#which is why they’re doing it as a ghost

[obxsummer]

how much do you love me // ghost of you

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!reader

summary: a proposal pogue style gets overshadowed with the arrival of chandler groff. your night goes from celebrating into treasure hunting, and john b and jj are in for the shock of their lives for completely opposite reasons

warnings: little spicy beginning, drug use, mentions of not being able to have kids, pregnancy trope (i still love u, sarah cameron), and i fear you're all about to hate me....

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--

JJ found you shortly after you climbed out of the shower, hair wet as you tried to wiggle into a pair of sweatpants. Nothing ever went on easy with damp skin, and your frustration was building faster than you liked to admit. 

“C’mere,” JJ’s tone was soft as he sat on the bed and reached forward for you, helping you tug the ankles over your feet so you could comfortably adjust the fabric without the risk of falling over. He reached forward when you were stable, pulling your waist to bring you closer so he was level with your chest.

“My eyes are up here, Jayj,” You teased and placed your fingers under his chin to reroute his gaze from your lace bralette. The boyish grin told you his attention on your face wouldn’t last long so you needed to move quick. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He mumbled, his hand reaching you to grab the back of your neck and gently pull you down to meet him for a soft kiss. A groan left your lips as his other hand tucked itself on your side, his thumb brushing the skin under your bralette teasingly. 

“Please don’t start something we won’t stop,” You whispered, teeth pulling on his lip slightly. Your skin was still damp and clammy, heating up with every move he made. “They’re gonna be waiting on us.”

JJ hummed, his mouth moving from yours to nip at the dip of your collarbones. If you let him keep going, the two of you would not be leaving this room anytime soon.

“Babe, you- oh,” Your breath caught as he bit down a little too harsh and soothed the skin with the swipe of his tongue. “JJ.”

“Shh,” He shushed you, fingers gently tugging the strap of your bralette off your shoulder so he could get closer to where he really wanted. There were a lot of things running through JJ’s mind right now, but they all centered around you. You with a ring on your finger, bare underneath him after you share a last name. You were going to be his in ways you hadn’t been before.

“You guys hungry?” Sarah at least knocked on the door, her voice interrupting before the two of you could get much further. You smirked as JJ flopped against the bed with a huff. 

“I’m not, but I’m sure JJ is,” You called back, adjusting the strap of your top before shrugging on a cropped long sleeve to cover up any evidence of JJ’s recent actions. Bending down, you gave him one more long kiss before standing back up and patting his thigh lovingly. “Enjoy your cold shower, babe.”

JJ groaned loudly as you left the room, meeting Sarah in the hallway, a knowing smile on her face. She reached up to poke the sore spot on your collarbone and you pulled back with a gasp. “JJ’s hungry, all right,” She laughed, “Hey, I need your help with something, c’mere.”

You followed her into the next room where she had a handful of dresses scattered across the bed. 

“I think John B and I are gonna go to City Hall tomorrow and apply for a marriage license. So, which one should I wear?”

You glanced at her, “Sarah, these are all my dresses.”

She pursed her lips. “Yeah… yeah. Just hypothetically, though, like if you were to wear one, which one?”

You gave her an odd look at her weird attitude before pointing at the one on the bed that you preferred. “Probably this one. Cute but not too formal, you know?”

Sarah nodded and picked it up to hold in front of the two of you. After a moment, she tossed it at your chest. “Try it on for me, I wanna see what it looks like.”

“Then why don’t you-”

“No, no, please.” She pushed you toward the bathroom as you tried to object which didn’t help as she closed the door behind you. You sighed, frustrated from being pulled from JJ to try dresses on that you already owned. 

You pulled your shirt and sweatpants back off and shimmied into the dress per Sarah’s request. Glancing in the mirror, you forgot how much you loved this item. After getting some necessities for everyone in the group post-gold, Sarah insisted on getting some items for you and Cleo to help blend when she went back to her dad’s rental condo since Kie already had some. This happened to be your favorite one you saw that day. It was gorgeous and flattering in every way possible, and you were simply obsessed.

“Okay, here,” You spoke before grabbing the door handle to walk back out. Only, it didn’t budge in the slightest. You frowned and tried wiggling it again, but it didn’t move. “Sarah? I think the door’s stuck.”

Silence followed your words.

“Hello?” You repeated, knocking this time but received nothing in return. “Oh, you bitches.”

It became obvious they were up to something that involved locking you in John B and Sarah’s bathroom with no form of communication or entertainment. You sighed and sat on the floor, leaning your head back against the cabinets as you settled in. Knowing them, you’d be here a while.

You tried to rack your brain for any important date coming up. Your birthday still had a few weeks and was the closest out of anyone in the group, so birthdays were out. No anniversaries, and as far as you know, nobody else got married. Unless this had suddenly turned into a baby shower, you were out of options.

Minutes passed of pure boredom and you were beginning to question if a bath towel would suffice as a comfy blanket only to be spared as the door opened. 

“Finally,” You huffed and got to your feet to see Kiara staring at you. “Where’s Sarah? We suddenly have beef.”

She laughed and took a step in the room despite your wishes. “You look cute. Date night? Let me fix your hair.”

You shook your head, now completely confused. “What? No, we-”

There was no room to argue as Kiara started digging through all of Sarah’s hair supplies. She quickly set to work, avoiding most conversations with you and letting her phone play music to satisfy your desire for noise. Soon, she’d completed your favorite hairstyle, the one she used to practice all the time when you were younger. 

She caught your gaze in the mirror and smiled. “Cute.” She shrugged and walked out without another word. 

Your jaw dropped as you watched her form disappear, utter confusion left in her place. “What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself and walked out of the bathroom. The house was oddly silent and your heart started racing. 

Cleo hopped out of her room a second later. “Well shit, where you going looking so sweet?”

You shrugged. Either she was in on it, or at least played it off better than the others. “No idea. You know something I don’t?”

Cleo clicked her tongue. “Not a chance, girly. But what I do know, is you need some shoes.”

You should’ve seen it coming and took the outstretched pair of your shoes from her hands to slip on your feet. Shaking your head, you continued down the stairs in hopes that whatever secret they were hiding would pop out soon.

You peeked around the corner to see Pope in the kitchen with his back to you. You let out a breath, hoping your confusion would end here. “Hey, what is-”

He flipped around with a creepy smile on his own face, his attempt at not being suspicious.

You rolled your eyes. “Alright, what?”

Pope held out the infamous purple bandana that was usually around your brother’s neck. “Blindfold time.”

Disgust took over your face as he came closer with the fabric. “Pope, please tell me you at least washed it first? Please say yes. What the fuck.” You could smell fresh laundry detergent and sighed in relief. 

He wrapped the fabric around your eyes, making sure it was secure but not too tight. Waving his hand in front of your face, you didn’t move in the slightest, but you were a little too rigid for his liking so he grabbed your hand instead. “I’m right here, won’t let anything happen.”

You nodded, trying to keep your racing thoughts at bay and let Pope guide you slowly. The chill of outside settled in soon after and you gripped his hand a little tighter. 

“I’m so kicking your ass for this later,” You grumbled, your steps awkward as you tried to navigate a terrain you couldn’t see. You tried listening for anything out of the ordinary but came up empty-handed. “All of you, actually. Asses are grass.”

Pope laughed quietly, his other hand grabbing your open one as he guided you down a few stairs. “Remember when we would play hide and seek as kids and you’d always pick the same spot?”

You smiled at the memory. “Yeah, and you’d never let me win because of it. Always checked the stupid cabinet first.”

Pope squeezed your hands reassuringly. “Couldn’t let that ego get too big so young, you’d be even more like JJ than you already are. Gotta hand you off, that okay?”

You hummed in agreement and Pope slowly let go before another pair of hands took over your hold. 

“Bandana smell good for once?”

You clocked John B’s voice instantly and attempted to hit him, but missed. “You’re an asshole, I thought I was going to suffocate to death when Pope first told me.”

John B laughed, “You can thank Sarah for that one.”

“Figured,” You mumbled, “Don’t think you’ve done your own laundry since ever.” 

You could hear the noise of your steps changing from the grass to wood, meaning your brother was guiding you down the dock. The movement of the water was much louder now.

“Hey, I love you, yeah?” John B asked and you nodded in return, agreeing with his statement. “Do me a favor and try not to scream, okay?”

You froze as John B let go to undo the bandana from around your eyes, even though you had them pinched shut in anticipation. Your brother squeezed your upper arms lightly and you finally forced your eyes to open.

Despite his wishes, you did scream before covering your own mouth to quiet the noise. The covered portion of the dock was covered in its usual white Christmas lights, which wasn’t new. What was new, was the handful of flower petals leading up to the person standing under the lights.

“Girl, you crazy? Go get him!” Someone laughed at Cleo’s comment, and you shook your head, still in shock at the sight before you knowing they would be hiding somewhere nearby to watch this go down. 

You took off, shoes smacking loudly against the wooden platform to meet JJ who opened his arms and caught you with ease. You pulled back slightly to kiss him, your actions having a much different meaning than earlier.

JJ set you down gently and before he could even speak, you were nodding your head. He chuckled, “You’re not even gonna let me ask the question before agreeing?”

You let out a teary laugh. “Doesn’t matter, answer is yes.”

“Okay, well I was actually asking if you would stop taking long ass showers so-”

You pushed him lightly, your fingers shaking with adrenaline. “J.”

He shook his head and kneeled down in front of you, which caused another round of tears and you nearly choked at the sight of him. JJ Maybank would never get down on his knees for someone, but apparently, you were and would continue to be the exception to that rule. 

“I um… you know I suck at putting emotions into words, and I already gave John B the speech of my life-”

“You prepared better for my brother than me?” You teased and brushed tears from your cheeks. “Should’ve known you always wanted him.”

JJ nearly flipped you off in response but opted for a roll of his eyes instead. “Baby, are you seriously talking about your brother while I’m trying to propose?”

You gaped at him in disbelief. “You started it!” “Alright, alright,” JJ laughed and reached into his pocket to grab the ring. “Look. I know so much has happened in our lives, and shit will continue to hit the fan, but… you have made every day of our time together so worth it. You’re the reason I get out of bed, even when there’s so much I want to hide from. You’re the reason try to come home every night, to hold you and know it’ll be okay. You continue to be the reason I believe in love, after growing up in a world without it, and.. and I don’t know what I would do without you, and I don’t plan to find out, obviously. There’s so many promises I’ve yet to make, and there’s so much I owe to you, and I’m just gonna shut up before my leg goes numb so, will you marry me?”

Heart racing, you reached for JJ’s hand and a flicker of confusion crossed his face before he grabbed it and stood up to his full height again. You wrapped your arms around his neck and shifted closer. “There is actually nothing in the world that I want more than to marry you. Where you go, I go, yeah?”

JJ barely cried, but the words were enough to push him over the edge and he quickly leaned down to kiss you in a way he hadn’t before. You fell in, melting into his hands like it was where you belonged. You could hear the faint cheers of your family behind you when the two of you pulled away, JJ taking the opportunity to slide the ring onto your left hand.

You gasped at the ring, eyes meeting his in shock, and you swore you were going to hit the ground at any second. “Where did you find this?”

JJ smiled, his thumbs brushing tears from your cheeks as he held your face softly. “You can thank Sarah for that one.”

Your bottom lip quivered at the sight of your mom’s ring resting on your hand. This ring had once meant family and promise, but it couldn’t hold up to that, no matter how much you wished it did. But with JJ in front of you, and your friends storming their way down to celebrate, you knew the story was about to change…. all because of you.

--

You didn’t ask who stole the alcohol, and quite frankly, you didn’t care because it was making you bubbly and warm inside. Your guess was Sarah raided whatever remained at her dad’s rental condo, considering there was a bottle of champagne in your hands and someone had a gnarly bottle of vodka somewhere in the room.

JJ was standing against the counter in front of you, your arms wrapped securely around his chest as his hand lightly traced the skin of your leg. You lazily leaned against him, glancing at your hand every so often to see the gems staring back at you. JJ would smile each time and squeeze your knee. You didn’t want to leave his side, and thankfully none of your friends would even try.

The scroll that John B had snagged from the mercenaries was laid across the table, Pope’s eyes looking over it closely. Cleo was snuggled into his side, whispering her own thoughts and ideas as they looked over the paper.

Kie handed you the newly lit joint. “To the happy couple,” She offered, bowing for emphasis which had you and JJ laughing.

You took it between your fingers and raised it to your lips to inhale before the blond boy in your arms turned to face you. You shook your head, already knowing where he was going before glancing to see where John B was in the room. Noticing he was occupied with Sarah, you took a deep inhale and held it for a moment before leaning to connect your lips to JJ’s, exhaling the smoke into his mouth.

“Oh, you assholes.” The protest came from Kiara who was still standing next to you, her face contorted in disgust.

You didn’t care though, and when JJ’s eyes met yours, the whole world disappeared. This was the start of your future together, of a new chapter in your lives that outweighed any before, and you were so excited to share it with him.

Kie rolled her eyes and took the joint back from you, pausing long enough to squeeze your arm. “Love you guys.”

“We love you, Kie,” You replied, giving her an appreciative smile before she walked away. JJ pulled the bottle of champagne from next to you and took a hefty sip, attempting to focus on the scene in front of him. 

“So, what are we supposed to do with this? It looks like a trippy mosaic.” Sarah pointed to the map in confusion, unable to read a single thing on the worn paper. 

“Decode it,” Your boyfriend, fiancé, answered her question. “That’s what we’re supposed to do.” He shifted out of your embrace to approach the table. You followed his motions to stand next to him, taking in the confusing document before you wrapped JJ’s jacket tighter around you.

“But…how?”

“With the code breaker, that’s how.” JJ plucked the joint back from Kiara’s fingers as he spoke. He took a hit before passing it to John B who did the same. You watched as your brother unconsciously passed it to Sarah, the blonde girl taking it into her grasp absentmindedly. 

You and Kiara acted instantly; Kie gave her a weird look as you cleared your throat in warning. Sarah’s eyes widened and she apologized, moving to hand the item back to Kiara, almost burning her in the process. Cleo watched the three of you skeptically, always paying attention, unlike the boys around you. You caught her eyes on you and opened your mouth to explain.

Thankfully, something clattered outside, creating enough of a distraction to save you all from an awkward explanation.

“What was that?” Pope asked quietly, silence overtaking the room. JJ shifted slightly, moving to stand in front of you as all eyes looked out the back windows where the commotion was coming from. 

To your dismay, the boys moved first, JJ’s shirt slipping out of your hold as you took a step toward Cleo, Kie shifting closer to Sarah. 

“I knew we shouldn’t have come back here,” Kie whispered as JJ and John B grabbed nearby ores in hopes of having some defense over whatever was out there. Cleo plucked her knife from her side, twirling it expertly between her fingers. You admired her bravery, as she was never one to let fear show on her face. 

Kiara tossed John B’s flannel over the map, a poor attempt at hiding it, but you guessed it was better than nothing. 

“What are you doing?” Pope was startled as John B slowly pushed open the door, a creaking noise filling the room. 

“Anything?” JJ asked a little bit louder when all you could hear were the animals chirping away outside. 

“No, nothing. That’s so weird.” Your brother slowly closed the doors. “It kind of sounded like it was-”

A loud crashing noise pulled a scream from Kie, all of you gasping in shock as none other than Chandler Groff stumbled his way inside.

Cleo’s grasp on your arm lightened but she held her knife steady toward the man as he gave mumbled apologies. If your heart wasn’t racing before, it sure as shit was now. 

The unwelcome visitor turned his attention to the boy behind you. “JJ. You made it. I uh, I’m sorry to bother you here. I swam, I swam all the way in.”

“Oh my god,” Sarah breathed in shock, taking the opportunity to move closer to John B for comfort.

You turned to see JJ’s expression drop, annoyance taking over all his features as he watched the man who claimed to be his real dad lean against the doorway. “What are you doing here?”

Groff shook his head, clearing his throat with a loud cough that made you flinch. “I had nowhere… nowhere else to go, son.”

The name made JJ wince slightly and you suddenly wanted to rewind to 5 minutes ago when all of you were much happier and celebrating something positive. You watched carefully as his face went stoic and he leaned the ore against the wall, shifting past you to loop an arm under Groff’s and help him inside. 

John B turned to you with a look and all you could really do was shrug in response. You obviously weren’t thrilled with what was supposed to be a night for the two of you was suddenly out of your hands. 

Groff clambered messily into a chair as JJ went to reach for water from the fridge. You stood quietly, watching the scene with uncertainty. Sarah had come to join your other side, Cleo still on guard next to you. She didn’t trust this man, and honestly, neither did you. And now he’s running to you guys for help?

You walked up to JJ, your palm easing across his back to his shoulder blades. He didn’t seem happy about Groff being here, making you question what had happened on Goat Island before you arrived. Neither of you really had a chance to talk about it, and you regretted not checking in with him prior.

“Is it true?” Your question was quiet, meant to be shared with only you and JJ. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“Is it true that I’m JJ’s biological father? Yes.”

Your gaze was sharp as you regarded the man sitting just across from you. “I wasn’t asking you.”

Groff sighed and looked down. “I don’t deserve the title. And you have a right not to trust me, I understand. I could’ve done better by him, I know that. I look forward to telling you all about it.”

JJ shook his head, turning toward you so he didn’t have to stare at the sight in front of him and could redirect his gaze on you. Your hand dropped from his back, unconsciously following down his arm so you could twist your fingers with his, keeping him close. 

“I’m afraid time is short. We’re all in danger here. Let me guess,” He pointed over your shoulder to where John B had tossed the tube that contained the rolled map. “You open that packing tube over there and find a scroll inside, but you can’t read it. That scroll is encrypted.”

“How do you know that?” John B returned.

“Because if you took that from the Corsairs, I suspect that you are in possession of the Mogador scroll, created by Barbary pirates in 1703. The Lupine Corsairs are dangerous mercenaries. Now you’ve stolen from them.”

You rolled your eyes, having zero interest in this man’s monologue. If you were in danger, having him here did not help in the slightest. 

“Okay, so what exactly is this Mogador?” Pope asked. If anyone could put together the pieces of this, it would be him.

“It’s…a map.”

Cleo almost groaned next to you. “We aware of that, man. To where?”

Groff continued, “Well, if I knew the answer to that, I’d be a very rich man. But I can tell you who made it. Murad the Younger.”

The name sparked in your head, familiar but not quite recognizable. You glanced at John B to see him already looking at you. “Murad?” He repeated. 

“Oh, you know him? Groff asked, looking between the two of you. “Barbary pirate, slaver. In 1703, a Berber shepherd gave Murad a gold coin as tribute. He asked the shepherd where he’d gotten the coin, and after some persuasion, the Berber told him about a hidden vault in the desert filled with gold. And one other very special item.”

“The Blue Crown,” John B answered softly.

Groff turned to him, curious. “So, you know what it is?”

Sarah cleared her throat purposefully as your brother tried to back track. “Uh, it’s uh… my dad was a historian.”

“It was practically a bedtime story,” You tried to reinforce John B’s excuse and shot him a look.

“What is it though? The crown thing?” Kie asked as she pulled herself up on the table next to Sarah. 

“A mythical artifact,” Groff explained, “And if you trust the legends, a dangerous weapon capable of granting wishes and rendering enemies defenseless.”

You almost scoffed at the ridiculous reasoning, but Cleo was happy to voice her skepticism, “And you believe that?”

Groff shook his head. “No, of course not, but it’s invaluable. I’m looking for it just like you, and if I could help you find it, I’d… just want to get my cut. Nothing more.”

“If they found it 300 years ago, there’s no way that magic cap is still there,” JJ said, his foot nudging yours gently. 

“Maybe, maybe not. See Murad was encamped in Essaouira, in what’s now Morocco. Before he had a chance to follow the map, it was stolen by a young woman named Elizabeth Howell, who later became Blackbeard’s future wife. He helped her elude her captors, and the two of them escaped to the Carolinas with the map. The rest of their lives they wondered, was there really a vault in the desert that held the crown? On the day he died-”

“He left Elizabeth with the map,” Sarah cut him off, her boredom winning as you all listened to this man ramble. 

Groff nodded. “And now, you have it. But you can’t read it, right? You need a lens, a special lens. A piece of refracted crystal encased with a chain. Elizabeth Teach had that lens when she was killed at Blackstone.”

You exchanged a glance with JJ before facing Chandler. “So, let me guess. You uh, you have that lens.”

He made a dramatic effort to act all upset and looked down. “Not in my possession, no. But I know where it is.”

JJ squeezed your hand slightly. “Where?”

“Your mother’s grave.”

You groaned softly, dropping JJ’s hand to cover your face and rub at the skin like it could wash away all of your annoyance with this conversation. All of this history talk was making your brain hurt and you really, really didn’t like that you’d lost this entire night to JJ’s supposed dad who had no business showing up here. 

“I, um, I’m gonna go to bed,” You excused yourself, giving JJ a rushed kiss before almost running out of the room. Various chatter followed your departure, but you swung yourself up the stairs without another word. Stopping in John B and Sarah’s room to grab your clothes from earlier, you were quick to change into the comfy attire and retreat to your hammock on the balcony, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet. 

“Babe?” JJ wasn’t very far behind you, coming out to stand over you as you settled into the material. “You okay?”

You sighed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes as the alcohol and weed wore off, leaving you slightly buzzed and just tired. “Yeah, just didn’t wanna keep listening to him.”

JJ reached out for you, his hand grabbing yours as you swayed slowly. “This is not how I imagined this night going. Was supposed to celebrate with you, in every way possible.” He leaned down to rub his nose against yours gently, eliciting a small laugh before you kissed him softly.

“Not your fault,” You whispered. “Please tell me someone’s down there with him.”

JJ brushed a hair from your face gently. “Pope’s picking his brain while Cleo plays guard dog. Sarah said she needed to talk to John B.”

You nodded, hoping she was talking to him about what you thought she would be. “Are you okay?”

The hesitation told you that no, he wasn’t, but he didn’t know what else to do. JJ took the opportunity to slide into the hammock next to you, practically flopping on you so his head rested on your chest, and you welcomed the embrace. He was so warm against you and you truly cherished the moment as the first one you two had shared alone after the proposal.

“Love you,” You whispered quietly, leaning to kiss his head as your fingers sorted through his hair. 

“Love you too.”

--

John B was a shit liar. You had been able to clock him so easily growing up, and unfortunately (for him), Sarah was just as good at it.

So when Sarah came into the room and very shakily asked to talk to him, he was nervous. He didn’t know what she was going to ask, or say, and he wasn’t mentally prepared. But she seemed really scared, so he couldn’t say no. 

“I’m pregnant.”

The words practically smacked him in the face, his whole body going into shock as he tried to wrap his head around the concept. Sarah, his Sarah, pregnant. 

“You’re pregnant?” He repeated the phrase, keeping his tone as neutral as possible even though a little bit of shock slipped in. He wasn’t sure how she felt about this and wanted to tread carefully. She was teary and nodded. “You’re… pregnant?”

“Mhmm,” She answered, her whole body filled with nerves. Sarah had been through so much shit, but she could confidently say this was the scariest moment of her life that regarded her relationship with John B.

The idea was starting to visualize in his head and he nodded. “We’re pregnant.”

Sarah’s heart clenched in her chest. “Yeah.”

“O-okay. Um…”

“I’m really, really scared,” She admitted shakily, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to do this, I know you don’t know how to do this. And we’re… so young. And I know the timing’s probably terrible. And I know you and JJ wanna go after that crown, but-”

“Hey, come here. I’ve got you.” John B shushed her, gently pulling her into his lap as she sobbed, terrified of what was to come. 

She sunk into his arms, shaking as she hugged him tightly against her. “I’m just really scared, I was really scared to tell you, but your sister said I should, and…”

John B nearly choked on his own air at the mention of you knowing. “She knows?”

Sarah pulled back a little to look at him, nodding. “Yeah, she’s the first one I told.”

Your brother nearly threw up at the idea, knowing you hadn’t told him which meant you’d been keeping enough bottled up since whenever you found out. “Oh, shit.”

Sarah frowned at his identical reaction to Kie. “What?”

John B shook his head. “No, nothing, it’s-”

“No.” Sarah gave him a particular look, one that froze him in his spot and usually got her the answer she was looking for. “Why does everyone react with oh shit when they hear that she knows?”

John B took a deep breath and weighed his options. Either he told Sarah the truth and sent her into a guilty spiral with the information, or he told her to ask you and watched her feel even worse when the news came from you.

“I um…” John B tilted his head back with a sigh, keeping his hands anchored on Sarah’s hips to hold her steady as she repeated his name. “She… when we were at the church, in Charleston, I asked her what had happened before we left. I didn’t know it was Rafe at the time, but she started asking me all these questions about our conversation on the ferry and kids, and-”

“John B,” Sarah interrupted him softly, recalling his focus.

“She can’t…she can’t have kids.”

Sarah’s heart nearly shattered in her chest and the tears built up all over again. “What?” Her voice cracked as she looked at John B, his own eyes teary at the repetition of your conversation in his head. “Are.. is she sure?”

John B nodded. “It was, after everything with Rafe, when we were gone a-and-”

Sarah stood abruptly, her brother’s name enough to make her lunch threaten to come back up. “I’ve gotta talk to her.”

“Wait, wait!”

John B took off after her, following her rushed steps as she climbed the stairs with the intention of getting to you. “Sarah, wait!”

Sarah wished she had listened. She wished she had taken a moment to stop and think about what she would say to you, because the moment she opened your door, she was met with JJ’s raised voice. She was met with JJ, standing in the middle of the room, his loud frustration directed at your crying form that was across from him.

But that wasn’t what made Sarah so nervous.

It was the pregnancy test, the one she had taken earlier, in JJ’s hand, the two positive lines staring back at her as he pointed it at you with an intention that made her want to throw up. 

And when Sarah made eye contact with you, she realized how truly, truly fucked up this whole thing was about to be.

--

a/n: so.... i'm sorry?

anyway, listen to how much do you love me by kelsea ballerini

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[calinaannehart]

time is shortening (down to the bone)

Four months after the breakup Buck gets a text message from Lucy.

He’s just woken up after a 24-hour shift, the haze of sleep still clouding him when his phone chimes. He doesn’t read it straight away, a habit he’s gotten into to stop him from rushing to see if Tommy had finally texted him.

Buck has spent hours at a time staring at his phone screen and his and Tommy’s message history. Occasionally, the white bubble would bounce, the three dots telling him that Tommy was typing something out and Buck’s heart rate would spike, nerves and anticipation clogging his throat as he waited, and waited, and waited until the bubble would vanish altogether.

Tommy never messaged. But it told Buck that the man was still thinking about him, that had to mean something, right?

He’s called Tommy a handful of times, giving in to the deep-down urge to hear the man’s voice again, usually in the middle of the night when he’s been wallowing in the bottom of a liquor bottle. The ones that he didn’t end before the call connected had gone unanswered just the same as every call and text in the first few weeks following the break-up.

All he’d wanted was to talk to Tommy, try and make some sense out of what had happened for things to have derailed in the blink of an eye. One minute they’d been celebrating their sixth month anniversary, Buck looking forward to another six months with Tommy by his side, and the next Tommy had been calling him Buck and walking out of his life.

Now they’d been apart almost as long as they’d been together.

A box of Tommy’s things, his toothbrush, a spare phone charger, a harbor hoodie that Buck had claimed as his, the fluffy socks Tommy wore when his feet got cold which Buck found so fucking sweet and endearing it made his teeth hurt, still sat by the door waiting to be collected. Eddie and Chim have both offered to drop it off at Tommy’s but Buck shrugged them off.

If he’s being honest with himself he just couldn’t let them go.

It wasn’t just him who Tommy has been ghosting, Bobby, Hen, and Chim, they’ve all tried reaching out to no avail. Eddie is the only one who’s had any success, a couple of messages in the early days asking Eddie to keep an eye on Buck, and an odd one now and then replying to Eddie’s attempts to get him to meet for a pick-up game or sparing session.

“He always says he’s working,” Eddie had told him with a shrug. “I guess he’s just picking up some extra shifts to keep himself busy.”

They never see him on calls, however, not on the 217 truck or on the chopper when they’re joined by air ops, and Lucy just shrugs when anyone asks saying he’s off that day.

Buck’s starting to think Tommy’s either avoiding the 118 or he’s taken a transfer altogether.

He chews on the inside of his cheek, staring at his phone while he waits for his coffee to brew. The screen lights up again, another text coming in with a chime before falling dark again and Buck figures he’s delayed it long enough.

There’s still a spark of hope as he taps the screen to wake it, but it extinguishes in a flash when it’s Lucy’s contact that’s revealed instead.

If you have any plans today cancel them.

I know you’re off shift today so you have no excuse.

Answer your damn texts Buckley!

I’m not in the mood Lucy.

I don’t care. Clear your schedule for today.

Why?

I need you to go somewhere.

Again, why?

Just do it Buckley. Call it a favor.

How do I know there’s not gonna be a man with an axe waiting to try and murder me?

If that happens I’m haunting you for the rest of your life.

No axe. Scout’s honour.

Fine. Where?

Presbyterian.

Buck hits the call button. Thankfully, Lucy answers after the first ring. “Why are you sending me to the hospital?” He asks. “What’s…wait, are you hurt? Did something happen on a call?”

Lucy doesn’t answer straight away. “Nothing happened on a call.” She says eventually in her usual evasive and unhelpful way.

“Are you sick?”

“I’m not sick.”

The inflection to her words, whether intentional or subconscious tells Buck what he needs to know. “But someone is?”

Lucy sighs again but doesn’t offer any further explanation. “Third floor. Preferably before two this afternoon.”

“But who—”

“Please, Buck?” The desperation in her voice is enough to sway him. Lucy never sounds desperate.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go. Who am I—”

“Thanks, Buckley. Third floor. Before two.” She repeats then hangs up.

Stepping out of the elevator Buck blinks when he realizes he’s on the oncology floor. He looks around, mind reeling with who could possibly be getting treatment on this floor out of every possible department. It can’t be one of the 118, he would know.

He texts Lucy, asking who he’s there to see, and she leaves him on read. She ignores his call, too.

“Hey, excuse me,” Buck says to the nurse behind the desk. “Um, I’m not sure who I’m—”

The words die in his throat as his eyes land on a familiar form in a large wingback chair, the leg rest raised so he’s reclined with his head tipped back and eyes closed. He’s thinner than he was when Buck last saw him, deep shadows sit under his eyes and his hair, patchy in places, has been shaved short. There’s a port-a-cath in his upper arm and hanging on the drip stand above is a bag of fluid, the bright red chemotherapy label visible even at this distance.

“Sir?” The nurse says, but Buck can’t look away from the man.

“Tommy.”

Read on AO3

If you like please reblog!

[kinardsevan]

several sentence sunday

I was tagged by @perfectlysunny02. Could drop y'all some EB, but I'm trying to actually get that chapter finished tonight, so instead I'll give you the fic I came home and just had to start, tentatively titled words never said in a story that didn't end, roughly based around an assumed 811.

-

“You know we’ve been at this for weeks,” Chandler comments as he leans back on his bed. “And I still don’t even know where you live, Evan.” 

“Buck,” he counters, tugging his shirt over his head. “Everyone calls me Buck.” He can’t stand the sound of his name out of anyone else’s mouth now. “A-and that’s not important, is it? I mean, like you said, it’s only been weeks.” 

Chandler leans forward on the bed, narrowing his gaze at Buck. “Sure. Except you’ve been here eight times now. Which almost makes it feel like you don’t want me to know where you live.” The man stares at him as he grabs his jeans from he floor and starts pulling them on. “Unless it’s not about the place, but who you’ve brought there.” 

Buck still doesn’t speak, keeping his focus on his jeans as he pulls them up his legs. 

“Well God-damn, Evan,” Chandler comments, fully sitting up now. “Kinda hard to put up a fight against a ghost that I didn’t even know exists.” 

“Buck,” he states again, bordering on a growl. “A-and he’s not a ghost, he’s-..” 

“He clearly hurt you,” Chandler replies, reeling slightly, but keeping his voice calm. “But… I mean, didn’t you say when we met that he broke up with you?” 

Buck huffs as he buttons and zips his jeans, tugs the hem of his shirt down. “I didn’t- a- w-what does that have to do with this? It has nothing to do with me protecting my privacy-..” 

“Well it certainly feels like it does,” Chandler counters, although he’s calmer than Buck is. “I mean why hang on to something that’s clearly over if you’re actually trying to move on? He obviously doesn’t give a fuck.” 

“No one ever said- and where the hell do you- I mean what the fuck-..” He keeps stammering through half-finished statements, unsure of which one to say first because they’re all driving toward the same point that whatever he’s had going on with Chandler is clearly over. 

“It’s not about what you did or didn’t say,” Chandler responds. “Man walks out on you after, you said, what? Six months?” 

“H-he has trauma!” Buck argues. “A-and-..” 

“Holy shit,” Chandler mutters, his eyes growing wide. “Okay. Maybe you need a reeducation in learning how to move on .” 

“I don’t need move on, I’m in love with him!” He yells the statement back at Chandler before he fully even processes the words coming out of his mouth, but for the next ten seconds, he’s stuck in that position, introspecting at the statement and realizing he meant it. His shoulders sink as the anger ebbs out of him and he looks back over at Chandler sorrowfully. “I’m in love with him,” he whispers. 

Chandler takes a deep breath and sighs, shrugging as he leans back on his hands, tilting his head at Buck. 

“Then maybe you should do something about that,” he comments. “Something that doesn’t involve anyone else.” 

Buck glances over at him, a little shocked that the guy he’s been sleeping with for the past few weeks would tell him to go after Tommy, especially when all of his loved ones have been telling him for months to just move on. 

“All I’m saying is if he doesn’t know, maybe you should tell him,” Chandler says quietly. “Or don’t listen to me. Keep listening to what you said your family told you. It’s gotten you this far.” 

[eats-all-your-shoes]

MORE hermitcraft fic recs! <part 1>

I can be the one you call by mayflowers07 Every hermit has their own work series, 143k, 26 parts

[The Hermits have a code phrase. If spoken, this phrase acts as an emergency safe word, telling everyone to stop whatever they’re doing, because something is seriously wrong. Whether it’s from physical or emotional distress, all Hermits know that when someone uses the code, they need help from their chaotic, dysfunctional family.]

i can’t BELIEVE i didn’t rec this before. this is like The hc fic in my mind

The continued adventures of the boatem field trip by Bee_4 Grian & Scar & Mumbo & Pearl & Impulse Complete, 27k

[In which former Boatem has a totally normal one, trapped together, in the void, for three months. Definitely.]

this is both body/cosmic horror and really silly, i love it

Queries by Silverskye13 Xisuma-Centric Complete, 1.9k

[Xisuma is a robot, trying his best to be human.]

Ballad of etho’s lab by kiwinatorwaffles Etho & Pause & Beef Complete, 6.4k

[Interesting, the Universe said as he tread through the grass. The other gods we have appointed a similar position destroyed those who killed them without hesitation. You are a pleasant surprise.

“Other gods? Huh? Wait, what was I supposed to do?”

Use this power wisely, the Universe replied wryly, leaving his question unanswered. Good luck.

And it never spoke to him again.

Or, a story of Etho's long life as the God of Redstone, all from before the fall of the ancient builders up to the eventual emergence of players.]

On the changing nature of the Hermits by Anonymous Scar & Grian & Joe Hills Complete, 472 words

[Joe is different than he used to be, and has a halo of colorful eyes. Scar and Grian talk about it, and why it happens.]

this one’s short but it’s really good!!

Jhost by Katie_Smith24 Joe Hills-Centric Complete, 1.2k

[Bruh Joe died and came back as a ghost I think haha]

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 273

You know what? We need more Good parents Fentons. 

And you know what else? Technically, Jack helped Danny defeat Pariah via the use of the Ecto-Skeleton. And like, that’s his son, his baby boy. Sure Danny is and has always been a mommy’s boy, but it doesn’t change that fact. They’re both already feeling horrible about the fact they could have hurt him, they could have hurt their son- they have hurt their son, killed him with their inaction and never again. 

So when these oversized jello-eyeballs try to insist that their baby, their precious baby boy, take a crown? Become a king when he’s not even out of highschool, when he doesn’t want it? No. Hell no! That is his Danny-o, his baby boy who was terrified of his own parents! 

Which is how Jack, despite technically still being alive even if so-very ecto-contaminated, became the Ghost King. 

And for some reason there’s several ghosts rather happy about this- oh, these are his Danny-O’s ghost-parents? Not-ghost parents seeing as some of them have never been anything but a realm denizen? That’s really fascinating- y’know what, want some fudge and we can exchange childcare- Maddie dear come over and meet our co-parents apparently!  

Now it’s not all easy, but they’re trying their best, and that’s all that can be asked. 

…

Which is perhaps why it’s so exasperating- or as Maddie would put it, downright infuriating- that it is now, almost an entire year and a half later that the Heroes finally arrive to investigate. Well, at least he has plenty of fudge since it’s almost time for the council meeting. 

[herbofgraceandpeace]

I am not immune to “Dad’s on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days”

[wildevenusian]

i just don’t understand. why say ur ready to talk if you aren’t?

can u believe this post is what got me to reach tag limit

[cumikering]

Ghost x plus-sized reader

2.1k | fluff, drink spiking Did you just call Simon weak? The rest of the 141 didn’t like that

“Can I carry you?”

At the pub table, you almost spat the last gulp of your drink at the question. You turned to the source of the gruff voice, meeting the man’s chest before craning your neck up to his eyes. He had to be over 6 ft tall.

You set your glass down. “I’m sorry?”

“My mates are betting I can’t get anyone to piggyback.”

“And you picked me?”

He nodded at your top. “Skulls are sort of my lucky charm.”

You scoffed, looking past him at the other ladies in the room. “Are you serious? There are plenty who weigh far less.”

His brow rose. “Are you calling me weak?”

You took in the width of his shoulders, how his loose black shirt couldn’t hide the thickness of his biceps – the left one inked. He was handsome, rugged with the scar across his cheek, his short blond hair and light scruff, but his stare and bluntness made him beyond intimidating.

How could you get out of this situation with the least fuss?

“N- no.”

His eyes softened a touch. “May I? Please?”

Playing along and getting it over with should be the safest bet. “Okay... But-”

He turned his back and squatted slightly. “Hop on.”

“Wait- are you sure you can?”

“Hop on,” he repeated.

At that point, it was not your fault anymore if he ended up embarrassing himself. So you gripped his hard shoulders and did as told before he swiftly hooked his large hands under your jean-clad thighs. He didn’t grunt or strain when he bounced you to position and straightened up. As if you weighed nothing, which was a feeling you never thought you’d experience.

You had to give it to him - his strength was impressive. You chuckled to yourself, seeing the top of everyone’s head amused you. Across the pub, the table of three men grinned at the massive stranger. The one with the mohawk was very much entertained as he gave him thumbs up.

It was then that Simon groaned, because his team was embarrassing the hell out of him. That, and he finally got to feel how soft and warm you were pressed up against him. A little creepy, but a man was allowed to fantasise about a birdie he’d been eyeing, right?

“That’s all, yeah? You just have to carry-”

He stepped towards the bar, making you latch onto him.

“Oh! Where are you going?

“I’m getting you a drink.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Please, I insist.” When he flagged the barman down, you held on tighter. “It’s the least I can offer for getting you involved.”

You laughed, your breath warm against his ear. “Are you going to set me down or am I having my drink on your back?”

“Don’t give me ideas.” He chuckled as he lowered you to your feet.

He leaned against the bar, arm folded as he stared at you on the stool, downing your shot before looking at yourself on your selfie cam.

“Would you… like something as well?” you asked after you tucked your phone back in your pocket.

He shook his head.

“Okay. Well, thanks for he drink. You could get back to your mates if you want.”

“I’m Simon,” he mustered instead.

“Hi.” You shifted in your seat. “Is something the matter?”

“No.” He frowned. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s just you’ve been staring, and there’s nothing on my face. I checked.”

Bloody hell, could he be any more awkward? He just wanted to ask why you were alone without being weird about it.

He looked away. “I didn’t mean to.” You make me stupid. It didn’t help that your previous drink had tinted your lips, looking even more kissable up close.

“I think your mates want you back though.” You chuckled, nodding at his table.

When he turned to them, they immediately busied themselves with their drinks, averting their gazes.

“They’re a nosy bunch, they are.” He inched closer to you. “The one in the beanie, that’s our captain. The other two are my sergeants.”

“You’re the lieutenant?”

He hummed. “The one with the mohawk is the prankster. He’s a bad influence. He’ll talk you into doing anything.”

“He put you up to this then?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.

As if on cue, Soap looked up with an uncontained grin, only to look back down when he realised eyes were on him.

”Seems like he can’t wait to say hi.” He swiftly picked you up off your seat, bridal-style. “Is this enough to show you weigh nothin’?” he asked, fighting the urge to grab a handful of your soft thigh and waist.

“Oh- oh dear!” You laughed, arm wrapping around his neck, pretty fingers grasping his bicep. “Wait, wait, put me down!”

When you were back on your feet, you pulled your phone out of your pocket. “Sorry, I’m actually meeting someone. He’s almost here.”

So that was why you were alone. You were waiting for someone. Disappointment anchored at the bottom of his chest.

“Right. Okay.”

You smiled. “Thanks for the drink, Simon. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

He grunted and you headed to the end of the bar. He stood umoving for another second before retreating to his table like a kicked puppy.

“L.T., wha’ happened? She was havin’ so much fun!” Soap shot as soon as Simon took his seat next to him.

“She’s meetin’ someone,” he said quietly.

“Aww… Sorry, Ghost,” Gaz said. “But hey, she let you carry her!”

With your back to him, you looked at your phone whenever a man walked in.

Huh, first date?

You flagged down some other blond man who walked over to you with a smile. The barman took your order before you chatted with him with a polite smile, keeping a respectable distance between the two of you.

Simon was in no place to watch and invade your privacy – he really should look away. But what was it that simmered in him when the bloke scooted closer, his arm along the back of your chair?

He laughed, pointing at something on the TV. You looked up, and your hand deftly covered your drink, like an instinct.

He smirked. Smart girl.

“I know she’s with someone, but I can tell she likes you more,” Price said, and Simon finally tore his gaze away from you.

“Ye should fight ‘im, L.T. He dinnae stand a fuckin’ chance.”

“You can knock him out with a slap,” Gaz quipped.

He chuckled, blatantly looking over Price to you again. “Rather just look.” While it wasn’t for him, at least he could watch your pretty smile from here and quench his thirst a bit.

With the bloke’s drink in hand, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his other hand inching to your covered drink now. He tipped his glass over you, causing you to jump and grab serviettes to dab yourself with. Just as fast, his fisted hand opened over your drink before helping you.

“No fucking way,” Simon said out loud.

“What?” Gaz followed his line of sight.

He marched over, yanking the man around by the shoulder. “What the bloody hell did you just do?”

He stumbled off his seat from the force, making the lieutenant tower over him even more. “What? Who- Do you know him?” He turned to you.

His finger jabbed the man’s chest. “What. The. Fuck. Did you put in her drink?”

“Nothing! What are you accusing me of?”

Simon didn’t miss the crack in the man’s voice. He raised your drink to the man’s face, a tiny white tablet swaying at the bottom of the glass. “Empty your pockets.”

“Simon, what’s…”

“I’m not repeating myself.”

The man fished out his phone, wallet and keys with trembling hands.

“That’s not all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. There’s nothing else, mate!” he said exasperatedly.

Simon’s patience ran dry. He patted his front pocket, hand bumping over something. “You need to see this,” he said quietly to you.

You hesitantly stuck your hand in the man’s left pocket, coming up with a bag of white tablets.

The man smacked the bag out of your hand. “You planted that, you slag!”

“If you didn’t do anything, drink it.” He spat, holding out your drink to him, now cloudy and fizzing.

He stared at the glass. “Fuck you,” he said, pushing it onto Simon’s chest before dashing out of the pub.

“Did he…”

“The fuck was that, Simon?” Price questioned from behind him.

“Fucking piece of shit spiked her drink.”

Price turned to you, a hand on your shoulder. “You got his name and number, love?”

“Yes.” You blinked. ”Yes, his number and dating profile.”

“I’m sending the coppas his way.” He picked up the evidence on the ground with a serviette. “Simon, get the details and make sure she gets home safe,” he said before approaching the barman.

You dried his ruined shirt with a wad of serviette. “I can’t even begin to thank you for your help, Simon. Really, thank you so much. I wouldn’t have-”

“You did good.” He squeezed your hand over his chest. “You covered your glass when you weren’t looking, but spilling his drink on you was something else.”

When you looked up at him with wide eyes, he dropped your hand.

“Would you like me to send you home?”

“I don’t want to trouble you. I don’t even live nearby.”

“Would you let me, if I want to?”

There was a pause before you smiled. “I think I’d like that, actually.”

When he grabbed his jacket from the table, Soap patted him on the back.

“Good catch, L.T. What a fuckin’ disgrace, the lad.”

“Have fun, Ghost,” Gaz teased.

Outside the pub where the streets were quieter, you forwarded the profile and chat screenshots of the man from your group chat to Simon.

“Can’t be too cautious. I’m not surprised if that’s not even his name honestly.” You shrugged, stuffing your phone back in your pocket. “I knew it was dodgy he insisted on meeting here when I said I’d rather somewhere in the middle, in broad daylight. That, and he was half an hour late too!”

It was disheartening to know this was the reality of dating, that all sorts of people lurked online, sometimes not with the best intentions. He’d show you his ID just to prove he wasn’t a creep, just someone smitten with a staring problem if any.

“If it was me, I’d have taken you anywhere you wanted.”

You chuckled.

“On my back too, if you prefer. I think you quite enjoyed that.”

“I did, actually,” you teased. “Is it a bad time to tell you I’m starving?”

“Yeah? That’s good news, because I’m always hungry. A kebab sounds about right at this hour.”

“Extra chips?”

“Extra chips,” he affirmed.

“You know what, I think this is my sign.” You pulled out your phone again, deleting an app. “Don’t think online dating was ever my thing.”

Is a stranger at a pub who shamelessly stares at you more your thing?

“Going out with someone who offers to carry me around is more like it.”

He bit back a smile. “So? Another ride on my back?”

You chuckled. “Next time,” you said, taking his arm instead.

As much as he enjoyed your touch, he couldn’t do with your fingers over his jacket. He needed to feel you. When he held your hand in his, you smiled up at him.

Simon had to thank his team for painstakingly convincing the stubborn lieutenant to approach the lady he’d been staring at. You didn’t have to know there was no bet, that asking to carry you was his own idea, an outrageous excuse to talk to you. But he wouldn’t complain if he ended up helping you, taking you for a little supper and even got to send you home.

“When’s next time?” he asked at your door, squeezing your hand.

You really shouldn’t have said it, because he was going to make sure there would be one. It had become a goal to show you how you deserved to be treated on a date.

“Is tomorrow too soon?”

“Right now isn’t even too soon.”

You laughed, pulling him down by the shoulder to meet your lips.

For @glitterypirateduck ‘s Ghost Challenge :D check out her page for fic recs!

Neighbour Ghost AU if he still had his family

Ghost's online fantasies came true Masterlist

[ghostickle]

I put on one singular acrylic nail to test it cause I got this skeleton set I thought looked cool but I’ve never had fake nails before and genuinely how does anyone do anything with these

[criminalamnesia]

Hiii!! I hope you're doing well :))

I just loveee the traitor series. Do you plan on making a part 5 or more?

thank you! here’s part five :)

the other parts can be found in my COD masterlist, which is here

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

I’ll proofread later :))

you stormed out of the gym, eyesight blurry from hot tears. you weren’t crying because you were sad— no. you were furious. furious at how simon was so fucking stubborn. at how he thought he was in the right.

droplets of blood marked your footsteps as you made your way back to the infirmary. you weren’t particularly anxious to be yelled at by the doctor, but getting it over with as soon as possible was ideal.

“bonnie, y’alrigh’?”

soap. you hadn’t even seen him, so lost in your thoughts. you blinked away tears and ignored the scot, continuing to make your way down the hall in silence.

the sound of hurried footsteps was unmistakable behind you. soap wasn’t taking silence for an answer, apparently.

“bonnie, please—” he began, the drawl of his voice catapulting your mind to the past. to better days.

days when soap had patched you up after a fight, his fingers nimble as he stitched up a cut in your thigh.

“s’it hurt?” he spoke, voice gravelly because of his hushed tone.

you shook your head. your head was tilted back, eyes staring up at the ceiling but not truly seeing. you were worried sick— you and soap were the only ones who’d made it to the safe house so far. the others should’ve beaten you there, and now they were over an hour late.

“bonnie, ‘m sure they’re alrigh’,” he told you, poking the needle through skin. you barely felt it, too hyped up on fear and adrenaline.

“they should’ve beaten us here, y’know that—” you began, but he tutted, quickly cutting you off.

“cannae think like tha’, bonnie. they’ll be here any second, aye?”

he stops his stitching, his face tilting up and away from your leg. you faintly register the feeling of his eyes on you.

you felt lost— floating in sea of numbness. your mind is mulling over the millions of possibilities— possibilities in which they never return.

you’d never felt this way before, and the five of you had endured far worse.

the only thing that was different this time was the fact that you and simon were together. you’d never explicitly told the rest of the task force, but they knew.

johnny knew why you were so worked up. he understood.

he reaches a hand up, his dirtied fingers lightly tilting your chin down so you’re face to face.

“y’there?” he asks, his hand dropping from your chin. he moves to squeeze one of your hands, pulling you back down to the ground.

you give a small nod, fingers moving to intertwine with his. he smiles— not his usual playful expression, but a true, grateful, relieved smile.

“im here,” you tell him. he releases your hand, pulling away from your skin, giving your hand a light pat before fully retreating.

“‘m almost finished, yeah? then I’ll go lookin’—”

“no need.”

it’s kyle, breathing heavily as he shuffles into the room. price and ghost are right on his heels, the three men making the room feel much smaller than it did a moment ago.

“you two good?” kyle asks, a small frown on his lips as he takes note of your bloodied leg.

you nod, your eyes flitting from gaz, to price, to simon— who is now moving towards you. he crouches down so he’s eye level with you. you meet his gaze, and although he doesn’t say it, you know what he’s thinking.

he’s relieved, and it’s a deeper relief than usual. it’s heavier, more profound, because he’s started to let you in. you’re more than teammates now, and it doesn’t truly hit ghost until this moment.

“im good,” you tell him quietly. he nods, glances down at where johnny is tying off your stitches.

johnny must notice ghost’s stare, because he breaks his focus and looks up at his lieutenant with a cheeky smirk.

“no worries, LT. made sure to do ma best work,” he grins and shoots the other man a wink, to which ghost grunts, unamused.

the heavy weight of a palm on your shoulder breaks you from the memory. you move without thinking, bloodied fist swinging as you whirl around to attack whoever laid a hand on you.

then you remember— soap.

johnny narrowly dodges your assault, his eyes widened as your fist barely clips him.

“steamin’ jesus!” he speaks, throwing his hands up in surrender and taking a step back from you.

“i was jus’ tryin’ to make sure ya were alrigh’! yer bleedin’, bonnie.”

you blink as you slowly escape your stupor. you’d completely lost yourself in the memory, and you didn’t know why.

probably because your brain was trying to comfort itself the only way it knew how— by seeking comfort from the people closest to you.

old habits, right?

old fucking habits.

“don’t touch me,” you seethe, eyes narrowing as you glare at the scot. he frowns, bites his lip, but doesn’t say anything.

like a kicked puppy. you can’t help but feel sympathetic before you wrestle that feeling back down. he wasn’t sympathetic for you— why should you be for him?

you look at him for a moment longer, taking in his appearance. he looks fine, and that angers you just the slightest bit more.

“look, i— i ken we really messed up, and sorry cannae fix tha’, but please, bonnie. a’least let us try—”

“I don’t owe you anything, mactavish.” you told him, gaze cold as you met his eyes. “and you’re right, sorry can’t fix it. nothing can fix it; so, stop trying.” you step forward, raising a hand as you point a finger into his chest.

“the four of you need to leave me the fuck alone. frankly, I couldn’t care less about how the four of you feel. about how he feels. you did what you did, believed what you believed, and now you have to live with that.”

johnny’s frown deepens as his eyes glance down at the finger you’ve got digging into his sternum.

“you deserve to feel like shit,” you tell him. “and anything you feel— how sorry you are— just know that I suffered a hundred times more in that chair, locked up in that room. so the next time you wanna watch me from outside the infirmary, or you wanna put your fucking hands on me,” your jaw is clenched, fire licking at your veins as you speak to him.

“remember what you did. remember that nothing can fix it. remember that you’re dead to me— all of you are— and that I never would’ve let that happen to any of you.”

“and I hope it hurts like hell, mactavish. I hope it eats you alive, and that you never find peace because you don’t deserve it.”

you drop your hand, your eyes still on his.

“and I hope you tell the rest of them I said that. especially him.”

you turn then, take a steadying breath, and keep walking.

soap watches you go without another word.

“that was stupid,” the doctor chastises you, her lips pressed into a thin line as she examines your knuckles.

“you blatantly went against my one rule for you. I shouldn’t have even let you out of bed, but you’re too damn stubborn! so I thought I’d give you some grace, but there you go— leaving my iv pole in the hall. bloodying your knuckles. I should let one of the newbies patch you up,” she grumbles, her gloved hands cool against your skin.

over the time you’d spent in the infirmary, you and the doctor had formed an odd bond. it was almost as if you were friends, but she always kept things strictly professional.

but you’d catch her giving you sad glances sometimes. you knew she was upset for you, angry for you, but she would never speak on it. that was okay with you.

it was enough to know that someone was on your side.

“sorry, doc. it’s not like it was planned,” you tell her, and her eyes flick up to meet yours. the look on your face told her everything she needed to know.

she didn’t push the topic. instead, she finished patching you up in silence. wrapping your knuckles in bandages, she gave them one last once-over before sending you on your way.

“kicking me out?” you asked her, raising your eyebrows.

she nodded, her eyes scanning the chart in her hands.

“if you’re okay enough to throw a punch, i think you’re okay enough to return to your quarters. unless you want to stay,” she says, and its unspoken, but you know what she’s implying.

unless you want to stay behind that door, guarded from the 141. unless you don’t want to go back to your quarters and see it as you’d left it before they’d tied you up.

unless it would be too painful to leave.

you shook your head. “im good. thank you, doc. really.”

the doctor gave a small smile and nodded. “of course. you’re due back in a week for a check up, alright? I need to check on those bruises and mending bones.”

you nod and give her a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “wouldn’t miss it.”

she bids you goodbye before turning and disappearing behind a white curtain. you inhale deeply before heading for the door.

when you step into the hallway, it’s quiet. you pass through base with relative ease, quickly slipping past anyone you come across in the halls.

you don’t see any of the 141, and you’re grateful. you couldn’t handle another interaction with them today— and you didn’t know how much longer you could remain civil.

once you reached your door, you pushed into the dusty darkness of the room. it’d been a while since you’d been in here, and although you were glad to finally be free of the smell and sounds of the infirmary, you weren’t particularly happy to be back in this room.

this room, which was down the hall from the rest of the 141.

this room, which held memorabilia of your time with your team.

this room, which you swore still smelled like simon.

you grit your teeth, willing yourself to stop thinking about him. he was fucking everywhere, and you were starting to believe you’d never be free of him and the 141.

your memories. your pain. your scars. no matter how much you healed and moved on from what happened, it would always be there in the back of your mind. it would sneak up on you when you least expected it; it would haunt your dreams at night.

it would leave you waking up screaming for mercy.

it would keep you untrusting for the years to come.

you flicked on the light and scanned the room. it had been upended, clothes strewn across the floor and picture frames shattered.

in the midst of it all, a vase of long dead flowers sits atop your desk.

there’s a little note hanging off the vase. against your better judgement, you reach for it. the paper feels scratchy against your fingers, and the scribbled pencil inside seems the tiniest bit faded.

your eyes scan the note.

‘You were right.

Hope you can understand.’

— sr

you pick up the vase and throw it against the wall. glass shatters. dead flowers fall to the floor.

your knees give out and you crumple to the floor, sitting amidst reminders of once was.

you let yourself cry for the first time in a while.

[werewolfpdfs]

this is so funny west you are the only normal man in this book

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

[pochaccoups]

cw — nsfw minors dni, possessive reader, reader referred to as a woman, oral (f receiving), mention of breeding, creampie, i need other people to stop perceiving my man

Some days dating an idol is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.

Other days you’re reminded that millions, maybe even tens of millions, of other people want him. You’re reminded by the Instagram comments, videos, Tweets, news articles that fawn over him, all of which garner thousands of views and likes from other people who agree—he’s the perfect man. Strong and buff and hot and kind and gorgeous.

They’re not dating him though. You are. And it’s not that you’re insecure—far from it, in fact, because of Seungcheol’s attentiveness—but sometimes when your feed is riddled with things like fancalls where your boyfriend has been trained to play along as a fan’s boyfriend, you just need a little reassurance.

One of the things you love about dating Seungcheol is that for you he’s built a space where you can be entirely honest with him about any anxieties you have. It means that when you do need his reassurance, you don’t hesitate in voicing it.

“Seungcheol, you’re mine right?”

“I hope so,” he quips, scrolling along on his laptop. Unfortunately for you, he’s too accustomed to your clinginess, which means that sometimes he fails to recognise what you want to hear from him.

You swat at his shoulder like an irritated cat. “Tell me you’re mine.”

He looks at you then and realises you’re being entirely serious.

“Why wouldn’t I be yours? Did I do something?” he asks, now shutting his laptop over. Whatever schedule he’d been emailed about gets shoved to the very back of his brain, replaced with only you.

“No, I just-”

“I can’t have a conversation with someone without bringing you up, and you think I’m not yours?” he says, reaching forward to wrap his hands around yours. His thumbs rub circles into your skin because you’ve told him once or twice how comforting you find it.

“I panic if I don’t have the Hello Kitty cherry keychain you got me when I go overseas, and you think I’m not yours?”

You giggle, growing suddenly shy at his words. His ability to woo you with his words even after two years is impressive, though it shouldn’t be a surprise when his suave and charming attitude was what pulled you to him in the first place.

You give a yelp as he tugs you into his lap without warning, presses you flush against his hard body with the strong hands you love so much.

“I’ve been looking at a ring for you, and you think I’m not yours?”

Your mouth parts with bewilderment and your heart skips a beat, though you barely have the time to comprehend the implications of his confession because he’s ghosting his lips against the curve of your neck.

“Have I not been good at showing it? Is that it?” he asks, grazing his teeth against your skin. You’re under his spell already, eyes rolling into your head as you grow breathless. His palms are hot, gliding under your t-shirt—his t-shirt—sending a shiver along your spine. “Or is my princess just clingy?”

You pull away from him just to pout in his face, but his glassy eyes are dark with desire and it means you don’t stand a chance. Not when his hands have moved to your thighs, inching their way between your legs, rubbing softly at your clothed crotch in a way that has you bracing against him immediately.

“Tell me, baby,” he urges, ghosting his lips against your neck, turning you into a puddle with such ease that it’s embarrassing.

“I want you to show me, Cheol,” you admit. Despite the quiver in your voice, you’re stern. “Show me you’re mine.”

He wastes no time tearing your shorts and panties down your legs, sinking to his knees on the floor in front of you, and diving straight between your legs.

He eats you like a man starved, laps at your clit like it’s life or death, peers up at you with hearts in his eyes as you moan and cry so sweetly it makes his dick swell in no time.

Seungcheol has you all mapped out; knows you like the back of his hand. He knows exactly how you’ll whine when he sucks on your clit, how you’ll tug at his hair when he glides his tongue through your folds, how you’ll buck your hips when he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue because you need more.

“More, Cheol,” you cry, echoing his thoughts. So predictable.

He grins against your cunt, pulling back just to let a little glob of saliva drop on it before his mouth latches onto you again. Seungcheol eats you out with a determination that’s dangerous. He’s aware of the telltale signs of your impending orgasm; your moans growing higher and your body unable to stop shifting, and when he knows you’re close, he’ll stop at nothing to give you what you want. What you need.

His tongue grows ruthless, dragging over every inch of your pussy with vigour until you’re crying his name at the top of your lungs and your fingernails are digging into the roots of his hair. He finally lets up a little, just enough so as not to overstimulate you as you cum, and he’s lapping up every drop of your arousal like he hasn’t seen water in weeks.

“I’ll never get over how sweet you taste, fuck,” he utters between the sounds of him slurping at your cunt, and it’s so lewd that your entire body flashes hot.

“Need you in me, baby, please,” you whimper, watching your boyfriend pull away from you with glistening, swollen lips, with his chin and cheeks covered in you. He’s quick to shrug his pants and boxers down his legs, frenzied almost, like he’ll die if he’s not touching you.

Seungcheol leans over you to melt his lips against yours. He’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth in a way that should be overbearing, but there’s an underlying tenderness in the way he kisses you that feels more like he’s pouring his love into you.

“Yours,” he mumbles against your lips. You flinch when he glides his cock along your sensitive cunt, bumps your swollen clit because he can’t help but torture you just a little when you’re all splayed out for him so pretty. His tip catches your hole, making you keen when he still doesn’t slip inside.

“Seungcheol,” you whine, locking your ankles behind his back, pulling him in closer. His face softens when he sees how badly you need it, when he remembers that he’s not making you work for anything, because he has one job and one job only right now—to show you he’s all yours.

In one fluid motion, he slides all the way in, buries himself in you to the absolute hilt like it’s his home, the stretch so good you practically sob. He wastes no time, fucking you with tenacity, letting go of any semblance of self-control the second he feels the warmth of your cunt wrapped around him.

“God, how could I be anyone else’s when this is the pussy I get?” he grunts, fingertips gripping at your hips, guiding you along his fat cock so deliciously that your eyes roll into the back of your head. “My fucking dream woman.”

“You fuck me so good, Cheollie,” you moan, your fingers finding their way to the back of his neck, tugging at the slightly grown out hair there. You pull him in close, your face next to his so your breaths can intertwine, and you whisper, “all mine?”

“All yours. Only yours,” he replies, his thrusts growing faster, harder, more erratic, more debauched from how your pussy grips him, sucks him in. “Let me fill you up, baby. I’ll give you everything.”

You whine at the thought, making him hiss when you clamp down around his cock, but he refuses to slow his pace. In fact, he only fucks you harder into the couch. “Please, yes.”

“Maybe I’ll put my kids in your belly, huh? Will that convince you?”

You nod your head frantically. “Want it, Cheol.”

He only replies with a moan of his own, taking your hands in his and pinning them to the couch. His cock throbs, your cunt dripping wet as you both near the edge of your release.

“Gonna cum for me?” he asks, strained, like he’s holding himself back.

You only nod again, and Seungcheol’s thumb finds your clit, drawing circles until finally he unwinds the knot inside your belly, and you cum with another cry of his name, your walls clenching around him so harshly that he’s spilling inside of you not a moment later.

The kiss he gives you after is so contrastingly soft that you nearly pass out, but it’s the most Choi Seungcheol characteristic you can think of—to fuck you like an animal and kiss you like a loving boyfriend after.

“I love you,” he says, his voice still husky with his orgasm, but there’s nothing but sincerity in his words.

“I love you more,” you reply, smiling like the angel you’re not.

“Not possible.”

“Oh? I don’t believe you, so I guess you’ll just have to show me again.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. He pretends to be unamused. He loves it though. He loves being yours.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 242

   He looks the same as he had that fateful day, a storm raging around him and risking sending the ship down into the abyss. Hair whipping in the wind as the sky roars its deadly challenge echoed by the beasts they all sought to bring down those centuries ago. 

   It looks just as human as they- that is to say not at all, not anymore. A body twisted, sand and lightning melding into a molten sea ever-expanding. Its eyes as gold as the treasure it guards, brilliant blues and greens dancing across bodies in sigils unknown. 

   It looks exactly as it did that time ago, smile dancing on its lips as the sky opened up in torrents, like blood gushing from a wound. “You’re free to go,” it says, in words they understand and words they don’t. “You don’t have to stay here any longer.” 

   “Where will we go?” They ask, so very tired of this eternal battle, of being trapped in crashing waves and storms of water and sand. Being tossed one way and the other, never able to go home, for home was gone long ago. 

   It looks up, their own gaze following, the ship crashing through the dredges of a storm they had thought eternal. And for the first time in eternities, they see them. The stars. Dancing and dripping from a serpentine form that cradles the Sun and Moon, smiling down to the beast and them alike. 

   And so, they take from the seas, and take to the stars instead. 

[moonstruckme]

As promised: more roommate!james

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Thunder crashes. A branch from the tree outside smacks into your bedroom window, making you jump. You smile a little at your reaction, and a frisson goes up your spine, giddy. 

You’re kind of in a euphoric state tonight. 

The storm came in early, darkening the sky hours before its time and bringing torrents of rain down upon your home. Immediately, your windows had been opened, your candles lit, and you were curled up on your bed with a book in your hands. 

Downstairs, you can hear the familiar buzz of the TV playing one of James’ sports games. The whole apartment smells like the cookies you made earlier, which you have a small plate of next to you and which your roommate had moaned as he’d bitten into upon you offering some to him. Sweetheart, keep spoiling me like this and you’ll never get me to leave. 

Suffice to say, you’ve been having a fairly good evening. 

Your book is just starting to pick up when the TV quiets. Everything quiets. There’s a thud, followed by a hissed curse. 

You laugh a little. Pick up your phone. 

Alright down there? You text James. 

More thudding sounds. You think about picking your book back up, but decide to wait.

If I were bleeding out on the living room floor, do you think I’d be able to text you back?

A moment later: If you wanted to do a thorough job of seeing I was alright, you should have come and seen for yourself.

Then: And I heard you laughing.

You smile to yourself, a quiet chuckle escaping you. Sorry, can’t, you reply. Too cozy. 

You hear his heavy footfalls coming up the stairs, and you have only a few moments to brace yourself before he’s swinging open your door. 

Lately, your body has been doing this thing where he looks at you and it’s like the ground softens beneath you. Luckily, you’re already on a bed, so it’s not really possible this time. 

James shuts off the flashlight on his phone, looking around your room with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

“Woah. Are you having a seance in here?” 

You roll your eyes, ignoring the way the candlelight plays prettily over his features. “You’re just jealous that I was prepared for the power to go out and you weren’t.” 

“It looks like you were hoping for it.” James grins. He starts to cross the room, and you’re like a sunflower to your light as you tilt to face him. 

He lays down next to you on your bed, on his stomach with his forearms propping him up. It’s a somewhat tight fit, but James doesn’t seem to mind the way his hip and shoulder are touching yours. His shampoo smell wraps around you like a hug. 

You pick up your tea as an excuse not to look at him, blowing softly before taking a sip. James watches you consideringly. 

“You really are thriving in here, aren’t you?” he teases softly. “Look at you, you’ve got your fuzzy socks on, your tea, your book. You’re in paradise.” 

You smile sheepishly as you set your tea down on the floor. “Sorry you couldn’t finish your game.” 

“Oh, it’s alright.” He nudges your shoulder with his. “I’d rather hang with you anyway.” 

You feel your brows furrow, a confusing mass of emotions knotting in your chest. “Don’t say that,” you tell him softly.

You can feel James’ gaze warming the side of your face. His voice is just as quiet. “Why not?” 

You look over, and his eyes don’t flit away like a sane person’s would. They’re steady and warm as the flames around you. Instantly the room feels too small, him a little too close. 

James’ smile is almost tentative. “Look, I know you drew the short stick with this roommate agreement, but I plan to soak up as much roomie time as I can get. Sorry.” 

“I did not,” you murmur. 

“Didn’t what?” 

“You drew the short stick.” Your face burns. You know James too well to think he’d be making fun of you, but it’s difficult to imagine an alternative. He can’t really think you don’t like having him as a roommate after all the ways he’s been a friend to you, the times he’s stepped in to help, when you’ve only been a burden and a drag. “Not me.” 

His eyebrows twitch closer to each other, and his lips tilt bemusedly, as though they’re unsure of what else to do. The lenses of his glasses reflect the candlelight, brown eyes molten behind them. 

“I’m inclined to disagree,” he says. The air between you feels thick and sweet. Your heart seems to know something you don’t, quickening its rhythm in your chest. Then, because it’s James, he flicks up a brow. “Truce?” 

You laugh quietly, turning your face down towards your book. There are goosebumps going all down your arms. “Sure,” you say. 

“Good,” he murmurs. “Glad that’s settled.” 

You don’t respond this time. You’re not sure you can. The words on your page blur by, unnoticed and unimportant.

Lightning cracks outside. You gasp and turn to see it, and James’ lips meet you there. 

You should have known he would be soft like this. You’ve kept yourself from thinking about it, but you could have guessed. The first gentle, warm press of his mouth is so lovely you get lost in it, but when it lasts for too long and he starts to draw back, you remember that you can move, too. 

He takes in a tiny inhale when you part your lips for him, his hand finding your waist and his body curving over yours. Your arm falls out from under you, and James follows you down. He tastes sweet and familiar, like home. 

You bring your hands up to his face, one resting tentatively on his cheek while the other toys with the idea of slipping its fingers into his hair. The sky rumbles outside. Your heart pitters. 

“It’s okay,” James mumbles. His voice buzzes against your lips. “It’s okay, sweetheart, please.” 

You grasp at the roots of his hair, palm settling more surely on his cheek, and James makes a sound low in his throat. He breaks the kiss to pull off his glasses. You take them from where he sets them on the bed, placing them more carefully on the floor where they’re not so likely to get crushed. His lips curve over yours. You think that if you were to detour to either side, you might find a dimple in his cheek. 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Oh, it’s James again now, is it?” 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “What is it?” 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s a nonsensical question, but in fairness you think all the blood that’s supposed to be in your brain has gone to your lips, and James seems to get what you mean anyway. 

He chuckles quietly. “I am, yeah.” He makes a sound that’s almost like a sigh, hand climbing up your back until it’s trapped between your shoulders and your bed. “I don’t ever tell you how lovely you are, but I’ve…I’m sure. What about you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I think so.” 

“That’s okay.” James kisses your chin, the curve of your jaw. 

“You’re lovely, too,” you tell him somewhat desperately. His lashes tickle your cheek. Your fingers are still burrowed in the hair at his nape. “I never tell you. I like when you’re here.” 

You feel his smile bloom against your skin. “I like you too, sweetheart,” he says, voice light with teasing. 

You frown, wishing he would take you seriously. “I do. I really like you.” 

“I think I like you more.” 

You scoff. He nips at your jaw, surprising a laugh out of you. “You can’t always win,” you say. 

James makes a happy humming sound. “I guess we’ll have to see.”

[greenglowinspooks]

Thinkin about a DCxDP where Danny’s helping ghosts find peace while he’s laying low in Gotham.

Like, he moved away from Amity for whatever reason. Maybe the reveal went badly, maybe he just couldn’t stand staying any longer. For whatever reason, he’s in Gotham, because the rent is cheap and he’s nowhere near the strangest thing there so no one looks at him twice.

However, this city is cursed. Like, cursed beyond cursed. It’s actively alive with how many curses there are, and the ghosts there are extremely unhappy about it.

(Of course, that’s not a problem for Danny. His ghost side filters out the toxic smog and the chemicals in the water, and his human side gives a resistance to the rank ecto and the hexes that are actively trying to devour him.)

He doesn’t really want to do anything about it, to be honest.

He’s sick of playing hero, considering how it went last time, and he’s busy working at Waffle House or Walmart or whatever other store doesn’t bother doing a background check (in Gotham, that’s probably all of them), and maybe trying to find a way to get highschool credits that don’t immediately disqualify him from every college in existence.

Still, the ghosts know he can hear them. They know, and they keep coming for help.

So, hey, why not? He definitely can’t put this as experience in any sort of job application, but he really doesn’t have much else to do.

So, he becomes errand boy for a bunch of ghosts.

Sometimes he’s finding objects that are important to them, sometimes he’s giving evidence they collected together of their murders to the police, sometimes he’s getting them the last meal they never had, sometimes he’s just spending time with them like they’re not dead.

The ghosts don’t always move on, but they’re always more at peace. Occasionally they pay him back in charms and blessings and the locations of valuables that he can keep or pawn for cash.

Eventually, a new ghost shows up.

She looks like a shadow, like all the ghosts of Gotham, but she seems stronger than usual. She asks him for a favor that those who came before him were never able to fulfill.

She asks him to find her engagement ring, and give it to her son.

Easy enough, he thinks. It’s a bit of a pain to buy the ring from the seedy pawn shop it’s in (he would usually just steal it, but he doesn’t want to implicate her kid in anything, which she seems grateful for), but everything’s going mostly alright.

Then, she tells him who her son is, and wow, no wonder no one’s helped her yet.

He’s Red Hood. The guy who is(/was) the crime lord in charge of crime alley. The title sounds a bit stupid to Danny, but he’s still a genuine threat to a living person.

Good thing he’s not one of those.

And so, the next time he sees Red Hood out and about, he goes right up to him. The man seems mostly unbothered, but Danny does notice how his hand slightly drifts towards one of his many weapons.

He tells Red Hood outright that he’s there on behalf of the man’s mother, then just holds out his hand with the ring inside, dropping it into Red Hood’s open palm.

Then he leaves, not waiting for a response.

—

Jason has a mystery on his hands, and he might just cash in some favors from Babs and Tim to figure it out.

He’s got to find the guy who gave him his mother’s ring, and find out everything he knows.