock, lovely. Will you do that for me?â
You nod, reaching for him. Curl your arms around his shoulders, wrap your legs around his waist. He shushes you again, cooing when you hide your wet face against his neck. He supports your unsteady body with unfaltering strength; lets you cling as he rearranges you in his lap.
You can feel his cock beneath you, rock hard, the Jacobâs ladder teasing against your pussy. It distracts you a bit, foggy mind obsessing over how itâll feel inside you, especially now that youâve come twice.
His hand pats your ass. âEyes up, doll.â
You emerge from your hiding spot only to stare, wide-eyed and awed, at his bare face. There are scars everywhere, just like the rest of his body, of varying color and size and healing histories. One on his temple, just clipping his cheek, catches your attention. Itâs one of the better-healed scars.
You press a gentle kiss, flick your tongue along it. His hands spasm on your hips, but donât tug you away.
âHandsome,â you sigh, then nip the same spot you just kissed.
You can feel his smile, a small but precious thing, against your cheek. âCanât even fucking see straight right now.â
âNot that far gone,â you scoff, scritching your nails along his stubbled jaw. You could purr at the way he leans into it.
âHave to fix that, then.â
You prop yourself up with your other hand on his chest. His heart is beating beneath your palm, a little fast, but steady and strong. You adore it instantly.
You make eye contact, the hand on his face drifting to his cheek. Then you stretch to get the other⊠and squish. Just like heâs done to you countless times.
âYes,â you agree.
That finally coaxes a proper chuckle out of him, bass deep and a little rough with disuse, but music to your ears. You let his cheeks go, nipping the little red marks your grip leaves behind.
âCâmon, Si,â you whisper. âWant your dick in me.â
And finally, it seems heâs run out of interest in teasing.
You lean your shoulders against him, letting him take most of your weight between his chest and the arm angling your hips. His other hand steadies his cock, drags the flushed, leaking head against your sopping entrance.
He lowers you slowly, encouraging you to dig your nails into his shoulders, draw them down his arms. Even stretched and two orgasms in, heâs big. Itâs testing your limits, not quite pain, stinging in a way that makes your mouth water.
And your eyes.
The tears are back and streaming down your hot cheeks. When Simon notices, you feel his cock throb. You choke on a noise, mouth falling slack as he licks at them like a thirsting man in the desert.
âDidnât take long,â he teases, a little mean. You love it.
âS-sensitive,â you whine, pressing your forehead to his.
âI know, pet,â he croons. âThe headâs almost in.â
Just the head. Christ.
The pleasure keeps racking you and so do quiet little cries, your walls clutching every raw centimeter of his cock like he was built just for you. (Or the other way around, a depraved part of you whispers.)
Heâs steady and patient as he fills you, keeping your mouth busy with claiming kisses when heâs not drinking up your tears. At the first rung of the Jacobâs ladder, you squeak and have to be held down, gone on how it stretches your poor entrance and grinds against your abused walls.
Each one after that garners a similar reaction, driving you insane as they press against you.
âCan feel your fucking heartbeat,â he groans at one point.
You moan, raking your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. The blond strands are dark and messy, getting messier as you play with them. He grunts and his eyelids flutter every time you tug.
By the time heâs fully inside you, your ass resting on his tense thighs, youâre panting and trembling. He sweeps a hand up your arched spine and curls his fingers around the back of your neck. You lean into his hold, go lax as he guides you through a decadent, devouring kiss.
âThere we are, lovely,â he soothes while you whimper. âHurt?â
âA littleâŠâ you gasp, clenching helplessly around the base of him.
âGood,â he growls, teeth on your shoulder.
You moan, falling limp in his arms. He rumbles a pleased hum, squeezing at your hips and ass and thighs in that way you recognize.
âStressed?â you ask, confused.
He snorts. âI donât need a reason to play with whatâs mine.â
You suck in a breath, the casual (and true) claim making your head spin.
âRelax, pet,â he murmurs. âJust get used to me inside you.â
You mewl, high and soft in your throat. He tilts his head to speak in your ear.
âYour pussy is going to remember the shape of me by the end of this.â
And your lieutenant doesnât make idle threats.
He guides your head down to his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist. The lewdest hug youâve ever received. If not for the fat cock stretching you, it would be calming.
âGood girl, thatâs it,â he hums, drawing idle patterns along your spine. âJust drift. Itâll be a bit before you can handle a proper fucking.â
Heâs so deep and big inside you that you believe it, but a nagging part reminds you of the uneven score.
âWhat about you?â
He presses an unusually gentle kiss to your temple, though itâs balanced by the tight squeeze to the back of your neck.
âDonât you worry about me, precious,â he chuckles. âYouâll keep me nice and warm until youâre ready.â
You swallow thickly, canât help how you flutter around him. Itâs a delicious thought, just sitting here with him filling you up for an indefinite period of time, until he decides you can handle how heâs going to fuck you.
âLike that do you?â he muses, too dark to be truly amused. âLike being my personal cocksleeve?â
ââM not,â you mumble, feeling a new sting of tears.
He tuts. âYouâre my toy every other way. No point pretending now.â
You whimper into his neck, bite in retaliation but donât deny it. Well past the point of anything like plausible deniability.
âNo more fussing, pet. Be good for me now.â
And you are, settling in with your mouth brushing absent kisses to his marked collarbones. His hands never stop stroking your skin, lulling you into empty-headed bliss. The full feeling of his cock never dissipates, but you become less aware of it, internal muscles accommodating the stretch. You donât even realize youâve slipped into a doze, breaths going deep and even, safely cradled in your lieutenantâs arms.
When you wake, watery early-morning light is leaking past the blackout curtains. One of your hips is stiff from sleeping bunched up, but thatâs not what calls your immediate attention. No, itâs the absolute puddle that Simon is coaxing from your stuffed hole with his thumb on your clit. Heâs hard inside of you again â or maybe he never got soft in the first place.
âMorninâ,â he rasps when he sees you peeking your head up. Calm as you please. Like his cockhead isnât kissing your cervix right now.
âYou bastard,â you wheeze, sinking a mean bite into his shoulder.
âGrumpy thing,â he teases. âForgot how sulky you are before coffee.â
You grumble incomprehensibly for a moment. Canât believe he put you to sleep on his cock. More than a little miffed that you didnât receive the proper fucking you earned yesterday. That youâve woken up raring to go already, want his cum in your stomach more than breakfast.
âYou actually plan on doing anything?â you demand. âOr we going to the mess like this? Risky to have hot tea that close to your balls.â
His laugh is like honey, rich and syrupy. Liquid sunshine when you kiss it from his mouth.
âRemember whoâs in charge here, pet,â he warns.
You tilt your head in question, arching an eyebrow.
âYou,â he continues, surprising you. Then he keeps talking. âSo if you keep acting like a brat, Iâll have to treat you like one.â
You shiver. It should be illegal to be so salacious this early in the morning. To your delight, he allows you to wiggle a little, testing the feeling of his cock inside you. Itâs absolutely divine.
âOr, counterpoint,â you say, daring to be cheeky when heâs looking at you like that. Like heâd burn the world just to keep you warm for a night. âI was very good yesterday and deserve a reward.â
âThat so, sergeant?â he asks.
âMhmm,â you chirp. Duck down to bribe him with kisses and nips along his jaw and neck, stubble prickling your bruised tongue. âIâll even ask nicely.â
He groans, low and rough in his chest. âYeah?â
You yelp as he tangles his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck, dragging your head back. His teeth scrape over the stuttering pulse in your throat, where thereâs a sensitive spot that makes you squirm. His other hand sneaks to your breasts, tweaking a nipple still sore from his treatment the night before.
âShow me how nice you can ask then.â
And, well, not backing down from a challenge is what got you here in the first place.
You straighten up as best you can â have to take a moment when his cock grinds just right inside you â and arch your back. Your nails score lines down his chest, just this side of rough, knowing itâll work better than any soft petting. Paired with nibbling kisses to the spot beneath his ear, you can already feel the rumble building in his chest.
âSimon, please,â you breathe, âI need you. Need it to be you.â
âNeed what, lovely?â he husks.
âNeed it to be you that fucks me.â You dare to rock your hips, pleased and distracted that he lets you. His fingers spread your ass wider over his lap. âNeed you to break me in. Please?â
Sniper he may be, but his patience must already be gossamer thin from holding back last night and crammed inside your pussy until morning. He snaps at your crooning pleas, rolling you onto your back and grinding into you as deep as he can get.
There have been times in the field that youâve stared as Simon operates his rifle. Itâs his piece, modified and maintained in pristine condition. Youâve watched his clever fingers put it together, dismantle it, clean it, handle it with a deadly competence and precision that you envied. Not him, but the rifle. Probably something wrong with you, that you want to be an instrument, a tool, in your lieutenantâs capable hands, built up and broken apart at his whim.
Now, though⊠now you know. Youâve got confirmation that itâs everything you imagined and better, his scarred hands on you like he owns you, like youâre his to figure out. You want to be, you are, and you babble as much when he draws his hips back and snaps them forward.
Thereâs nothing testing or careful about it. Simon knows youâre not fragile, spent all night making sure you could take him exactly the way he wants you. Youâve never wanted him to hold back, donât want him to now. Crave the way his control seems to slip when itâs you, your body, your voice egging him on.
He rolls his hips every time he bottoms out; his piercings grind deliciously against your twitching entrance with every thrust. You bury your fingers in his hair, tug when he pulls out as if heâs going to leave you empty and wanting. He grunts against your neck, teeth ravenous over skin that already bears their imprint.
It feels like freefall with no parachute, like getting caught in a perfect white-hot explosion. The force of him makes the bed creak, would shove you up the mattress if not for the tight grip on your thighs. His arm loops under the small of your back and angles your hips up.
âMine,â he growls into your shoulder. âAll fucking mine. My sergeant. My medic. My pretty toy.â
You canât string together more than broken syllables, little noises forced out every time he drives home. Heâs not looking for a verbal response though; your body is already singing its agreement, clamping down on his cock like you canât stand any millimeter not inside you. Youâre rocking with him as best you can, knee hitched up by his ribs, pulling him closer, closer, closer.
âIâm right here, doll. Not going anywhere,â he murmurs. Then, almost to himself. âNo, not letting you out of my sight ever fucking again. Going to keep you right by my side, within reach.â
You cry out, ridiculously turned on by promises he canât possibly keep. Itâs not the nature of the job, but the fact that thatâs what he wantsâŠ
âGo fucking crazy when I canât see you,â he pants, âtouch you. Was goinâ fuckinâ batshit all week. Gaz wouldnât shut the fuck up. Just wanted to get my hands on you. My teeth in you.â
Thereâs an earnest, desperate edge to his words. Sounds like a sinner praying for salvation, like heâs begging some cruel god for relief. Or, more likely for your lieutenant, threatening to take that godâs place.
Youâd worship Simon if he did. Practically do already. Would spread yourself out on his altar and let him devour you mind, body, and soul just to appease his appetite.
âSimon, please,â you cry, head tilting back, bearing your throat. âIâm yours. Your medic, your sergeant, your toy.â
âFuck,â he hisses. âThatâs right, love. All mine.â
He pushes himself up, pressing his hand to the wall over your head. Itâs gorgeous, the play of muscle and sinew in his arm. A fucking masterpiece of a man, beautiful and dangerous and right now, all fucking yours too.
The new leverage lets him slam into you faster and harder, frantic now. You have to brace your arms above your head to keep from knocking into the wall, pushing back to meet him thrust for brutal thrust. Could swear you feel him in your guts.
âCâmon, love, let me see those pretty tears.â
His hand slides over your thigh to your clit, thumb rubbing vicious little circles over the nerves. It gives him what he wants instantly, youâre near screaming as you cry. Itâs rough and ruthless and has you so close to the edge that youâre almost jolting away.
âLemme cum,â you beg, âPlease, please, Simon, want to cum on your cock. So closeâŠâ
His grin is more just a bearing of teeth, eyes glittering in the shadows above you. âCum for me, precious.â
It doesnât take much more than that, always eager to please your lieutenant. His hips and finger sync up at just the right moment, just the right way, and youâre gushing over his cock, voice breaking. Your nails scrape the wall as you curl our hands into fists, bucking as he fucks you through it.
Youâre not surprised when he doesnât even slow down, though you reach to push his hand off your screaming clit. His hand darts from the wall to capture your wrists, pinning them over your head. The punishing rhythm of his hips doesnât even falter, bullying that spot inside you relentlessly.
âI didnât say you could fucking stop,â he snarls.
You whine and struggle, but that just makes you tighter, makes him rougher, makes it better. Youâre not even sure if the cresting sensation is pleasure anymore, if itâs another orgasm or your body reaching max capacity. Itâs just whiteout intense and you can do nothing but lay there writhing.
âGonna cum in you,â he moans, head dropping. âGonna leave my mark inside you too.â
You contract around him helplessly, his thrusts getting messier, plunging into you at a dizzying speed. Not even sure if youâre making noise anymore, or just sucking in air when you can get it. His fingers flex around your wrists, tight and unforgiving.
And then there's a burst of heat as he moans, sounding gutting. He fucks you through his own orgasm before finally slowing, and then stopping buried deep inside you. His thumb eases off your abused clit, hand landing on the bed beside your hip. Your leg flops down to the mattress, stretched out and still twitchy.
âHow copy, sergeant?â he rasps.
âSolid, LT,â you wheeze. âYou?â
âFucking fantastic.â
That startles a little giggle out of you, grinning up at him fucked-out and high on afterglow. His returning smile, small and disused as it is, is better than all the orgasms youâve had in the last twelve hours.
âGonna pull out now,â he warns. âBrace.â
Even prepared, you still yelp, beyond sensitive and cored without him inside you. The feeling is only exacerbated by the warm cum you can feel dripping down your ass from your used hole.
âLook at thatâŠâ he drawls appreciatively, tilting his head for a good look. âThere any part of you that ainât pretty?â
You groan and cover your overheated face, knock your shin into his hip. But you leave your legs open.
âShut up, Simon.â
âInsubordinate.â
âFraternizer.â
âMm. Gonna report me to Price?â
âOnly if you report me.â
âMutually assured destruction then.â
Your mouth is still hidden under your hands, but you know he can see your body shaking with suppressed laughter.
âOr you could help me clean up, take a nap, and weâll negotiate terms for a ceasefire.â
He chuckles. âShould have you on a diplomatic envoy, Squeaks. Have the rest of us out of a job. No wars, no soldiers.â
You shake your head, dropping your arms to card through his hair. He lowers himself onto you â not his usual full-force flop, but still by no means delicate about it. You like the weight of him on your tingling body. Feels like heâs keeping you from floating away.
âOnly way theyâre getting me on protection detail for politicians is if youâre there with me.â
He grimaces. Itâs stupidly charming how it makes a scar on his nose scrunch up. âThe point is to stop incidents, not start them.â
âShame, then,â you hum. âGuess weâre stuck here then.â
âGuess so.â
He pats your thigh, then pushes himself up. You protest immediately, but he shushes you with a wry smirk.
âPart of the terms, wasnât it? To clean you up?â
You grumble but subside, thankful that officer quarters come with an ensuite. It doesnât take him long to return with a damp cloth and a cup of water. He sets the latter on the side table and kneels between your thighs, wiping you down as gently as heâs ever been.
When heâs done, you make grabby hands until he scoffs and climbs in with you again.
âNap?â you ask hopefully.
âYeah. Got you up early. Still an hour âtil breakfast.â
Not for the first (or likely last) time, you are grateful for Simonâs brilliant tactics.
âYouâre my hero.â
He snorts, but when you peek up at him, thereâs a fetching pink tint to his cheeks. âGo the fuck to sleep, Squeaks.â
âYessir.â
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#cross posted on ao3#old fic#sergeant squeaks#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley
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"They think Iâm the least dangerous person in this car, do they? Well, theyâre about to learn very differently."
Decided to redraw a moment from On the Getaway Mile by Odaigahara on AO3/ @droidofmay !
This may have taken a ridiculous amount of hours condensed into a few days and I went through it drawing cars and car interiors, but this was an absolute blast to do :D I hope I've done the fic sort of justice.
Process shots and long comparison rambles under the cut!
Welcome to my secret lair!!
I spent roughly... 18 hours working on this, the majority during this week and over the past three days, so I need to share my toils with people <3
Character/car references and page thumbnails! Featuring an incorrect scene placement and bad camera position. I reread the scene and placed it properly in the actual page. I hate drawing cars!! I was actually the most worried about panel placement when I started thisâ I was a guy who only did non narrative/illustrative panel pages and layout-less comics, but it wasn't that bad with a script! I could separate beats into panels, note which panels should be emphasised/larger, and assembled that into a page.
If you compare the fic with this comic, you can see how much dialogue I edited and moments I cut out. I couldn't fit it all on without having to draw even more pages, I wish I could though! Poor Mumbo only gets one line here. I'm so sorry my darling man <3 I also gave him a slight cyborg design because his implants are really important for his character and I needed some way to visually show that, even if it's not canon/mentioned.
The colouring method for this was really fun! It's similar to my aggie rainbow painting method but with less steps, hence narrow value range. It looks pretty and gets the vibe across well though.
Rapid fire points!
I was planning to do 3 different fic comics! Not anymore!!!
This is absolutely for the hotguy comic zine applications. <3 "Can I try rizzing you up // PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE" /ref
I drew page 2 first, then 3, then 1. I think you can tell!
Mumbo is sitting on the wrong side and should have his seatbelt on. He's also not carrying the stolen laptop as described.
It's explicitly noted that Mumbo cannot scan Grian like he can with Scar. Whoops!
Transmissions from the Foundation are via Mumbo and Scar's implants, but I couldn't think of a good way to portray that.
Despite guns and weapons being mentioned, I somehow didn't get the opportunity to draw a single one.
I love hand lettering. I also hate it! I will continue to do it.
Here are the no colour pages as a thank you for scrolling <3
#goodtimeswithscar#grian#mumbo jumbo#hermitcraft#hermitcraft au#superhero au#I don't know what the typical cw tags are for no casualty car incidents but let me know and I'll tag it#same with the hostage mentions#cw gun mention#art out the oven#[scheduled]#with all my heart pls reblog if you can bcs i spent so long on this đ„ș
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hi there, you did a james drabble some time ago with financially insecure reader and i'm just wondering if that's something you'd write again! maybe one where james is showering the r in gifts and they're just thinking "this is so expensive, you shouldn't be spending so much on me" and james comforts them? totally fine if you don't though, thank you anyway đ
Thanks for requesting <3
cw: reader is financially insecure
James Potter x fem!reader ⥠825 words
When you go to put on your shoes, yours arenât there. In their place is a lookalike pair, but whole and squeaky clean where yours are worn and dirty.Â
âJamie?â you call. Excitement and dread mixing up in your gut until theyâve become one thing.Â
âYeah?â Your boyfriendâs head pops out of the kitchen. His eyes fall to where youâre sitting on the floor, the new pair of shoes in front of you, and his smile breaks out like a sunrise. âOh, yeah. I got you something.âÂ
âTheyâre for me?â You hold the one shoe up in front of you like a foreign object, speechless.Â
James laughs. âWell, theyâre not likely to fit me. Yeah, angel, theyâre yours.âÂ
Something guilty twists in your gut. You take a breath. âThank you.âÂ
âItâs no big deal.âÂ
âIt is. And I appreciate it, butââÂ
âBut?âÂ
âBut I canât accept these.â You set the shoes back down on the floor, looking up at him remorsefully. âItâs too much.âÂ
âSweetheart,â James laughs. He leans his hip against the wall, giving you a fond look. âDonât be silly. You needed a new pair. Your old ones are torn to shreds.âÂ
âTheyâre not that bad,â you say embarrassedly.Â
âThereâs a rip in the side big enough to stick your entire foot out of.âÂ
âI know theyâre not perfect.â Your voice goes a tad sharp, and Jamesâ smile starts to slip as he realizes heâs the only one whoâs joking. âIâm going to get another pair eventually, but I just canât afford it right now.âÂ
âHey.â He lowers himself down onto his haunches next to you, voice and expression going extra gentle. âItâs okay. Now you donât need to worry about it, because you have them, right?âÂ
You suck on your bottom lip, feeling your expression pinch as you shake your head at him. He doesnât get it. How could he? James has never been in a position where he was forced to take and couldnât afford to give.Â
âI know youâre just trying to help,â you say, tempering your tone, âand I really do appreciate it, Jamie, but you give me so many gifts and IââÂ
âOkay, hold on.â He sets a hand on your knee, still with that indulgent look on his face. âThere havenât been that many.âÂ
You give him an exasperated look. Just last week it had been chocolates from the fancy shop downtown, and before that heâd gone back for a skirt youâd passed by because it was out of your price range. You know he hasnât forgotten.Â
âBut how many have I given you?âÂ
James blinks. âUm. You gave me that nice waffle iron for my birthday.âÂ
It sounds like a lame gift when he says it out loud, compared to all the things heâs gotten you since then, but youâd skimmed savings off the tops of your paychecks for three weeks to get him that. Your face is beginning to feel hot. Youâre not ashamed of how much you make, but itâs frustrating to think about how your boyfriend wonât ever be able to understand the way you think about money, why you get so stressed out about it, how youâre constantly worried it will run out.Â
âIt just makes me uncomfortable to take so many things from you when I canât give anything back,â you admit. âI know thatâs not why youâre doing it, but it makes me feel bad.âÂ
Jamesâ brows press close together. His hand smooths from your knee up your thigh, and you can see how hard heâs trying to understand. It makes you feel even worse.Â
âI donât mean to make you uncomfortable,â he says. âYou know I donât care if you get me things, right?âÂ
âI know,â you promise him. âItâs just, I care.â
He nods, a warm sort of concern in his expression. âThen what do you want to do, angel?âÂ
You take his hand from your leg, tracing the lines with your fingers. âMaybe we could keep gifts to birthdays and holidays?â you ask tentatively.Â
âHm. Yeah, I think I can manage that. Like Easter?âÂ
You smile down at his hand. Kiss one of his fingertips. âMaybe only the traditionally gift-giving holidays.âÂ
James sighs heavily, but itâs for show. âFine. Hey.â He closes his fingers around yours, and you look up to find him studying you with soft, kind eyes. âYou know Iâm not upset, right?âÂ
You drop your gaze again. âIâm just sorry Iâm not being more grateful. Theyâre really nice gifts.âÂ
âThanks, sweetheart,â he leans closer, touching his lips to yours sweetly, âbut I donât need you to be grateful. Iâm glad you told me how you felt. Itâs only fun if you enjoy them, yeah?â
âI do enjoy them,â you say. James smiles, bringing your hand to his face and kissing your palm.Â
âGood. Then keep the shoes, please? If you keep using those other ones through winter Iâm afraid your feet will fall off.âÂ
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter x self insert#james potter fanfiction#james potter fanfic#james potter fic#james potter hurt/comfort#james potter angst#james potter imagine#james potter scenario#james potter drabble#james potter blurb#james potter one shot#james potter oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader
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Batman my little pony AU. Part 2 here, Part 3 here
More info on these under the cut!
1. Sundown Mane/Batpony (Bruce Wayne)
His backstory & general situation is pretty much identical to every other batman out there so I wont get into it.
Other notes:
-His cutie mark is a masquerade mask that I tried to make vaguely bat-shaped. The general public sees his Cutie Mark through the lense of his reputation, and he leans into it heavily to obscure the truth. In interviews, he presents it as being tied to hosting galas (itâs the reason he started hosting those huge masquerade balls in the first place) and/or his fashionable looks, but in truth itâs far more representative of his stealth and disguise capabilities, as well as his masked night time hobbies as a whole.
-Heâs not an actual bat-pony in any way, the bat wing appearance is just the costume (intentionally designed that way for intimidation, battle, and obscuring his identity further). Though most citizens assume heâs a true bat-pony, other rumors range from him being a vampire, to an Earth pony with false tech-based wings, to a magically disguised alicorn, to a spirit of the night.
-If Batman were actually to be a pony I think heâd 100% be an earth pony, because his big thing is relying on skill and tech rather than power and he has the whole ânormal guy amongst godsâ thing going on. HOWEVER. There are actual bat ponies in this show. How am I not supposed to utilize that somehow for the guy whose name is BATMAN? Also with Sundown I think being a Pegasus just fits the playboy personality front he puts up. I donât know why, its just vibes.
-I think he just doesnât fly much while patrolling as batpony, instead using his wings for extra jump or for intimidation and cover like with his cape. Theyâre probably steel-tipped or something too. He doesnât rely on flight for advantage and trains entirely grounded because he doesnât want to be dependent on flight and find himself lost if his wings are ever incapacitated.
2. Apollo Honeyscales/Two-Face (Harvey Dent)
Fascinated by the Equestrian legal system and craving a more organized society than what was offered by his generally disorderly and solitary fellow Chimeras, Apollo moved to Gotham to pursue higher education. Unfortunately, ponies are often intimidated by, if not downright terrified of Chimeras, so though Chimera cultures usually give each head equal social weight and three individual names, Apollo quickly adapted to instead try to present himself as pony-like as possible. He used a singular name and pronoun for his whole body, presented the less intimidating, herbivorous-looking goat as his âmainâ head, and eventually even took to having a faux Cutie Mark applied for media and court appearances. Prior to the attack, the lion and the snake head were never seen talking in public, and even in private the only ponies to have heard them speak were his close friends Sundown Mane and Glider Gold.
After being attacked with acid in court, Scales succumbed to injury and had to be amputated, while Honeybite was left alive but severely scarred. With this event, Apolloâs and Honeybiteâs already fragile mental states from years of pony society othering them, the weight of their job, and personal repression finally snapped in their grief and anger, leading Honeybite to fully take the reins and create the criminal persona of Two-Face. Attempts from both Sundown and Glider and to reach out since have been unsuccessful.
Other Notes:
-According to the wiki only one chimera shows up in the whole show so. I made stuff up. -Chimeras typically being solitary is based on the fact we only ever see one in the show. This solitary nature would make it hard for them to have a widespread legal system at all, let alone to enforce it; thus Apolloâs original fascination with the foreign pony legal system. The Chimera in the show also has individual names for each head, each with a slightly different style (the goat following pony name conventions with the name Pumpkin Cake, the tiger following a slightly more violent version of pony name conventions with the name Sweetkill, and the Snake bluntly just being named Snakey). I tried to follow similar conventions for Apollo. I was most happy with the name Scales, because it followed the blunt snake naming convention while also sort of doubling as a scales of justice reference. Apollo is just a reference to Harveyâs nickname in some of the comics, and Honeybite is just for fun.
-His perfectly split coat is unique even among other chimeras, and as Apollo he was generally considered attractive and âexoticâ by Equestrian media outlets.
-The temporary Cutie Mark application was done professionally. (Surely ponies have perfected this art, right? Like this has to be something pony society does and has services for, right? Ponies covering up embarrassing Cutie Marks, blank flanks covering up an embarrassing lack of a Curie Mark, Ponies getting Cutie Marks done for costumes, theater, movies, etc⊠you get it.) Apolloâs choice of a faux Cutie Mark is meant to serve as both a way of further integrating himself into pony society and a proclamation of his legal skills.
-Apollo was a genuinely great lawyer. Ponies on defense were often so preoccupied at the terror of having a lion and a snake silently stare them down that they wouldnât realize it was actually the goat they shouldâve really been afraid of until their entire case had already been ruthlessly torn to shreds.
3. Glider Gold (Gilda Gold)
Even prior to their relationship and subsequent engagement, Glider had long been Apolloâs closest friend and confidant. She saw the way his job and keeping up his image was tearing him apart long before the acid attack, and she deeply regrets not trying harder to get him the help he needed before it was too late. Multiple news outlets have been trying to get an interview with her and their efforts only increase every time Two-Face shows up in the news (despite Sundownâs efforts to dissuade them). She hasnât been the same since the attack and Apolloâs disappearance, losing interest in her work and finding her friendship with Sundown heavily strained as they both feel the weight of Apolloâs absence.
Other notes:
-I wasnât even going to draw Gilda originally because sheâs such a minor character in Batman stuff but as I was writing out Apolloâs background she nudged her way back in. I like her too much.
-This version is based on her very first iteration where she was a sculptor. Her green coat is a reference to that versionâs accompanying Two-Face (also his first iteration), who had green scarring.
- The choice for her to be a pegasus was mainly just to go with her silly name, but I do think being a pegasus would be beneficial to a sculptor. No ladder required to work on high details just fly up there.
-I am not immune to the bruce/harvey/gilda agenda
#I suck at coming up with names HELP ME#I will probably do more of the batman rogues gallery later I have ideas and this is so fun to me. Pony beam.#mlp#mlp au#batman au#bruce wayne#batman#harvey dent#two-face#gilda gold#gilda dent#mlp fanart#batman fanart#my art#Hi batman tag. Do you guys like ponies.#Someday I will start making backgrounds more interesting then Grey Backdrop number 34. someday.#Mlp fim#mlp g4#my little pony#mlp art#Now if only I could actually bring myself to post this much about my actual ocs#I am YAPPING
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hello! I've been seeing a lot of smosh vidcon content lately as well as rewatching shayne guesses and it made me brainstorm a bit!
How about a Spencer x reader where he freaks out about his favorite creator being at vidcon (the reader obvi) and the other cast members trying so hard to get them to meet and they hit it off? *you know Kiana would be allll over helping a bestie out lol*
or maybe even the same kind of thing but instead of meeting, reader is one of Spencer's fav youtubers in Shayne's guessing favorite youtubers video? Shayne immediately knows it's spencer and kind of outs his crush! reader is a big fan of smosh so she sees the video and it goes from there!
absolutely adore your work and keep it up queen! đ«¶
See You Online || Spencer Agnew x reader
â ËïœĄâàšà§Ë masterlist âąÂ smosh masterlist  âËïœĄâàšà§â
summary: when you see a smosh video of spencer saying youâre one of his favorite youtubers, you begin to interact online. then, when you both attend vidcon (and spencerâs friends convince him to talk to you) you hit it off
word count: 2.6k
warnings: mild language
a/n: hey darling! so i kind of went with both of these ideas and i hope you like what i did đ€ i included some fake insta/yt in this because it fit so this is partially a social media au. fem!reader. enjoy!!
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   âWell, this is obviously Spencer.â
   Shayne tapped his pen against the desk as he looked at the screen in front of him.
   Three YouTuber names had appeared next to him for the viewers to see.Â
   âWhat makes it me?â Spencerâs teasing voice came from off camera.Â
   âCâmon,â Shayne said. âWe got Retro Game Corp, MandaloreGaming, and (Y/n) (Y/l/n).â
   He continued. âEveryone knows you love retro shit. MandaloreGaming sounds like just the kind of nerd thing youâd be into. And (Y/n)âthat oneâs just self explanatory. I mean, Spencerâs obsessed with (Y/n). Ask anyone in the office.â
   âOk woah,â Spencer piped in again. âI donât know about obsessed.â
   âDude, you just told me yesterday that you watched her videos until two in the morning the night before,â Shayne addressed him.
   Then he faced back to the screen, to the viewers. âSpencerâs got a little bit of a crush on (Y/n). Itâs uh, itâs honestly adorable.â
   A womanâs muffled voice came from offscreen.Â
   Shayne laughed. âKiana said Spencer would have (Y/n)âs babies.â
   âDude!â Spencer yelled at Kiana offscreen. âWhat if she sees this!â
   âThereâs no way,â Shayne laughed. âThereâs no way any of the YouTubers from this video are seeing this.â
   âImagine,â Spencer joked. âIâm like, âhey (Y/n), hit me upâ, and then she sees this, bro.â
   âHey,â Shayne raised his eyebrows. âYou never know. I mean, I married a YouTuber.â
   âJust an excuse to bring up Courtney,â Spencer coughed.
   âAnyway,â Shayne put his hands on the table in front of him. âWeâre getting a little off track here. Weâve established Spencerâs in love with (Y/n). Nowâdo I even have to guess?âshow me Spencer!â
   He pointed to the side as an imagine of Spencer popped up on the screen.Â
   âWell, thanks for that easy round,â Shayne joked. âNow, letâs see the next set of YouTubersâŠâ
   And that was where you stopped watching the video every time. Youâd seen the whole of Shayne Guesses Favorite YouTubers before, but when you went back to rewatch it, it was always this clip.
   Youâd been sent this specific clip by hundreds of people. Your followers and subscribers on all different platforms. The comments ranged from âoh my gosh look at thisâ to âyou have to see this smosh videoâ to âpetition to get Spencer and (Y/n) to go outâ.
   What they didnât know, was that youâd seen it long before they began tagging you in it.
   You were a huge Smosh fan, and had been for years. Imagine your shock when you yourself were named in one of their videos.Â
   Youâd only been a creator for a little over a year now, but youâd quickly gained a following and were becoming more and more popular online. It still all felt so surreal, and seeing yourself named as someoneâs favorite YouTuberâespecially on one of your favorite channelsâfelt like a huge moment.
   That, and you were flattered by Shayneâs comments about Spencer. You thought it was sweet that he enjoyed your content andâyou couldnât stop the blush from spreading to your cheeksâyou.Â
   That was what prompted you to leave a comment under the videoâa comment which Spencer responded to.
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Can Shayne Guess Our Favorite YouTubers? Smosh Games âą 721k views âą 38k đ
comments 2.9k
yourusername â: does this count as being in the youtuber and the celeb crush vid?
â„ïž by creator
spennser â: it was actually only until 1am i swear smoshyyy651: spensser LMAOOOO chumbawumbasnumbertwofan: the fact that (y/n) (y/l/n) saw this âđ y/nstanforlifeee: oh my gosh my queen is here đ I love you and your vids (not as much as Spencer apparently asksfsk)
mya_sol: how many times have you watched 8:04? me: yes
yourfavoritepizzaplace: âspencer would have (y/n)âs babiesâ KIANA THATS WILDDDD đ
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  And from there, you began interacting. Leaving comments and likes on each otherâs videos and instagram posts. Leaving fans to obsess over your every interaction, to make compilations, to wonder if you were dating.
   Because youâd be lying if you said you didnât read most of the comments about you two.Â
  You enjoyed your little online back-and-forth. Youâd known who Spencer was before the Shayne Guesses video had come out. Watching Smosh on-and-off for years, youâd seen him in multiple videos.
   It still felt so unreal for him to know who you wereânot only know who you were but like your videos.
   And now look at you, messaging him and liking his posts like you were old friends. Spencer pretty much liked and commented on every one of your feeds or stories or uploads.
   After your original comment on the Smosh video, things justâŠtook off. You didnât really know how it started, one comment led to another, and suddenly it was like you had always congratulated each other and left witty comments on each otherâs pages.Â
   You smiled as you stared at the screen of your phone, looking over yourâs and Spencerâs latest interaction. You couldnât deny that he was really cute. Youâd always thought so.Â
   You thought of Shayne saying that Spencer had a crush on you and you felt your smile grow bigger.
   Your empty suitcase caught your eye as you looked up, sitting on your bed and reminding you that you still had to pack.
   You set your phone down. Fangirling over Spencer could wait. You still had yet to pack for your flight that that was in two days, and you didnât want to leave it âtill the last minuteâor, more last minute than it already was. Â
   You had been lucky enough to be invited to VidCon this year, and you were thrilled about getting to go as a creator and meet other artists who had inspired you. You were less thrilled about the packing.
   You stood up and walked towards your closet, starting to decide which outfits you wanted to bring, daydreaming about what VidCon would be like. All while thinking about Spencer.
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yourusername
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yourusername: new vid up now !! đ
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haleypham: about to go watch it right now xoxo love you
yourusername: stop ilysm đ€
ynsgirlfriend: WAKE UP SHE POSTED đ
spennser: guess what iâm going to be doing at 2am
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darlingdaisy: please do a grwm next i need to see your skincare routine!!
ryla768: weâre being fed well today đââïž
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spennser
liked by yourusername, filmingamanda, and 17,914 others
spennser: itâs giving cat lady
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phatchanse: *cat queen
yourusername: my cat says to tell ur cat hi
spennser: my cat says ur catâs pretty cute carmensanfransisco: LOL đđ urmom17: oh my gosh she commented spencer are you freaking out? spennser: urmom17 shitting my pants fr
jessicarabbitsimp: who else has noticed spencer and (y/n) all over each otherâs igs đ
smoshismylife: love you spencer đ«¶
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âââââââââââ yourusername
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yourusername: thx for 100k đ„
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spensser: yay i contributed
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yourusername: howâd you have time to create 100k accs tho? ‷ liked by spennser
lucindajones101: congrats girlie!! you deserve it
ynfan7: my queen đ§ââïž
butterflyenjoyer: been here since the beginning đ„č keep shining!!
getyninasmoshvideo: the way spencer makes an appearance on all her posts đ
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VidCon was amazing.Â
   Today was the first day, and you couldnât wait for all the festive still to come. You had already seen so many cool presentations and been a part of so many workshops and met so many interesting people.Â
   And now, as you stood at the table set aside for you, staring at the slowing line of people still waiting to meet you, you thought that this was definitely your favorite part.
   Youâd gotten to talk to people who watched your channel and hear how your content had impacted their lives or inspired them to create. It really made it all feel worth it. It made you love your job and all of the opportunities it had given you.
   Youâd been here for nearly two hours already, and still there were a few more fans waiting to speak with you and get a picture. Â
   You smiled to yourself as the last of the people filed through, letting the momentary silence wash over you. You had just picked up your phone to take a quick selfie for a later post, when you heard a commotion to your left.
   You turned to the source of the noise and had to do a double take when you saw the entire cast of Smosh at a setup similar to yours, having their own meet and greet.
   You didnât know why in all of your thinking about Spencer you hadnât assumed that Smosh would be at VidCon. It seemed obvious now. They were YouTubers, werenât they?
   Speaking of Spencer, you saw him talking to Courtney and your heart did a little flip in your chest. After interacting with him online these past few weeks, and watching his channel for these past few years, it seemed crazy to see him in person.Â
   As if sensing your presence, he looked your way and you turned away in time so it didnât look like youâd been staring. You didnât think heâd caught you watching him.Â
   âWait? Spencer, is that (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?â Courtneyâs voice carried over the several feet that separated you.
   âOh, is it? I hadnât noticed,â you heard him say sarcastically, even though your back was turned to him. You stepped a little bit closer to their location, pretending to be fixing something on your lanyard.
   âDude, you have to go talk to her,â you heard a male voiceâShayne? You didnât dare turn aroundâsay.
   âNo way man,â Spencer answered, âWhat would I even say?â
   âYouâve been commenting on each otherâs instagrams for like a month, youâll think of something,â Courtney said.
   âYeah, but thatâs different. This would be, like, a real conversation,â he answered. âI donât actually know her. What if she thinks Iâm just some creepy fan, and itâs like bro back off.â
   You bit your lip, stifling a giggle. Oh, what he didnât know.
   Then the music in the venue picked up and you couldnât hear their conversation for nearly a minute. You walked a few feet back over to your table, picking up and looking at a few of the gifts fans had given you, finding a new way to look busy. This went on for another minute before you heard a new voice say,
   âWhatâs this about Spence and (Y/n) (Y/l/n)?â
   âJust that Spencerâs going to go up to her,â Courtney announced.Â
   âIâll get the popcorn,â the voice said.Â
   âNo, Kiana,â you heard Spencer say. âThatâs not whatâs happening.â
   âYouâll regret if forever if you donât go talk to (Y/n),â The voiceâKianaâstated.Â
   âNo way. Thatâd be like if I asked you to just âgo up and talk toâ Darren Chris,â Spencer said
   âMy favorite white guy,â Kiana joked.
   âHey bro, I thought we established that was me!â Spencer said in outrage.Â
   âYou will be if you go and talk to (Y/n),â she finished.Â
   âI will not be manipulated,â you heard him say, and you stifled another chuckle.Â
   âNo, but you will be shoved,â Kiana said.
   âWait what?â Spencer got out, before you heard a scuffing sound.
   You turned around just as Kiana pushed Spencer and suddenly he was right before you.Â
   âHey,â he said, looking uncomfortable, shooting a glare behind him at Kiana. âI heard there was a meet and greet?â
   You smiled. âYou just missed it, actually.âÂ
   âDamn, next year then,â he said.
   âI suppose I could make an exception,â you teased. âI wouldnât want to be the one to take away anyoneâs Favorite White Guy title.â
   Spencer winced. âHow much of that conversation did you hear?â
   âWhat conversation?â You winked at him.Â
   âI canât remember,â Spencer said, smiling as he rubbed a hand along the side of his face.
   You were both silent for a moment.
   âSo,â Spencer started, breaking it. âI would tell you that I love watching your contentâuntil a very reasonable hour of the night, might I addâbut you kind of already know that. And I bet youâve already been told that by hundreds of people today.â
   âNot by anyone nearly as cute though,â you replied, before leaning in to mock-whisper. âAnd I donât mind hearing it again.â
   âAlso,â you continued. âI could say the same to you. I love SmoshâIâve watched your channel for years. You guys are all so talented.â
   âReally? No way,â Spencer smiled. âYou watch Smosh?â
   âReally,â you smiled back. âI did know who you were before the Shayne Guesses video, you know.â
   âDonât remind me,â Spencer said, shaking his head.
   âI thought it was sweet,â you told him, laughing. âAnd if that video had never happened, we wouldnât be here right now.â
   âOr at Buca Di Beppo tonight at 8?â Spencer said, with trepidation.
   âOr that,â you agreed, nodding. âAre you asking me out on a date, Spencer Agnew?âÂ
   You felt a blush creeping up your cheeks.Â
   âI guess I am,â he said. âUnless youâre going to slap me, in which case no.â
   âOnly if the date goes badly,â you teased. âAnd if you donât make 100,000 more accounts to subscribe to my channel with.â
   Spencer grinned. âDone. And I can introduce you to the rest of the gang.â
   âAre they good with me crashing your guysâ dinner?â You asked. You couldnât believe you were going to meet the members of Smosh.
   You couldnât believe you were going on a date with Spencer.Â
   âOh, they already know about it. Theyâre listening to every word of our conversation right now.â Spencer pointed a thumb behind him and you looked over his shoulder to see all of the Smosh cast watching you.
   They all waved at you.
   âHey girl hey!â Kiana called to you, smirking at Spencer.Â
   You waved back at them, grinning.Â
   âWell, I donât want to keep you from meet-and-greet-ing any longer,â you said, turning back to Spencer.
   âIsnât that what weâre doing right now?â Spencer joked, gesturing between the two of you.
   âDoesnât count,â you said back. âTechnically weâve already met on the internet.â
   âYeah, well, youâre much prettier in person,â Spencer said, as he backed up towards the rest of the Smosh cast.
   âWell then,â you said, only a little bit breathless. âI guess Iâll see you tonight.â
   âUnless I see you on the internet first,â Spencer said, turning around and walking away.Â
   You couldnât wait. Not only did you have your date with Spencer to look forward to, you also had the rest of VidCon to get to know Spencer better and hopefully hang out with him before all this was over.Â
   You turned to leave as well, walking in the opposite direction of Spencer as you tried to think where you had to be next. It was hard to focus when all your thoughts were occupied by something else. Someone else.
   You were almost out of earshot when you heard Kianaâs voice, carrying over the crowds of people.
   âGet over here, loser. Iâll take my thanks in the form of cash and/or worsted weight yarn.â
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yourusername
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yourusername: had the best time with spennser at vidcon â24 âŁïž
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yourusername: definitely not your gf ‷ liked by spennser materialgorl199: GF?!? AHHHHH heatherscandystore: wait theyâre together? Iâm so happy for them ily both sm đ€
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thirdcutestsmoshboy: i met both of them there and they were so sweet
ynislife: so are they dating???
angelagiovanagiarratana: GUYS đ„č
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Ë°âą*ââ· hope you guys enjoyed this little bit of a different format. i had sm fun writing this. check out my other spencer fics if u want more like this đ
#spencer agnew#spencer agnew x reader#smosh fanfiction#x reader insta#smosh#smosh imagine#fanfiction#fanfic#x reader#reader insert#spencer agnew insta#spencer agnew texts#x reader youtube
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SAW THE OCTOBER PROMPTS AND KNEW I HAD TO SUBMIT ONE IN
could i do đ° with my fav boyfriend max verstappen who has just slowly creating a list of everything reader has looked at a little too long or talked about for a couple of minutes. It ranges from tiffany jewelry to chanel dresses to la perla lingerie to gucci perfume to louboutin red bottoms, he knows everything that the reader wants and just one day surprises reader with everything
thank you for requesting!đ«¶đœ
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âWhatâŠtheâŠfuck.â
Max stood in the middle of your living roomâyour once empty living room that was now flooded with boxes and bags everywhere you lookedâwith his hands on his hips and a proud look on his face. And he looked completely unashamed with the scene around him.
âSurprise!â He said it so simply like he had just placed a home cooked meal in front of you, or maybe ran a few errands for you that he knew were a hassle. He was acting like the designer brand labels littering the living room of your apartment were normal, like an everyday occurrence. Though, maybe for Max Verstappen, they were.
âYouâŠwhatâŠ.huh?â You looked at him, confused and baffled and desperate for answers. âWhat is all this?â
âItâs for you,â he said as he picked up a random bag nearby and handed it towards you, the Chanel logo making you feel a little nauseous. âThough I think people usually call them gifts.â
âThis is too much,â you breathed out, your head spinning at the idea of just how much he could have possibly spent on you. At the mere idea of how much money was technically sitting in your far-too-small living room. âThis is way too much, Max. I canât.â
His brows furrowed together. âWhy not?â
Your eyes widened. âIs that really a question youâre asking?âÂ
âBut itâs all stuff you want,â he pointed out to you.Â
âYou canât possiblyââ Except the boy cut you off as he reached into the Chanel bag he was still holding, taking out a shoe box. And before you could even say anything, he was opening it to show you a pair of black platform heels you remembered vaguely showing him a few weeks back. âMax.â
âYou said you wanted them.âÂ
âI said I liked the look of them.â
âSame thing.â
It seemed like every possible object or item you had spent longer than three seconds staring at were currently sitting in your living room at that moment, and Max didnât see an issue with it. And you knew you shouldnât be mad at him. Even before everything changed between you and Max, you had made the deal to be the person he splurged on. You agreed to it. You accepted the terms.
But you thought things would change once your relationship changed, when it went from financially beneficial to an actual romance. You thought he knew he didnât need to do any of this anymore.
âMax,â you started as you tried to step over a pile of boxes, your foot getting caught in the handle of a bag. But before you could stumble, he was reaching out to grab your arms. âBabe, you donât have to do this.â
âYou are making it seem like someone is making me do it against my will,â Max mused, a hint of amusement on his face as his arms wound around your waist.
âIâm your girlfriend, you donât have to spend money on me like this,â you said to him, your hands interlocking behind his head.Â
âItâs exactly why I should,â Max scoffed. âYouâre my girl. Mine to take care of and spoil and keep happy.âÂ
âMaxââ
âStop saying my name like that, you sound like a school teacher scolding me,â he groaned as he rested his head against your shoulder. Though, something in his chest tightened when he heard you laugh.Â
âItâs just a lot,â you admitted in a whisper.Â
âItâs everything you deserve and everything I want to give you,â Max retorted before he slowly lifted his head, his nose brushing against yours. âIâll calm down but donât make me give any of it back.â
You sighed, smiling. âFine.â
âGood, because I donât know where the receipts are and Iâm pretty sure half of it wouldnât even fit in my car.âÂ
His grin widened as your laugh bounced off the walls of your far-too-small living room.
.
#cece's slumblurb party#max verstappen#formula one#f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen fic#max verstappen one shot#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one fic#formula one one shot#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 fic#f1 one shot
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Along For The Ride (Part 1 of 2)
MDNI +18 Only!!
Farmer!Older!Beefy!Eddie Munson/ Mean!Bougie!Fem!Reader
Summary: A drunken joyride leads you in the midst of Eddie Munson, whoâs seeking repayment for the damages made to his property by you. Fed up with your constant misbehavior, your father makes a deal with Eddie in which you will do some manual labor around his farm in exchange. Youâre not too pleased with this arrangement and your differences in personalities lead to a clashing of headsâŠand tongues?? (8.5k words)
A/N: I have not written in ages. It is really tough being a writer with the pressures I place on myself to be perfect, to gain more likes and followers, to write things as quickly as possible. Iâm learning to fall in love with writing again. Itâs a slow process but someday Iâll be able to share all the great things Iâve been working on for the past year. Anyway, here is my start to starting my journey again and thank you all for supporting me.
Older!Eddie photo edit by: @/eddiemunsons-missingnipple
CW: fluff and lots of angst, enemies to friends to lovers trope, SLOW BURN, age gap (Eddie 40s, Reader 20s), mean!affluent!reader, bad girl reader, light smut/eventual heavy smut, bratty!reader, ugly duckling turned swan trope, reader character development, mean friends, minor canon events from tv series (chrissy death, eddie accused of chrissy and other victims deaths), limited knowledge of farm life and work, drunk driving, consumption of marijuana and alcohol, committing of property crimes, return of readerâs ex, mentions of insecurities, descriptive and graphic language, lots of sexual tension, kissing, dry humping, eddie cums in his pants
You bellow out the lyrics to Taylor Swiftâs âWe Are Never Getting Back Togetherâ along with your three friends, not a care in the world for who would be unfortunate enough to hear you in the chilly 3 am evening. The girls pass around a bottle of tequila when your best friend, Tana, âseated in the passenger seatâ attempts to pour a shot into your mouth.
âBabe, no. I drank enough at the club. The guy that asked for my number was practically throwing them at me. I had to kill a plant by pouring my drinks onto the poor thing. Men ruin everything.â You pout.
âAmen to that, sis,â Tana says, snapping her fingers. âHad a guy tell me that he thinks Iâm the one for him. Turns out, heâs married with a baby on the way.â
You all playfully point your index fingers to your tongues, faking gags before leading into a giggling fit.
âI had a guy ghost me because he didnât like me sharing my selfies on social media. Said that âthey should only be exclusive to himâ.â Your friend, Essie, shares.
âI feel like we need to get back at men for the shit they put us through,â Brooke chimes in. âIâm in the mood to make a man fall to his knees, whimpering for mercy.â
âYou kinky little minx!â You laugh. âAre you trying to make men pay or are you trying to get laid?â
âCan it be both?â Brooke says, biting her acrylic-donned thumb.
âI sayâŠâ Tana calls attention to herself, raising a hand. âWe choose a random house on this street to wreak our vengeance. One of the homes has to belong to a man.â
âIâm in!â Essie beams.
âMe too.â Brooke says, high fiving Tana for her devious plan.
âI donât know, guys,â You say, reluctant to rain on their parade. âWeâre pretty drunk but I donât think weâre drunk enough to want vandalism charges. Letâs just go to one of those rage rooms and let out all this pent up energy. We could scream out female rage lines from our fave movies and break shit.â
âThatâsâŠokay but itâs not as epic as Tanaâs idea,â Essie says, leaning forward to be in better earshot range. âCome on, y/n. Itâs only for tonight. You know, weâre just having some harmless girl time fun. Itâs not like weâll be breaking and entering. Weâre just gonna do some silly stuff then leave. Pleeaaase. I just broke up with my boyfriend. I need this.â
You take a quick glance at the girls who all send big, puppy eyes your way. You sigh then laugh. âI canât believe weâre doing this.â
They cheer at your response, knowing that theyâve won. You raise a hand to cease their cheers and they quickly go dead silent. âSince, Iâm the most sober one here. Weâre doing this my way,â While staring at the road ahead, a smirk slowly spreads across your face. âI get to choose the place.â
ââââââ
The four of you sneak onto the open field, tiptoeing through the tall grass. Based on the smell wafting in the air, you are certain there are barn animals nearby.
With a nasal tone in her voice from holding her nose, Tana says, âUgh, how could anyone work around this icky smell?â
âShhh,â You order, putting a finger to your lips. âIf we need to be quiet if this is going to be a successful in and out mission. Do you remember the plan?â
âHow could I forget? Itâs the most basic prank ever.â Tana whisper-yells, holding up the two rolls of toilet paper in her hands.
âItâs still a huge pain to the homeowner,â You defend confidently before letting out a wicked giggle. âHe will be so inconvenienced when he wakes up in the morning.â
Tana shakes her head lovingly at you before peering to her right and left. âUmm, y/n, whereâs Essie and Brooke?â
Your eyes widen as you unintelligibly peer to your right and left as well despite knowing the space is empty. âOh shit,â You facepalm. âHow could we have let them out of our sight? Who knows what those morons are doing?â
âHew we awe,â Essie carries a âbaby talkâ inflection as she materializes from the dark bluish night with a medium-sized pig cradled in her arms. âEvwyone meet Wilbur.â
âIâm sorry but where the hell did you get that pig?!â You say, no longer able to keep your voice to a whisper.
âThe barn, obviously.â Brooke replies.
âWhat happened to not breaking and entering?! I take my eyes off you two for a second and youâve already broken a handful of crimes.â You scold.
âBut weâre saving him, y/n. You donât want this pig to become bacon, do you?â Essie says, holding up the pig near your face only for it to wiggle out of her grasp and take off running.
âWeâve gotta catch that stupid fucking pig!â You yell and the girls obey. The group comically chases the animal around, slipping and sliding through mud and crops. In the chaos, the pig makes contact with the toilet paper youâve long abandoned, tossing it around with the help of the forceful winds to guide it all over the field.
You spot the pig approaching the door of a small blue cottage. You dive forward, fully immersed in the thick mud that soiled your white tank top and denim skirt and you cared little for this fact with your concerns focused on obtaining the pig in your arms. He squeals and whines against you as you plead for its compliance.
Suddenly the porch lights turn on, shining down on you like a spotlight. The door swings open and not long after youâre forced to look into the eyes of your prosecutor from the ground.
A rugged, older man with unruly, curls of brown hair cascading down his shoulders and the deepest brown eyes that are as large as buttons. The same eyes that were now staring down angrily at you.
âWhat the fuck?â He says through gritted teeth. Itâs not until he sees the full extent of your wrath that he decides to emphasize his previous statement with a fury of a thousand suns. âWhat. The. Fuck!â
You swallow hard, releasing the pig as you collect yourself off the floor. The man feels no need to check whether his pet had entered the home safely, wanting his eyes to focus on you in case you tried running.
âI-I could explain. W-we were justââ
âWe?â He abruptly interrupts, upholding the gruffness in his tone.
You were afraid that heâd say that. After all, those bitches were a little too quiet for your liking. After looking behind you to confirm their abandonment, you slowly face your prosecutor once again.
Swallowing the hard lump in your throat you begin, you try scrambling for an answer. This is already a very terrifying situation. This man looked terrifying himself. Heâs robust in build, littered with tattoos, and had piercings. You donât see men like him everyday or at all on your side of town. Men usually groomed themselves like ken dolls where you come from. But when you have come across men that look like him, the experience has always been a negative oneâ-only this time you were the one at fault.
âIâm sorry.â You shrug with an awkward smile then tack on a âPlease donât call the cops.â
He sighs deeply. âIâm not going to call the copsâŠâ
âOh, thank god.â You sigh in relief, a hand to your beating chest.
âYouâre going to call your parents,â He finishes. âAnd you are going to tell them that weâre going to come up with a solution for this or I will be calling the police.â
âOh, fuuuck.â You groan.
ââââ-
âIâm so very sorry, sir. Truly,â Your father says after profusely apologizing for the 7th time since his arrival. âSheâs been acting out a lot ever since sheâd gone away to university. My wife and I donât know this girl but she is not the y/n we raised.â
You roll your eyes at the comment, texting away at your friends who wanted to know the details of your capture. Meanwhile, youâre too busy cursing them out to care about how badly youâll be punished for this.
âIâm just glad things didnât get any worse or when someone couldâve seriously ended up getting hurt.â The farmer says, staring pointedly at you.
âNow I was thinkingâŠthough I could very well pay for the trouble and we could be out of your hair, Iâm a man that likes to go above and beyond when it comes to taking responsibility. My daughterâs exceedingly aware of this fact about myself,â Your father scoots his seat up closer to the table, fingers together as if proposing a business plan. âIt appears that you might need some temporary assistance in tending to your farm work. If youâre looking for an extra set of hands to help with some manual labor for the next two weeks, my daughter is happy to oblige.â
âExcuse me!â You say, attention fully invested in the conversation. âTell me you're joking.â
âNope. You are grounded. Meaning that though you are visiting for spring break, you are currently under my roof, my rules. I am still your parent after all. To clarify, there will be no going out with your friends. You are to come straight to
Mr. Munsonâs farm every day after your time at your motherâs shop. Youâll help the gentleman around with whatever he asks of you.â Your father explains.
âAnd what if I donât?â You ask, defiant.
âThen youâll be cut off and youâll have to earn money on your own.â
âY-you m-mean a j-job?â You ask, horrified.
âExactly.â Your father confirms.
You stare wide-eyed at farmer Munson who has a prominent smirk on his face. âI like the sound of that, sir. Youâre a good man.â
You shriek in anger. âYouâre the worst!â
You furiously stomp out of the home, hating your life and men once again.
ââââ
Your father had no doubts that youâd be going to work on the farm once heâd threaten to take away your (his) money. When you arrive at the address, youâre immediately reminded how you're not on your side of town anymore. Itâs officially Hickville.
Reluctantly knocking on the door, you hope that Eddie wonât answer the door, praying that heâs changed his mind and took the money instead. Unfortunately, he answers the door with a huge smile in contrast to your deadpan demeanor.
âOh, come on, lighten up, sugar. I made some of my famous iced tea ahead. One taste and itâll all seem worth it.â
âItâs not fair!â You rant, pushing passed him. âWhy am I being the only one punished? This was all Brookeâs idea. And Essie was the one who stole the goddamn pig.â
âHis name is Wilbur,â Eddie corrects. âAnd who are we talking about exactly?â
âDoesnât matter,â You sigh. âBad things always happen to good people.â
âIâll say.â Eddie says, staring you down.
âWhy are you staring at me like that?â
âYou really think youâre the victim in all of this?â
âAre you?â
âI donât know. Why donât we check out the lovely view of the TPâd trees blowing in the wind?â He asks sarcastically, gesturing to his window.
âItâs just a little toilet paper. Never had a little prank done on you.â
âWow,â He feigns a smile, shaking his head at you. âYour audacity to diminish all the negative things youâve done to me into the spirit of good fun is astounding.â
âMy therapist did always say I have a knack for looking at things on the bright side.â You retort.
âIs that so?â He asks mockingly. âWell then, youâre gonna love this special job I have for you.â
âââââ
Which leads you to the situation youâre in now. Youâre staring into the eyes of a cow whose large brown eyes kind of reminded you of farmer Munson except they actually held kindness in them and not pure disdain.
âThereâs no way Iâm milking this thing. I have no idea how to do that,â You say, prompting Eddie to raise a suggestive eyebrow at you. âYou know what I mean, pervert.â
Suddenly, an idea clicked in your head. Maybe you could use this âpervertâ thing to your advantage. Heâs obviously single or he wouldnât be this much of a crab. You can easily seduce him and get out of doing anything!
âMr. Munson,â You say with a purr in your voice as you press yourself up against him. âIâm actually really good at milking other things after all. Youâve got me pegged at that. MaybeâŠI can show you just how skillful my mouth and hands can be for you.â
He laughs. He fucking chuckles in your face. How fucking dare he?! âThat was rich. Seriously, that performance was justâŠmoving. You can try to sway me with sex all ya want, hun. Trust me there are women and men whoâve tried,â He slightly narrows the gap between your faces, staring you down. âI donât buckle under that kinda pressure, sugar. Itâll take a lot more than salacious words to make my dick jump. Now why donât we go back to the task at hand, shall we?â
Youâre fuming. This asshole really thinks he can get away with making you out to be a fool. Well, two could play that game. Youâre going to make his existence for the next two weeks feel like a total nightmare.
He seats you on a small stool beside the cow before instructing you on how to milk her. You halfheartedly reach for an udder, shrieking at the feel of it between your fingers.
âThis is so gross!â You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. âIâm going to disassociate and imagine that Iâm in a niche boutique in Manhattan.â
âAh, spending daddyâs money even in your dreams. How thoughtful.â He mutters.
âYou have no right to judge me just because you think Iâm privileged.â You snap.
âI donât âthinkâ youâre privileged. You are privileged. See the difference?â
You tug on an udder, purposefully targeting him as the milk drenches him. His face puckers his face before staring daggers at you.
âOops.â You say in a sickeningly sweet tone.
ââââââ
You begrudgingly enter your house key into the doorknob, body aching from the day's work. The moment you enter, your fatherâs happy-go-lucky spirit engulfs you and it takes everything in you not to explode.
âHey, honey, how was your first day?â
âQuestion, father,â You begin, calling him the formal term instead of âpapaâ or âdadâ. âDo you love me?â
âNow what kind of silly question is that?â He reverts back with his own question, befuddled.
âIâm just curious because I donât think a father who truly loves their daughter would ever put her through the kind of hell I just went through today.â You respond.
âYou milked a cow,â Your teenager brother, Aspen, enters the dining room before beginning a dramatic act. âSomeone save the poor girl! Sheâs gaining new life experiences! You are such primadonna.â
âShut up, ya little twerp.â You say, pulling his hoodie over his face.
âYour brotherâs right, dear,â Your father says. âYou are being really dramatic. I donât get it. You never used to be this way. You loved reading books and conducting personal science experiments and geeking out over your favorite moviesââ
âThat just isnât me anymore, dad. The sooner you accept that, the better it is for us all.â You grumble.
He decides to drop the topic in favor of keeping the peace for the dinner your mom prepared for the family to enjoy as a unit. But your mind couldnât help but to wander back to those times where you were seen as a nerd and bullied for being different and having different interests. University was a different story though. There, you were able to reinvent yourself into the hot bad bitch you know today.
But why is it that your fatherâs words resonated so much with you? Had it been because it wasnât the makeover or the new friends and partners youâd make along the wayâŠit was the fact that he knew that you, yourself, couldnât believe your own act. He knows that you're lying to yourself about liking the person youâve become. No way could ever admit such a thing to him. And itâs not like youâd feel this way forever. Once youâre done with this hell labor with Eddie âThe Devilâ Munson, you can go back to your popular life.
ââââ
The routine continued including your constant pushback. It went: shadowing your mother for the day with her bridal clients, heading over to the Munson farm soon after, non stop bickering between the two of you for 2 hours, then heading back home to soak your aching body and curse out the world.
Today is no different with the task of you grooming the stupid pig that got you into this mess in the first place.
âWilbur. His nameâsââ
âI know!â You shout at him, gathering the metal pail and wooden brush from the table. You grumpily made your way to the backyard of the home in search of the shed supposedly carrying the soap to clean the pig. When you notice Wilbur rushes out of a trailer home stationed in the backyard. âHey, get back here!â
The pig is long gone and you don't care to chase after it once your interest is piqued by the mystery home in the backyard. Searching around to make sure there were no signs of Mr. Munson, you enter the place cautiously.
Itâs as if the trailer had been stuck in the 1980s. Everything is vintage and old looking but also well kept. You see photos of the younger Eddie Munson scattered around the walls of the home andâ-though you hate to admit itâhe was just as handsome as he is now. In some of the photos including one pinned to the fridge by a magnet, you can see an older man. Maybe his father.
Your eye catches an old poetry assignment also pinned to the fridge with a large âC+â above it. A little note at the top explaining his grade being contributed to some misspellings and some inappropriate language despite the good work.
You raise the paper to your eyes and read:
If I Were A Hobbit
If I were a hobbit, Iâd be so free
Iâd frolic in the grass and smoke some trees
With furry feet and a merry heart
From adventureâs call, Iâd never depart
With Bilboâs tales, Iâd while away time.
In the beautiful land of Middle Earthâs rhyme
Iâd wander the fields beneath the sun
Iâd travel it world cause itâs all in good fun
If I were a hobbit, maybe I wouldnât get laid
But, hey, itâs goddamn worth the price I paid
You giggle, amused at how fun Mr. Munson had been long ago. You wonder what couldâve happened. Immersed in the poem, you were unaware of his arrival until he whispered haughtily into your ear.
âWeâre continuing the trend of breaking and entering, I see.â
You jolt away, facing him. âI-Iâm sorry. But you said that I had to look for a shed. Should be more specific.â
âThis looks like a shed to you, sugar?â
âTrailerâŠshedâŠitâs no different.â
He chuckles dryly. âYou are a piece of work.â
âLook whoâs talking? You know, you seemed a lot more fun when you were a teenager.â You comment, holding up the poem.
âGive me that,â He yanks from your hands, placing it back on the fridge. âAinât anyone ever tell you itâs wrong to go snooping around peopleâs things. Wait, who am I kidding? I met your father. Even if he were to have taught you these things, youâd probably go against him.â
âYouâre a pain in my ass.â You hiss.
âRight back atcha, sweetheart.â He retorts.
âThen, I hope you donât mind if I continue to do so.â You say, pushing past him to go into the hallway.
âWhere do you think youâre going?â He asks, hot on your trail.
You enter a bedroom and itâs another blast from the past. The typical kind of teenage boy bedroom. Itâs no shock to you that he's a metalhead. You begin to rummage through his collection.
âYou little brat,â He huffs. âIâm too old to be dealing with this shit!â
âLive a little,â You say, popping in a blues cassette into the radio. âDance with me.â
He stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed as you begin to dance in circles around him. Your boot kicks up a newspaper article crumpled up on the ground and you go to retrieve it, ignoring Eddieâs protests.
It is an article about 15 years ago that expresses Eddie Munsonâs exoneration in the death of Chrissy Cunningham and him receiving only a $50,000 settlement. It also goes into detail that his only known immediate family and caretaker, Wanye Munson, had died just a month before his release.
âOh my god, Mr. Munson. I-Iâm so sorry. I didnâtâŠâ You trail off, knowing what to say or even where to begin.
âItâs all in the past now,â He sighs. âBesides, Iâm fine now. I still have my friends. They are like family. Theyâve got their own lives but when they can they check on me. Thatâs more than enough.â
Without thinking, your arms curl around his body and for the first time you get to feel his body against yours and itâs addicting. He tenses for a moment, unsure whether this is okay but eventually he melts into your embrace.
His beefy arms cradle you, a large hand resting atop your head. Your heartbeats fall in sync with one anotherâs and you allow yourself the brief moment to nuzzle into his chest, the chest hairs peeking above his tank top tickles the tip of your nose.
You dare to look him in the eyes, seeing them already looking down at you. They were wet with unshed tears, pleading with you for something. Itâs the first time youâve seen that look on his face and like a magnet you're drawn to it. Youâre suddenly moving on your own accord, tiptoeing to brush your nose against his. He lowers his face to your level. Your lips are only a mere centimeters from his full ones when the sound of his phone ringing takes you both out of the moment.
Heâs quick to pull away as if freed from an intense spell. Excusing himself, he leaves the room and heads outside. Youâre left standing in the room alone, the soft, rhythmic melody of blues playing in the background.
Willing yourself to cool down, you decide to go on with your original task and find Wilbur while hoping itâll shake off the electric feeling he left on your skin.
ââââââââ-
Bathing the pig proved to be quite the distraction because this little shit is making you use all your brain power to keep it still. Having stripped into just your bikini and rainboots, you held the pig for dear life as you washed and scrubbed at him and practically yourself.
You notice Eddie from the corner of your eye, stifling laughter as he leaned against a nearby tree.
âBy the way, Iâve already washed off all the barn animals, tended to my crops, and was able to make myself a sandwich in the meantime. You, however, youâre still working on Wilbur. Or should I say, heâs working you.â
âHardee har har,â You say, unamused. âWill you just help me with this pig?â
âAlright, alright,â He says, heading over to you. The pig immediately jumps from his grasp and into your arms. âItâs all in the technique.â
âEasy for you to say. He already knows you.â You grumble.
âNow what youâre gonna want to do is come up behind him. He's a big fella so in order to hold him down youâll need to straddle him like this and place your hands down firmly on his back. That way heâll know to stay put,â Eddie says getting into position, his boots digging in the dirt for some leverage. âHeâll tussle with ya a little but itâs only because heâs not used to being handled by other humans. Heâs still a little frantic with me even after all these years. I saved him from the slaughterhouse so it comes with the territory.â
âYou mean you werenât going to turn him into bacon?â
âNo, sugar, Wilburâs family. Now get up on here with me. Donât put too much of your weight on him. Only just enough to hold him down.â He instructs.
You follow suit, straddling the pig and placing your hands over Eddieâs before looking back over your shoulder at him. âLike this?â
âJust like that, sugar. Youâre a natural. See? Now Iâm just gonna go ahead and get up and youâll take theââ
âWhat? No, donât leave me! Heâll just shake me off again.â You protest.
Sure enough, the pig began to shake the both of you off its back, side to side until you both fell back into the soil. You fall right into Eddieâs lap and he instinctively grips your hips hard, causing you to let out a yelp and scramble out of his grasp.
You sat on your knees, looking at him with wide eyes and he returned with the same expression. The blush on his face intensifies and you follow the way his hands rush to pull the cowboy hat from his head to hold against his lap.
He quickly looks away from you, clearing his throat.
âYouâve gotâerm, your bikini braâŠâ Youâve never seen him so flustered. So speechless. You eish you could relish in it but when you realize exactly what heâs insinuating, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up as you wish the world will swallow you whole.
Your tit is hanging out for the world to see. A fucking nipple slip! Why did God cease at nothing to make you the butt of every joke?
You briskly adjust your bra, shaking in your boots. The itching desire to run heavy on your mind.
âI-I s-should go,â Your shaky legs somehow allow you to stand as you peer down at him. âHave a good evening, Mr. Munson.â
You stiffly power walk your way to the small cottage home to gather your discarded clothes on the porch. Eddieâs large hand rests on your shoulder.
âWait! I canât send you off like this. Youâll track mud in your car.â
âItâs not like I havenât done that before.â You scoff.
âWhy donât you shower here and Iâll offer you some fresh clothes? Iâll be making my stir fry in case you're hungry.â
âYou being nice to me all of a sudden, Mr. Munson?â You ask, raising an eyebrow. âCanât help but think thereâs some kind of hidden agenda.â
He smiles a genuine 100-watt smile. âNo, sugar. Iâm just extending some needed hospitality is all.â
âââââ
You pull on the long sleeved t-shirt Eddie offered you, studying its logo. A horned demon, swords, dice and so on.
âItâs my old high school club t-shirt.â He says, coming to sit beside you on the couch.
âYou were in a Dungeons and Dragons club?â
âYou know DâNâD?â
âKnow it?! I loved that game.â You say, excitedly.
âI didnât think kids in your generation still played that game.â He laughs.
âOh, yeah,â You nod. âI was a dungeon master. My campaigns were fire. Anyone whoâd joined my games would always go around telling their friends to come see me in action.â
âNo way! I was a dungeon master, too! I took it a little too seriously at times but it was like my second passion,â He looks you up and down. âI would have never thought someone like you would be into that kinda stuff.â
âIâll ignore your sly comment to clarify that I wasnât always like this back in high school.â
âWhat do you mean?â He asks.
âWell, you heard my dad. I used to be a goody two-shoes. A nerd. And I even dressed the part, too. The old me wouldâve totally geeked at your Hobbit poem. Iâm different now though.â
âWhatâs so wrong about being a nerd?â He inquires, scooting closer to you.
âI used to get bullied everyday. Boys would ignore me. Even the geeks would only ever see me as a friend. When I got to university, that all changed. Everyone wanted me.â
âI think if Iâd known you then, weâd probably be good friends.â
âYeah right. I seemed like the bad boy type who falls for the cheerleader. You wouldnât have looked twice in my direction.â
âNo,â Eddie says firmly, staring you intensely in the eyes. âI would see you.â
He repeats for emphasis. âI see you.â
You swallow the hard lump in your throat, choking back tears. Youâve never felt so vulnerable. Itâs strange to be so open with a man who 5 days ago you would have choked with your bare hands.
âBesides,â He says, breaking the silence. âI think itâs you who would have ignored me. Iâm not the bad boy you think I am. Sure, I was a bit of a troublemaker here and there. But I was a huge geek, too. Hadnât even lost my virginity until age 36. A year after my release. No girl wanted to fuck me back in high school. I was âthe freakâ. To some people today, I still am one regardless if Iâm innocent.â
âI wouldâve believed youâre innocent. Iâd have been by your side, too. Us, geeks, have to stick together, yeah?â
He huffs out a laugh. âYeah.â
Thereâs that magnetic pull again. The attraction that makes you want to be as close to him as possible. You resist not wanting to make that move again but he takes the initiative, leaning in further only this time you're interrupted once again with the sound of your phone ringing. You throw a silent fit in your head. Eddieâs just as frustrated, expelling a long duration of air from his nose.
âHello.â You say, answering the phone.
âHey, baby,â A familiar voice says on the line. âItâs been months. I still think about our time in Venice and this spring fever is only making it harder to ignore.â
Now the memories come flooding in. Itâs an ex-fling you met while studying abroad in Italy during your freshman year of university. The man whoâd taken your virginity and showed you the ropes to popularity. The moment you left Italy you expected him to call you back but he immediately ghosted you. From then on, you became the maneater you are today.
âWhat do you want?â
You, of course. I hear you are back in your hometown. Luckily for you, I am doing some research here and I was wonderingâ-â
âLuckily for me? Are you on drugs, Stefan? I donât care if you want me. You could forget my number and then youâll forget me. Have a goodnight.â You quickly hang up the call, ignoring his pleas.
âIs everything alright?â Eddie asks, noticing the way youâre hyperventilating.
âI am now,â You sigh. âThat was my ex. He was also my first. He treated me like shit made me feel stupid and like I needed him as if he created me. And back then, I felt like I did need him. Then he ghosted me. It felt good to give him a piece of my mind although I wish I could have said more.â
âI think you said enough. Iâm certain you hit him where it hurts.â He laughs.
âI should probably go.â You say, standing up from the couch to grab your coat.
âWhat happened to staying for dinner?â He asks.
âIâm sorry, Mr. Munsonâ
âEddie. You can call me Eddie.â
âEddie,â You say, testing his name on your tongue. Youâre not exactly sure if youâre ready to be this informal with him despite your almost kisses and the boob slip incident. âIâm sorry but his call has left me shaken. I think I need to be in the company of my girls.â
âYou mean, the girls who got you into trouble and left you behind? The ones your parents warned you to stay away from?â
âCome on, dude, I need this. Itâs not like you can give me great advice about guys.â
âI could. Considering I am one.â
âWell, I donât think weâre close enough for that kind of session.â
âWe just had this whole heart to heart. I thought we were seeing some improvement in our friendship.â Eddie says.
âWeâre friends?â
âUs, geeks, stick together?â
âThatâs just an oath. Doesnât exactly confirm a friendship between us.â
He exhales deeply, trying to contain his anger. âWell, I guess you wouldnât mind if I tell your father about your little hangout.â
âAre you blackmailing me?â Your eyes narrow at him.
âThat would suggest that Iâd be getting anything of value out of this which I wouldnât be. Therefore, no this isnât blackmail but it is definitely a threat. I donât care if weâre friends. I donât care to be your friend, sugar. But as the more responsible adult between us, I think itâs within our best interest that you donât hang out with the people who cause you to commit crimes. So, I think Iâll be taking you home, hmm?â
âAnd what about my car?â
âIâll take good care of it for tonight. Iâll pick you up tomorrow for your next job.â He smiles smugly.
If looks could kill, heâd be 7 feet under and youâd already be in hell.
ââââ
Eddie pulls up to the front of your house. The whole ride there had been silent. You angrily gather your things, hurriedly trying to exit his van.
âHave a goodnight, sugar!â He shouts as you slam the door in his face.
Once youâre inside, you do the routine process of angrily ranting out your annoyance with farmer Munson while stomping angrily up the stairs. Your family used to this by now simply goes about business as usual.
You dial up Tana and after a couple rings she answers. âHey, bitch! I was just about to text you the news. Did you hear whoâs in town?â
âYeah, Stefan, I know. Howâd you know?â
âHe's been calling me nonstop asking for you. Says he wants to talk to you.â
âI already did. Told him to fuck off,â You say. âAnd I thought Iâd feel a lot better about it but I donât know. Maybe itâs because I didnât get to stomp on his weirdly-shaped small dick.â
âOh, yeeahh. I remember the dick pic he sent you. It is weird, isnât it? Like an undeveloped banana. AnywhoâŠyou wanna get high at my place and watch Americaâs Next Top Model reruns. Iâve got Jell-O shots.â She singssongs the last statement.
âI canât remember. Iâm on lockdown,â You sigh. âIf I get into any more trouble or I might as well hand over a contract of my soul to the devil.â
âBitch, you are a grown woman. These are the best years of our lives where weâre supposed to live it to the fullest. Sneak out! Iâm coming over to pick you up.â
âTana, nââ But sheâs already hung up the call. Sometimes, you really hate this girl. With no choice, youâre forced to make a plan.
Firstly, you create a human-shaped pile in your bed, disguising it with your comforter. Next, youâll be climbing out of your window and quietly land on your lawn. Finally, you enter your friendâs car and youâll be homefree.
Although, the climb is a lot more daunting than you anticipated. It seemed like a lot of a higher jump from where you are standing. Tanaâs car pulls in and she rushes out to jump up and wave, whisper-yelling to encourage you to do it.
âTana, this is fucking crazy. You always make me do crazy shit.â You yell down at her.
âBut itâs all for the sake of fun experiences.â She retorts. âCome on and jump. Be the bad bitch, you are. Think for a second. WWBD: What would Beyonce do?â
âShe'd probably fire you as a friend.â You growl.
âFair enough.â
âOkay, Iâm ready to jump. Just be ready to catch me.â
âWhat?â Before Tana could register what you meant, you jumped, hurtling into her arms and straight to the ground.
âHuh, that wasnât so bad.â You smile.
âYeah, because Iâm the one breaking your fall.â Tana groans.
âPaybackâs a bitch, love.â
âââââ
âSo, is the farmer plowing your garden?â Tana asks, while applying mascara to your eyelashes.
âTana!â
âWhat? Thatâs got to be the only reason youâre officially over Stefan.â She says.
âI was already over Stefan. Eddieâs just my headache.â
âYouâre on first name bases with him. Oh, you are definitely fucking him.â
âIâm not!â You insist.
âAnd did you say Eddie? Thatâs the infamous Eddie Munson. How could I have not seen the connection? Heâs so hot. Is that okay to say about a murderer?â
âHeâs not a murderer.â You quickly defend him causing Tana to raise her hands in surrender.
âYikes, Iâm sorry I didn't mean to offend your friend.â
âHeâs not myâŠwell, he is. ButâŠheâs not a murderer. He never killed her. I did some digging on the internet and this town used to be really strange back then. Not how it is now. I donât know but the circumstances in all the deaths that happened back in â86 are all too weird. No human could do the things that Iâve seen done to those corpses.â
âBummer. Guess weâll never know who did it. I hear people who know of this case still harass him to this day. Itâs no wonder he practically lives off the grid.â Tana sighs. A knock at her front door leads her away and youâre alone to ponder your thoughts.
An overwhelming need to comfort Eddie hits you as you thought back to the moment heâd asked you to stay for dinner. You assumed it was all a ploy to get into your pants but now you realize that heâd genuinely enjoyed the little company heâd gotten.
You hear Tanaâs footsteps and a set of another coming up the stairs and before you could get a chance to tell her that youâll be leaving, she enters the room with your ex.
âWhat the hell is this?â You sneer.
âI just thought maybe you should hear him out.â Tana says with an anxious smile.
âIâm out of here.â You say, grabbing your jacket from her bed.
âWhere are you going? Your carâs not here.â Tana rushes down the stairs after you.
âIâll walk!â You hiss over your shoulder, pulling the door open where youâre unfortunately met with the presence of your father, brother, and the devil himself.
âMr. Munson? Dad? What the hell are you all doing here?â
âFunny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.â Your father says.
Stefan steps out from behind you, handing you a piece of paper. âI can see that it is a bad time, mi cara. Please, call me when you can. Itâs a new number since youâve blocked my old one.â
With that, he acknowledges the men before him with a nod and leaves. Itâs not lost on you that Eddie stares him down with a dirty look on his face before his eyes land back on you.
âIf I could just explain...â You begin.
âNo, y/n, Iâm sick of your excuses. You sneak off at night to god knows where. You reek of pot and booze. Is this the type of example you want to set for your younger brother? Heâll be graduating next year. Should anticipate that his time in university will consist of lollygagging around instead of focusing on his career?â
You look over to your brother who, instead of carrying a smirk, he had a look of genuine concern for you.
âI was just having fun.â
âIs that all you can think about? When did fun require drugs and alcohol and committing crimes?! Fun for you used to be attending cosplaying conventions, not vandalizing properties and drunk driving.â
âWell, Iâm not that anymore so you could fucking stop clinging to the past.â You yell.
Your father is taken aback and you could faintly see the waterline rising in his eyes. âGet in the car. Now!â
You shoot Eddie an angry look. âUs, geeks, stick together? Forget anything I ever said about believing in you.â
Your heart twinges at the shattered look on his face at your statement. No longer wanting to see the extent of your blow, you brush past him and follow your fatherâs command.
âAs for you, young lady,â your father points to Tana. âI will be in touch with your parents regarding your misconduct.â
Tanaâs mouth drops in complete shock at this revelation and for a moment you actually are proud of your dad.
ââââ-
You plop yourself onto your bed, crying your eyes out. Not even really crying for yourself but for Eddie. How could you have been so cruel to him? All for the reason that he cares enough about you to make sure you arenât getting into trouble. Thereâs no way heâd ever forgive you for the way you spoke to him.
A knock on your door calls to your attention. You reluctantly answer, knowing youâll be getting yet another punishment. Youâre surprised to find your brother, Aspen, at the door.
âWhat do you want, twerp?â You say.
âYou should really apologize to dad. You made him cry. Iâve never seen him like that.â He says.
âI know. Itâs just that I hate when people remind me that I wasâŠa loser. I didnât mean to be so awful to him, though.â
âYou were never a loser. In fact, I used to think you were pretty cool. I wanted to be comfortable in my weirdness as you were. Iâm happy that youâre finding yourself and all. But you donât have to change who you are to appease anyone. Not even dad. Itâs your life, sis. If you like drinking and partying, thatâs okay. If you like reading nerdy books and cosplaying, thatâs okay, too. As long as itâs something you want to do and not something you do to make people like you. So stop acting like youâre some psycho fembot that wants to spend the rest of her life in and out of jail.â
âWow, Aspen, Iâm impressed. I did not know you could speak incoherent sentences.â You tease, pulling him into a hug.
âFuck off.â He laughs, struggling to free from your tight embrace.
ââââ
The next day, after some time to think of your apologies. You began with your father. He admitted to you that he was scared of the thought of you growing up and not needing him and letâs just say that the two of you ended up bawling in each otherâs arms and confessing your love and appreciation for one another by the end of it. Your busy event planner mother stumbled into the scene both heartwarmed and confused.
The next one is going to be a tough one for you. But you felt prepared with a handy long written note in your hand in case you needed to find the right words.
However, the moment you arrived on his farm and were met with the look of indifference on his face, you began to break down sobbing. Hard. The thought letter long abandoned to the ground.
His demeanor immediately softens, placing a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.
âI-Iâm s-so sorryâŠ.youâŠfriendâŠmeanâŠ,â You gasp an unintelligible apology through your tears. âBitchyâŠgeeksâŠbelieve youâŠstupid pig WilburâŠnever would have met a great man like youuuu.â
He gives you a small smile, pulling you into his embrace. âI know, I know.â
âUnderstand?â You ask.
âYes, sugar. I understand what you said. Crystal clear.â
âAccept?â
âYes, I accept your apology.â Eddie laughs.
âYou donât hate me?â
âI never hated you. Even when youâre being an annoying brat. â He says.
âGood,â You sniffle, pulling away from him to wipe your tears and compose yourself. âIâm happy weâre friends again.â
âFriends? Who said anything about friends?â He quips before patting your shoulder. âYeah, weâre friends again.â
âNow you could get to work and then later you can make me that stir fry that I've been dying to try.â You beam, skipping into his home.
âOnly if youâre a good girl.â He challenges.
For the day, the two of you would groom the horses together. Of course, you were still quite jumpy and the bougie princess he knows you to be but it was nothing he didnât find amusing about it anyway.
âYou should seriously take a look at my note though. I really thought out all the things I had to say for you. My weeping apology was only the tip of the iceberg.â
âI donât know. I donât think anything in that note will top that moment but Iâll take your word for it.â
âRead it when youâre alone though. I donât want to see your face when you read it.â
âWhy?â
âBecause I know youâll be all smug about.â You say, rolling your eyes.
âAnd you say you hardly know me,â He chuckles then switches to a serious, gruff tone. âSoâŠStefanâŠheâs a looker. Thinking about going back on your word to end things with him.â
You laugh. âIâm playing it by ear. He says heâs changed but thatâs every jerksâ favorite line.â
âJust let him know that if he ever hurts you, Iâll kick his ass.â He threatens.
You step into Eddieâs space, his face flushes at the close proximity. Your hand raises up to cradle his heated cheek. âYou couldnât hurt a fly, Edward Allan Munson.â
Lost in your eyes, he fails to notice you tug the joint nuzzled behind his ears. Until you raise it up to his face with a knowing smile. âYou smoke weed?â
âBaby, I used to be a dealer. In fact, I still grow my own supply.â
âNo way.â
âOh yeah. Maybe I was the freak but those jocks and cheerleaders were begging for a piece of my supply.â
âYou wouldnât mind if we smoke this one together.â You suggest.
âAfter your father chewed you out for it last night?â
âHe knows I do it. And I learned this morning, after our heart-to-heart, that he was once a pothead, too. And now that I know that you are also a pothead, not only does this confirm my personal theory that most people smoke weed but also this makes our friendship so much more interesting.â
âYouâre starting to throw that whole âfriendshipâ word around a lot more enthusiastically now.â
âMy friendâs a dealer. Iâm going to take full advantage of that.â You loop your arm around his guiding him to an empty stable so you can both fall against the hay.
He picks the hay from his hair, laughing. âI donât even have a lighter and the fumes are not safe for the animals.â
âBabe,â You say almost insulted. âI always carry a lighter. You never know when youâll find yourself in an impromptu smoke session or possibly get lost in the middle of the woods. Besides, we released the animals into the field for their little recess. Weâre the only animals left here. Just you and me.â
âAlright, fine I guess weâre doing this. Donât tell your dad about this, though. This will just be a one time thing.â
âMhm, yeah sure, bud,â You say nonchalantly, busying yourself with lighting the joint. You hand over the joint to him and he protests, wanting you to take the first hit. You oblige. âItâs your joint. Donât you know the rules? The one who bringeth, smoke..eth.â
âYou wanted it badly so I let you take it first.â
âI didnât want it âbadlyâ. Iâm not a fucking addict,â You laugh, bellowing out a puff of smoke. âI just thought itâd be a nice bonding moment. Wanna see how you get when youâre high.â
âItâs nothing special. Iâm the same as I am now.â He shrugs.
âYou mean, âa stick in the mudâ?â
He bumps you with his shoulder causing you to lay back against the hay.
âYou jerk, I just pick all that out of my hair.â
âServes you right. Now hand me the joint. Youâre hogging it,â He tries to reach for it but you raise it above your head. âYouâre such a tease.
He attempts to reach for it again, falling on top of you. His full weight on your body is so damn delicious it takes everything in you not to moan. It doesnât help that the weed has heightened your senses making you feel EVERYTHING. The way his hot breath feels tickling your neck along with the way his curls on his head gently caress your skin as he reaches for the joint. He seems oblivious to the state he leaves you in even after heâs gotten it until he lets out a puff of smoke in the air then looks back down at you once again. Itâs evident he can see the darkened lust in your eyes because of the way his adamâs apple bobs in his throat. He suddenly feels so thirsty and it isnât because of the weed.
Afraid a moment like this will be interrupted once again, you lunge forward attacking his lips. Heâs caught fully by surprise, a strangled moan swallowed up in your frenzied fit of passion. Youâre the one controlling the kiss, forcing him to roll on his back so you can grind down on the sizable erection in his jeans. The friction from the fabric of your lace underwear and the rough denim of his jeans are an undefeated combination against your puffy clit, sending flood after flood of your wetness to pool between your legs.
The kisses are sloppy. Your hands are everywhere; in his hair, yanking his shirt for dear life. His hands cup your face before entwining in your hair then theyâre around your neck, unable to keep them still because heâd like to feel every part of you just as you wish to do to him. Every so often growls would escape your lips as you grind harder and harder against him.
âFuck, Eddie, you feel so fucking good.â You whisper desperately into his ear.
âSo do you, sugar. Ainât even inside you yet and Iâm already about to blow.â He groans, sweaty forehead pressed against your own.
âCan I fuck you, Mr. Munson?â You plead.
And the whine Eddie lets out confirms that it wonât be happening anytime soon. You look between your bodies, seeing the dark, wet patch on his jeans then back up at him.
Heâs obviously embarrassed. âIâm sorry. Itâs been a while.â
âThatâs okay. Um, this wasâŠthis was really spontaneous.â You donât immediately get off, wanting more and hoping heâd give you more so that he can make you cum, too.
Instead he grabs you by waist, lifting you off him in a hurry. âIâm sorry. I need toâ-this was a mistake.â
And once again, he leaves you to your thoughts. All you could do is stare as he grew smaller and smaller in the distance, while you began to feel smaller and smaller on the inside.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x you#stranger things#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x female reader#beefy!eddie munson#farmer!eddie munson#joseph quinn x reader#joseph quinn fanfiction#chocolate button eyes#eddie my baby#older!eddie munson x reader smut#mean!reader#bratty!reader#stranger things au
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~Drunk Boys~
The boys from 141 get drunk and you have to pick them up.
Warning: Drunk, violence.
Parts inspired from New Girl. If you know you know.
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One lovely evening you sat in your little office space. The boys had headed off quite some time ago for a few drinks. Your usual Friday night outing didn't include you that time because of a few reports you had put off. It was pulling onto 1am when your phone started to ring. It was a new number you had never seen before.
âHello, this is Y/N speaking,â you said.
âHey uh doc?â It was Gaz voice that came through the call.Â
âGaz?â you asked.
âWho you talking to?â you could hear Jonny ask in the background.
âI'm talking to doc,â Gaz stated.
âOh, why?â Jonny whispered.
âI don't know,â Gaz murmured back. It didn't take a detective to establish by their slurred tones that they were drunk.
âGaz, why are you calling me from a random number?â you asked.
âI don't know. Our phones got wet,â he explained.
âOur?â you asked.
âYeah Me, Soap, Ghost and Price,â he stated with a sassy tone, as if it was your fault for not knowing.Â
âSo you fucked you phones?â you asked.
âYeah,â Gaz nodded.
âAnd you called me, why?â you asked. There was silence for a bit.
âCaptain, why am I calling Doc again?â Gaz asked.
âBecause we lost the fucking car and we need a lift back to base,â Price snapped in the distance.
âBecause we lost the fucking car and we need a lift back to base,â Gaz tone was much calmer and sweeter than Prices. A small smile worked its way onto your face.
âAlright, ill be there soon. Where are you?â you asked, making your way to the door.
âNot at the base,â Gaz said.
âI know that Gaz. Where are you now?â It was like talking to a toddler.
âOh, We're at McDonalds,â he said before the line went dead. There were three McDonalds in the town. You thought they would be at the one closest to the bar. You were right. You were about to pull into the car park when you paused. Alittle down the street, right under the McDonalds sign sat four blobs. Driving up to it, you slammed on the brakes at what you saw.Â
Price was sitting with his arms crossed. His hat looked to have been ripped in half and then shakily put back together with some staples, a tuft of his hair sticking out the top. Next to him Ghost with a traffic cone on his head and one tucked in his lap as he sat cross-legged. He was hugging it, and the one in his lap had been drawn on, and made up to look like a person, with a hat and a bikini loosely tied around it. One of his jacket sleeves was missing as if it had been torn clean off. Jonny sat next to him shirtless, with a patch of hair missing from his chest. Over it a pink glittery 21st birthday sash. His mohawk sprinkled with glitter and a kilt. Gaz had left in a pair of jeans, he was now in a pair of pink booty shorts that you would place money on that had some word like bitch or booty on the back of bedazzled gems. A crown of beer cans ducked taped around his head compelled the fit. All about them, strewn across the floor was a variety of McDonald's food, ranging from ice-creams to nuggets. They were all happily munching away. And they were all missing their left shoe?
You got out of the car phone at the ready.
âSay cheese boys,â you called. Drunkenly, they all looked up in your general direction, taking a photo. You chuckled, pocketing your phone and hands as you looked over them all. Wondering what the hell happened to them.Â
âAh, it's doc. What are you doing here, lovey?â Jonny asked in excitement, throwing his hands to the air.
âI'm here to pick you boys up,â you said.
âPah, no we're alright. We've still got to go to another bar. Ain't that right LT?â Jonny asked, waving you away.
âAye. I want another lager,â Ghost stated defiantly.
âI think you boys have had enough. Just look at the state of ya,â you gestured to them.Â
âWow, body shaming. Shame on you Y/N,â Gaz slurred, shaking his head disappointingly.
âYour all wet. Each of you has a piece of clothing damaged and all of you haven't even made eye contact with me yet,â you explained. Instantly, they all turned to stare into your eyes.
âBull shit,â Jonny hiccuped before taking a bite of his burger.Â
âSargent, Report,â Price spoke up. You paused, considering his words as he stared down at the road in front of him.
âReport sir?â you asked. He nodded, tipping forward ever so slightly. Your eyes widened. He was absolutely plastered. They all were.Â
âYour all drunk as fuck,â you said simply, your sentence finishing in a bewilder chuckle. The boys could hold their liquer, hell you have ever seen Gaz and Jonny drunk.Â
âAm not,â Jonnys offended tone had you laughing again.
âOf sorry. My mistake, your only eating ice cream burger because you want to,â you jabbed you fingers at the burger in his hands. The ice cream was dripping down his arms and it looked like he had stacked nuggets, chips and a shit ton of cheese into the mix.
âAs a matter of fact I did want to,â he said moving his hand about, the contents of the burger slopping onto the ground.
âAwww,â Jonny whined.
âFive second rule bruv,â Gaz said reaching bow to pick up a handful of the mess reconstructing the burger and handing it back to Jonny.
âThanks Gaz,â Jonny seemed genuinely thankful. You held back a gag as he moved it to his mouth.
âDon't eat that,â you warned. You sure as hell didn't want him getting sick of all the gems that were now thrown into the burger mix.Â
âI'll do what I want to do, because I can do whatever I want to do because I can do it,â he slurred.
âJonny you eat that burger and I'll never speak to you again,â you proposed the ultimatum. He paused, pondering for a moment.
âWhat if I drink it?â he asked.
âYour gonna drink a burger?â you asked raising an eyebrow.
âAye,â he nodded confidently.
âI bet you a tenner you can't,â Price spoke up. The poor man looked to be dozing in and out of sleep.
âI'll take that bet,â Jonny said.
âJonny that was on the road,â you pleaded.
âAnd?â he asked.
âPut it down,â you ordered sternly. With a grumble, he chucked the burger down like a toddler throwing a tantrum. The boys held back their giggles. You heard that right giggle. And it was stared by none other than the man himself. Price. He was giggling. The high-pitched noise sounded off coming from him.
âOhhhhhhhh mums mad at you,â Gaz joked, nudging his side.
âSod off,â Jonny grumbled.
âAlright whereâs the phone you called me from?â you asked.
âWhy?â Gaz questioned.
âBecause you called me from a random number, which means you had someone elseâs phone. By the state of you lot I wouldn't be surprised if you stole it,â you explained.
âRight, it's over there,â Gaz grabbed his thumb to the phone booth. You first thought they had called you from it, but when you noticed the little pink box, you walked up to it to get a closer look. It was an iPhone. In a pink case, it was cracked to kingdom come and they had somehow lodged it in the credit card reader. You tried tugging it out to no avail. What you did find was Gazâs phone propped up on the little stand with his contacts open with your name and number on it. Deciding not to question the backwards thinking that led them there you pocketed Gazâs phone, walking back to the boys.
âAlright, I want the truth ok. What happened?â you asked a little concerned.
âMeet up with some airforce boys. They tried to act all high and mighty,â Price shrugged.
âSaid they could drink more than us,â Ghost added.
âWe had to prove them wrong,â Jonny explained.
âAnd we did. But then they brought out, Um what was it called?â Gaz clicked his fingers.Â
âAbstanance,â Jonny proclaimed proudly.Â
âAbsinthe?â you asked in shock.
âHell yeah, drunk those fuckers under the table.â Ghost nodded.
âDunk yourselves under the table by the looks of it. Why are you wet? And what the fuck happened to ya shoes?â you asked.
âThe ducks were drowning,â Gaz stated simply.
âAnd there was a bar that takes your shoe when you start a tab. It's to prevent running out without payed your tab,â Jonny added.
âSo you all rescued ducks and ran out on a tab?â you asked. The boys pondered for a moment realized how bad it sounded.Â
âYes,â Ghost nodded.
âNo,â the rest of them said.Â
âAnd only Ghost rescued the ducks, I fell in, Gaz tried to rescue me but couldn't and Price saved us both,â Jonny explained as if it fixed it all.
âYou shouldn't have been hanging around ponds this drunk. It's dangerous,â you murmured.
âFor your information, it wasn't a pond,â Gaz stated defensively.
âOh yeah, what was it?â you cooed back.
âIt was the fountain,â he pointed across the way into the park where a fountain was lit up. A knee deep fountain.Â
âRight, get in the car. Come on,â the boys groaned.
âWe can't,â Gaz said.
âAnd why not?â you asked.
âCause,â he trailed off. âLegs anât working,â he finished. The boys all gave him approving nodds thinking his excuse was to tire brilliance.
âWell, I guess I'll just help you. Come on,â you helped Gaz up first, sliding him into the back of the car.Â
âI don't wanna go,â Jonny whined.
âI know big guy,â you cooed. Sliding him in next to Gaz, you shook your head when they started giggling.Â
âYour turn,â you gestured Ghost up.Â
âAm I under arrest?â he asked.
âWhat? No,â you shook your head.
âOh really. Seemed like it.â his hint of sass had you pointing to the car. With a grumble he got up and walked to the car, slipping into the middle seat. You frowned, ducking your head to see the other door open, Jonny now sitting at the far side and Gaz nowhere to be seen. Looking back to the makeshift picnic, you saw him back at the phone booth.
âFor fuckâs sake, Stay,â you order the two in the car. Walking up to him, you frowned as he held the phone up to his ear.
âWhat you doing Gaz?â you asked.
âRingling Doc. She needs to come pick us up,â he said whole heartedly forgetting that you were there already. With a huffed you took him by the arms, pulling him back. You sighed when you saw Ghost and Jonny sitting back on the curb happily munching away. You sat Gaz in the back of the car, deciding to lock the back door this time. You then filed in Jonny than Ghost. Closing the door behind them, you made your way back to Price.
âCome on sir,â you called softly. He looked up to you and with the biggest beaming brightest smile, and he giggled. God you had never seen anything more pure.
âYour sweet Doc,â he said.Â
âThank You sir. Now can you get in the car please,â you begged.Â
âYes Maâam,â he nodded, suddenly shooting to his feet. And with that, he toppled back like a domino landing in the bush.
âChrist,â You scrambled to get him out, practically carrying him to the car. Putting him in the driver's seat you buckled him in. When your head rose to make sure the boys were all in you were met by empty back seats.Â
âDoc, we can't leave the boys,â Price stated pointing out the window. Where the three men were gathered around a tree relieving themselves. Only Gaz seemed to just be standing there and Jonny appeared to be pissing on Ghost's boot.
âGet in the car!â You called out the window. Begrudgingly, they all piled back in.Â
âHang on, I need a piss,â Price spoke up just as they all buckled in. With a tired sigh you patiently waited. Then when he returned you drove off.Â
âWait, a minute, this ain't the way home,â Gaz suddenly pointed out.
âYes I know. I think I know the bar you're talking about. We're going to go back there and pay your tab and get your shoes back. The higher ups would have a field day if you guys got in trouble,â you explained. Pulling up to the bar, you parked the car.
âWait this is a police station,â Jonny pointed out. Yes, on the other side of the street, there was a police station.Â
âWe should go fight that police officer,â Ghost suggested.
âWhat? What police officer?â you asked.
âThe one we stole this from,â Gaz said, pulling a taser gun that had been tucked in the back of his pants.
âYou stole from a police officer!â you exclaimed.
âFirst of all he was an absolute piss head. A real fucker,â Price spoke up in a logical tone.
âYeah, he tried to arrest Gaz,â Ghost added.
âPrick,â Gaz grumbled.
âLet's do this Lads,â Price grinned at the rest of them. Like a toddler hyped up on sugar.
âActually, I think that might be a bad idea,â Gaz spoke up.
âGaz,â Price called and Gaz hummed in response.
âI got two of these and you got two of those. And we got whatever da fuck Ghost is, lets go,â he held up two fists before stepping out of the car.
âNo NO nonononono,â you reached over trying to grab at Price, but he was already gone.
âI swear to god if any of you move I'll give you tetanus shots in the morning,â you threw the threat back at the remaining men in the car. The tetanus shot was one of the worst shots you could get, and they all had bad memories of it. So at the threat, they quickly did their seat belts back up.Â
âChrist,â you hissed, quickly hopping out of the car when you saw Price walk up to an officer hanging around outside.
While you were trying to deescalate the situation and explain to the cop why there was a drunk man trying to pick a fight, the boys were watching from the car.Â
âShe's scary,â Gaz whispered.
âWhat a fucking woman,â Ghost grumbled.
âI think I'm gonna ask her out,â Jonny declared. Ghost head snapped around faster than light.
âFuck off,â he grumbled.
âDon't tell me what to do,â Jonny rumbled back.
âI bagsed her. You can't do shit,â Ghost said.
âFucking when?â Jonny asked.
âJust then,â Ghost stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
âYou can't bags a woman,â Gaz interjected.
âI know, women are strong beautiful beings to be respected and we are to respect their choices,â Ghost said, all the boys agreeing.
âBut I still bags her,â he added at the end.Â
âFuck you Brit. If you like her, do something bout it!â Jonny snapped his blink slightly delayed.Â
âSuck a cock scotsman,â Ghost snapped back.
âDo-Do you think you can beat me in a physical altercation of feisty cuffs?â Jonny fumbled with his words, raising his fists slightly. His aim was to star threateningly at his face but he missed the mark slightly staring at his knee. âI will beat you in a way you have NEver Beeenn beaten before,â Ghost stared at Jonnyâs unfocused gaze. Before casually reaching over and giving him a gentle backhanded tap on his face.Â
âOHHHHHH,â Gaz called from his middle seat.
âDAMMIT!â Jonny explained as if he had just received a full on punch but didn't move in the slightest.
âYou just got hit in the face lad,â Gaz giggle.
âHit me again!â Jonny dared. So Ghost did, repeating the same action. Only it didn't seem to compute in Jonny mind the second time. âI dare you, you put your hands on me one more time, Cause I swear, it will be an, I will-â Ghost reached over his wrist wrapping around the back of Jonny neck.
âCome closer so I can put you in a choke hold,â Ghost asked politely.
âNo!â Jonny declared going to hit back only for his hand to completely miss and fall to the side harmlessly. The two fumbled in the back of the car not really accomplishing anything.
âGuys, look he's gettin the cop!â Gaz announced. They all looked out the car window to see the cop walk off.
You had tried and failed to calm them down. Price had demanded to see the cop that tried to arrest Gaz. The boys all piled out of the car, some more graceful than others, before rushing up to you.
âOh god no, get back in the car please!â you begged.
âGotta get loose,â Jonny stated, starting to do jumping jacks.
âGuys Doc is right. We should go,â Gaz stated.
âPussy,â that one word from Ghost was all it took for Gaz to shrug his jacket off and start stretching.
âYou guys are really gonna fight a cop!?â you asked, bewildered by it all.Â
âYes we are!â Jonny yelled confidently.
âNo you're not!â You yelled. You couldn't believe it. It was like all common sense had been turned off in their heads.
âOhhh Jonnyâs in trouble,â Gaz grinned.
âFuck you,â Jonny called reaching out to try and give Gaz a slight tap on the nuts.
âDont touch my balls!â Gaz cried.Â
âYeah Jonny,â Ghost chuckled, amused by it all only for Jonny to try and hit his. Bewildered, you were utterly bewildered as you saw the group of highly trained soldiers all become involved in what you assumed was a game of hit the dick. They were all relatively bent over trying to protect their jewels while simultaneously trying to hit each other. Even price had been pulled into it.
âGuys come on,â you begged.Â
âHe touched my penis!â Jonny cried in a high-pitched voice.
âDon't touch my penis!â Gaz screamed right back.Â
âCan I help you boys?â A cop walked out of the station.
âOfficer. Hi. I am so sorry about them there just a little drunk, I'll get them home safely,â you quickly interjected yourself between them.
âIt's the cop!â Jonny declared pointing at him. The cop was beyond confused. Because for one, he had never seen the boys before in his life.Â
The truth of the story was that it was a comply different cop that had tried to arrest Gaz. They looked similar, and that was about it. And the only reason why he was trying to arrest Gaz was because he had stolen his taser gun.
But the boys could hardly see straight, so when they heard the cop was there, they trusted his words comply.Â
âCome on, let's go!â Jonny declared as they all crowded around the poor man. Well, you tried to keep them back trying to speak over their taunts for a fight. The cop spoke into his radio, requesting backup.
âPlease, this is all a big misunderstanding. They're actually really nice blokes,â your words fell on deaf ears.
âPig!â Ghost said.
âOh look, the little boy needs back up. We can take em,â Gaz said.
âIf Laswell finds out about this, sheâll have your heads!â Your yell instantly had the boys silent.
âFUCKEN RUN!â Price ordered the fear filling them. Instantly they took off down the street.
âSerpentine!â Gaz yelled had them all running in a squiggly line. Which had Jonny and Gaz running into each other. Ghost even knocked his head on a low post not even flinching as he kept on running. That left you standing there out the front of the police station with a group of police officers. And you all watched as the boys disappeared down the street.Â
âSo um that,â you trailed off, pointing to them. âI uh,â
âI have no explanation for that,â you whispered in defeat.Â
When you found Gaz he was still running down the street.
âGAZ GET IN THE CAR!â you yelled out the window.
âFUCK THE POLICE! FUCK POLICE WOMEN!â he yelled.
âWHAT!?â you yelled. He instantly stopped running up to the car window.
âI have nothing against women, officers. I understand how my words were terrible. I just heard you were a woman and everyone calls you all policemen so I wanted to be inclusive but I realize I was just singling you out,â he explained drunkenly.
âGaz I'm not a police woman. Get in the fucken car,â you ordered.
âYou can't fool me. FUCK POLICE WOMEN!â he yelled, taking off sprinting again.Â
âFuck this,â you grunted slamming on the breaks and jumping out he car. Gaz wasn't really sure what happened but one moment he was running down the street and the next he was in the back of the car the seat belt cut and tied around his hands and feet.
The others were a bit harder to find. Price was up a fucking willow tree. Getting him out of the tree was a fucking mission. You ended up just throwing random stuff at him until he eventually fell out. You used branches to tie him up and put him in the car as well. Finding Soap was a lucky find. You saw him stumbling down the street and when you called out to him he rushed into a club. As you walked in you realized quickly that you wouldn't have much luck finding him. It was packed to the brim and you couldn't see over anyone's heads. So you make your way up to the DJ booth.
âHi, I'm trying to find a drunk scotsman. He's a vet. Do you mind?â you asked, gesturing to the microphone.
âAnything for our boys,â he said, handing it over.
âIf you're a Scot and wearing a kilt, come up on stage for your prize!â Everyone cheered as you tucked yourself behind the DJ stand. Jonny walked up on stage basking in the cheers, raising his hands high in the air.Â
And then you crash tackled him to the floor, tying him up with some power cords.
âFucks sake Jonny,â you grunted after you had lugged his body out of the club and into the car.Â
âWow, they caught you before me, Captain. I'm surprised,â Jonny grinned smugly. You spent the next hour searching for Simon. You were about to give up when you decided to ring his phone. If Gazâs still worked there was a chance his did too. Hearing the ringing you frowned. It wasn't just coming from your phone. Looking back to the boys, you could hear the muffled sound.
âHello?â Ghost asked through the phone. His actual voice sounded once again from the back. Getting out of the car, you rounded it before pulling the boot open. There Ghost lay, his large body comedically tucked into the back, the Traffic cone still in his arms.
âHow long have you been in there?â you asked.
âSince you caught Gaz,â he stated simply. With a deep sigh you gestured him out of the back. You knew you didn't need to tie him up and helped him to the front seat. Locking the doors, you started to drive everyone back to base.
âBoys, we've been kidnapped,â Price stated slowly.Â
âLike hell we have,â Jonny whispered back.
âWhat are you boys whispering about back there?â You asked. With your eyes on the busy road, you failed to see them untie themselves and jimmy the lock.
âRONDEVU AT THE PUB BOYS!â Price ordered. Instantly, they all threw themselves out of the car and legged it in opposite directions. You had slammed on the brakes once they had done it. You watched them run, letting your tired head fall to the steering wheel.
âGive me strength,â you pleaded. This time you weren't so lucky in finding them.Â
What happened was your phone rang again. From a new number.
âHello?â you already knew who it was.
âHey doc. Can you come pick us up? We lost the car,â Gaz's voice wafted through.
âSure where are you? You asked.
âThe police station,â he whispered bashfully.
So there you were back at the police station. You smiled bashfully at the officers the boys had tried to fight. Luckily for them you were a sweet talker. And the fact that they were military helped as well. They would have been charged with theft of a police officer and walking out on a tab. But you returned the taser gun, which hadn't been discharged. And you paid the tab with a generous tip getting their boots back in the process. The boys embarrassingly walked out of the station looking like puppies that had just been kicked.Â
âAre you mad at us?â Jonny asked.
âNot mad, Just disappointed,â you shook your head. For the four drunk men the sentence was devastating, making them drop their head in guilt. A tiny smile pulled at your lips.
âCome on, let's get you home,â you ruffled Jonny's hair gently pulling them all out of the police station.
âCan we get McDonalds on the way home?â Gaz asked.
âI want an ice cream,â Price spoke up.
âSure, why not?â
This time, the drive was much more peaceful. When you got back, you made sure they were all changed, well hydrated and tucked into bed. Which was incredibly hard because they had hit the pass out drunk stage. Ghost was the hardest. You managed to get him on the bed and his shirt and jacket off relatively easily. You paused momentarily as you saw his bare upper body. God damn the greek sculptures could take pointers from him. Your gaze softened as you saw all the scars and bullet holes that lined the ripples of his muscle. He's been through a lot. You felt slightly perverted as you undid his pants. Only they were wet and long, so you stood there yanking at them pulling them off inch by inch. Now you were using your whole body to get those bad boys off, so it didn't surprise you when you flew halfway across the room when you finally got them off. Breathing heavily, you gently lifted his legs back onto the bed. Grabbing the blanket, you tucked it up to his chin, your hand brushing against the wet mask. While the room was heated, it was still cold. Plus, you couldn't tell if it was water or blood from the hit that was on the top.Â
âAlright Simon, I'm gonna take off your mask. But I'm gonna close my eyes so don't worry. I just don't want you waterboarding yourself in your sleep,â you whispered. He gave no response. With a deep breath, you reached up and closed your eyes. Your hands gathered the material at the bottom of the fabric and started rolling it up. In your focus you hadn't noticed Simon's eyes snap open at the movement. His hand had almost snapped around your wrist, only stopping when he saw your eyes closed. Slowly, he let his hand fall as you pulled the mask fully off.Â
âAlright, now let's see if you did any damage to that head of yours?â you asked. Your hands brushed away his hair from his face, humming at the loose curls. His heart stirred as he stared at you, loving the blissful feeling your hands gave him as they moved across his face. When you were happy that it was only a lump he had sustained a small giggle left on your lips.
âThat's gonna be a shiner mate,â you whispered.
He watched as your smile dropped slightly when her thumb brushed over a scar. You got a weird sense of DeJa'Vu as you thumb gently traced the scar. So many scars. Life certainly hadn't been kind to him.
"What am I gonna do with you huh?" you asked softly. Brushing his hair back once again, you stood.
âNight Simon,â you whispered before blindly making your way out the room. Simon watched the door close before looking up at the ceiling. His hand clasped over his rapidly beating heart as he came to the sudden realization.Â
He was absolutely smitten for the Doc.
âFuck,â he grunted.
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=COD Master List Here=
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#141 x reader#141 x you#cod 141#cod ghost#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost x reader#task force 141#tf 141#simon riley x reader#cod#ghost cod#cod x reader#call of duty
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title: just the three of us
author: sciencebecameouraddiction
fandom: hazbin hotel
rating: G
genre: romance, fluff
pairing: alastor x reader x lucifer (radioapple x reader)
summary: when someone destroys part of the new hotel, specifically aiming for charlie, the age old question of where will everyone sleep is asked. donât worry, alastor and lucifer have a plan⊠surprisingly.
After the last extermination fight and the newly renovated hotel, sinners flocked to the hotel in droves. To the point that tonight, as you checked the last person in, there were no more rooms.
âThat is going to be a problem as we get further alongâŠâ you murmur, reshuffling the paperwork you needed to file.
âWhat is a problem, my dear?â Alastorâs voice suddenly rang out near the checkin counter and you turned to look at him, not reacting to his sudden appearance as he had done this so many times, you were used to it. You looked at him seeing him dressed down, jacket gone, for the night and blushed, quickly turning away, busying yourself with fixing the paperwork.
âWeâre all out of rooms tonight Alastor. Itâll be an issue because eventually we may need to expand the hotel to fit everyone.â You explained.
âHmmmmâŠâ Alastor glanced over to Lucifer who was fixing a drape for some reason as you turned back to Alastor. âThat will be his problem then.â He smiled at you and you gave him a thumbs up, stashing the paperwork in the right drawer and locking it up. You handed the keys to Alastor and walked around the counter and sighed.
âI am so excited to-â You were suddenly cut off as Charlie came running down the stairs, calling your name and crying a bunch of âIâm so sorry!â with it. She collided against you and hugged you and you hugged her in return on instinct.
âCharlie, whatâs up?â You ask, worried for her as she keeps apologizing.
âCharlie, come now. We canât help if we donât know whatâs happened.â Alastor said, as gently as Alastor could. You look at Alastor and then at Lucifer who had joined you hearing his daughter wailing.
âI-They-Your room!â Charlie got out, still crying.
âOkay. Whatâs wrong with my room Char?â You ask gently, holding her shoulders concerned.
âItâs destroyed!â She cries, Vaggie now coming down the staircase out of breath.
âYeah, half of the 30th floor is gone. Everyoneâs okay, Fat Nuggets is safe too. But itâs gone.â Vaggie explained.
âDoes that include-â Alastor begins and stops when Vaggie nods her head.
âIt includes your room too Alastor.â Vaggie said, looking at Alastor as annoyance shined across his face.
âWho did this?â Alastor ground out.
âItâs nothing I canât fix!â Lucifer exclaimed and Charlie cried harder. You looked at Lucifer and smiled as a way to say âthank youâ for trying to fix whatever was happening, his eyes widening a bit and a blush staining his cheeks. Vaggie looked and landed on you as the best person to talk to as Alastor was seething to your right.
âSo, why canât Lucifer fix the floor Vaggie?â You ask, consoling Charlie as Lucifer looked confused at what you said, opening his mouth to explain, he just said he could fix it.
âThe type of⊠magic⊠that is up there⊠needs to dissipate before anyone can go near it again.â Vaggie explained. Lucifer and Alastor squinted at Vaggie, trying to understand.
âWhat happened?â You ask, more confused than anything.
âSomeone left something for Charlie, a gift, and when she picked it up I heard ticking so I threw it-â Vaggie started, Lucifer gasping and his hand now resting on Charlieâs head protectively.
âInto my room?â You ask.
âYeah,â Vaggie nodded. âI knew you werenât in there. I got everyone out of that side and when it went off, well, a very strong aphrodisiac, itâs pink so Iâm going to take a guess there, was set loose. Everyoneâs fine, no ones affected and everyone above the floor has been given guidance to keep their windows shut and to alert us if they feel any symptoms. But it took out part of the building and itâs lingering. We were able to contain it so it wonât seep into the hotel either.â Alastorâs face with a still ever present smile looked disgusted and displeased.
âThat was intended to hurt you and Charlie then, you know that?â You ask, clutching Charlie tighter, looking at Lucifer whose face looked grim.
âI know. It means that they know what floor weâre on, and what room was ours.â Vaggie confirmed.
âWeâll need to make better schematics when we rebuild.â Alastor glanced at Lucifer, pointedly staring at him.
âRegardless, they knew what floor the staff was on too, it was to take all of us out. Weâll need to put protections in place.â You murmur as you guide Charlie to the couch. âWeâll have to deal with it in the morning though. Are there protections that can be put on the hotel and specifically staff?â You turn to ask Lucifer and Alastor. They both nod, saying yes at the same time and then eyeing eachother.
âOkay. Please, work together to put them in place.â Both nodded and went off discussing amongst themselves âVaggie, do we have places for those displaced?â You ask, your hand absent mindedly petting Charlieâs head.
âEveryone except for Husk, Angel, myself, Charlie, Pentious and Nifty.â Vaggie explained.
âMyself and Alastor as well.â I add and Vaggie nods. Suddenly, both Alastor and Lucifer come back, and Alastor suggests, âWhy donât Husker, Angel, Charlie, Pentious and Nifty as well as yourself, Vaggie, sleep in the common area here. We can create it as a room for now until we can access the damage tomorrow.â
âWhat about our rooms and sleeping places, Alastor?â You ask, looking at him like heâd gone off his rocker.
âOh, you can come sleep in my quarters!â Lucifer pipes up, smiling. No one else seems to feel that Alastor or Luciferâs sudden agreement on this was strange. You donât have time to think about it though as the crew comes down and Vaggie explains the proposition. There are cheers of âmovie nightâ and running to grab snacks.
You look down to see Charlie gone and look up to see her and Lucifer talking. You sigh, feeling the day suddenly catch up to you, when you feel Alastor murmur to you, âWhy donât you go upstairs?â You look to him confused.
âGo on little doe, weâll get everyone situated down here. Youâre off duty now.â Alastor says pushing you toward the other staircase. You sigh, thinking Alastor is acting weird and wave as those in the common area yell good night, seemingly taking this turn of events well. You walk up the stairs, and feel exhausted from the day. Your mind wondering to who could have placed something like that up there.
You hesitate outside of the door to Luciferâs quarters, you know that he said yâall would be sleeping there but it still felt odd. You sighed and walked in, admiring how expansive it was before seeing a very comfy looking couch across from the bed. You snickered to yourself, knowing youâd be falling asleep in a matter of minutes and then Alastor and Lucifer would have to share a bed.
âWhatâs better than a get along shirt? A get along bed.â You chuckle as you collapse onto the couch and are swept off into a dreamless sleep.
ââââąââââąâââ
You slowly awake to arguing and whispers. You open your eyes to two pairs of eyes staring down at you. You yelp and then fall off the couch, landing on top of Lucifer. His cheeks aflame as he stared at you. You realize that your top is in his hands and thereâs a new top in Alastorâs hands. Both of them are in pajamas, and staring at you wide eyed.
âWhy am I undressed?â You ask confused.
âWell, you see⊠you looked uncomfortable and so we wanted to make you more comfortable and so we just grabbed new clothes for you and were going-â Lucifer started rambling before Alastor cut him off.
âWe wanted to ensure your comfort dear, so we were going to change you. We werenât looking at anything, gentlemanâs promise.â Alastor said, softer than he normally spoke. You, awake enough now, looked at both of them. The air in the room was tense and they both looked partially guilty, and while also anxious.
âI donât care if you were looking, jeez.â Their eyes widen at that. âI donât know why youâre being both, so weird.â You say, leaning over and grabbing the shirt from Alastor and then coming back to where you were sitting putting it on. You move around a bit and shimmy to get the shirt that is huge on you actually situated when suddenly Luciferâs hands go to your hips digging in and stop you moving. His breaths were heavy and his eyes lidded.
âPlease-â he breathed. âStop moving.â You looked down and realized you were straddling him as you yelped in shock and shot yourself over to Alastor, Lucifer whining at the loss of contact, as you accidentally land between Alastorâs legs, your upper back right against him. He grunts and you look up at him, his cheeks aflame a gorgeous red and you realize what youâve done again, so you leap away from both of them sitting on the floor near the edge of the couch.
âI am so so sorry. I am so sorry.â Youâre muttering and hold your head in your hands. Youâre quiet and canât even look at them, the pajama shirt they were handing you askew and your work pants still on. Suddenly, you feel a cool hand on your cheek, guiding you to look up. You see Lucifer who had crawled over to comfort you and Alastor still on the couch, blush evident on his cheeks.
âIf you wanted us so badly, you donât have to throw yourself at us.â Lucifer chuckled, seeing you curl further into yourself muttering apologies. âYouâre so smart you know that?â Lucifer murmured. His hand resting on your cheek now, thumb rubbing against your cheek bone, drawing your face to look at him. âYou knew our little plan down there⊠You knew something wasnât right.â he explains and your eyes widen.
âYour little plan⊠âourâ little plan⊠You worked together?â You ask incredulously. Lucifer and Alastor exchange a glance and then both chuckle.
âThat is what she would be worried about, hmmm.â Alastor said, looking at you both.
âI donât understand. Did you place something to ruin the hotel?â You say looking at them both like they are crazy.
âNo!â Alastor exclaimed.
âNo, no. Our plan after that happened, of sharing a room with you so we could talk. We wanted to do this in a different fashion but, you seem to have caught both our eyes, my duckling.â Lucifer explained and your eyes went wide.
âYou bothâŠâ You trailed off not finishing the thought. âSeriously? Youâre doing this right now?â You ask both of them. They both nod and you blanch.
âStrike while the ironâs hot and all that.â Alastor quips. You look at both of them, your heart feeling like it would burst and then your stomach drops coming to a realization they may want you to choose between them.
âIâm not choosing between either of you, nor will I allow this to be a competition. I value our friendships far too much for that, so if this is what this is, Iâll be going down with the others.â You say as you try and get up. Lucifer stops you though as Alastor gently places his hand on your shoulder, stopping you and explains, âYou misunderstand us dear. We donât want you to choose. We talked about it and we would both like to date you⊠simultaneously.â Alastor explained. Lucifer nods as they both watch your expression. You blink a few times, your mind not processing.
âWhy me? Iâm just⊠me. Iâm a sinner. Iâm not even an overlord. No one important.â You murmur, not looking at them again. Thereâs a sigh and Alastor lifts your face.
âYouâre important to me, chĂšre.â He whispers, almost like if he didnât say it out loud then no one else could hear the weakness he was admitting to.
âYouâre very important to me.â Lucifer says, guiding you to look at him as you realize that both Alastor and Luciferâs fingers were interlocked on your chin and your heart fluttered. âYou helped me see the light, when all I saw was a dark cage. You and Charlie did that.â He explains, his eyes brilliant in conviction and leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth. You gasp as his eyes widen and he looks a bit sheepish while Alastor stared accusingly at Lucifer.
âAnd Al, youâre okay with this?â You ask. âI donât want anything to make you-either of you really, but I think Lucifer would be more open to all of this in this situation- but I donât want to make you uncomfortable. Or this make you uncomfortable. Or anything. And honestly, Iâd rather go downstairs and pretend this didnât happen, if you both were uncomfortable because again I value your friendship and you both mean a lot to me-â You ramble on until Alastor puts his hand over your mouth, stopping your words, your cheeks blazing at the proximity.
âIf I wasnât comfortable, I wouldnât be here right now.â Alastor asks, finally sitting on the floor with both you and Lucifer, Alastor kneeling in front of you and bending down a bit.
âAre you comfortable with this idea though?â Lucifer asked, his hand trailing to yours. âYouâve spoke about our comfort-which I am okay with all of this, surprisinglyâŠâ Lucifer says eyeing Alastor. âBut are you okay with this? All three of us being together?â
âWell, I mean, itâs kind of sudden, but I would be lying if I said I didnât like you both. Quite honestly it left me desperately hopeless because I couldnât just choose either of you. Thatâs been going on for like at least six months though.â Both pairs of eyes widen looking at you. âBut what about this?â You ask motioning between them. âI have to be honest when this is probably the most surprising revelation of the whole evening.â
âYou know what they say, hate makes the heart grow fond.â Alastor smiles sarcastically at Lucifer.
âThatâs not-never mindâŠâ Lucifer looks at you. âWe realized about a month ago that we respected eachother more than what we had let on, and in that conversation we both revealed to each other that we cared for you.. amongst other things.â Lucifer explained, looking at Alastor, a red tinge on his cheeks and started getting up, you looked at him confused, but he offered both you and Alastor a hand. Both you and Alastor grabbed Luciferâs hands and got up, as Lucifer continued talking. âWhiskey does wonders on getting people to talk. So, we then wanted to know if there was an opportunity that you reciprocated feelings for at least one of us.â
âColor us surprised when we realized you did, but for both of us.â Alastor added on as he followed the King of Hell to the bed.
âHow did you know though?â You ask genuinely curious as you hopped on the bed, looking at both of them. âI tried to not show anything at all.â
âA certain spider spilled.â Alastor grinned.
âAngel.â You looked unimpressed.
âWe then realized that we had a unique opportunity.â Alastor explained.
âSo, we decided that if we didnât have to make you choose and could-â Lucifer started.
âBoth court you, then it was the most ideal outcome. Especially considering if this became publicâŠâ Alastor trailed off, his grin becoming strained.
âIf this became public you would be target number one for a lot of people who wish to harm me or Alastor. Heaven and the Vees included. And Charlie is currently one of those targets as well.â Lucifer expanded on the point already made. âSo what better than to have two of the arguably most powerful men at your service?â Lucifer exclaimed at the end. Alastor eyed his theatrics and rolled his eyes.
âWell, I mean thatâs hot.â You say unthinkingly and then feel your face turn warm as you look up at both Alastor and Lucifer who are wide eyed. âI mean- uhâŠâ You clear your throat. âThatâs very very logical.â
Alastor laughs and leans over, invading your personal space. âIf you think thatâs⊠as you said, hot, we can show you something more.â His grin widens, mischievous. You hear a groan across from you and see Lucifer, blushing.
âThat was hot.â He says and you canât help but laugh. Which turns into a yawn.
âCome, let us sleep, we can talk more about this in the morning.â Alastor explains drawing you up to the pillows and laying on your right side.
âHey! I normally lay on the right side of the bed!â Lucifer exclaims. âYou KNOW that.â He looks actually upset as Alastor just switches the pillows.
âRight as rain then?â Alastor says sweetly, looking at Lucifer. You feel Alastorâs arm gently being placed on your waist. âIs this all right darling?â You nod and look at Lucifer. You open your arms for him and he smiles, cuddling up and facing you.
âCan we sleep like this every night?â You ask, half asleep, but feeling so comfortable.
âOf course dear.â Alastor murmurs.
âEvery single night.â Lucifer confirms. You feel Luciferâs hand reach around you and feel it move like he was petting something. You understood quickly as Alastor growled. He had pet Alastor.
âDonât pet me, you under grown circus clown.â Alastor threatens as he stiffens against you, feeling and hearing Lucifer chuckling.
âBoth of you behave.â You murmur, close to the sweet embrace of sleep, still half wondering how everything fit together so quickly, but you had once heard that when itâs right everything just comes together perfectly.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin lucifer#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel fluff#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel alastor x reader#alastor x reader#alastor/reader#lucifer x reader#lucifer x alastor x reader#radioapple x reader#alastor x lucifer x reader
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shadow of a heart | luke castellan.
pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader
summary: lukeâs last day at camp and everything that comes with it.
wc: 3.1k
warnings: book spoilers and (shocker) luke being a bit toxic but its all internally
a/n: this is based on cosmic love by florence and the machine !! aka one of my fave songs of all time. sorry ik i disappeared for a while :( i hope this fic is good enough as an apology <33 also i think it is impossible for me to not talk about the stars and sky in a fic âŠ
Luke could swear his heart was about to burst out of his chest. The sound of unclaimed children snoring and the sight of his siblings peacefully sleeping didnât seem to help him calm down, he ran a hand through his face before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He had to calm down. He couldnât risk fucking this day up. After all, waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and with his heart running a marathon wasnât the most pleasant way to kick off his last day at camp. His last day ever.Â
âDonât fail, Son of Hermes. Unless youâre a coward,â The Titanâs voice rang in his ears, causing his breathing to come out short and his chest to rise up and down at a fast pace. Luke gasped for air, pressing his free hand against his chest.
His body reacted faster than his brain. His mind blinding him with a fog of fear. Fear of not being strong enough for the Titan Lord. Fear of being too weak to take out the scorpion he currently had hidden under his bunk. Fear of losing his only family. Fear of losing you.Â
Luke had to take a second to remember the reasoning behind his actions. Reminding himself to not be scared, because why should he be scared? The gods should be scared, not him. If they hadnât neglected and abandoned their children he wouldnât have to do this. How dare they make him feel scared? After everything theyâve done to him, after all his losses, after all the times he had to press his hand against his mouth in the shower to muffle his sobs⊠why should Luke be scared?Â
His heart slowly returned to its normal pace and Luke took advantage of it to throw his bedsheets to the side and step out of his bunk, walking in careful steps towards the door, making sure to skip over the pieces of wood that always creaked under his feet. The six years he spent under the roof of the Hermes Cabin helping him learn the best ways to sneak out without getting caught.
 At least something good came out of it, he thought.Â
And even if he got caught, what would the children do? They admired him. He was The Strong and Brave Luke Castellan, the most skilled swordsman in the last three hundred years. The campers would be too intimidated to rat out their counselor.Â
The certainty of his dominance over the campers was enough to fuel his last steps and open the door. Luke was greeted with a starry sky and a quiet night, the wood nymphs not humming in their sleep for probably the first time ever. He thought this was fitting. Camp Half-Blood being quiet on his last day. Itâs almost as if the Camp was silently begging him not to leave.
Look at us. Look at how quiet it will be. Look at how dark the safe haven of the demigods will become. Youâll take the stars with you when you leave.Â
He shook his head, trying to get rid of the loud thoughts he was having. Luke had it all planned out, all he had to do was pack his things and leave.Â
No.
All he had to do was pack his things, make sure the Son of Poseidon dies, betray his sweet and brave little sister, betray you.. and leave.Â
Stay. Just stay. It wonât be dark if you stay. Donât take the stars away from your family.Â
Luke was sure he was going crazy. He probably has been for a long time but he became certain of it when he gave up everything just to prove his loyalty to The Titan Lord.Â
But despite all the rage he had inside him, a part of him wanted to run straight to the Big House and tell Chiron all about his wrongdoings. He wanted to get on his knees and repent for stealing The Master Bolt and The Helm of Darkness. He wanted to cry into your arms and reassure you of all the love he held for you.Â
How could a silent camp be so loud at the same time?Â
Luke walked to the combat arena and took Backbiter out of its hilt. The weight of it not even coming close to the weight he felt on his shoulders. His hands shook as he stared at the blade, the mix of tempered steel and celestial bronze making him feel sick. A feeling of impending doom settling in his gut.
âIt can kill mortals, demigods, and immortal divine beings,â He remembered his masterâs words. Lukeâs reflection on the blade stared back at him, his scar being more prominent than usual.
Was he cursed? Maybe he was doomed from the moment he was born.Â
He was fourteen years old when he stopped believing in salvation. The thought of there being a paradise where heâd end up happy and in peace seemed impossible to him, almost unimaginable. He had been fighting his entire life, not ever knowing peace or unconditional love a day of it. Sure, he assumed his mother loved him before she turned into... whatever she was now. But he stopped believing in the goodness of the world when he packed his bags at just nine years old and ran away from his house. After all, thatâs what it always was: a house, not ever really a home.Â
He was sixteen when he found his home. After two years of grieving Thaliaâs death and sobbing silently in the showersânot ever daring to let Annabeth see him as weak, he found his home. He met you. Someone who would listen when heâd ramble about his motherâs homemade sandwiches and cookies, the ones he always claimed were âKinda bad and didnât miss at all,â never forgetting to mention that his mentally unstable mother is probably so far gone by now and probably doesnât even remember the recipe.Â
Luke twirled the sword with his right hand, trying to get comfortable with the newfound weight. He stared at Backbiter, noticing how it even made him feel scared, the darkness it held made him want to sneak into the Forge and melt it down.Â
He tried to calm himself down by remembering one of the thousand times he shared stories about his mother while you silently listened.Â
âI mean it, she thought those sandwiches were the peak of cuisine and yeah, I was nine so I guess it probably was, but... really? She couldâve done so much better. I suppose I canât blame her for it, I would be a mediocre parent if someone like Hermes was co-parenting with me,â He explained while playing with your hair, his slender fingers moving in a delicate way while he kept his eyes on the campers risking their lives as they flew higher than they should with their pegasi.Â
You didnât miss the way he laced his tone with disgust when he said his fatherâs name, but you knew better than to reprimand him for it. âBeckendorf is totally going to fall off that damned horse,â You chose the safe answer, changing the direction of the conversation to something more lighthearted.Â
Luke snorted next to you before poking your side with his free hand, âYouâve been in this camp for three years and youâre still calling them horses? Gods, what would Zeus say?â You could hear his smile even though he tried to mask it in his faux angry statement.Â
âWhat would Zeus say? Iâm sure you would love to know, Castellan. You should ask him in two weeks,â You replied, turning your head to the left to face him and poking him in the chest. You took notice of Luke rolling his eyes when you reminded him of the most dreaded time of the year: The annual winter solstice visit to Mount Olympus.Â
âDonât tempt me, angel. Iâll even tell him my sweet girlfriend was the one who ordered me to ask him about it,â He said, before leaning closer to you and pressing a soft kiss against your forehead, his hand moving from your hair to your jaw, caressing it in the tender way he always did.Â
âAlright, alright. I get it, you win.âÂ
A bright smile made its way to Lukeâs face, âJust another day on the job.â
âJust another day of you being a hugeââ Your statement was interrupted by a loud thud and the sound of campers screaming, begging for a medic. The two of you were quick to stand up and run to the stables just to be greeted with the sight of a group of campers surrounding a clearly injured Charlie Beckendorf.Â
âFuck, Beckendorf. Iâll go check if there is a free spot in the infirmary for you but you need to be more careful when you play around with that horse.â You turned around, trying to ignore how worried you felt for your Son-of-Hephaestus friend, ready to sprint all the way to the Apollo Cabin.Â
You were a few feet away from the stables when you heard a yell coming from behind you, âItâs a Pegasus, baby!â
You screamed back a âShut the fuck up, Castellan!â and tried to ignore the wide eyes you got from the younger campers who heard the not so pleasant word come out of your mouth.Â
Luke didnât know how long he spent in the combat arena trying to get comfortable with the weight and darkness Backbiter had, but the sun was out and shining its bright rays down on Camp Half-Blood by the time he finally got tired. He panted and closed his eyes as he felt a wave of exhaustion take all over his body.Â
He just didnât know if he was exhausted from training or exhausted from keeping secrets from you.Â
âDonât get mad but that new sword looks kinda..â Your voice had him snapping his eyes open, the sight of you walking towards him making his body feel lighter. Luke felt so relieved to see you that he considered dropping down to his knees and breaking down crying over the weight he was carrying. If he hadnât been in a public space he might as well have done it.
âIt looks kinda?â He answered, running the back of his hand through his forehead, trying to get rid of the sweat trickling down from his hair.
âKinda shit,â You continued. âI think the sword being double edged is cool but itâs stupid to have that. When would we ever maim a mortal? The tempered steel is useless.âÂ
Luke gave you a small smile before looking away from you. When would we ever maim a mortal? Youâd be surprised, he thought. He looked up again to meet your eyes, a frown taking over your features. Lukeâs heart sank when he saw your worried demeanor.Â
âHey, whatâs wrong?â You whispered, walking closer to him and cupping his cheeks, running your thumb under his scar before leaning closer to him and kissing it.Â
Luke hummed at the sensation, he always felt less ashamed of himself and his actions whenever you kissed his scar or caressed it. He didnât understand why but he liked having the knowledge of someone not seeing the scar as proof of his blatant failure, he liked knowing you saw the scar as another beautiful part of himâa part you loved.Â
He turned his head to the left, kissing the palm of your hand and replying with a low, âDonât worry about it. You know how I always get when itâs the last day of Camp for the summer campers.âÂ
It wasnât a complete lie. Luke always felt sick whenever this day arrived because he knew half of the campers he met this year wouldnât be coming back. Theyâd be lucky if they even survived all the way to December.Â
âNo, Castellan. I will worry about it. If itâs important to you then it is important to me,â you answered, matching his low tone as you stared into his eyes, feeling captivated by the light they held inside of them. You were sure a star fell straight into them and thatâs why they always reflected light and love.
Luke sighed and took your hand that was cupping his cheek, intertwining it with his. âFuck, Iâm going to miss you so much,â he whispered, almost as if he was talking to himself.Â
âYou do know Iâll come back to camp for Christmas, right? Plus, we can Iris Message whenever you want. You donât have to miss me, Luke,â you reminded him. Luke almost keeled over and vomited at the knowledge of you thinking youâll see him again in Camp.Â
âI always miss you, angel. Iâm even missing you right now,â Luke answered, leaning down to steal a quick kiss just to be stopped by a hand pressed to his chest. âWhat the fuck?â
âYouâre sweaty as shit, Castellan. Go take a shower and maybe Iâll let you kiss me when youâre done.â That was enough motivation for Luke to mutter an annoyed âFine,â and walk to the showers.Â
Luke spent more time under the showerhead than usual. It was his last day at camp, he reminded himself. He deserved to take a long cold shower without the worry of Mr. D getting mad at him for âWasting the cold water on just himself.â He could use all the water he wanted because he was never going to step a foot inside this place ever again.Â
Plus, he could use this alone time to think. Think about the finality today will bring. An end to his years at camp. An end to his loyalty to the gods. An end to his bond with Annabeth. An end to his relationship with you.
Thatâs probably what scares him the mostâthe thought of you deciding to go against him. He doesn't know if he should let you know about the things that were bound to happen tonight or if he should just keep you in the dark.Â
Two frightening options: Bringing you to the light and showing his true self to you or keeping you in the shadows.. never fully knowing how broken and rotten he truly is.Â
He tried to not think about the second option for too long. Because even if you did find out and he went through with Kronosâs plan causing the sky to remain starless forever, he knew you would choose to stay in the shadows for him. He trusted you and knew you would rather stay in the darkness than go against him.
The rest of his day went by faster than he wanted. He sparred with a few campers, got used to Backbiterâs weight by fighting some training dummies in the combat arena, spent time with his siblings, and sat next to you in the dining pavilion. It all seemed like a normal day at Camp Half-Blood.Â
Well, at least thatâs how it felt until Percy Jackson came back from his visit to Mount Olympus.Â
The campers celebrated his return by lighting up fireworks and cheering his name every two seconds. It all made Luke feel sick. Why didnât he get treated like that when he came back from his quest? All he got was a scar, looks of pity, and dead quest companions.
 No heroic welcome and no fireworks. Just burnt shrouds, mourners, and a feeling of self-loathing taking all over him.Â
âHey,â your voice made him drag his gaze away from the green fireworks lighting up the night sky. He turned his head to the right, meeting your eyes and raising a brow.
âI am pretty sure you owe me a kiss,â he said in a playful tone, taking notice of how the light of the fireworks illuminated your face just right, making the light look like a halo around you.Â
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe it is impossible for there to be no light and for the sky to be starless. There will always be light as long as your heart is beating and your eyes are set on him. Â
âHuh, do I? I donât think I do,â you replied, biting your lip trying to prevent a smile from taking over your face.Â
âOh, shut up,â Luke answered, finally taking your face in his hands and kissing you. He almost fell to his knees at the feeling of your lips moving against his. The kiss was like a cometâs trail, leaving behind luminous particles of Lukeâs hidden secrets and unspoken desires.Â
You pulled away first, trying to catch your breath as you kept your eyes closed and your forehead pressed against his. âWhatâs wrong?â you whispered, asking him the same question you did in the morning.
âWhy do you ask?â Luke answered in between pants, his breathing uneven due to the intensity of the kiss you shared.Â
âYou were.. somewhere else when I walked here. Lost inside your pretty little mind,â you explained. Luke hummed when he heard your answer.Â
âI just,â he sighed, pulling his forehead away from yours by raising his head. âWhat would youââ he cut himself off. âNever mind.â
âNo, itâs fine. I want to hear it.âÂ
âWhat would you do if you woke up one day and the earth was consumed by darkness? And I mean complete darkness, no sun and no stars.âÂ
âHoly shit. Did you hang out with the Apollo and Athena cabin?â you held back an amused laugh.
âJust humor me for a second, please.â
âAlright, um..â you looked down, trying to formulate an answer to Lukeâs strangely philosophical question. âI guess I wouldnât mind as long as I could find you. I know Iâd be able to find my way to you so I wouldnât really worry too much.â
And that answer was everything Luke ever needed.Â
He spent some more time talking to you, memorizing the way you looked under the lights of the amphitheater in your Camp shirt and necklace. Trying to enjoy it because he will never have this sight again.Â
Luke excused himself with an âI have a gift for Percy, but Iâll come back to you. Just give me some time,â before walking all the way to the cabins and taking out the Pit Scorpion he had hidden under his bunk.Â
There was no fear in his actions this time. His heart was beating in a steady rhythm and his hands weren't shaking anymore. The weight of Backbiter in its hilt felt perfect against his hip.Â
There would be no fear in any of his actions anymore. Because he knows if he keeps you in the shadows youâll eventually become a dark starless sky just like him.
#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#magnoliaâs fics!
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Writers who use imitative harmony + the movement of their language to evoke meaning are so great to re-read once youâve learnt this language, if youâve read them in translation before, it feels like the best reward. Iâm reading Annie Proulx in the original for the first time, and so much of her writing style was just not salvageable by French translators (< my condolences), because she intertwines sound with meaning so often, at least in Close Range, and French just doesnât sound the same! so by translating the meaning youâll sacrifice a lot of the style... It reminds me of a haunted house book in French that also made me think âhaha RIP translatorsâ because it made great use of soundâa lot of âu / eu / ouâ to create a sort of sinister howling effect in some sentences, and one sentence about a closed door used âiâ and ârrâ sounds to give an ominous âcreaking openâ sensation without actually opening the door in the text...
This kind of thing always makes me reflect despairingly on how many authors Iâll never get to appreciate fully as I canât read them in the original, but Iâm glad to re-discover Annie Proulx at any rate! I mean compare the sound of a phrase like âa hundred dirt road shortcutsâ to the French âdes centaines de raccourcis, des routes de terreâ... First of all the English phrase sounds clippety-cloppy, it sounds like hooves on a dirt road in a way thatâs very hard to preserve in a language without syllable stress, but also the French language demands that you turn it into âa hundred of shortcurts of roads of dirtâ, so itâs best to dilute it into two phrases, and you just lose the clippedness. It sounds less tight, more leisurely.
Same for the phrase âthe tawny plain still grooved with pilgrim wagon rutsâ vs. âla plaine fauve encore marquĂ©e des orniĂšres laissĂ©es par les chariots des pĂšlerins.â Thatâs a 54% expansion ratio and once again you turn the tight clippedness of âgrooved with pilgrim wagon rutsâ into âgrooved with the ruts left by the wagons of the pilgrims.â You just canât avoid it, French words have to hold hands in a long procession rather than being stacked like pancakes on top of one another. And sometimes it makes for lovely stylistic effects too (*), but it doesnât fit the style of a text like this one, which uses rhythm and sound in a very un-French wayârhythmicality in French tends to rely on long flowy phrasings rather than the potholed ruggedness this story demands. (I saw a NY Times article describe it as Annie Proulx âmining the ore of language out of a gritty Wyoming rockscapeâ)
The rhythm of this whole bit is so neat, you can snap your fingers along with it: âhard orange dawn, the world smoking, snaking dust devils on bare dirt, heat boiling out of the sun until the paint on the truck hood curled, ragged webs of dry rain that never hit the ground, through small-town traffic and stock on the road, band of horses in morning fog...â
The French version is not finger-snapping material but you can tell the translator did her very best to preserve the authorâs intention by creating interesting rhythms in French as well. For âhard orange dawnâ she could have kept close to the original with, say, âla duretĂ© orange de lâaubeâ but instead she chose to turn âhardâ into a four-syllable adjective (Ă©blouissante / blinding) to end up with a noticeable rhythmââles aubes orange, Ă©blouissantes,â one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four (and she made âdawnâ plural for the same reason.) She wasnât able to preserve the g/r alliteration of âGRooved with pilGRim waGon Rutsâ (although her translated phrase also has a lot of Râs) but she did preserve the âsssâ alliteration of âSmoking Snaking duStâ (âpouSSiĂšre Serpentant Sur le Solâ). Even with languages as close as French and English, for every stylistic effect you can save you have to sacrifice a few, or replace them with opposite effects which align better with your languageâs notions of literary style (like with the orange dawn bit, doubling the length of a tight phrase so it can sound rhythmical).
You can tell all throughout the book that a lot of thought and care went into respecting Annie Proulxâs writing choices and you still end up with sentences that sound and move so differently. You get to see the limit of translation when authors fully lean on their languageâs syntax and melody to help convey meaning, like poets do!
(*) Re: English stacking words and French linking themâthis reminds me of an essay I read by an English translator of Proust who despaired of this difference in the opposite directionâsaying some long, descriptive phrases in Proust with articles & prepositions linking words, and commas linking phrases with regularity, read like telling the beads of a rosary. And the sensation (or a lot of it) had to be sacrificed because English just does not use as many linking words as French, information is conveyed in a more economical way, so a lot of these sentences with a hypnotic rhythm like âthe A, of the B, of the C, whereby the D, of the E, on an Fâ were often not achievable with English syntax or created redundancy (e.g. having to use âthatâ or âwhichâ 5 times when French used different tool words). But he said he did try to form sentences that had this continuity, and meditative quality.
I donât have a conclusion to this post other than to say something precious will be lost if human translation is replaced by AI translation, because literary translation involves creativity and ambiguity and aesthetic considerations and a dimension of instinctual feeling for your own language and the original style, and I donât think any amount of data and processing power and artificial neural networks will yield the flavour of literary quality that emerges from human sensibility and care, from someone reading a sentence and thinking âthis feels like hooves clippety-clopping down a dirt roadâ or âthis feels like rolling the beads of a rosaryâ and starting from there...
#language tag#not sure if imitative harmony has the same meaning as harmonie imitative now that i think about it#in french i was taught that itâs a broader more âdilutedâ stylistic device than onomatopoeia#as in writing 'bzzz' about an insect flying is onomatopoeia#writing a sentence about an insect with several 'b' and 'zz' sounds here and there is imitative harmony
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When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Three
Chapter three has arrived! And we have some time with Mingi and Hongjoong in the studio!
Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader Summary: Studio time with Mingi and Hongjoong, is interesting, plus a surprise appearance from another member of Ateez! wc: 1.7k AU: a/b/o Genre: Fluff/Angst warnings: Angry Joongie and Mingi, yelling, delusional people, anxiety because of said yelling, Hongjoong isn't having any of it masterlist
They all entered the room, finding Mingi sitting in one of the two chairs pulled up to the desk. He waved at them all as the group walked in, y/n being the last to enter. Hongjoong shut the door after she had entered, blocking the staff member from entering. He moved quickly to sit back down in the other empty chair, looking very closely at every one of, as he called it, the lucky group that managed to make it this far. The reactions varied, a couple of the alphas tried to intimidate him right back, though most understood it was better to have as minimal of a reaction as possible.
âYouâre here so we can evaluate your vocal abilities. If you donât bring your best, donât think youâll be getting close to the chance at becoming the ninth member of Ateez.â Hongjoong told them, his voice still gruff and unhappy. It made y/n shrink into herself slightly, though she tried to hide her reaction, not wanting this to be perceived by either alpha.
Hongjoong quickly picked one of the alphas to head into the recording booth, as he had already placed the lyrics sheet for the song theyâd all be using to test their abilities inside. Allowing a few minutes for the first alpha to warm up, Hongjoong then launched right into testing their vocal range and abilities. It seemed despite their outward confidence, neither idol was impressed by how the alpha was doing inside the booth. Y/n wasnât sure if it was them being nervous, or if they truly werenât able to sustain any of the notes, since their voice cracked multiple times during just one run through of Wonderland. She could see that as they continued to try, the two men just became more and more frustrated with their inability to get through the song without any flaws.
âOkay, I think itâs time for you to take a break.â Hongjoong told them, instructing them to come back out of the booth, and sending one of the betas in.
Hongjoong sent the next auditionee inside, hoping that they would be better than the first one. They were better, but they definitely needed more vocal training if they were going to be able to be a part of Ateez. And more stamina, since they seemed to tire easily. He exchanged a glance with Mingi, and could see that the younger man's thoughts were similar to his own.
This was how it went for most of the group, though there were a good few that were amazing vocally, though he wasnât sure of how they did dance wise, but vocally they would fit the group, and had the ability to hit every single note. That was until they reached one of the last to head in. It was clear from the moment that this alpha walked into the room, that she exuded an air of superiority and arrogance, her confidence was falsely inflated.
She entered the recording booth, and quickly situated herself. âIâm ready.â She told the two men.
Mingi looked over at Hongjoong, but the captain just proceeded to turn on Wonderland, as it was one of the more difficult songs, and after this all not going to plan for the most part, plus his anger at the company being directed in the wrong direction, he wanted to really test out this alphaâs actual skills. He had a hunch that the confidence wasnât backed by actual skills and not to be stereotypical, but she seemed like a âdaddyâs money buys everythingâ kind of girl.
Hongjoong, as he was most of the time, was correct. She was even worse than the others had been. He was honestly clueless how she even got to this point, other than the thought that daddy dearest paid off whoever was choosing the group that would get to come here. Because while the others had some form of talent, she could barely hold a note, and was almost tone-deaf. He hoped that anyone who had heard her sing was compensated heavily for the damage it caused to their ears. How no one had told her she shouldnât sing, was beyond him.
âOkay. Stop.â Hongjoong told her, but she continued to sing, intent on finishing the song, and also butchering Jonghoâs high note, since that was the next part of the song.
âStop. It.â He told her again, when she was clearly ignoring him.
âYah! Hyung told you to stop!â Mingi half shouted into the microphone, shutting off the song so she could no longer hear it.
âI was just about to get to the best part and nail it! Why did you stop!?â She said, and Hongjoong was in disbelief at how she thought sheâd nail their maknaeâs part when she could barely nail any other part of the song. Though, she clearly was delusional anyways, so it probably was par for the course.
âYou have no talent. You would have butchered Jonghoâs amazing high note, not nail it.â He was blunt with her, having no patience to sugar coat it. Honestly, did no one actually vet the auditionees before bringing them here? Like the fuck?
She stormed out of the booth, coming chest to chest with Hongjoong as he stood up. Mingi stood up as well, the tall alpha coming to stand behind his pack alpha. He knew his pack alpha was more than capable of defending himself, but he would never hesitate to provide backup.
âYouâre obviously wrong, everyone in my life has told me that I am the best singer theyâve heard. You should just get your ears checked.â The female alpha told Hongjoong, and the anger that immediately rolled off of the two idols was felt by everyone else in the room, and y/n who had already been slightly on edge because of Hongjoongâs tone the entire time, was worried that a fight would break out. But she also knew better than to step in to try and break things up. It wouldnât end well for anyone if she did.
All of the eyes in the room were on the two alphas, and no one dared to speak as they didnât want two angry alphas at their throat.
âI donât know who you bribed to get here, or how you are delusional enough to think you are even the slightest bit talented vocally, but you are not. You can leave now. I donât work with untalented people, and that includes you.â
âExcuse me?â The alpha replied, âFine. If you donât want me, then Iâll go to JYP, or SM, or HYBE. Theyâll be begging for someone as talented as me to join their companies.â The confidence in her voice was staggering. Y/n couldnât believe how much she believed in her non-existent talent, but she wished that she could be that delusional. Multiple of the other auditionees had the same thought, they couldnât believe what they were hearing.
âIâd love to see that. But somehow, I think daddy would be the one paying your way into the smallest companies possible. Besides, I never wanted a new member, none of us did. So if you think you, any of you, are going to just come in and take the spot of a ninth member, you can think again. I want you all gone.â Hongjoong spat, looking at the rest of them halfway through his words.
âHongjoong-â âMingi, shut up. You canât say you had the same reaction to learning about this yesterday. None of us want any of you here, and honestly, you can all go ahead and leave.â The captain finished, anger clear on his face.
âI think it might be best for you all to leave now. Iâll let the staff know weâre done here for today.â Mingi told all of them, trying to lessen the blow that Hongjoong had just delivered.
Y/n was the first to leave, needing to get out of the environment, and that kicked everyone else into motion as well, leaving the two alphas with the delusional alpha in the room. That was until they watched security enter the room and drag her out. No one said a word as they watched her be dragged out while yelling some phrases that even Draco Malfoy wouldnât dare to say.
They all stood there in the hallway outside of the studio, waiting to see if any of the staff members would show up. Someone did show up, just not who they expected.
âWhy are you all waiting out here? Did Hongjoong not let you in?â Seonghwa questioned, looking concerned.
âWe kind of got kicked out.â Aaron spoke up, being the one brave enough to do so.
âWhy did he kick you out?â Seonghwa said, looking confused.
âHe was unhappy, to put it simply.â Aaron replied, and the others, including y/n confirmed his words with nods.
This was when Seonghwa focused his attention on the others, and quickly realized that there was an omega within the group. He quickly moved to put himself in front of y/n, who shyly looked up at him, intimidated by the older omega.
âHi, itâs nice to meet you. Whatâs your name?â He asked her, to which she responded, introducing herself.
âOh thatâs such a cute name. I think you already know who I am, so itâs a little bit of a waste to introduce myself.â He said, smiling down at her. They werenât that far apart in height, but he still had to look down at her, just a little bit.
âOh!â He said, suddenly reminded of something, âYou should meet Wooyoung. Iâm sure you two are close in age, and that little troublemaker always complains about wanting more omega friends.â He told her.
He reached out and grabbed her hand, shocking y/n though Seonghwa doesnât think much of it, and pulled her away from the group, back down the hall where he came from. âCome on, weâll go see him now. Plus Iâm sure youâve had a tiring day, if Hongjoong got upset at all of you. So we can go see Wooyoung and introduce the two of you, and then you can relax while I will go and scold my pack alpha for being so aggressive to you and everyone else.â
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word count: 6k
summary: The moment you met Nico, every interaction you had left you throwing pennies in the wishing wells of your mind.
warnings: platonic!jack x reader, unrequited love (?), sorts angsty, drinking, slight jealous nico, trevor x reader implied but for like literally a second, unedited
note: this is very prologue-esque and more of a background to the actual story so yeah. questions, comments, concerns are always welcome
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Being five years old and one of the only kids on your street wasnât exactly fun, but when the Hughes family bought the neighboring house and your mom told you that they had three sons, you were over the moon. You didnât care that they were all boys, you were just glad to have potential friends that you could play with, even if it meant learning how to play a sport. However, no one ever expected you to become attached to the hip of Jack Hughes, and him to yours.
From the moment you met, he was your best friend. He included you in everything, taught you how to play street hockey, and he even yelled at his brothers if they were being a little mean to you. People often told the two of you that you were destined to get married, but neither of you agreed. You both knew you were always going to be by each otherâs side, just as best friends, for as long as you lived. Even years later, and a few relocations, the two of you were never far from each other.
OCT 2019
âJack, are you sure they donât mind me coming,â You asked for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, âI donât want to intrude on your team thing.â
You leaned forward over the center console so you could look at Jack, ignoring Tyâs quiet chuckles as he drove to his teammates house. Nerves crawled across your skin as the thought of meeting his teammates slowly inched closer to reality. This was different from meeting his friends from World Juniors; these were professional hockey players making more money than you could ever dream of. Your eyes were wide and swimming with worry as Jack turned to look at you, his lips turned up in a smile as he shook his head.
âItâs fine,â He said your name through a breathy laugh, âI promise. Besides, they all really want to meet you.â
âAnd see if heâs lying about you not being his girlfriend,â Ty added, casting you a playful wink before turning back to the road.
âYeah, that too,â Jack feigned annoyance as you rolled your eyes, âBut mostly they just want to meet the person I talk to all the time.â
With Jackâs reassurance, you leaned back in the seat and closed your eyes, trying to bring your heart rate back to a normal speed. The sounds of the city faded into a hum as you relaxed into the cool leather of the Range Rover, trying to clear your mind of the anxious thoughts that plagued you any time you were to meet new people. Jack being by your side brought comfort, but that unfortunately didnât stop the knots from twisting in your stomach.
What if they didnât like you? What if you embarrassed yourself in front of them? What if Jack stopped talking to you because you didnât fit in? That thought alone made you want to hurl in the backseat of the car, but the feeling of the car stopping followed by seatbelts unbuckling tore you away from the insecurities and back to reality.
Ty and Jack shared a look with each other as you stared at the house, gripping the edge of the seat like you were about to fall out of it. Ty hops out of the car and makes a beeline straight for the house, while Jack opens your door and gently grabs your wrist, tugging your body out of the car. Heâs known you long enough to know that you would talk your way out of going inside if he gave you the opportunity, so he didnât.
âCâmon, theyâre gonna like you, I promise,â He tried as the two of you walked towards the door, âPlus, they probably want to ask you how youâve put up with me for so long.â
You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, pushing back the feeling of being a foreigner amongst hockey stars and their girlfriends. You didnât want to ruin your only chance at a first impression because you were nervous, so you put up the best facade you could as Jack pushed the door open. He glanced at you one last night, jerking his head as a signal for you to go before him, and you did.
People youâve only seen in pictures were scattered across the house, only a few of them breaking conversations to glance at you. Those who did, were instantly on their feet and making their way towards you with beaming smiles and a teasing glint to their eyes. You forced yourself to let go of the fabric of your dress that you had been crumbling between your fists, extending your hand to meet who you knew to be Andy, thanks to what youâve seen on twitter.
âHey guys! You must be Y/N,â He greeted, carefully shaking your hand, âItâs nice to finally meet you! Iâm Andy and this is my wife, Rachel.â
âNice to meet you, too,â You grinned as you swapped his hand with his wifeâs, hoping that your own wasnât damp with sweat, âThank you so much for including me.â
âAny friend of Jackâs is a friend of ours,â Andy stressed the word, brows slightly lifting as he glanced between the two of you.
âWell, I truly appreciate it,â You laughed, âJackâs more like an annoying brother, so itâll be nice to know other people in the city.â
Jack stayed close enough to your side as some of his teammates slowly filtered towards him, greeting them in their own ways before they moved to introduce themselves to you. You slowly felt the weight lift from your shoulders as they treated you with nothing but kindness and like you were no different than them. Youâd barely been able to move from the door since your arrival, too busy making introductions and brushing off comments about Jack being your boyfriend.
Then, you watched as a guy who was easily the most attractive person youâd ever seen in your life approached you with kind eyes and a gentle smile. He had his hair tucked underneath a backwards cap, his body clad with dark jeans and a tan shirt that hung loosely over his frame. You forced yourself to look away, eyes darting to the floor as you, once again, grasped at the fabric of your dress. Jack takes notice to the way your body language shifts, and a coy smile toys at his lips, but he knows now isnât the time to tease you.
âHi, Iâm Nico,â He reaches his hand out to you once heâs standing right in front of you.
His eyes were brown; the kind of brown that reminded you of fresh soil in a blooming garden. His voice was deep and accented in a way that enveloped you like a warm and comforting blanket. His touch made your heart race and nerves bubble in your chest as you take his hand in your own. It was weird how quickly you felt yourself become attracted to someone you quite literally just met, but you were going to keep it to yourself for as long as you could.
âHi,â You shyly introduce yourself, the hair on your arm raising, âItâs nice to meet you.â
âItâs nice to meet you, too,â He smiled, dimples denting his cheeks in a way that almost sent you to your knees.
You dropped his hand, your own falling to your side, and you swear you saw Nico drag his eyes up and down the length of your body. Suddenly regretting your outfit choice, you cleared your throat and turned away from him and towards Jack, who had been watching the interaction with an amused smile. You narrowed your eyes at him, earning a laugh as he shook his head.
Your head snapped towards the large group of people when you heard your name being called, âWhy donât you come tell us how youâve managed to put up with Jack for so long?â
NOV 2020
Going back home for American thanksgiving was thrown off the table the second Toronto had one of its biggest storms in years. The airport, and many surrounding others, were shut down with an undetermined date of reopening due to so much damage. With your mom being American, your family celebrated both Canadian and American thanksgiving, but your school schedule only allowed you time to go back home in November, and youâd been looking forward to it for months. The second your mom called you with the news, you couldnât help but deflate in disappointment.
When Jack found out you were missing the holiday with your family, he immediately extended an invite for his team party to you. It wasnât going to be much, he had said, just some of the wives and their girlfriends, including his own, having dinner. You initially declined the offer, telling him you didnât want to third wheel, but it wasnât until Jackâs girlfriend showed up at your apartment door to get ready with you that you truly realized how badly you wanted to go.
âThank you,â You said for the hundredth time, smoothing out the wrinkles in your shirt before following her out the door.
âStop thanking me,â She playfully rolled her eyes, âNo one should have to be alone on Thanksgiving, and Jack agreed when I suggested I come over and âmakeâ you come with us.â
Knowing that she came on her own accord made tears line your eyes, and it made you feel welcome. Out of all of his previous relationships, none of them ever made you feel comfortable like she did. They all tried to force you out of his life because they were convinced you were in love with him or vice versa, but not Ava. Ava was gentle and she was kind, and you had no idea how Jack managed to pull her.
You followed her out of your apartment building and to the parking spot Jackâs car was occupying. You slid into the backseat, responding to Jackâs greeting with one of your own as Ava put all of her stuff in the trunk. Once everyone was buckled in and ready to go, Jack set off to whoeverâs house the dinner was being hosted at and the three of you fell into natural conversation, making the drive there fly by.
You helped them carry the food they brought inside, poking fun at Jack because you knew he didnât cook any of it. He insisted he was actually a phenomenal chef, but you were quick to remind him of the undercooked chicken from the week prior, and he went silent. When you walked inside, you were shocked to see so many of the guys and their significant others spread throughout the house. Most of them werenât from the states, and you fully expected them to be home, but you supposed they couldnât pass up the bonding opportunity.
You followed the couple into the kitchen, listening to Ashleeâs instruction of where to set the tray of desserts in your arms. When you turned to follow after Jack and Ava to go mingle with some of the others, you ran straight into the chest of the one person you didnât want to be alone with.
Nicoâs hands carefully grasped your biceps to keep you steady as your hands instinctively flew to his chest. The feeling of his calm heartbeat underneath your palms was a stark contrast to your own as it slammed into your ribcage and your thoughts became hazy underneath his heavy stare. You swallowed thickly, slowly craning your neck to meet his eyes. He had a smile plastered on his face, his facial hair reduced to nothing but stubble now, as his dark eyes gazed into your own.
âCareful, â He teased as his thumbs rubbed subtle circles against you, making your skin light on fire.
âI didnât know you were right there,â You mumbled, your cheeks growing warm at the unfamiliar nickname as your fingers slightly scrunched the fabric of his shirt.
âI could tell,â He laughed, âI didnât know you were coming today. I figured you would go back to your family.â
You couldnât help but let your shoulders slump at the mention of your family, your eyes falling to the ground as you dropped your hands and pinched at the hem of your shirt, âI was supposed to, but the weather is too bad for planes right now. So, I stayed here instead.â
Nico, noticing the shift in your demeanor, dropped his hands down to your elbows, squeezing them gently as he spoke, âIâm sorry. Being away from family is not easy, but helps to focus on the people around you. Thatâs what I do when I miss home.â
You tried to cover your pathetic sniffle by clearing your throat, but he picked up on it anyway. Nico was quick to pull you into his chest, his arms wrapping around your upper body as you instinctively wrapped your own around his waist. His embrace was warm and it was safe as silent tears slid down your cheeks, your hold tightening ever so slightly.
While you wouldnât say you were the closest with Nico, he had grown to be someone you considered a friend during your time in Jersey. He always treated you with nothing short of kindness and respect, and that didnât help the ever growing crush you had on him. You occasionally let yourself believe that his lingering touches and flirty comments meant something, but you were always quick to slap yourself out of it. You knew better, or you thought that you did.
âLetâs go out there and enjoy the dinner,â Nico suggested as he pulled away from you, voice soft and gentle, âYou can sit with some of us at the âsingles tableâ.â
âYeah, Iâd like that,â You shyly smiled as you wiped at your cheeks to get rid of the any evidence of your sadness.
You sit with Nico and a few others at what he dubbed the âsingles tableâ, which was really the couch closest to the door, mingling and laughing as they talked about whatever came to mind. Though, it was a little hard for you to focus with Nicoâs thigh pressed against your own and his arm slung across the back cushion behind you. To make matters worse, every time he leaned forward to grab his drink, he would delicately place his hand on your knee, and it made your body light on fire.
Jack noticed the two of you walk out of the kitchen together, subtly elbowing his girlfriend as he watched you sit on the couch. She watched with wide, adoring eyes as gushing whispers of how cute the two of you would be filled Jackâs ears. When he met your gaze, he passed you a teasing wink, laughing when your face flushed and shook your head, forcing your eyes away from his own.
When it was time to eat, everyone filtered over to the multiple plastic tables that had been pushed together to make one long one. You made sure to take the seat next to Ava before anyone else could, and Nico took the spot on the other side of you. You ignored her stifled giggles and the way Jack raised his eyebrows, choosing to keep yourself occupied with passing along the various items being handed across the group of people.
Loud voices filled the room as a few of the guys brought the food out, setting the large turkey in the middle of the table with sides surrounding it. You fawned over the mashed potatoes with Ava, but Nico pulled your attention away when he pointed at the green bean casserole with his face twisted in disgust and asked what it was. She subtly elbowed you in the side, silently teasing you as your face flushed and your eyes brightened the moment you looked at him.
âIt looks,â He paused, his eyes flitting down to you, âUnappealing.â
âDonât worry,â You laughed, as you smoothed the napkin in your lap, âI donât like it either, but itâs unfortunately a staple for the holiday. You should try it. It might surprise you.â
âMaybe. Thatâs happening a lot lately,â His voice trailed into a whisper, his eyes darting to his plate in front of him as he shifted in his seat.
You tried not to read too much into what he said or his actions following, choosing to instead fall into conversation with the others around you. Everyone ate, joked, and told stories of their life before Jersey, and it made the time fly by. Before you could really grasp it, everyone was packing up their things and helping clean the house before they departed for the evening. You and Ava assisted a few of the wives and girlfriends with the dishes, wanting to get them done so Ashlee didnât have to worry about them tomorrow.
Once the house was cleaner than it was when everyone arrived, people started to filter out the front door after bidding those still present a goodbye. A few still stood off in corners and mingled with each other, waving at those who called their names as they slipped out of the door. You held a small container in your hand as you followed Ava out of the kitchen, passing everyone smiles and side hugs as you went. Jackâs hovering near the door with a few of the guys, Nico included, waiting for the two of you.
âReady,â Jack asks as he slings his arm across Avaâs shoulders, âWeâre going to go back to mine and Tyâs place and hang out if you guys want to come.â
You watched the way Nicoâs body stiffened, his eyes avoiding your own as he nervously cleared his throat, âI already have plans, but maybe next time.
âYeah, heâs meeting up with Mia,â Miles dragged out her name, clapping Nico on the back as he teased his friend, âIâll swing by though. Iâm not doing anything.â
Ava and Jack didnât miss the way your entire body sunk, your gaze falling to the floor as your hands tightly grasped at the container. You felt stupid for being so upset by the news, but you shouldâve known better than to let yourself think that Nicoâs flirting meant anything. Youâd been surrounded by hockey players almost your whole life, you know that it was all fun and meaningless for them, and he was no exception.
âAlright,â Jack spoke, trying to shove some of the newfound anger towards his teammate down his throat, âWeâll meet you there. See you later, Nico.â
Nico couldnât help but let his eyes land on you again, and it wasnât hard to notice the way your demeanor had changed. The brightness in your eyes and smile were faint now as you waved goodbye to everyone behind you. Jack and his girlfriend didnât bother to spare a second glance at him as they walked out of the house and out into the frigid New Jersey air, and neither did you.
SEPT 2021
With Jack finally moving out of Tyâs apartment and into his own this season, he decided to have his own version of a house warming party. He and Ava had broken up before the summer, neither of them wanting to do long distance since she was moving across the country for her new job. That left the decorating and most of the party planning to you, which you preferred anyways. If it was up to Jack, heâd slap a keg in the middle of his apartment, buy one bag of chips for everyone, and call it good.
The two of you spent the better part of the day cleaning his apartment and getting what little furniture and decorations he had put up around his place. He did, however, listen to your advice a lot better than you thought he wouldâve, but you knew it was only because he was nervous about having everyone over in what was his first place to himself. He even went out and bought a few random decorative pictures to hang on the wall because he felt like it was too bland, but you replaced them with pictures he had of his family and friends, and of the team.
Hours later, Jackâs apartment was littered with people heâd met during his time in Jersey. Most you knew, some you didnât, and others you didnât want to thanks to their nasty sneers when you would talk to him. Being ridiculed by Jackâs relationships, a term you used very loosely, seemed to increase tenfold now that his fame consistently grew. For the most part, it didnât bother you, but you did have to delete your original instagram account and start a whole new, private account to keep yourself a little sane.
You were in the kitchen getting yourself a new drink when you felt a presence weigh on your chest, and you didnât need to turn around to know who it was. Ever since Thanksgiving last year, you avoided interacting with Nico unless you had to. It was over dramatic on your part, a fact Jack often reminded you of, but you were trying to shake off the feelings you had for him. You wanted to be able to act normal around him, and every time Nico even spoke to you, you were thrown back to square one.
âHey,â His voice was right behind you, âHow was your break?â
You spun on your heels, your shoulder brushing against his chest because he was that close to you, and nearly stopped breathing the moment you met his stare. Heâd cut his hair over the summer and let his beard grow up more than usual, and the sight made you want to melt. Guilt pitted in your stomach as you reminded yourself that you shouldnât think about him like that anymore. It wasnât fair.
âIt was nice,â You mumbled, internally pleading with yourself to step away from him, âHow was yours?â
âYeah, mine was nice, too,â He lightly chuckled as his danced across your face, âSo, I was wondering if youââ
âThere you are,â Jack shouted as he pushed into the kitchen, stopping in his tracks as his eyes darted between the two of you, his eyebrows raising, âMatt just got here. Heâs looking for you.â
Your mouth dropped open to respond, but Nicoâs voice smothered your own, âWhoâs Matt?â
The air in the kitchen thickened with an unknown tension, Nicoâs stare returning to you as he watched your chest rapidly rise and fall. Your eyes were wide, pleading with Jack who looked just as lost as you were after he walked in on his best friend and now captain only centimeters apart. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and side step away from Nico before letting out a deep sigh.
âHeâs my boyfriend,â You mutter, quickly walking away from the two men to go find the aforementioned boyfriend.
âWhat was that about,â You heard Jack ask, his tone slightly accusatory and clipped.
âNothing.â
The rest of the night, you stayed glued to Mattâs side, letting him gush about how he was surrounded by his hometown hockey team. You found yourself searching for Nico more often than you cared to admit, but what was shocking to you was that he was already looking at you every. single. time. The moment your eyes would meet his, you willed yourself to look away from him and focus on the guy whose arm you were tucked under, but you couldnât. He had you locked in.
To make matters worse, when the two of you managed to finally end up in the same circle of people that Nico was in, he was anything but nice to Matt. His usual gentle tone was replaced with short, harsh cords anytime he spoke to your boyfriend. It shocked you enough that you wanted to leave the party entirely, but Matt didnât seem to notice, or maybe he just didnât care.
âThanks for having me, man,â Matt expressed, his face bright with excitement, âHopefully Iâll see you guys again sometime soon!â
You broke up with him a week later.
DEC 2022
This last year was eventful, to say the least. You were in the hardest year of college, spending more time stuck in the library with a new group of friends as you all studied until your brains were fried to even pass junior year. When summer came, you went to Michigan with Jack like you always did, and you even had a very short and meaningless fling with Trevor. Though if Jack were to ask, nothing happened.
When you returned to school that September, you had an entirely new outlook on life. You were tired of trying to have a plan for everything, you were tired of holding on to things that werenât good for you. You were going to lead your life with the intention of taking care of yourself, building yourself up instead of tearing yourself down because of others.
The moment Jack had called you to ask if you would be interested in tagging along with a few of his teammates for New Years Eve, you instantly agreed. The semester was a little stressful, yet still nothing compared to last year, and you hadnât had much time to see Jack let alone go out. So when the opportunity presented itself to you, you were more than happy to oblige.
The bar was loud, the air sticky and damp as bodies pressed against each other and alcohol spilled onto the floor. You held on to Charlieâs hand as you shoved your way through until you could see the group of boys that were shoved in the same corner they always were. They were huddled in a circle, some of their bodies shielding you from seeing who all was there, but you knew youâd find out who was there soon enough.
âHey guys,â You yelled over the mixture of loud music and voices, earning the attention from those in the group.
Jack was immediately pulling you into his chest as everyone called out your name in a greeting, tipsy smiles and slightly glazed over eyes already adorning their faces. When you finally escaped the arms of your best friend, a few of the others replaced him and tugged you into their side as you introduced Charlie, who looked slightly overwhelmed, to everyone. You were relaxed and carefree as you fell into conversation with the others, and then you saw him.
You hadnât really spoken to Nico over the last year, only really speaking to him in formal pleasantries and passing comments about Jack. After his treatment towards your boyfriend ultimately led to you breaking up with him, you withdrew your affections and excessive kindness towards him. You treated him the same way you treated all of Jackâs other teammates, maybe even a little less kinder if you were being honest, and he didnât even seem to notice.
His lips turned upwards into a careful smile as he tipped his drink towards you in greeting. You gave him a small smile in return before you forced your attention back to Charlie, but you still felt his gaze on you. You could always tell when it was him because it made the hairs on your arms raise; it made your heart rapidly beat inside of your chest even before you even knew it was him.
He didnât try and approach you at all during the duration of the night, but you hadnât expected him to. You stuck by Charlieâs side most of the night, not letting her too far out of your sight, and one of the guys was never too far behind either of you. Jack made sure that either himself or his teammates had an eye on you at all times, knowing that the holiday caused people to act out, and he didnât want anything to happen to you.
It was five minutes till the clock would hit midnight, and you were huddled in the corner with everyone after dancing for what seemed like hours. You had a new drink in your hand, Dawsonâs arm slung around your shoulders, and a tipsy smile on your face as everyone mingled with each other. Jack had snuck off with Charlie somewhere a while ago, and you were not naive enough to go searching for them, so you stuck by the group of hockey players and their partners.
Despite Nico not uttering a single word to you the entire night, you felt the burn from his stare almost the whole time. You avoided looking in his direction, knowing that you would fall back into the enchantment that was Nico Hischier after working so hard to break free from it. You were focusing on things that brought you peace, and Nico brought you anything but.
âGuys, a minute left til midnight,â Shara shouted over the music, âWhere is Jack?â
âOccupied,â You and Dawson called out at the same time before falling into laughter.
Those with partners pulled them closer to them, smiles on their faces and giggles falling from their lips as the music cut out and a countdown started. You accidentally met Nicoâs eyes as your gaze wandered, and the way he was white knuckling his drink made confusion settle in your chest. Though, you didnât have much time to dwell on it when you heard Dawsonâs soft voice call your name.
âWhat do you say,â He raised his eyebrows, asking the question bouncing through his brain without outright saying it, âJust as friends, of course.â
With the crowds of people counting down from ten around you, you playfully rolled your eyes, but turned your body more towards him anyways. Kissing Dawson was not going to mean or change anything between the two of you, so you figured there was no harm in doing it. The moment the clock hit one second, you stood on your toes and pressed your lips against his until an eruption of cheers filled the bar.
It was short and simple, both of you pulled away from each other when laughter escaped through your lips. You let him pull you back into his side while everyone was pulling each other into hugs or clapping each other on the back. However, you were so focused on everyone else around you, that you missed the way Nico was glaring daggers into his younger teammates skull.
A few days later, youâre sitting at the counter of Jackâs apartment after his practice earlier that day. He was rambling on about their upcoming game against the Red Wings, shuffling through his fridge in search of food. He pulled out a small container of what looked like leftover pasta, his hands flying around him as he spoke.
âYou want to know whatâs weird, though,â He called over his shoulder as he opened the microwave, âNicoâs been kind of a dick to Dawson since New Years, and no one can figure out why. Itâs kind of messing with Mercs, too.â
You nearly choked on your coffee with the new information, your eyes widening as you attempted to catch your breath. Jackâs brows shot up as he watched you stumble over your words, your hands clawing at the counter top as you coughed. You tried to not let yourself get too hung up on the possibility that Nico didnât like the fact that you kissed Dawson, that maybe he was jealous. You couldnât let yourself dance back into that dangerous territory again.
âYou good,â Jack asked, leaning forward to give you a curious look, âYou know something I donât?â
âNo,â You rushed out, shaking your head, âNo. I mean, I donât think this would matter to him, but I did kiss Dawson that night at the bar.â The second the words left your mouth, Jack doubles over in laughter as if he knew something you didnât
APRIL 2023
The air was calm and cool as you sat outside some coffee shop, waiting for Jack and Nico to come back with the drinks. You were scrolling through your phone, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you read through your twitter feed. You were so far deep into a thread that you hadnât even heard the two guys take their seats at the table, or the way they snickered to each other when you didnât budge as your name was called.
It took a careful kick to your shin from presumably Jack to break you away from your trance, your head snapping up as the device clattered on the table. They were looking at you with raised brows and small smiles as you awkwardly cleared your throat and straightened your back, grabbing your drink from Nico as he slid it across the table.
âTook you guys long enough,â You playfully mumbled, bringing the cup to your lips.
âIâm surprised you even noticed we were gone with how invested you were,â Nico teased, his voice light and airy as his eyes stayed trained on your face.
Over the last few months, you had grown closer with him yet again, but this time it was on the premise of you only treating him as a friend. He had approached you one evening after a night out, apologizing for his distance and lack of effort in conversation, nearly whining when he asked if you two could start over. While your crush was still very much present, you agreed on the reset and opted to treat him the same way you treated everyone else as a way to protect your own heart.
âShut up,â You rolled your eyes as a light blush decorated your cheeks.
Jack calls your name as he glances up from his own phone, setting it down in front of him as he leans forward, âYouâre coming to the lake house right? I know youâve got most of the summer off from work.â
âEventually,â You tear your eyes away from Nico, âCharlieâs wanting to go travel somewhere in Europe this summer for a little over a week, we just havenât decided where.â
âSummer is in like, a month,â Jack points out, shaking his head in amusement.
âYeah, trust me I know,â You groaned, throwing you head back in slight frustration, âI keep telling her we need to choose soon but sheâs not sure where to go. She just knows she wants to go.â
âCome to Switzerland,â The words leave Nicoâs mouth before he really registers he said it, though he doesnât regret it either way, âI can show you around.â
Your eyes widen, snapping over to him as your jaw goes slack and your heart rate increases. Youâre searching his face for any sign that what he said was a joke, that he wasnât being serious, but all you were met with was his soft eyes and small smile that he always had. The fact that he appeared genuine in his suggestion made you nervous, it made your mind hazy and cloudy with mangled thoughts.
âOh thatâs a good idea,â Jackâs voice raised, a bright smile on his face, âI think you should do that. I know youâll be safe with Nico, and I wonât freak out if you donât text me back after ten minutes.â
âYou still will,â You lightly laughed, âI mean, it sounds fun, but only if youâre sure? And Iâll have to ask Charlie, but I donât think sheâll mind.â
âIâm sure. Iâd love to show you around my home,â He beams, his leg slightly shifting so his calf brushes against your own.
Jackâs immediately rushing on about how heâll call Charlie, and typically youâd tease him about that, but you were too focused on the man in front of you. The sun was hitting his face in a way that made his dark eyes shine brighter than anything around him, bringing you nothing but a warm blanket of comfort that overshadowed the rays of sun by a million miles. The effect Nico had on you slightly terrified you because youâd never felt this way towards anyone, but you were determined to keep that a secret for as long as you could. All you could do was hope and pray you could keep that up on a week long trip in his home country, the one place he truly felt relaxed and like himself.
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