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halflifebutawesome · 8 months ago

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BEHOLD! FOR THE SECOND TIME, THE GBVRAI LINEUP! now with another weird old dude!

waves my hands around vaguely I wanted to make a nicer looking lineup and more coherent post actually explaining the au. I've now made 2 gbvrai lineups but never a plain old hlvrai lineup. Whatever.

There's a complete AU explanation and individual character profiles (?) under the cut! check it out! ASK ME ABOUT IT !!! SMILES!!!!!

The basic gist of this au is that the science team, are a group of ghost hunting paranormal researchers. The Ghostbusters. You mightve heard of them. This isn't a 1 for 1 au where certain characters take the role of others, it's more just. What if the science team existed in the Ghostbusters universe. They're just the Ghostbusters now.

On a particularly odd case, they bust a ghost that seems... off. It's sentient, it's talking back, and it's psychokinetic energy is off the charts.

Thinking nothing of it, they return to the firehouse and prep the trap for containment disposal. Gordon's the new guy, so he's the unlucky dude who's been assigned the job of disposing of the traps. All the while the ghost will NOT shut up. It's weirdly powerful and seems mostly unbothered. It's name is Benry, and he's a little freak.

the ghost containment unit has been unstable for a while, overfilled with ghosts, but they have to dispose of Benry somehow, so they go ahead with it.

In this AU I'm kind of combining the Resonance Cascade with the Manhattan Crossrip (the Manhattan crossrip is the big scary ghost event that happens at the end of GB1). Basically what happens is that Benrys weirdly powerful ghostly energy, combined with an unstable ghost containment unit, tears a big rip in the fabric between the ghost realm and ours, letting all sorts of ghouls and specters free.

Imagine the Resonance Cascade, with all the aliens getting out and ravaging Black Mesa, but it's a bunch of ghosts getting out and ravaging New York. Gordon and the rest of the team have to fight their way through the ghost filled streets of NYC, and close the crossrip.

Heres some closeups and more individual info/thoughts for the gang!!

GORDON FREEMAN! The new guy. Again, this is less a direct 1 for 1 swap au kind of deal, and more just putting these guys in situations. Gordon's HEV suit, tho, I wanna talk about.

In Ghostbusters canon, they DO have a weird fucked up hazard suit. It first appears in the TRGB episode "Xmas Marks The Spot", where Egon uses it to travel into the ghost realm. I know it makes another appearance in the comics, in a way that's more HEV-esque, but I never finished the comics so idk. It's real tho.

I imagine here that the ghost containment unit is more like the reactor in half life, where it's hazardous to be around for too long, probably bcos of like. I don't know. Concentrated psychokinetic energy. Sure. In any case he needs to wear the HEV to use the containment unit.

My design here is taking the chest piece, helmet, gloves and belts and modifying them to look a little more HEV-esque.

Bennyyyy. Benrey benry beny. He's a ghost, as far as they can tell. It would be more appropriate to call him an entity of sorts.

He's not a ghost simply for the fact that he wasn't ever human. He wasn't ever a living person that died. He's some pure, really powerful, concentrate entity/being that leaked through from the ghost realm. He looks like. A guy, for the most part, but he's a mimic. Something pretending to be human. He's been around for a while, and has settled into this form. He's mostly corporeal, but can phase in and out as he pleases (noclipping) Switching from corporeal/incorporeal when it's funny.

He met Tommy when they were both a lot younger, Benry being fresh out of the ghost realm, and have been bestfriends ever since. ☝️ my au my weirdly specific tommybenny dynamic. Dw about it

TOMMY & SUNKIST!!!! Tommy has grown up around ghosts his whole life, and is pretty in-tune with them. This is proven with his bond to Sunkist, who's decidedly not a real dog, and his longtime friendship with Benry.

I gave him the goggles cos. Tommy's my fave and Ray's my fave and I think they're fun. Also cos if it WAS a 1 to 1 swap I would def have Tommy as Ray. Anyway. He's been a part of the Ghostbusters since he was little, like I said he grew up with them and around them. He's really knowledgeable about ghost types and physics. He knows all the ghost rules.

Sunkist isn't like. His dead childhood dog cos that seems. Kind of sad. Instead she's kind of a church Grimm or hell hound. An entity taking the form of a big huge dog that Tommy befriended when he was a kid, and has now kind of bonded to him. She's pretty corporeal as far as ghosts go, and can interact w the physical environment pretty well.

DARNOLD ^^ my friend darnold. Darnolds not usually super involved in the actual ghostbusting, and prefers to stay behind. He's more of the research and tech kind of guy, he studies the readings and takes measurements.

He's interested in psychokinetic energy and ghost residue and all sorts of like. Ghost sciences. Why some people stay behind, why some people just seem to die and disappear, the properties of the ghost realm and the ghosts themselves. Corporeality and degradation of personhood the longer someone's been a ghost.

When the Resonance Crossrip happens, he opts to stay behind and observe the effects of the insane amounts of ghost energy on the corporeal world.

Hes also a transfer over from the ghost engineers! That's a fun thing for me. I love the ghost engineers idc frozen empire gave me everything I wanted

FORZEN. Forzen is... the same thing as Benry. A mimic, something taking the form of a normal ghost to blend in or hide in plain sight.

He came through with the Resonance Crossrip, but obviously like. He knew Benry before (we WERE bestfriends..). He's not as powerful, which is why he wasn't able to sneak through when Benry did. He's also not super corporeal. He can only interact with the physical world if he's exerting a LOT of energy. Prone to flickering in and out of vision.

Upon coming thru the Crossrip, he kind of just. Decided to hang around the firehouse. Didn't wanna go much further, for fear of being ghostbusted and sent back into the containment unit. The source is the last place they'd look for him!

Darnold, who's holed up in the firehouse, is more than delighted to meet a ghost who's sentient and willing to cooperate to do some tests and experimentation to get never before documented results. They bond and they're cutesit. ☝️ DARZEN WIN. hi splash 👋

Dr Coomer and Dr Bubby are two of the three original founders of the Ghostbusters! They've been around for a looooong time. They're also married obviously but that's like a given.

They helped found the Ghostbusters, having met in college while both were studying parapsychology. I imagine their like. Parapsychology -> Ghostbusters pipeline was very in line with how GB1 starts, where they used to work in an academic environment before getting kicked out and founding the GB.

They're also both. Psychic. Because frozen empire has once again given me everything. Coomers got some like. Idk something that lines up with his self awareness in HLVRAI, maybe prophecy? Vauge visions of the future? Bubby has pyrokinesis. Duh.

and... Mr. Coolatta..... Tommy's dad...he was one of the founders along w Coomer and Bubby and at some point he. Died. And is now a reeeally really powerful ghost. maybe from the exposure to ghost energy or smth?

Now hes got gman powers and just kinda hangs around. Pretty corporeal and solid and. Present. For lack of a better word. But he IS a dead guy. Used to be human.

This is why Tommy kind of grew up around ghosts and knows alot about them :) Mr Coolatta is pretty benevolent, and mostly just kind of spooky and fucked up.

And that's. About it? I believe?? PLEAAASE ASK ME QUESTIONS ABOUT THIS I have so many thoughts. I've been working on this for like 2 months now. Lol.

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sad-girl-hours23 · 2 months ago

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I Know The Last Page So Well, I Can't Read The First

For the @tevanadvent2024 Day One: Beginnings

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Rating: G

I’m so sick of endings.

Lately, Tommy’s life has been nothing but endings.

First, his relationship with Evan. (Tommy’s not the forever guy, he knows that story all too well).

Then, his favorite show on Netflix was cancelled. Again. Why he bothers to get invested anymore is beyond him.

He nearly cried in the middle of a Baskin-Robbins when he found out his favorite flavor of ice cream had been put in the deep freeze. The girl behind the counter looked far too concerned for his well-being.

It was a sad state of affairs.

He heard from Lucy that Eddie’s moving to Texas. It stings, even if he’d all but left their friendship in limbo these past few months.

And then…his dad. Tommy’s never experienced a loss so fraught with complications and contradictions.

It’s his last day of bereavement leave and he’s eating alone at his favorite restaurant, alongside what feels like half of Los Angeles. He’s tucked away in a booth far larger than is appropriate for his sad reservation of one, but with the specters of his past, he’s not alone.

He’s picking at mushrooms on his pizza when somebody slides into the booth.

He wonders briefly if this marks the ending of his sanity.

As if the sheer power of his wanting has conjured an apparition of the man he loves.

Evan doesn’t stop sliding until their sides are pressed together. He’s here; real, and warm, beside him.

“Evan, what are you —”

Evan ducks his head. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

Tommy nods. “Thank you. I assume Lucy told you.”

“Yeah, but I wish you had.”

“I didn’t think, I mean, I don’t get to —”

Evan places his hand over Tommy’s. “But you do, Tommy. I would have been there for you. You still don’t get it do you?”

Tommy tries to suppress the embers of hope burning within him, they’ll only end in smoke and ash. “Get what?”

“I —” Evan’s phone chimes with a text and he looks towards the main room. “Look…can we talk later?”

Tommy hesitates. He should make a clean break, he knows. He won’t have the strength to walk away a second time. He forces a smile. “Of course. I’m sure you have someone to get back to. You shouldn’t waste your time with me and my misery.”

“Well you know what they say about misery.”

Before Tommy can reply, Eddie’s sliding into the booth on his other side, followed by Howie, Hen, and Bobby.

“What —”

Tears well up in his eyes as Hen takes his hand in hers. He can’t find it in him to be ashamed when he sobs as Eddie puts his arm around his shoulders and squeezes, says, “we got you, man.”

Howie grins. “Bet no one was expecting dinner and a show.”

“Chim,” the rest of them groan. Tommy just laughs. He’s missed this, missed them. He’s missed the person he is with them.

They all express their condolences and catch him up on their lives when he asks, as if no time has passed at all.

He finds out Evan’s been baking, and knows they have so much to unpack when they’re finally alone.

Evan lays his head on Tommy’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be this easy, he thinks.

He half expects Bobby or Hen to yell at him, to make him face the mess he’s made of his and Evan’s lives. He almost wants them to. But when he dares to look, they’re both smiling. It cracks his heart right down the middle.

He’s starting to think he doesn’t know this story half as well as he thought.

And Tommy, he’s so tired of endings, and so skeptical of beginnings, and so very terrified of the feelings starting to form in his chest. Everything ends. But if this is the middle of his story, if the bulk of his life’s pages get to be like this, it will have been worthwhile.

Also on AO3

#bucktommyadventcalendar #tevanadvent calendar #so i guess i'm doing this *runs and hides*#started this days ago and couldn't decide what it was going to be but “beginnings” was the perfect push I needed #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #sad-girl-hours23 does tevanadvent2024

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zablife · 3 months ago

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Tommy's Scent

Tommy Shelby x nun!reader

A/N: The scent of smoke in the air, requested by @cillmequick and @peakyswritings. Part of my Corrupt a Wish challenge.

Warnings: predatory behavior, unwanted advances, brief mention of assault Corrupt a wish reminder: If you think this story has a happy ending, you haven't been paying attention. Proceed with caution!

There was something about the earthy, spiced blend of smoke that would always be central to your memory of St. Hilda's. Arriving as a novice, the scent haunted your waking hours as it seemed to follow you through every corridor, never fully dissipating. The unique smell seeped from the banisters and books alike as though some specter lingered in every corner watching you.

The more it clung to you, the greater the weight on your mind until you could think of nothing else. Determined to banish the distraction, you took it upon yourself to air the classrooms every morning. However, breathing in lungfuls of soot and smoke from the nearby factories hardly seemed like a solution. The combination of smells gave you a nauseous headache which frequently made you ill.

By the end of your first month at the orphanage, your hands were already becoming red and chapped from the frequent, thorough scrubbing of your habit and stockings. At the end of your third, they were raw and bloodied. However, your nightly ritual had become something of a self-soothing gesture as you allowed the fresh scent of the soap to cleanse not only your belongings, but your anxious heart.

Your small room was something of a sanctuary for you in those days, the one place where the air remained pure. Loathe to leave the peace you'd created within those four walls, you began to delay the start of your day to remain there. Noticeably late for morning prayers on more than one occasion, you were swiftly reprimanded by Mother Superior who expressed doubts about your commitment.

After you pleaded with her to let you stay, she obliged on the condition that you performed a new duty. You listened intently as she explained there was a sick child in Warwickshire whose parents were to receive weekly communion. It seemed odd that this task had fallen upon the sisters of St. Hilda's when St. Mary's was much closer in proximity. However, you didn't dare question her judgement, especially after she'd shown you mercy.

The next morning you made the journey to a large estate called Arrow House in a shiny Bentley that had been sent just for the occasion. You tried not to show your excitement at the lavish accommodation, but you had to admit you were secretly thrilled at the prospect of making the drive in luxury each week.

The time passed quickly as you trained your thoughts on the little girl who'd fallen ill, wondering how you might find her upon arrival. Your nerves seizing hold of you before you'd realized, you began to fidget nervously as the large house came into view.

As the car came to a halt, you took a deep breath and held your head high as you exited. You were keen to project an air of confidence if the family was watching from the window.

However, you needn't have worried. There wasn't a single member of the Shelby clan to be found when the heavy oak door swung open, only a slight woman in a carefully pressed uniform. She ushered you inside as she studied you with piercing green eyes, stiffly introducing herself as the housekeeper.

Though you couldn't say why, the hair on the back of your neck prickled as you followed her down the hall. It might have been her unfriendly demeanor or the sudden rush of wind as the front door closed behind you, but an disquieted feeling came over you. The sense of déjà vu only grew stronger as a familiar woodsy, slightly sweet smell met your nostrils.

There was no time to reconcile your thoughts as the housekeeper left you at the threshold of Mr. Shelby's office, clutching your handbag against your body. By sheer willpower, you rapped upon the door, reminding yourself you were here to deliver communion to the Shelbys. Out of duty for this sacred act, you were compelled into the room where you glimpsed a man in only his waist coat and rolled sleeves sat at the desk. A rush of embarrassment caused you to falter, unaware he would be dressed so informally.

"Come," he commanded without looking up from his papers and the authority in his voice dictated nothing less than strict obedience.

Taking a seat across from him when he gestured, your gaze locked onto his sky blue eyes. They appeared quite angelic in the light, framed by his long, dark lashes. However, there was a hardened look about him which gave you a chill.

He hadn't failed to notice the effect he had on you, leaning forward to offer a cigarette. You shook your head as you politely declined, reaching into your bag for the small case containing the communion wafers.

"That won't be necessary," he muttered as he lit up.

You watched intently as he inhaled, your concern growing as his chest expanded like some great beast. The gentle roll of smoke tumbling from his mouth and nostrils did nothing to suppress your anxiety, especially as you were struck with a sudden revelation. The scent haunting you all those months was his unique blend of tobacco.

The clink of his lighter snapping shut jolted you back to reality and the purpose of your visit. "Mr. Shelby, I'm afraid, I don't understand. You asked me here, but you no longer wish to receive communion?"

The cigarette burned slowly between his fingers, curls of smoke reaching the high ceiling long before he gave an answer to your query.

Staring into the roaring fire beside him, Mr. Shelby's eyes reflected the bright orange hue of the flames as he admitted, "My daughter died last month. So, you see, I've no need."

You gulped harshly at his words, but quickly recovered. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Would you care to say a prayer together?"

He only laughed at your suggestion, "And what good would that do her now, ey?"

"Prayer has seen me through difficult times since I was a child," you answered, staring at him earnestly.

Plucking the cigarette from his lips, he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger as he punctuated his words. "When I was a boy I carried a screwdriver and a blade and everyone believed I had the power to lay curses."

Your blood ran cold upon hearing this, but you had to admit you were intrigued by his statement. "Do you?" you ventured, holding your breath for his answer.

Without breaking eye contact he affirmed, "Yes, I do."

You shuddered involuntarily as another chuckle escaped his lips and you became suspicious he'd asked you here only to humiliate you. Whether driven by grief or malice, you didn't know, only that you'd become terribly afraid of him. Reaching for the rosary in your pocket, you removed it and began rubbing your thumb over the beads to soothe yourself.

You didn't realize you'd closed your eyes to the devil across from you until he was standing at your side, one hand clamped against the back of your neck. "I wouldn't try that," he advised as he caught sight of your lips moving in silent prayer. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered a cruel taunt, "No one is listening."

The following moments were a blur, his body too close for comfort and his words a mixture of threats and perverse longing. He'd watched you from the day you arrived at St. Hilda's, careful to keep to the shadows whenever he visited Mother Superior.

Upon his confession, your mind traversed the path of your early days at the orphanage when you'd been assigned to teach Latin. Suddenly you were lost in memory:

The twist of the door knob down the hall caused you to jump before turning your attention back to the lesson you were teaching. As the ancient wood creaked upon its hinges, you redoubled your efforts reciting the lesson as you'd rehearsed. However, the potency of the scented smoke caused you to freeze with chalk dangling from your fingertips.

As though in a trance, you moved to the doorway, your head tilted at an angle to follow the dark figure now striding away from you. In the shadows of the darkened hall, you could make out the outline of a man in a peaked cap. His dark, dusty coat flapped behind him as he disappeared from view, leaving nothing more than a few dirty footprints to prove his existence.

"You knew I'd been there," Mr. Shelby uttered and you cried out in horror at his ability to read your mind. It was beyond comprehension how he'd known your every move. "You wanted to know me too, didn't you?" he asked, hands roaming your body despite your thrashing. You couldn't answer, catatonic in the face of his brazen assault.

What seemed to be a lifetime later, you collected yourself from the floor and bolted for the door. Hurtling down the hall as fast as you could with tears blurring your vision, you eventually reached daylight, but in your haste to escape, your feet stumbled on the stone steps outside Arrow House. Falling to your knees, you winced as the gravel cut into your legs.

"Let me help you to the car," a calm, even voice boomed behind you. Thomas Shelby came into view above you, hand extended like a perfect gentleman.

"Don't touch me," you snapped, chest heaving for breath. A spark of indignant rage caught fire inside his crystal blue eyes before taking a deliberate step back when he noticed the driver approaching.

Smoothing his hair back, he turned to the older man announcing, "William, Sister Y/n seems to have hurt herself. Please help her to the car."

As William took hold of your elbow, you rose to face Mr. Shelby with a look of determination. Inwardly you vowed to tell Mother Superior everything as soon as you returned and your steely eyed gaze said as much. It was the very reason he returned to his office at that moment, to make a phone call of his own.

And thus your confession about Mr. Shelby's behavior did not go as planned. The moment you divulged the false pretenses under which you'd been brought to Arrow House, her apathy turned to anger. Incensed at your accusations, she reprimand you for telling such “fanciful tales."

However, you could not accept the injustice that had been done. “You're aware of his wickedness and you do nothing?” you gasped in disbelief, glancing down at your bloodied legs as proof something had indeed happened that day.

"Mr. Shelby is a very generous benefactor. In fact, the Grace Shelby Foundation is the biggest single source of funding for this charitable institution. If he asks for your visits to continue, then that is what you shall do." When she was finished, she pursed her lips tightly to convey her resolve and you realized it was her final word on the matter.

You took the long, lonely walk back to your room in a stupor. The moment you closed the door, you allowed yourself a moment of pity and cried until your eyes were as red as your hands which scrubbed ceaselessly to erase the scent of him.

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Tag List:

@peakyswritings

@evita-shelby

@kittycatcait219

@callsign-fangirl

@theshelbyclan

@elenavampire21

@little-diable

@lyarr24

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@outlanderuniverse

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@elliaze

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@brummiereader

@cillmequick

@mischievouslittlecreature

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@garrison-girl-08

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@look-at-the-soul

@cillianmurphyfanatic

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@babayaga67

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@shelby-fangirl00

@thomashelbyswife

@mythos-writes

@thegreatdragonfruta

@peakyltd

@holacia3

@novashelby

@moral-terpitude

#peaky blinders fanfic #Peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby imagine #Zablife corrupt a wish

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 1 year ago

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 42

Part 1 Part 41

Steve doesn’t realize they’re not heading toward the Munson’s trailer until they pass the gaudy Loch Nora sign.

Despite what he’d argued, he’s tired – zoning in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. He can still hear the voices bouncing off the lockers in the hallway, echoing after the strange solitude of the Upside-Down. And then the hospital. And then the Munson’s trailer.

His gut writhes as Eddie pulls into his winding driveway, putting the van in park with a world-weary sigh. His bimmer is still parked in the driveway, dusted with fallen leaves slowly turning to mulch on his windshield.

The house looms dark and empty. Just like the last time he’d been here; a mad dash from the Demogorgon. Alone.

Steve Harrington is always alone.

“What are we doing here?” he asks.

Eddie, having already opened his door and gotten halfway up and out of the van, levers his whole body back into his seat and closes the door behind him.

Eddie looks over at Steve. Steve doesn’t look back.

“We don’t have to go in.”

Steve sighs, running his hand over his head again, pushing hair back out of his face that he no longer has.

“What are we doing here, man?” he repeats, soul gaping, eyes dead.

Eddie sighs. “I thought you might like some of your stuff.”

Steve looks up at the looming specter of his childhood home. The windows are as dark as they always are. “And then we’re going back to yours?” Steve asks, scratching the back of his head, trying for nonchalance he’s not sure he ever pulled off in Eddie Munson’s presence.

When he glances over at Eddie, he’s looking up at the house, eyes focused on the dark front windows, porch light off, curtains drawn. His eyebrows are pinched together. Steve wants to smooth it out with a thumb. Doesn’t.

What does he see? Classmates and teachers alike always see it as a blessing – big house, no parents. Eddie’s not like anyone else he’s ever met.

“Yeah,” he says, breathless, looking up at the second floor like it’s haunted. “You hate this house.”

The thing is, Steve does. Always has, since he was small, tottering around after a physically present Mother, but feeling the absence like a wound.

He saw that wound reflected back at him from Tommy and Carol, dogs begging for scraps of love.

Maybe it’s in Eddie as well.

Steve gets out of the van, Eddie following his lead, walking at his side close enough that their elbows brush. He digs the hid-a-key out of the bush in the planter by the front door.

“Dude, rich people are so easy to rob,” Eddie says, looking around like he’s casing the joint.

Steve snorts, slotting the key in the lock, turning it left and pushing the door open. The sound rings hollow, like the mouth of a cave swallowing them.

Steve leads the way inside.

Eddie follows him up to his bedroom, grabs his backpack off the where he’d ditched it that last day. Steve grabs his duffel bag from the closet and stuffs clothes in at random.

Steve grabs the teddy bear off his bed. Tommy had won it for him from a claw machine on his last birthday. It was sky blue and soft. He couldn’t leave it behind, no matter what Munson said.

But he didn’t say anything at all, just stands there patiently as Steve looks around his bedroom, a pit sinking deep at how little he’s taking. How little there is that he wants at all.

He swings the bag across his shoulders, clutches the bear to his chest and walks back down the stairs at a brisk pace, Eddie trotting along at his heels.

On instinct, Steve heads to the pristine kitchen. There’s a note stuck to the fridge with a magnet, a handful of twenties stuck behind it.

They’d come and gone, and hadn’t noticed he was gone at all.

Steve plucks the note from the fridge, letting the twenties flutter to the ground, the magnet clattering on the pile loudly. Eddie bends down to gather them up as Steve reads:

Steven,

Your Father and I are off to Berlin, and will be gone for three weeks.

You’re on thin ice with your Father. We were both very disappointed by the state you left the house in. We expect better from you.

It’s left unsigned.

Eddie rips the note out of his hands and shoves it in his mouth, chewing. Steve stares, transfixed as Eddie chews and chews.

Grimacing around the mouthful, he says, “I don’t know why I thought this would work.” It’s muffled and warbling around the masticated paper on his tongue.

Steve bursts out laughing, watching as Eddie runs to the sink and scrapes the paper mache monstrosity off of his tongue.

“What the fuck?” Steve says, still laughing.

Eddie shoves his mouth over the faucet, lets the water pour onto his tongue messily and dribbles back out.

“10/10, do not recommend,” he says, voice muffled as he scrapes his tongue off with his fingers. “That tasted disgusting, dude!”

There’s something light and airy bursting from him, like the first rays of sun cutting through the darkness. No one’s ever been willing to make a fool of themselves to cheer Steve up. But the bashful slant of Eddie’s smile tells Steve exactly why this newest bit came about.

“You’re such a fucking freak,” he says, fondness leaking out at every seam.

He wants to hug Eddie, so he does. His arms slot perfectly around Eddie’s waist, pulling the other boy in. He freezes for a moment before wrapping his own arms around Steve’s shoulders and pulling him in tightly. Eddie’s fly-away hair tickles Steve’s nose.

Eddie’s digging his nose into Steve’s shoulder like he’s trying to make a home in there, whiskers scratchy, lips wet. Steve sinks in, breath shuddering out as Eddie takes more and more of his weight.

They stand, wrapped up in each other in Steve’s endlessly quiet kitchen. Together.

Steve Harrington is not alone. And when Eddie asks, “ready to go, sweetheart?” he nods, disentangling reluctantly from Eddie’s arms.

And when they drive back out onto the road from his long, winding driveway, Steve doesn’t look back.

Part 43

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @1-8oo-wtfbro @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic

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kira-anon-uwu · 1 year ago

Note

TS! How did Tommy discover his powers?

... [ three pages ]

...

Tommy Specter Master Post

~-~

imagine dozing off in detention and your head goes through the fucking desk LMAO

also yes that is Sam at the top there, he has been kin assigned English Teacher here is the poster behind him

#mcyt #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt comic #interactive comic #interactive fanfiction #interactive story #tommyinnit #awesamdude #tommy specter #mcyt au

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 6 months ago

Note

Can I just say that no one I've ever read writes the relationship between exes as well as you do (I'm still aflutter over Procedure).

So I was wondering what the exes relationships are like for other characters you write for? Are they semi-perminent in each others lives despite the split or are they 'and they never spoke again' people?

Were you looking for an answer that includes the dozens of men on my Wildly Inappropriate Chart? No, probably not.

Are you getting one? Absolutely. (Full list and breakout below the cut)

Will put you in a simulation to make you love him again

Frank (Don’t Worry Darling)

Will ignore you

Stewy Hosseini

Kendall Roy

Don Draper

Percival Graves

Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes verse)

Abel Morales

Orlando Oxford

Daniel Le Domas

Will secretly keep tabs on you

Javier Peña

James Bond

Tommy Shelby

Diego Jimenez

Gurney Halleck

Horacio Carrillo

Chris Argent

Marc Specter

Duncan Idaho

Eddie Brock

Frank Castle

Boba Fett

Will reappear to fuck up the vibe just after you've managed to move on

Raymond Smith

Don Eppes

Carmy Berzatto

Indiana Jones

Nathan Bateman

Duke Leto Atreides

Ray Merrimen

Santiago Garcia

Dean Winchester

Bruce Wayne

Angel Reyes

Oberyn Martell

Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon

Patrick Zweig

Will be friendly to the best of his abilities but will struggle with the fact that he's still in love with you

Steve Rogers

Andy Barber

Jonathan Levy

George Russell

Harvey Specter

Jake Seresin

Eddie Munson

Josh Lyman

Rhett Abbott

Anthony Bridgerton

Will make you fall back in love with him with one smile, sweeping shoulder touch, and a soft but meaningful, “Long time, no see...How are you?”

Benny Miller

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw

Will Miller

Bucky Barnes

Rafael Barba

Christopher Pike

Frankie Morales

Marcus Pike

Matt Murdock

Poe Dameron

Art Donaldson

#asks #replies #sorry this took so long!#also I'm so glad you're enjoying Procedure!!

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spookypete-94 · 3 months ago

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Dead!GhostxLiving!reader

TW for suicide mention and brief language.

Happy Halloween 👻🎃

Spooky stories Simon Riley Masterlist

Been thinking of Ghost who's well... Actually a Ghost. One day he was out on a mission and the next he woke up as a specter in his local cemetery buried next to his mother and Tommy.

It took him a while to realize he was actually dead once someone walked through him. Lifting his hand, he saw it was tangible. He didn't even realize he was killed on his mission until then.

Ghost who sees others walking around the graveyard the same as he did. Dazed and confused. Just like how the world was in the living, there were good and bad spirits. Leaving him wondering why he now had this shadowy form. Some leave, others stay, much like him. He had no reason to leave this new strange home... Until he sees you.

You were kneeling down at a fresh grave. Dirt dark and wet. Your voice was small and quiet, body shaking as you fought tears.

Grief is a fickle thing. He thought.

Until he could hear your words.

"You were a fucking asshole, but you didn't need to kill yourself."

Rage is a fickle thing. He corrected himself.

Looking closer at your delicate features, he realized you had a black eye, a split lip.

Still observing he watches you stand up. Almost flinching as he you spit on the grave kicking some dirt on to the headstone in the same motion. Glancing over it belonged to a man who was about your age.

A lover perhaps?

He never felt the need to leave the cemetery until he wanted to follow you home and find out who it was you were so angry with. His new goal in life death, was to curb your rage. He had a feeling he knew what you had just buried and he himself a man forged in the fire of anger could help.

Only he could help heal your bruised heart and face because Ghost Simon too came from abuse. He would love you better than the man you had just buried. The same man that had caused you grief and the injuries on your face. The same man when you decided to leave, took his own life.

Who knew your trip to the cemetery would be the best thing you had ever done for yourself. You now have a guardian angel... Or perhaps the devil himself looming over you to protect you to make sure this never happened again.

Hopefully your house can accommodate your new found Ghost. You are now his home, because he too comes from rage.

Part 2

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baronessvonglitter · 5 months ago

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Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 17 🍒

"What is and What Should Never Be"

pre-outbreak! au!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 5,924

Summary: Reconnecting with Joel is easy, but things take a turn when you spot a man you never thought you'd see again.

(Warnings contain spoilers, so check beneath the cut if you dare to peek)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18-19, Joel is 35-36), set in September 2003, angst, family drama, drunk dialing, phone sex, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v sex, alcohol drinking (only Joel), reader runs into her estranged father who now has a new family, Joel once again using his fists to solve problems which gets him arrested, mentions of blood and gore after a fight (later mention of broken nose and needing stitches), Joel's guilt causes him to break up with you once and for all, reader refuses to take care of herself as a self-inflicted punishment, no use of y/n (if I've left anything out please let me know)

Author's note: this took forever to write because honestly a big part of me didn't want to do it. Thank you for sticking with me, those of you who have been reading from the start!

Series Masterlist

"Stay."

That word haunts you, so varied in its meaning. Stay of execution. Please stay for lunch. You chose to stay with your mom despite the fact that Joel asked you to stay with him in Austin.

It's the first thing you think about when you wake up each morning. That stupid word, haunting you like a specter. And there's that little voice in the back of your head that taunts: 'You could be with him right now, waking up next to him, the warmth of his arms enveloping you as he nuzzles your neck, rousing you with a firm morning hard-on before you have to get up to go your separate ways for the day.'

Then you remember the reason you left him in the first place. It makes you sick to your stomach to think that everything he'd done with you had only been a repeat session of what he'd done with your mom. Who, by the way, has fussed over you since you moved back in. You took a pregnancy test at her behest, giving a silent sigh of relief when the results read negative.

She hounded you for details, of which you gave her none. Her jealousy was disgusting to you, and pitiable. And though you shared a man with this woman, unknowingly, the only difference was you'd given your heart and she had not.

You walk on eggshells around her for the first few days, unsure how to navigate this new territory. You're not sure how to move on from here, unwilling to address what happened yet desperately wanting a sounding board. You can't talk to the problem about the problem. You feel like a prisoner in your own home, deprived of the love you should have been given years ago that instead has become suspicion and doubt. You weren't even allowed to attend your friend's wedding because your mom thought it was in bad taste to attend a ceremony for such a young couple. Even though she herself got married younger.

Meanwhile your phone stays quiet, no calls or texts from Joel, but Sofia is kind enough to give you details. Unfortunately it's quiet on their end. She's still with Tommy, having finally succumbed to being in a relationship despite her initial misgivings. She only sees Joel now and then, and he smiles hello or good evening to her, but that's it. Sarah has been hanging out with new friends and seems happy.

Your stomach twists in knots at Sarah's deceptiveness. You can't help but wonder if Joel knows, if they're on speaking terms, but it's awful to wish that on a kid. If it came between your father and your friend, you might choose the same course she did.

By Labor Day you have your schedule to keep you busy: early British literature at nine, creative writing at noon, and a few other non-major related classes just to keep you from having to think too much on things you don't have a handle on.

At your new university you run into a few friends from school, people who either didn't want to leave home for the adventure of a lifetime, or couldn't get into the more prestigious schools in the state. It's still a good school, just not the one you wanted.

It was embarrassing having to tie up loose ends in Austin, calling Hailey at the cafe and telling her that you've moved, keeping in touch with friends only through texts, with meager promises to meet up soon, make a road trip out of it. You're not naive enough to actually believe any of it, but it's nice to come away from the situation with a little bit of kindness.

Your mom tries to get you to go over with her to her family's Labor Day cookout, but celebration is the last thing on your mind, least of all with her. You stay home alone, reminding her there's no way you can get up to any trouble. She's flattened out whatever spirit was left in you and she knows it but won't admit it.

With the house to yourself, you study in the living room, the TV tuned in to a rerun of NYPD Blue. Your short story that's due this week sits abandoned, half-written as your attention drifts to the screen, watching the cops interrogate a cute goth guy named Dio.

Your cell phone rings, bringing you out of your daydream. Sofia's name shines on the caller ID.

"Hey, cous. What's up?" you lean back on the sofa, a can of Vanilla Coke at your lips.

"Hey there.. babygirl," Joel's voice murmurs over the line. You sit up straight.

"Joel.." you repeat dumbly, in shock. "What.." your mind goes blank.

He chuckles on the other end of the line, and you feel a warmth in the pit of your stomach when he mutters your name. "God damn it I miss ya," he slurs.

"Are you drunk?"

"Naw, baby.. well a little." Wherever he is you can hear Tommy in the background, and Sofia demanding her phone back.

"Came out tonight and thought about ya.. ain't heard from ya and I missed your voice."

"Oh, Joel.." you sigh, different emotions warring within you. "I don't think that I should be talking to you.."

"Cherry!" Tommy's ebullient, voice comes over the line now. "Cherry, Joel misses you! He's been cryin'! There ain't no other woman for him 'cept you!"

Tommy's words become unintelligible. There's a jostling sound and soon Sofia's on the phone. "Sorry about that.. I guess the Miller boys are a little out of control tonight," she says, forcing a laugh. "Joel asked to use my phone but I didn't know he was gonna use it to call you." It sounds like Sofia's outside, away from the blare of the music and sounds of drunkenness.

"It's all right.. how is he?"

"I think he's lonely," she answers. "It was supposed to be just me and Tommy out tonight, but Joel invited himself along as a third wheel. Tommy says you broke his brother's heart," she adds softly.

You shake your head. "Sofia, you were there. You know the truth now. How can I forgive him for hiding so much from me?"

"I can't speak for him, but I will say that we all make mistakes. He's only human."

You sigh, plopping yourself on the sofa after pacing the room. "What should I do?"

"You care about him, right?"

"Of course."

"Maybe just hear him out. Then you can decide what your next step should be."

"Tell him to call me when he's sober."

She chuckles. "No guarantees he won't try tonight."

Joel calls the next day, and you call him the next night, with sporadic texting in between. You're treading carefully, talking about mundane things until it feels okay enough to talk about what happened between you.

He tells you the same story as your mother, and you steel yourself listening to the man you love talk about the life he had before he met you. He doesn't leave out the parts about other women, how he tried to cover his broken heart instead of facing it head on and healing it, how he lost the best friend he'd ever had over a woman who didn't care for him.

"She doesn't love you," you whisper into your phone one night, tucked under the duvet so that you won't be overheard by your mom. "She never did.. but I still do."

It's this revelation that brings you together, has you calling each other "babe" and "love" all over again. Before the end of your first week reconciling you're already whispering filthy things to him over long phone calls, your hands drifting over your body, excited to come for him as he growls his commands over the line, there you go, babygirl, just like that, come on your fingers.. now suck them off, I wanna hear it and you do come for him, knowing there can never be anyone else for you, no matter what.

"I'm comin' to see ya," he tells you one morning as he's heading to work and you're in the university parking lot.

"Joel, you can't-"

"Then come here."

"Three hours away? Four or five with traffic? You're crazy. Mom would come looking for me."

"Then let's meet in the middle."

You consider this. "What's the halfway point between Houston and Austin?"

"There's Brenham," he suggests.

"I've never been there." You toy with the cherry scented air freshener hanging from your rear view mirror. "Could we tour the Blue Bell factory?"

"That we can.. among other things." You can hear the suggestive smile in his voice.

You make the excuse that you have to do extra credit at another campus and are able to get away for the weekend. The drive is over an hour long, and your heart feels like it may just hammer its way out of your chest cavity the entire time. It hasn't really been that long since you've seen Joel, and just as you pass through Cypress you wonder if it's a good idea after all. But your heart is young and easily swayed to the will of your fantasies, among them being that you and Joel are meant to be, just a pair of star-crossed lovers who will find their way together again, beyond the chains of society dragging them down.

You reach the small diner in Brenham, taking a deep breath before you leave the car, then another before you open the door to the restaurant.

And there he is, in a booth in the corner. Your heart skips a beat before it lodges in your throat.

It's only been a few weeks since you've seen him but in that moment you swear it's been an eternity.

It's like a movie in slow motion: Joel rises from his seat as you near him, and without hesitation you go into his open arms, which wrap lovingly around you. The world stops for a brief, beautiful moment.

There's not much to catch up on, you soon find out. It's barely been a few weeks since you've seen him. Everything is the same as when you left, only everything has also changed.

"I can't stop thinking about you, about the way we left things," he says urgently, under the sad and lonely twang of the steel guitar from whatever old country song the diner's jukebox is playing. "But you said you need to figure things out, so I'm givin' you that space you need," he says.

His hands clasp yours across the table, between the half-eaten plates of food you've neglected in favor of discussion. "I meant what I said, babygirl.. I can't see myself with anyone else."

Your heart clenches at the thought, even as the rational part of your brain tells you it's impossible, that you experienced the strongest pull of attraction with a man old enough to be your father, and you both let your emotions get the best of you.

It dawns on you that you've only known him for three months.

It also dawns on you that you only have this one life, this one chance to be happy at all, especially now that you're under your mother's roof again, no escape in sight until you graduate and land a job. Right now, in this slice of a moment, you have complete and total freedom from things you don't want to belong to.

"Joel.." you whisper, and he clasps his hands tighter around yours. "Let's get out of here."

There's a motel across the street, the kind that serves wayfarers and illicit lovers, of which you and Joel are both.

Your fingers are intertwined as he pays at the front desk, and his arm is slung around you as you walk up to your allotted room. The moment the door closes behind you, Joel's self-control snaps like a broken guitar string. He surges towards you, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you into a passionate kiss, his lips melding with yours in a desperate collision of desire and need.

You kiss him back, desperately tasting his mouth, molding your body to his in a frantic need for him. His hands travel down your body, rough palms roaming over your curves. His tongue slides into your mouth as he pulls you close, his muscular frame crowding you.

"Yes," you whisper in between fiery kisses. This is the only thing that feels right, the only thing I want in the entire world. You lift your shirt over your head, shove your shorts down your legs before your hand teasingly slips down the front of his jeans, rubbing him through his boxers. A low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat as he presses his hips forward into your touch.

"All for me?" you ask, wrapping your hand around his generous length, your cunt already feeling its velvety thickness inside you.

Joel nods, his muscles tensing as your touch ignites a fire within him. "Only for you," he whispers, voice rough with desire. "I think about you all the time, in places I shouldn't," his breath shudders as you fall to your knees, pulling his jeans down the rest of the way and immediately taking him into your mouth.

"Like where?" you ask, keeping your eyes on him as you swirl your tongue around his cock, itching for him to take you then and there, but you've waited so long and pined so hard that a little teasing is in order.

His thick fingers card through your hair, gathering the length in a ponytail to gently guide you down on his cock. "In my truck, in the shower, in bed.." he grunts as your mouth envelops what it can of him, and he's careful not to push in and have you choke on his dick like he wants to. "Sometimes I even catch myself thinkin' about you while I'm workin'. You're dangerous, babygirl."

A thrill goes through you, an electric shock straight to your senses when you hear this. "And what do you think about?" you ask, pumping him with your hand.

Joel puts his hand over yours, stilling it, not wanting to risk that he's gonna explode after a couple of strokes, like some damn high school kid. "Everything, darlin'.. I think about every part of you: how good you smell, how good you taste, how damn perfect you are. I think about how I want to devour you, take you as mine and never let go."

"Don't let go of me again, Joel.. promise me," you say as he rises you to your feet, pressing your body flush to his, able to feel every contour, the hard parts of him that you dream about on a nightly basis.

His arms tighten around you, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and regret as he watches your reflections in the dresser mirror. "I won't, baby, I promise." His words are both a vow and a prayer. "I won't let go of you ever again."

His hand glides up your back, his fingers tracing the ridges of your spine. "I've missed you like crazy.." his deep voice is filled with need. "Missed touchin' and holdin' you like this."

"No one has to know what it's like between us," you sigh as his touch ignites your senses. For all intents and purposes, no one knows that you're here, and once again you're a secret.

"No one," he agrees, bringing you to the bed. "Just me and you. No one else has to know, because this?" He slips his hands down your panties, making you gasp, and he growls in return to feel you warm and wet, welcoming. "This is ours, no one else's."

In no time at all you're sprawled on the bed, panties and bra discarded on the motel carpet. Joel's between your legs, pressing a teasing kiss to your mound, his fingers circling your entrance. As you writhe and moan beneath his touch, his tongue darts out to taste you. "So responsive.." his breath his hot against you as he pushes a finger inside.

A needful groan leaves your lips. You haven't been able to match this intensity with just your own fingers since you left him. "Don't stop," you beg. His breath stutters at your pleas, devoting himself to bringing you pleasure. His fingers and tongue work in tandem, stroking and caressing you from within and without. He wants nothing more than to draw out every sound you can possibly make.

"You taste like heaven, babygirl," his voice is rough and heated. "So damn good. I could do this all day, just for those beautiful moans."

Joel watches as you come apart beneath him, your body arching under the onslaught of pleasure he's given you, and his heart swells with desire. "That's my girl," he whispers. "Just beautiful."

You're left trembling, a complete puddle when he's done with you, and you've never been more satisfied in your life. "God, I missed that.."

He kisses his way up your body, leaving a trail of soft, tender kisses along your soft skin until he reaches your lips. When he gazes at you, his eyes burn with love and lust. "I missed it too," he says. "Missed touchin' you like this, hearin' you say my name, seein' you all flushed and breathin' hard. Drove me crazy not havin' you near."

And then he's inside you, burying himself to the hilt, fucking you like it's the last time he ever will. It's like he's twenty years younger, on the verge of coming within minutes, until he shifts you into different positions to stave off the need to cum, not satisfied to help himself to his own pleasure until you're too weak to mumble your own name.

You lose track of all time, lost in the feel of him as he fucks you hard, then softer, desperately, and as if he has all the time in the world. It's a blur of sweat and sighs and tangled limbs for the rest of the afternoon.

The next few weekends are spent in this way: meeting at the motel at the halfway point between your city and his, holing up in the room and only leaving to get food.

"I wanna be with you forever.." Joel slowly kisses his way down your body. The sun is setting, casting a golden hour glow in the room, and you're both resting atop the rumpled sheets and strewn pillows.

"Forever?" you repeat with a love-drunk smile.

"Forever baby," he reiterates. "I don't want a life without you in it," he whispers as he makes his way even lower.

You sigh his name sweetly. "Maybe after I finish college I'll find a place in Austin."

"Really? You'd move to Austin to be with me?" He situates himself between your thighs, a thousand kilawatt smile on his face.

"Yeah.. I actually really like it there.."

"I'd love it if you were closer to me," he sighs. "Plus payin' for these rooms is gettin' damn expensive." He pauses. "Nothin's stoppin' you from comin' back sooner, y'know.."

You search his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, the love that has drawn you in since the very beginning. "I'll finish out this semester and we'll talk about it," you tell him, delighted when his eyes light up at the prospect of having you with him again.

"You could stay with me.. for good.. forever.." he says, kissing down your body with each word.

You lay naked in his arms, satisfied, yet always aching for him in your heart and in your soul. "Forever sounds so good with you," you murmur, your voice a little hoarse from giving screams of pleasure earlier.

The following week is your shared birthday, and though Joel is less enthusiastic about turning a year older, he loves seeing how caught up you get in planning a little getaway for the both of you. San Antonio is as safe a place as any, and not likely to be too crowded this time of year.

The first night, your birthday night, is spent traversing the colorful Riverwalk, romantically lit, placid, even among the neon signs of the shops, bars, and restaurants. You choose a place to have dinner, sitting on the patio and enjoying the mild September weather.

"How does it feel to be thirty-six?" you ask, watching him with hearts in your eyes as you rest your chin on your hand.

"Same," he shakes his head. "How's it feel to be nineteen?"

"Amazing," you smirk.

"Youth is wasted on the young."

"I see you finally got your watch fixed," you smile, tapping the glass face.

"That.. yeah, Sarah got it fixed for me, gave it to me as a present before I left."

The mention of her still makes your stomach drop and you go quiet.

"She misses you," he says. "Been talkin' about you a lot lately. She wanted me to give you this."

"She knows you're here with me?"

Joel shrugs. "Word gets around. Maybe Tommy said somethin'.. either way, I'm not keepin' you a secret no more."

You plant a soft kiss on his lips before unwrapping the small jewelry box he gives you. Inside is the missing earring you thought you'd lost forever God knows where, probably in a nook or cranny of Joel's truck one hot night, but here it is, the mate to the one in your jewelry box at home.

"Give her my thanks," you tell him, wondering if he knows she's the one who tore them apart in the first place. Talking about it would just ruin the night, so you slip the box into your purse for later. "Looks like I'm getting back everything I ever thought I lost," you smile, holding his hands across the table.

When the music gets too loud to talk over, you write cute love notes on the napkins, reading them quickly before the condensation on the table, courtesy of Joel's beer, smears the ink.

After dinner you stroll along the river, arm in arm, and he leads you back to the hotel, thankfully within walking distance. Once inside your room you can't keep your hands off each other, taking advantage of the night, of the anonymity of being in a different city. The bed is bigger than the shitty motel in Brenham, the sheets are softer, and Joel takes the little piece of chocolate that housekeeping left on your pillow and places it in your mouth, as his lips travel down your body to get you worked up with your tongue. He's promised you a gift but he's saving it for the end of the weekend. Right now he'd drawled, you'll just have to be satisfied with me making you cum.

Joel's up earlier than you the next day. Not even his circadian rhythm goes on vacation. But he's left a note saying he's going out to get breakfast, not content with with having the continental breakfast the hotel serves. An intrusive thought pricks at your mind: maybe he just doesn't want to be seen with you at a hotel, even in front of strangers.

You shake that thought away, getting showered and dressed.

On the way to the front desk to check for messages, you hear a familiar voice as you turn the corner. A middle-aged man, average height, wearing a Hawaiian print shirt and cargo shorts, speaks with the morning concierge.

"..the couple in room 478 was very loud last night. They kept me and my family awake, and honestly that's not the kind of thing I want my young kids to hear.."

You realize you and Joel are the ones in 478 that he's complaining about, just before your breath hitches in your throat. Everything, in fact, seems to slow and still as you approach the desk, nearing the man making the complaint.

Dad..?

He leaves the desk before you can go up to him, only seeing him from the back as he goes in the opposite direction, on his way to the free hotel breakfast. Your feet don't allow you to follow him, mired as you are to the floor. The concierge addresses you three times before you hear her.

"Miss? Is there something I can help you with?"

You've completely forgotten what you came here for, and meager words form on your lips. "That man.. what's his name?"

She shakes her head. "I'm afraid I can't give that information."

"Well.. what room is he staying in?"

"Again, I can't give out that information, sweetie. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"..no.." you answer, voice barely a whisper, walking slowly back to your room.

"Somethin's on your mind," Joel says casually, watching you as he sips his ice cold beer. "I can tell. You tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, babygirl."

The sun is high overhead as you both enjoy lunch on the patio of one of the nicer restaurants in town. You'd initially balked at the priciness of the place, but Joel had insisted. You ate sparingly even though you were hungry. The breakfast tacos from that morning had only given you and Joel more energy to fuck a couple more times before you decided to walk around the city and get some fresh air.

"Nothing," you tell him, faking a smile. But you can't keep up the pretense for long. "Well.. I think I saw my father at the hotel this morning."

Joel puts his drink down, his gaze settling on you, the most serious you've seen him. "You think, or you know?"

You shake your head. "I'm pretty sure.."

He says nothing for a few moments. "Small world if he's here."

Breaking the tension, you tell him about the noise complaint that you're likely to receive once you get back to the hotel, and it earns you a little laugh from him, and pleasure warms your heart to see him blush.

It's later in the evening when you're strolling, enjoying the city as sunset takes over, gold and purple in the autumn sky.

"I'm thinking I wanna give you your birthday present tonight," he says, nodding as if he's just thought of it.

You're a little embarrassed that your own gift is so meager, whatever money your mother gives you going to gas for the car or lunch for the week.

"Spending this time with you has honestly been the best gift I could ask for," you tell him, grasping his hand in yours.

Your sighting this morning is all but forgotten as you and Joel return to the hotel, arm in arm. From the opposite direction comes the man you saw at reception earlier, in a different Hawaiian shirt this time, but he has his arm around a woman you've never seen before, who's pushing a stroller with young twins inside.

He catches your eye and you see that flash of recognition before he artfully conceals it, looking askance, hurrying his stride and whispering something to the woman he's with.

"Dad?" you call out, despite the part of you that wants to pretend it's not him, that the world is too big and too wide to be conceivable that you'd find him here after so many years.

He ignores you, casting his glance away as he hurries, his wife looking at him in confusion.

"Chris." Joel's voice booms louder than yours, catching your dad's attention. You feel invisible as the two men who haven't seen each other in almost two decades, former friends, practically brothers, reconnect.

But it's not as nice as it sounds.

There's history between them that you don't understand.

All you can see right now is your father, with another family, with absolutely no intention to ever speak to you again.

"Joel." Chris's voice is low, indifferent as you've always remembered it, with a hint of curiosity as his gaze flicks between you and him. And you see the last piece click in place as it registers; while his brain lights up his eyes go dark.

"You wanna tell me what you're doin' here with my daughter?" he moves towards the both of you, a charge in his steps as his purpose becomes clear. Joel stands his ground, shielding you.

"It ain't none of your concern, never was," Joel grunts his reply.

"The hell it ain't," Chris grunts back in Joel's face. You sneak a peek at the woman he's with, maybe five or six years older than yourself, eyes filled with worry as she tries to assess the situation, obviously too afraid to step in.

"Chris, come on," she begs, her accent showing she's not from these parts.

But the men are like animals, neither one is going to step down first.

"If you're doin' with her what I think you are, you're in some deep shit, pal," Chris warns.

"She's an adult and can make her own decisions. And you got no say in her life after leavin' it."

"She's my kid, man!"

It's the first time he's admitted this, and a small thrill of victory floods your veins, quickly thinned when Joel retorts:

"You got a problem with it, come see us in room 478. Oh, and we'll try to keep it down tonight," he smirks, knowing this comment will hit him where it hurts.

What happens next you'll review in your head over and over in the coming days.

Joel barely dodges Chris's punch, but the force of the swing creates a gust of air that grazes his face. He retaliates with a jab to Chris's ribs, landing with a dull thud.

"Dad!" you run towards him, fearing for his safety, knowing firsthand how Joel can switch on to violence in a heartbeat. In the midst of the chaos you try to intervene, grab your dad's shoulder to wrench him away. In his rage-filled instinct he shoves you back, the back of his hand connecting with your cheekbone.

In your daze you stumble back on your ass, hitting the pavement as Joel rams into Chris, knocking him to the ground too. The woman Chris is with starts screaming as Joel slams his fists repeatedly into Chris's face. The sickening crunch of fist meeting flesh, cartilage and bone makes your stomach churn, all your own pain forgotten in the melee of the brutality.

Panicked passersby call for help, try to stop the brawl, come and check on you, helping you to your feet. But all you see are the uniformed cops cuffing Joel after successfully breaking up the fight, leading him to a cruiser, and paramedics coming to your dad's rescue, assessing him. You go to him, hovering over your dad, glimpsing blood and gore before he's lifted onto a stretcher and taken into the back of an ambulance.

It's late, past two a.m. You're curled up in an uncomfortable chair at the hospital, waking with a crick in your neck.

Your dad's going to be okay, the doctor tells you. A broken nose, some stitches, nothing major.

You go in to see him, passing by his wife as she leaves, giving you a sidelong glance, measuring you up. It's not known if Chris has told her about you or not, and this is something you'll never know.

He's sleeping, his monitor beeping steadily. The room smells like disinfectant.

And it's at this point you realize you have nothing to say to him. Any questions that burned in the back of your brain are now ash. The man in front of you is a stranger and has been for years now. He's your father only in biology.

You take a good long look before leaving, at peace with cutting him off. Wondering, asking, waiting.. you don't have the patience for it and he doesn't have the honor to offer you answers. Even if he does, you don't care to hear them.

It's a small relief as you exit through the sliding doors and into the still September night. You'd alerted Tommy to what's happened, and he should be with Joel right about now. Your phone rings in your pocket. Joel's number.

"I'm on my way. Are you at the jail, or-"

"Listen to me, baby.. this ain't a good idea."

You turn cold. "What's not a good idea?"

He pauses for longer than you're comfortable with. "Us, baby.. I'm thinkin'-"

"No," you cut him off before he can say anything final. "No, Joel, you don't mean that."

You're in the car, racing through the late night streets, back to your hotel.

"Listen, Joel, we can talk about this."

You're in the backseat of Tommy's truck in the hotel parking garage. Tommy has gone inside to get Joel's things.

"Joel.."

"You're just a kid," he says softly. He's unharmed from the fight earlier, but he's been through just as much as you have in the past few hours.

"I'm not a fucking kid. Would you have done all those things with me if I was a kid?"

"You know what I mean. You're young, you don't know nothin' about life.. need someone your own age, someone who ain't gonna punch every man who looks at ya with judgmental eyes.. let's face it. I've hurt you by hurtin' others."

"Joel, I don't care about them."

"You're still a little girl at heart, y'know?" he murmurs, his voice taking on a vulnerability you haven't seen in him before. "When I got pulled away from the fight, you went straight to your daddy. I can't fault you for that. It's how it oughta be."

You shake your head. None of this feels real. "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life," you whisper as tears trace down your cheeks.

He purposely keeps his eyes away from you, knowing he'll break if he doesn't put a stop to this soon. "I ain't blamin' ya for goin' to your dad instead of comin' to me, but it damn sure hurts, baby. The way ain't made clear for us yet. I can't say if it ever will be."

You grab hold of his hand but he slips away from your fingers in a soft, almost graceful move. "You promised you'd never let go of me again.." your voice is desperate, begging. "Joel, why are you doing this?"

"It's over," he says quietly.

Alone in the hotel room, Joel's side of the closet now bare, his toiletries gone, his side of the bed cold.

You've cried every tear in your body, cried so much you vomited. As punishment on yourself you refuse yourself the necessary water to feel better. If you had never spotted your dad or called out for him, you both could have ignored each other, and Joel would still be here. He would still love you. You don't deserve to feel better.

You comb through the drawers in search of anything that Tommy might have overlooked when he was packing, any little item that would give you an excuse to call him or see him again. You hold onto that tiny shred of hope like a dying ember.

You do a double take when you see an unfamiliar jewelry box among your things. Black velvet. It's not yours. Your heart palpitates at what it could be, yet a part of you already knows, is already in mourning for what was lost. You force yourself to be strong and open it.

Nestled within, on a bed of white satin, is an engagement ring.

dividers by @saradika-graphics & @enchanthings

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honeysickledream · 2 months ago

Text

'Overgrown'| Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter Six

[photo cred: me | dividers by: @/saradika-graphics]

tags: Medieval/Middle Ages-ish AU, lots of fluff, some past family hurts / a sprinkle of angst, everyone is healing slowly, domesticity, moving and future planning

w/c: 1.4k

a/n: no spice, mainly driven by the apartment and job hunting i've started doing this past month or so. holy shit life's been a bitch and this has taken me a month and some change to write, but i wrote it anyways. hope y'all enjoy (i'm gonna go study for my last exam of the season)

Chap 1. | Chap 2. | Chap 3. | Chap 4. | Chap 5. || AO3

“He moved away,” you remembered Simon telling you, “right after the old man passed. Tommy took his wife and little Joseph and left a few hours later. They’d been plannin’ the move for ages, ever since our father got ill, but they never told me. Woke up the next day and…they were gone. Thought they’d gone to the lake a few miles east, so I checked there but no one had seen ‘em. Tavern wasn’t open, the inn’s ledger didn’t have their names or Tommy’s pseudonym. A week later, I got a letter from ‘im. Livin’ close to London, new life and no specters loomin’ over them. Joseph was sleepin’ well, Beth could finally relax her shoulders, and Tommy’d taken up apprenticin’ with a blacksmith like he’d always wanted to do. No invitation to join ‘em, to even visit ‘em. Haven’t seen ‘em since—Joseph’s probably…he’s probably a man now, nearly twenty? Wouldn’t recognize me even if I had a sign around my neck listin’ our memories together.”

You watched as Simon brought the last of his clothes to the wash basin you were bent over. He’d decided that all linens from the larger bedroom needed to be washed thoroughly before they even caught a glimpse of your bedroom—which was now his, too. Every time he walked out of the old room, he wore a grimace and shuddered as if something cold passed through him. The specters of his past did, you supposed. Even you couldn’t enter the main bedroom without feeling a crushing weight on your shoulders.

Though he didn’t bring it up, you knew he was wondering if you’d given thought to moving out of the cabin and into town. To your credit, you were thinking about it, perhaps too much. How much it would cost, the physical and emotional labor of the move, and the changes to routines it would bring kept you awake at night and distracted you while you cleaned. You had a lovely scar forming on your palm from when your thoughts wandered too far while you were slicing apples to have with dessert.

You knew you wanted to move, for him mainly. You wanted the man you loved—even if you hadn’t said it outright yet—to sleep through the night and be unburdened. But there was information you needed, the security of knowing there was a solid plan and a handful of contingencies to support it, before you could jump into something so large. So, when he sat across the wash basin from you to sort through the sopping heap of clean clothes, you told him as much. He listened well, something you loved about him, and agreed with you on everything but the timing. Sooner, rather than later, was the request he firmly refused to change. You made it perfectly clear to him that if he wanted to live somewhere else soon, there could be no buying of the first available house. That the ‘somewhere else’ couldn’t be rundown or have suspicious airs about it. That earned a laugh from him that had your skin warming and your heart clenching.

“Price and ‘is wife have offered me a position at their tavern when we find a house we like. I’d be workin’ nights, mainly keepin’ an eye on patrons and stoppin’ any fights, and it would give me time during the day to set up the house,” Simon told you as he climbed into bed, freshly bathed and thoroughly exhausted from his day of looking at the few available homes in town.

You rolled to face him. Guilt lingered in your mind, he’d been doing all the looking while you tended to your patients and worked on packing things in the cabin for the eventual move. No matter how many times he told you to not feel guilt, your mind did the opposite and piled more of the sickening feeling on you. “And have you found a house?”

“There’s one I’m keen on. Two streets down from that bakery ya love and close enough to the town square that runnin’ to market or goin’ to see your patients won’t be a hike-and-a-half.” He traced your cheek with the back of his finger. “When ya go on your rounds tomorrow, I’ll come with. We can see it together, maybe see some others.”

“And there’s no issue with cost?”

That lop-sided grin that fixed the world even on the worst of days appeared. “My love,” Simon gave the tip of your nose a peck, “money’ll never be an issue for us. My father was many things—many horrible things—but one of the few positives about him was his money sense. He made a big show about gamblin’, drinkin’, whorin’ even, but he saved where he could—where it counted. The only thing I got from him that I like is that.”

“It’s a good trait.” You rolled the rest of the way, lying mostly on top of him. These days his body was always warm, and the harder edges were softening here and there. “Your warmth is another one. No fire could compare to this comfort.”

He hummed and began trailing the tips of his fingers along your spine. The sweet touch sent pleasant shivers throughout your body and you snuggled into him further. “You’re the cause of my warmth. Feedin’ me all that good food, makin’ sure I always have enough. I like it.”

You gave a simple ‘mhm’ and let your eyes fall shut. Simon only woke up once that night from a bad dream and, when he managed to bring himself fully into reality, fell asleep quickly to your musing about a possible life in town. He was healing, on his own and with your help. He showed you it was possible even if it wasn’t easy.

Just the outside appearance of the house he was keen on showed you why. Dark stone and wood exterior with textured glass windows and pretty shutters. The front door was heavy and the locks were new—Simon cited that as one of his favorite things since it meant you were more likely to be safe if someone tried to intrude. You had no complaints about the first floor, save for the dust but it wouldn’t take you more than half a day to get rid of it with Simon’s help.

The kitchen was spacious and the larder was nearly twice the size of one in the cabin. There was a proper dining room, too, and you couldn’t help but imagine all the meals and conversations that would be possible. Hosting Simon’s friends, the few apprentice midwives, even your siblings and their newish families, would be easy in terms of space. There’d be no need to worry about people nearly sitting on top of others or feeling crowded and uncomfortable.

Your favorite room, so far, was the parlor. It had a large fireplace, room for more than just an arm chair and modest settee. The walls had enough room for bookshelves and a trunk or two full of your knitting and embroidery materials. Given all the room, you’d be able to teach Simon a simple dance or two to do at festivals and there’d be plenty of room for your nieces and nephews to run around and cause havoc. The upstairs was nice, too, and spacious as well. Three bedrooms, one of which could be made into a study or some kind of workshop while. The second largest bedroom would be reserved for guests and if your sleep schedule fell out of line with Simon’s.

Muscled arms wrapped around you, tugging you back against Simon’s front and away from all your planning. “Like it?” he asked.

“Mhm. It’s pretty, nice location in town like you mentioned, and it doesn’t seem like it would be a nightmare to keep clean if we both tackle the chores like we’ve been doing,” you said. “I think we should make it ours.”

He dragged you towards the front door, throwing it up and holding you tightly in the doorway. Neither of you seemed to care much that a few people stopped to see the sight as Simon pressed his lips sweetly and softly to yours, a blessing of sorts for the future. By the end of the week, you and Simon were proud new owners of a beautiful home and a truly brand new start.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #cod x f!reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley cod #simon ghost riley fanfic #cod fanfic #x f!reader #mars' writing #overgrown au #next on my list to tackle is my poly141 x reader fic

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