#I’d be so charmed by him from across the bar

[urhoneycombwitch]

Eddie Munson orders a whiskey neat because the guy in a cowboy show he watched one time drank it. and he gags on the first sip. like wow you can really TASTE the alcohol in here. bartender I’ll have your fruitiest cocktail please.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Soap's Sister!reader

Summary: Because Johnny found him sleeping with his sister, Simon had to live the last three months without you, but he's about to get his girl back.

warnings/notes: a little smut 18+, cursing, drinking. That's probably it. Oh, typos, im sure, as well.

words: 1830

Part 1

He drinks at the same bar. The one his team practically lived in when they were all together for an evening, but that doesn’t happen anymore, not with the entire group. Johnny stays home if he knows Simon will be attending the night out, and Simon, if informed Johnny wants to be with the team, elects to remove himself from the situation for everyone’s comfort. He figures it’s the least he can do. He’d slept with his best mate’s sister, he’d fallen in love with his best mate’s sister, and so he has taken on the consequences, no matter how infuriating and unreasonable and unfair. 

“You want another, Honey?” the bartender asks. She grins. Her eyes shine with desire, as they have all night, and it might be a pleasant sight if Simon had never met you. He might’ve taken her home, fucked her like a toy until he was spent and she was happily ruined by his cock before he kicked her out. But she isn’t you. No woman is you.

“Keep ‘em comin’,” Simon replies, downing the amber liquid in his glass. 

Suddenly, the stool beside him slides across the hardwood floor, now occupied by a newcomer he wouldn’t hesitate to shove to their ass if he could do so without causing a scene. What kind of rude bastard risks sitting next to someone when ten other seats are open?

“Actually lass, do me a favor and cut ‘im off. I need ‘im in his right mind.”

Simon almost chokes at Johnny's voice but he doesn’t turn his head as he slowly sets the glass back down on the counter, his fingers tightening around it. Anger, confusion, pain, anxiety. It all crashes over him in a hefty wave, because rolled into this one man is both the friend Simon has missed for months and the asshole who has forced him to be apart from the love of his life. And it’s almost too much to handle at once.

“I’ll take his drink,” Johnny tells the bartender, who has lost all hope now that the man she’s been attempting to charm is no longer lonely enough to be convinced to take her home. When she places the glass in front of him, he takes a sip. “You look like shit, Ghost.”

“What do you want?”

“We got a problem,” Johnny says, getting right to it. “A bit of a disaster, really, and I gave it my best shot, but I can’t fix it.” Simon blinks. His brows pinch. Johnny drains the remainder of the alcohol and wipes his mouth with the back of his forearm. “She’s miserable. And considerin’ the timeline, I’d wager it’s because she’s without you.”

Simon’s heart—though had fallen from his chest months ago—sinks lower into his gut. 

“Look, I didn' believe it was that deep,” Johnny continues. “Figured you were jus’ messin’ around. Being stupid and disrespectful with my baby sister. But I cannot have her miserable, Ghost. It won’t do.” He looks at Simon and releases a long sigh. “She loves you. I don’ like it but she does, and you need to make it better.”

“What exactly are you askin’ of me?”

Johnny’s eyes land back on the empty glass. He plants his elbows on the counter and rubs his fingers across his forehead, kneading the wrinkles. “Just…go to her, alright?”

That snaps Simon out of his grumbly attitude. “You serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny says. 

Simon practically leaps out of his seat, nearly knocking the stool to the floor as he shrugs on his jacket. He’s almost at the door, but then he stops. Taking a breath, he turns back to his old friend. “Will you be able to handle this?” Simon asks. “Me and her? Because you can't ask me to let her go, Johnny. Not twice.”

Johnny takes a second, then he gives a brief nod. “I’ll adjust. Somehow. With time; lots of time.”

It isn't much reassurance, but it's enough for Simon to be on his way. He rushes out the door, jumps into his truck, and races down the road. He forgets the seatbelt. Ignores the speed limit signs. You don’t live far, and you’re worth the risk if it means getting to you faster. 

He knows the elevator in your building is much too slow because he’s been in it a hundred times. He has made out with you in it; fucked you in it, slamming the emergency button so no one could interrupt on the nights you couldn’t wait to get to your bedroom. So he takes the stairs. Two at a time, up eight flights, and down the hall. With a heaving chest, he bangs on your door. 

“Love, open up!” He knocks harder. Loud enough to make your neighbor pop her head into the hall to understand the ruckus. 

“Oh, wonderful. You've returned,” the old woman huffs. “And just when I was starting to believe I’d never again have to endure listening to that moaning and groaning at all hours.”

“We talked ‘bout this back in June, Mrs. Brimsby. Get yourself some earplugs,” Simon retorts before calling for you again. “Baby, please, it‘s me!”

“I’ll report the two of you for the noise.”

“You probably should. You’re in for a long night.” He hears a scoff but doesn’t bother to glance in the direction it comes from. 

“Still so disrespectful,” she spits before slamming the door to her apartment. 

Simon has held a low level of hatred for the old bat since the morning after the first time you’d slept together. It was an early Sunday full of soft touches and kisses and tea to nurse the mild hangovers you’d both had because of a couple of drinks the night before—the drinks that allowed the two of you to finally surrender to the sexual tension. After kissing you goodbye, he’d stepped out of your apartment with a smile he hadn't donned in quite some time, only to have it wiped away from the unexpected grandma in a collared nightgown tapping her foot as she stroked the fur of the cat in her arms. 

“You kept us up all night,” she had scolded. “We need our sleep.” The cat then hissed for emphasis. 

Now, Simon has never been so happy to have that woman blathering in his ear. She reminds him of home, because home is with you and this is where you are. Getting yelled at shoots him into the memories of the time you spent together all those months ago. The stupidly high levels of bliss that, based on the trajectory of his life at the time, he’d assumed was more of a myth than anything. But you had made it real. You had soothed the pain. You were the patch on his wounds; the brightest spot in his life which dimmed the trauma and horrors. 

He’s so lost in those thoughts that he doesn’t immediately notice when his banging fist plummets through the air.

“Si?”

At your voice, Simon’s mind instantly clears. His eyes meet yours.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters, not letting a beat go by before he’s bending at the knees, wrapping his arms around your waist, and lifting you up. Instinctually, your arms snake around his neck, your legs circle his hips, and he feels his cock begin to swell from the reminder of how natural that action is for you. How right it is that you fit together like lock and key. 

Many questions are brewing in your eyes, but you don’t ask them. You kiss him instead, hard and thoroughly as he carries you into your apartment and kicks the door closed behind him. When he sits you atop your kitchen counter and settles himself between your spread legs, his hands go everywhere; under your sleep shirt, up the curves of your body to squeeze your breasts then back down to your hips. His palms slide around to your ass and jerk you closer so the center of those thin little shorts is pressed against the mound protruding from his jeans. 

Buttons scatter across the tile from his impatience, unwilling to delicately undo each tiny closure of your shirt. Your fingers trickle lower on his body to the belt buckle you quickly undo and the zipper you harshly yank down. He’s about to tell you to lift your hips, but you do so without his command, shimmying out of your shorts, and Simon takes the chance to do the same, pushing his pants just below his ass. He springs free, the heavy column of flesh landing at your navel. 

Leaning back, you guide his cock through the slickness of puffy lips into your tight, clenching walls. It sucks the air from his lungs. His head falls to your shoulder as you both try to breathe at a steady pace. His hands brace on the counter on either side of your body, nails digging into the granite. Home.

“Simon…baby, you have to move,” you pant. “I c-can’t take it.”

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in your ear before lifting his head and placing a quick peck on your mouth. Shifting his hips, he pulls out and then slowly eases himself back inside of you. His groan drowns out the sweet song of your moan. “I’ve got you, love.”

—

“Your neighbor still hates us, jus’ so you know,” Simon says as he slides under the sheets. Were he not so exhausted, he’d chuckle at the idea of being beside you in your bed and not immediately trying to fuck you, but after the kitchen counter, then the couch, then the living room floor, you’re both worn out and in need of a good night's sleep. “Probably more now than she did before.”

Normally, you would have found his words amusing, but you remain silent on your back, staring straight up at the ceiling. Simon raises a brow and flips onto his side. Then he sees the tear slip from the corner of your eye down to your ear. 

“What're you thinkin' about, love?” he asks as he places his hand on your cheek and turns your face toward his. 

“I'm scared,” you tell him. “I've missed you so much, but the second you leave, everything will go back to how it was without you. That broke me the first time, Si. How do I go through it all over again?”

His eyes pinch tight and he sighs in shame. He should have told you. It should have been the first thing out of his mouth, but then he saw you and he needed you and that was all that mattered in the moment. “Baby,” he begins, brushing the hair back from your face. “I'm not leaving you, and we are not goin’ back to that, ok?”

“But Johnny—”

“We don't need to worry about Johnny.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why not?”

“Because, love,” Simon says, his hand finding the middle of your back and snuggling you into his chest, “Johnny sent me.”

@universitypenguin @ghostslittlegf

[axelsagewrites]

Felix Catton*Period Pains

Pairing: Felix Catton x afab! reader

Word count: 1322

Warnings: periods, period pain, mentions of drinking, pure fluff

Masterlist Here

There were few things worse than waking up at 7am for a lecture, rolling out of bed and seeing the blood stain on the sheets. The brief relief of getting your period was quickly swept away when the first cramp hit. You managed to get through your classes with a few pills and the promise of your hot water bottle in your dorm.

During your lecture you felt your phone buzz and sneaked a glance only to see Felix had messaged the group chat with plans to go out for the night. You weren’t exactly sure how you managed to join his and Farleigh’s drinking gang, but you were always down to have a pint with them at the end of a long day.

But today even just reading the text made you tired. Instead of replying you slipped your phone back into your pocket and tried your best not to fall out your seat and writhe in pain.

-

You’d seen in the chats they’d planned on meeting at seven. When the time ticked around and your friends were all out downing their first drinks you were laying in bed instead with 2 hot water bottles, a jumbo bar of chocolate. At 7. 15 your phone buzzed again with a text from Felix.

Felix – You running late?

You – sorry I can’t make it. I don’t feel great

You really thought that was that and unpaused mean girls so you could see who had been personally victimised by Regina George. However just as Regina got hit by the bus there was a knock on your door.

You shut your laptop and paused for a second to see if they’d walk away but another knock came, and you were forced to drag yourself out of bed with a loud groan. “What-oh” you paused as you opened the door to a concerned looking Felix, “Hi? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just worried about you. You never miss a night out, so I thought I’d come check on you. I’m sorry I can go if this is weird,” he said, his voice trailing off with a flush growing on his cheeks.

You’d never seen Felix nervous before, but it was an oddly cute sight. “No don’t be sorry. Its sweet really,”

“You don’t look sick,” he said, and it was at that moment you actually remembered how you looked.

Yes, the well-dressed incredibly cute aristocrat was now seeing you in your baggy pyjamas, bare faced, messy haired, with cow slippers on. It didn’t help that he was dressed up in a shirt and everything. “I’m not sick,”

“Then what’s wrong?” You paused, an awkward look accidentally washing over your face. Felix quirked an eyebrow before looking behind you and seeing your snack pile and hot water bottles on the bed, plus the one you still held in your hand. “Oh,” he said, realisation dawning on his face, “Do you need me to go pick you anything up?”

“Um no I’m alright,” you laughed though still feeling slightly awkward about it all, but Felix seemed completely unfazed by it all.

“Okay,” he said, before suddenly walking straight past you and into the room. “What were you doing before I came?”

“Just watching movies,” you said, voice trailing off as you followed him across your own room to where he sat on your bed.

“Oh, movie night!” he grinned, his charm turned back on. He moved to half lay on your bed and put the laptop on his lap, “What are we watching?”

Your eyes scrunched together in confusion as you looked at him, “I thought you were going out with the guys?”

Felix snorted, “Nah mate. They’re boring without you there,” he smiled in his adorable accent that made it even harder for you to wrap your head around this. “You, okay?”

“Yeah just- “you shook your head with a slight smile, “Never mind its nothing,” Felix nodded, seemingly accepting your answer as you moved to sit beside him on the bed.

“I like the outfit by the way. The slippers are a nice touch,” he grinned making you shove him away.

“Shut up,”

Felix laughed as he moved to put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you back to lay beside him as he looked at the movies you had on your list, “10 things I hate about you?” he asked, turning his head to look at you.

You could feel his breath fanning your face making it near impossible not to blush. “Its actually really good. It was inspired by The Taming of the Shrew but its okay if you don’t wanna watch it. Its just some dumb chick flick,” you said, pulling your hot water bottle onto your stomach.

“I trust your judgement don’t worry,” he grinned before starting the movie. “Oh popcorn! May I?” he asked, nodding towards the bag you had at the bottom of the bed. You nodded and quickly grabbed it to pass to him. when you moved to sit back his arm ended up around your waist, “Thanks love,” he smiled as he took the bag and settled in to watch the movie.

-

It was 1am when pretty woman wrapped up. All your snacks were now long gone and at some point, you had both ended up spooning on the single bed with your laptop on a chair beside the bed. Felix had stolen one of your hot water bottles for his back, stating it was the best invention ever.

At first the feeling of Felix’s arms around you and his breath tickling your ear made your skin red hot however now it was like a laying in a hot bath. “I can’t believe you’d never watched it before,” Felix said as the screen went black.

“I can’t believe you have,” you laughed making him roll his eyes with a dopey grin. “But I’ll admit it’s a good film,”

“What can I say? I have great taste,” he said, gently pulling your hip so you moved to lay on your back with him looking down at you, “I know a pretty woman when I see one,”

“Stop, that’s so cheesy,” you giggled making Felix do the same.

The laughter stopped but there was still a dopey grin on his face, “Its true though. This was fun though. We should do it again sometime,”

“You don’t regret ditching your pals?” you asked.

He shook his head, moving his arm to rest his head on his fist, “I can honestly say this is one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time,”

“Me too,”

A thick silence hung over the room as Felix glanced down at your lips, “Is it bad that I want to kiss you right now?” he whispered, his eyes gazing into yours and putting you in a trance.

“I think it would be worse if you didn’t,” was all you could whisper back.

You felt your heart racing in your chest as his head dipped down, his soft lips pressing gently against yours. the kiss was brief, but all the air was knocked out your lungs as he pulled away, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages,”

“Then maybe you should do it again,” you said, your hand moving to rest gently on the back of his soft waves.

Felix smiled down at you as his head dipped down for another kiss, “Maybe I will,” he teased.

-

Nothing happened that night, but you did wake up with Felix still in your bed the next morning, your head resting on his chest. “Morning pet” he murmured as you woke up.

“Morning,”

“You’re cute when you sleep you know,” he said, your skin instantly heating up. His arm tightened across your waist though with a devious grin on his face, “Even cuter when you’re all shy though,” one thing was for sure, Felix and his cuteness would be the death of you.

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[myerssimp21]

Stumbling Under Watch, (YAN! Pt. 4)

Romantic! YAN! Batfam x female reader;

TLDR: Reader gets wasted, Nightwing and Batman clean up.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

You stumble slightly as you make your way down the darkened street, the world around you swaying just a bit too much. The night air is cool against your skin, a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded bar you just left. The cool air feels freeing, and you take a deep breath of liberating Gotham air, wincing at the stench from the alley beside the bar. You feel more grounded despite the smell, banishing the anger sparked in your chest at the way an equally wasted dude had invaded your personal space and tried to gyrate on you without permission, flipping you off in irritation and storming off when you expressed discomfort. After that, the party atmosphere was more suffocating than fun and you'd rushed out to avoid having a panic attack.

You're lost in your thoughts when a shadow suddenly drops from above, landing gracefully in front of you. You blink, trying to focus and feeling apprehensive before a grin spreads across your face.

"Nightwing!" you exclaim happily, your voice slurring a bit. You sway on your feet, reaching out to steady yourself against a nearby lamppost though your expression is filled with adoration. "Bludhaven's shimmery blue star! What are you doing here?"

Nightwing, with his charming smile and easy demeanor, steps closer. "Just making sure you're safe," he says, his voice smooth and reassuring. "Walking home alone at this hour isn't the best idea."

You laugh, a little too loudly. "I'm fine," you insist, though your unsteady stance says otherwise. "You shouldn't be wasting your time on me. There are criminals out there, real bad guys to catch."

He chuckles, the sound warm and infectious. He loves the way you gestured vaguely to Gotham City when you emphasize 'bad guys', as if the whole city is suspect. "You think making sure you're safe isn't important? The bad guys can wait a little while."

His charisma is almost palpable, and you can't help but feel your worries start to melt away. "Well, if you insist," you say, giving in with a shy giggle. "But I can walk myself home."

"I know you can," he replies, his tone playful yet earnest. "But let me do this, okay? I’d hate myself if something happened to you."

You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a burst of courage from the alcohol. "You are so cheesy, Mr. Nightwing," you tease, poking him lightly in the chest. "Are you always this sweet, or is it just because I'm drunk?"

He grins, clearly enjoying your boldness. "Only for you," he says, leaning in slightly.

You snort, shaking your head. "Wow, you really don't stop, do you?"

His dazzling blue eyes twinkle with mischief. "It's working, isn't it?"

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from your chest. "Okay, maybe a little," you admit. "But I still think you should be out there saving the city."

"Right now, making sure you get home safe is my top priority," he insists, taking your arm gently. "Humor me?"

You smile, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol. "Fine, fine. Lead the way, hero."

As he guides you down the street, he keeps up a light, flirtatious conversation that makes the walk feel shorter and infinitely more enjoyable. You're so inebriated, you never wonder why he seems to inexplicably know exactly where you live.

"So, do you often walk home alone at this hour?" he asks, his tone casual but with a hint of concern.

"Sometimes," you admit. "I like the night air. Clears my head. On nights like these, it just feels like walking through a dream."

He nods, his expression thoughtful. "I can see that. But it's still not the safest choice. Someone as cute as you needs to make more safe choices."

You laugh again, shaking your head. "There you go with the cheesy lines. Do they teach you that in hero school?"

He smirks, not missing a beat. "Maybe. Or maybe it's just you that brings it out in me."

Before long, you've reached your apartment complex. Nightwing doesn't stop there, though. He walks you through the lobby, making sure you stay steady on your feet with a supportive arm and attentive eye on your unpredictable drunken antics.

"You really don't have to walk me all the way up," you say, feeling embarrassed gratitude. "I can manage from here."

"I know you can," he replies with a smile. "But I'd feel better knowing you got to your door safely."

And how could you say no to him?

You relent, letting him guide you to the elevator. When you finally reach your apartment door, you turn to face him, "Thanks, Nightwing," you say, your voice filled with gratitude.

He smiles, his eyes twinkling. "Anytime. Get some rest, okay? And call me if you need anything."

You're not sure how you'd call him, but you nod, fumbling with your keys. "I will. And, um, thanks again. For everything."

As Nightwing watched you struggle with your keys, his earpiece crackled with the familiar voice of Red Robin, his tone stern and disapproving.

"Dick, you shouldn't be walking her home like this. You're neglecting Blüdhaven," Tim's sharply criticized, echoing Bruce's concern from the last meeting.

Before Dick could respond, Jason's voice broke through the comms, equally sharp. "Shut up, Tim. You don't get to criticize Dick for wanting to make sure she's safe. You've got no say in this."

Dick could feel the argument brewing, frowning in disappointment at the discord between his brothers. Before it could escalate further, Bruce's deep, authoritative voice entered the conversation.

"Nightwing, return to Blüdhaven. You've done a good job here, but your city needs you."

His words were calm and commanding, diffusing the situation. Dick quietly sighed, covering his disappointment with a charming smile as soon as you managed to get the door open and shoot him a victorious grin.

"Understood, B. Heading back now."

As you disappeared into your apartment, your voice drifted back through the still-open door in a dreamy, love-struck tone. "His smile is so pretty… and he's just so nice. I can't believe how lucky I am to have him looking out for me," you chattered, clearly smitten in your drunken state.

Dick smirked slightly, knowing full well the others could hear your every word. Leaving the comms line open for a few moments longer, he lets your adoring comments linger. Then, with a decisive click, he turned off the comms, making a silent point to Tim and Jason about just how much you liked Nightwing.

Closing your apartment door for you and locking it from the outside with a copy he kept close at all times, he left your apartment complex. You wouldn't realize he'd locked it for you of course, but his smile beamed with satisfaction and his heart was brimming with protective pride nonetheless.

As the Bat-family patrolled the streets of Gotham, the hum of their comms network buzzed to life. Red Robin, monitoring the city from the Batcave, noticed a concerning scene unfolding on one of his screens.

"Guys, we've got a situation," Tim's voice crackled through their earpieces, urgency lacing his tone. "She just left her apartment. She’s still stumbling around. Think she raided her vodka cabinet or something."

Dick responds first, amusement evident in his voice. "I honestly didn't think she'd figure out the door."

Damian replied dryly, "You only locked it."

Dick chuckled, "I know."

Jason Todd's voice chimed in, brimming with readiness. "I’m nearby. I can check up on her, make sure she’s safe."

Before anyone could respond, Bruce Wayne’s authoritative tone cut through the comms. "I’ll handle it."

There was a moment of silence, the team recognizing the finality in Bruce’s words. No one dared to argue with Batman when he made up his mind.

"Roger that," Dick responded, "Be careful, B."

Red Robin watched the scene unfold through the CCTV cameras they'd placed discreetly in and around your apartment. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for you, knowing you were about to face an irritable Batman. "Good luck," Tim thought to himself, sending mental prayers your way.

You had made it halfway down the block, the cool night air barely sobering your senses. Your steps were unsteady, and the city lights blurred in your vision. Just as you were about to cross the street, a dark figure landed quietly behind you, almost blending into the shadows.

You jumped at the noise, a startled gasp escaping your lips as you turned to see motherfucking Batman standing there, his eyes piercing through the darkness. "Where do you think you're going?" His voice was a low growl, sounding angry.

"Batman! What the fuck, you scared me!" you exclaimed, your heart racing from the sudden fright. You can't help but clasp your hands to your chest, feeling the frantic beating as blood rushes through you. You're either superbly wasted or just a pussy because you're convinced he almost made you faint with his dramatic entrance. "I wanted some air. Nightwing walked me home earlier. I'm fine."

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming and you have second thoughts about staying out late. "It's not safe out here for you," he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You know you shouldn't have even left after you were escorted home."

"But I..." you began, trying to find your footing both literally and figuratively. You're not sure what you're even protesting against, but you feel like your decision to stupidly walk the streets of Gotham drunk should be respected somehow. Why do Gotham's protectors even care if you're drunk out here anyways?

"Look at yourself," he continued when it's apparent you can't get your words together, his judgmental gaze taking in your disheveled appearance. "It's late, you're drunk, and you're not even carrying pepper spray. You need to go back home."

You pouted, crossing your arms defiantly. "I can take care of myself."

He sighed, his expression softening slightly but his voice growing sterner. "No, you can't. Not like this. I'm taking you home."

When he reached out to guide you, you resisted his touch, pulling away stubbornly. Without missing a beat, he effortlessly picked you up, slinging you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. "Hey!" you protested, your fists lightly thumping against his back.

"Enough," he said sternly, his tone brooking no argument. "You're going home. Now."

As you squirmed, you felt a strange mix of frustration and a sudden, unexpected arousal at his show of dominance. The firmness of his grip, the authority in his voice—it stirred something inside you that you couldn't quite ignore, and you unclenched your fists, letting them drop with an exasperated sigh. Wouldn't want to make his job harder, after all. He did do a lot of great work for this city, you reasoned, quieting your whining and miserably relaxing in his controlling grip.

Despite your new lack of protest, his hold on you was unyielding as he carried you back to your apartment. The scent of leather from his suit and the solid feel of his body against yours made your heart race for reasons beyond just anger.

When he gently set you down at your apartment door, the bat-eared figure before you swirled in your vision, the mix of alcohol and adrenaline making it hard to focus. You could barely tell, but it seemed like he had a small smile on his face as he opened your door and ushered you inside with an intense look.

You stumbled into your apartment, turning back to see him still watching you. As he softly closed the door behind you, you swore you heard him murmur, "Be a good girl." The words sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you both unnerved and aroused.

With shaky hands, you locked the door, leaning against it as your mind raced. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and you were left feeling a confusing blend of emotions. Nothing a shower and your favorite comfort show couldn't fix, right?

As you plodded off to grab your towel and turned on the shower, Tim reported your apparent intentions to stay inside. The shadowy figure that had been lingering near your apartment, ready in case you tried to sneak out again, turned and grappled off towards the next order of business.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

@dakota-rain666 @tyga-stripes @obsessedwithromance @lem-hhn

[saberlight1]

exes and oh’s — billy the kid

pairing: billy bonney x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of violence, Y/N usage, established relationship, possessive!billy, arguments, standard billy the kid warnings.

authors note: im starting to think i have a problem.. 3 fics in one day lmfao. this one was based off of this request— thank you anon. i hope you all enjoy this one <33

masterlist

Ever since the day Billy had asked you to be his, he had thought the constant bugging of men around you would come to an end. But it seemed to be that the Bonney man only noticed those men’s stares towards you even more.

He sat at the bar you currently worked as he watched yet another man eye you from the corner of the room. It made his blood boil, his knuckles turning white from the harsh grip on his shot glass.

“Baby, leave the glass alone.” You teased with that charming smile that made him weak in the knees. “It ain’t done nun’ to ya,”

He put it down, your soft southern accent making his anger simmer down in a instant. “Sorry, honey.”

“What’s got you starin’ daggers over there?” You re-poured his now empty glass with whiskey.

“Them men starin’ at you.” His eyes darkened as he looked at you through his brows, his fingertips circling the rim of the shot glass.

Your tongue darted out across your bottom lip at his admission, his words making a deep want towards your outlaw settle in your gut knowing how protective he was of you.

“They can look all they want, darlin’.” You tried to ease his anger with a gentle voice. “You’re the only one that I’d ever let touch me—you know that.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust.” He murmurs as he leans back, his eyes boring into yours.

“Hey, foxy..” One of the men he was talking about now stood in front of you, slurring his words. “You’re mighty fine, mind if we.. talk somewhere privately?” He winked, making you want to throw up. “I’d love to see how you look under them fine clothes of yours,”

You looked him up and down in disgust. “I’m alright, sir. Got someone else in mind for tonight,” You looked at Billy from the corner of your eye, your cowboy smirking up at you. You sighed as you went to grab the drunken man’s glass to refill—he was still a customer after all.

His grueling grip caught your wrist before you could even grab the glass—almost pulling you over the bar.

“You little bitch, can’t take a real man, huh?” He spat as you let out a yelp, trying to get out of his grasp.

“Back the fuck off.” Billy’s menacing figure appeared from beside the man, throwing the man back by his shoulder, causing him to fall on his ass.

He groaned, but was back on his feet within seconds. “The fuck it mean to you, huh? I wan’ her, so she’s mine.”

The second the man finished his sentence, Billy’s fast fist made contact with his jaw hard, the man being back to his spot on the floor. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ say those words about her.” He hissed, leaning down to place more punches to the man’s bloodied face. You watched in a mixture of horror and admiration—mostly admiration.

The man below him only let out a cackle in return. “Oh, I see. She’s your whore,” He spat blood into Billy’s face, and you swore the whole room stopped at his words.

Billy’s cocked back arm stopped at his words, and within seconds his pistol was pointed at the man’s forehead. “What did you just say?” He yelled. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you—”

You grabbed his forearm, pulling him back up. “Billy, please—” He turned to you, panting as you tried to calm that wild look in his eye. “That piece of shit ain’t worth it, c’mon, baby.” Your eyes flickered between his, and after a moment, he sighed before relenting and putting the gun away.

“Yeah, gotta get your bitch to sort out your favors—” The man continued to talk shit, but Billy cut him off with a swift kick to the ribs.

“Shut the fuck up.” Billy rasped out, looking down upon the man.

“C’mon,” You pulled his hand, taking him to the room in the back. You were glad it was around last call—the bar being mainly empty. You sat him down on some old crates before you turned to grab the spare med-kit you had hidden back there months prior.

Once you had everything ready, you held your hand out, signaling Billy to hand you his cut and bruised knuckles. He did, knowing better than to argue with you on the matter.

Your heart sank in your chest when you first saw them. “Billy, you’ve gotta stop gettin’ into fights over me.” You whispered, your eyes not leaving his hand.

His other hand reached out to angle your jaw so your eyes would met his. “Darlin’, I’m never gon’ stop fightin’ for you. You know that.” He shook his head with a smile. “He ain’t even get a lick in—I’m fine.”

“I know you can handle yourself.” You mutter in reply. “I just don’t like seein’ you hurt. Regardless of how bad—I don’t like it. Nor do I like watchin’ you put yourself in danger for me.” You retort with a pointed look.

His gaze lowered. “Now, lady, let’s not pretend you haven’t done the same. I’ve witnessed some pretty crazy cat fights after hours at the boardin’ house,” He teased, his hand now cupping your jaw.

You sighed, trying to fight back the smile that threatened to break free. “Jus’ please, be careful.”

“Always am.” He leaned forward to kiss the frown off your face, his hands sliding down your body in order to squeeze your hips.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him closer to your body as you smiled against his lips.

He pulled back, leaning his forehead onto yours. You both sat there for a couple of moments, enjoying the comfortable silence.

You placed one last kiss to his plump lips. “Alright, let me see that hand of yours.” You asked, and when he placed it into yours, you got to work. You disinfected and bandaged it to ensure it wouldn’t get an infection. “That should do it,” You whispered as you finished tying the cloth, leaning down to press a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you for defendin’ me, honey.”

You swore that even in the darkness of the room you were currently in that you could see his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “I’m always gon’ defend you, baby.” He whispered, pulling you up by your hand to place you in his lap, his arms slithering around you as he placed a kiss to your cheek. He went quiet for a moment before he turned to grab something. You looked at him questionably when you saw that glint in his eye.

He smirked as he placed his signature hat onto your head. “There.” He admired his work as he fixed your hair, styling it to compliment the hat. “That should tell all those fuckers that you’re mine.”

Your teeth sunk into his bottom lip at his words as your eyes flickered between his. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” You whispered, the tip of his hat hitting his head as you leaned in to reconnect your lips again.

He didn’t mind—he thought it looked better on you anyways.

[awkward-walking-potato]

The Red in the Rainbow

Deadpool stood at the entrance of the small, cozy coffee shop, its pastel pinks, baby blues, and mint greens standing in stark contrast to the gritty urban chaos outside. He tugged at his mask, muttering to himself as he tried to blend in. "Why do I keep coming back to this place? I’m Deadpool, dammit. I should be at a bar, shooting something or blowing something up. Not sipping on chamomile."

But there he was, stepping inside, the doorbell chiming softly as the scent of fresh pastries and herbal tea filled the air. He scanned the room until his gaze fell on you, seated at a corner table, surrounded by an aura of pure, unfiltered sunshine. Your flowing dress, a mix of soft pastels, fluttered gently as you leaned over your cup of tea, steam curling up into the air like a delicate ribbon. A rainbow-colored hair clip held back your soft waves, and even from across the room, Deadpool could see the way your eyes sparkled as you smiled at the barista.

"Alright, Wade, time to up the charm," Deadpool muttered under his breath, straightening his posture. He sauntered over, trying to look casual, though casual had never really been his style.

"Hey, sunshine," he greeted you, his usual gravelly voice softened slightly in your presence. It was strange; normally, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw in a snarky comment or a crude joke. But around you, the human embodiment of everything sweet and gentle, even Deadpool felt the need to tone it down a notch. "Mind if I join you?"

You looked up, your eyes lighting up as you saw him. "Wade! Of course, please sit down," you said, your voice soft and melodious, like the first few notes of a lullaby. "How are you today?"

He pulled up a chair, his red-and-black suit looking comically out of place in the soft, pastel environment. "Oh, you know, just the usual. Sliced up a couple of bad guys, saved the day, yadda yadda. How’s life in Candyland?" he asked, flashing you a grin that was visible even through his mask.

You giggled, the sound like a sweet melody. "Life is wonderful, Wade. I was just thinking about you, actually."

"Oh yeah?" Deadpool raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what was the rainbow queen thinking about little ol’ me?"

You hesitated for a moment, your eyes softening as you spoke. "I was wondering if… if you ever get tired of it. The violence, I mean. It’s so different from who you really are, Wade."

He blinked, taken aback. Of all the things you could have asked, that wasn’t what he had expected. He was Deadpool, after all—violence was what he did best. But here you were, looking at him with those big, innocent eyes, seeing something in him that no one else did.

"Ah, well, it’s complicated," he began, scratching the back of his head. "The world’s a messed-up place, and sometimes, the only way to fix it is to blow up a few things—or, you know, a lot of things. But…"

"But?" you prompted gently, leaning forward with genuine interest.

"But," he sighed, "I guess, sometimes, yeah, I get tired of it. The blood, the gore, the endless cycle of it all. It’s exhausting. Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone else, of course." He paused, his voice softening further. "But then I see someone like you, all rainbows and sunshine, and I wonder what it’d be like if the world was more like you and less like… well, me."

You reached across the table, placing your hand on his gloved one. "Wade, you’re a good person, deep down. I know it. You just need to see it too."

He stared at your hand on his, a wave of something unfamiliar washing over him—something warm, something soft, something dangerously close to hope. "You know, most people run in the other direction when they see me coming. But not you."

You smiled, that radiant, all-encompassing smile that seemed to light up the entire room. "That’s because I see you, Wade. Not just Deadpool, but the person underneath all the masks and jokes. You’re special."

He snorted, trying to play it off, but the warmth in his chest refused to dissipate. "You’re gonna ruin my reputation, you know that? I’m supposed to be the bad guy, the merc with a mouth, not some sappy Hallmark character."

You laughed again, and this time, Deadpool couldn’t help but join in, the sound of your laughter infectious. "Well, maybe you can be both. A little bit of chaos, and a little bit of kindness. It suits you."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, squeezing your hand lightly, "maybe I could get used to that."

As the two of you sat there, the unlikely pair that you were, Deadpool couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was room in his life for a little bit of color—a little bit of sweetness. And as long as you were around, he figured he could deal with the pastel rainbows and chamomile tea.

After all, a little sunshine never hurt anyone.

[cmncisspnandmore]

John “Soap” Mactavish was a hopeless flirt.

Everyone knew it, his teammates often groaning while out at bars with him, watching helplessly as another woman falls for his charm.

They all mutter under their breath as Soap’s blue eyes fall on you across the bar. Each taking bets on how long until Soap announces his departure, you hanging off his arm with a lustful look in you eyes.

What Soap doesn’t expect is for you to turn him down. A sideways glance at the blue eyed man, and a wave of your hand at his advances send Soap back to the shared table of his teammates. Metaphorical tail tucked between his legs.

Women rarely said no to him, your almost immediate dismissal of him throwing his plans of kilter. A smug smirk graces Ghost’s face as he watches his Sergeant sulk over his beer. Kyle offering a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Soaps blue eyes stare down at the grimy table, his beer dangling from his finger tips. The conversation flows around him as the hours tick by, eventually his teammates turn in for the night. Leaving him sitting at the table, his beer, now warm still in his hand.

It isn’t until your hand lands on his shoulder that he’s pulled from his thoughts. A small smile on your lips as you slide into one of the empty chairs next to him.

“I know who you are,” you lean in close, the sweet smell of your mixed drink on your breath.

Soap lets out a small grunt, his beer bottle hitting the table with a resounding thud. “Yeah? Who might that be?”

You lean forward more, your lips ghosting the shell of his ear as you whisper, “look a little different than the last time you saw me. I understand not recognizing me right away…” you breathe. The hair on the side of Johnnys neck stands up, a prickle of familiarity forming in his mind.

“Im kind of sad you don’t recognize me Johnny.. we had so much fun together the summer before year 11…” you lean back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest. It takes a moment for the words to connect, and suddenly Johnny’s eyes widen. His pupils dilating as he turns towards you.

“Steaming Jesus…” he mumbles, hands darting out to grab your forearms and pull you towards him. His hands snake around your waist as he lifts you from your own chair onto his lap. His lips pressing against yours, as he hauls you impossibly close.

His heart hammers wildly against his chest, his hands slightly shaky as he pulls away to study your face once more. “I thought I’d never see you again…” Johnny whispers, his forehead resting on yours.

“I told you I’d find you again…” you smile, your eyes watering as you stare into the blue eyes you never thought you’d see again.

“The last time I saw you, was at the airport.. when you told me the reason you were leaving…” his brows furrow, his hand coming to rest on the side of your face. “You’re alright… right? Not seeing a ghost am I?”

“I’m fine Johnny, Cancer free. I always told you if I made it out alive, I’d look for you. You promised me too, ya know. I hope you intend to keep it…”

“I meant it then and I mean it now… I never stopped loving you,” he pauses, looking at you for a moment tears welling in his eyes. “Did you keep it? After all this time?” He asks, head tilted slightly.

With shaky hands you reach up, clasping the chain around your neck, and pull it from your shirt. A smile spreads across his face as he looks at the plastic ring, the one he promised to replace if you crossed paths again. “Of course,” you smile.

“Thank god, because I couldn’t imagine marrying anyone but you,” Johnny laughs, his lips pressing to yours once more.

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter

Summary: A conversation between my Tav and Astarion inspired me to write a short one-shot (I lied it's a series) reader insert about what I think would happen if they met before they were taken by the mind flayers

pt 2 | pt 3

This is pretty much my first attempt at reader insert so be nice to me pls ;-;

Lemme know if I made any grammar or spelling errors

Word count: 2.9k

---------------

“I’ll take the most you can give me of whatever has the most alcohol in it” 

You announce, slapping some gold coins down on the scuffed wooden bar. The barkeep who probably hasn’t had any business for the past hour startles out of his daydream and glances at you in surprise. He’s a dwarf, with a braided beard and kind eyes, and if it weren’t for the creaky wooden step stool he climbs up on to take orders he would barely be able to see over the bar top.

“Bit early in the night for that wouldn’t you say?” He asks as he climbs a ladder to retrieve a glass from the shelf above his head. You glance out the window as the last few rays of the setting sun color the night a deep reddish purple before it fades into a comforting black. 

You slide another gold coin across the bar. The barkeep smiles,

“Perfect time for some chultun fireswill if I say so myself miss.” He winks, slides the hefty glass full of orange liquid your way, and swipes up the coins before turning to another customer making their way into the tavern. You hold the glass up to your nose and sniff its contents. The fumes coming off the heavily spiced spirit has your nose burning and your eyes watering- perfect. 

You tap the glass on the counter and knock it back. You manage to get a few swallows in before your brain catches up to you and the fireswill burns a searing path from your throat into your stomach, settling there and warming you from the inside out. You slam the glass down and cover your mouth with your hand, trying and failing to hold in a fit of coughs. 

“Easy now.”

A cold hand lands on your shoulder, cooling your heated skin, and you turn, bleary eyed, unprepared for what you find.

He’s an elf, a very very pale elf- but not sickly pale. He just looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a century or two. His hair catches your eye, a shocking shade of pure white that makes his skin seem tan in comparison. It’s shorter than most elves keep their hair, and it curls in every direction, framing his face beautifully. Once you recover from your initial dazed attraction to him you attempt to level him with your meanest glare that you hope says piss off. He raises his hands in playful surrender and smiles disarmingly at you.

“Rough day?” He asks in a drawling voice. You take him in. He’s wearing a clean white shirt under a set of padded leather armor, and spotless black leather boots. He looks every bit a spoiled noble that has never seen a day of work in his life, but his hands are calloused, and his eyes look haunted. Speaking of his eyes, they’re quite an alluring shade of red. What an odd color for an elf-

His eyes narrow perceptively, as if he’s reading your thoughts as they flit across your face. He turns away, gesturing at your drink and turning your gaze away from his unique appearance.

“Most Baldurians don’t even touch that stuff until well past midnight, are we celebrating or forgetting?”

You turn your body away from the charming elf and stare into the last few sips of your drink. 

“We aren’t doing anything. I’m here to drink, not to talk.”

“Forgetting it is then. Excellent.”

From the corner of his eye you see him grin roguishly, the flash of his white teeth sending a curious spark of adrenaline through your system. Before you can discern why you suddenly went from warm and buzzed to fight or flight, he turns away, tossing a blue coin purse onto the bar and calling for the barkeep, allowing the alcohol to calm your frazzled nerves once more.

“Excuse me Lydon, I’d like to buy our grumpy friend here a drink that won’t burn a hole through her stomach,” He leans over the bar and drops his voice to a low murmur as if he were sharing a secret, “got anything good for me?” he practically purrs.

The dwarf, Lydon, flushes a deep red and grins coyly at the mysterious patron, “Maybe. But I don’t have enough for everyone Astarion, what if someone comes asking me how she got the good stuff and all I’m willing to sell them is stale ale and swill?”

Astarion’s answering grin is downright lethal. 

“It’ll be our little secret,” He winks. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

Lydon blushes even darker if that were possible and mumbles something about having a type before trodding off toward the old wooden door behind the bar. You’d never related to anything more. Astarion turns toward you and raises an expectant eyebrow.

“Waiting for a thank you?” You ask, wrestling with the instinct ingrained in you to be polite. Your tendency to people please is what landed you in this run down tavern in the first place. You don’t know this elf, and you don’t owe him anything.

“Well I wouldn’t say no to a little gratitude darling- especially not from you” his eyes trace a path from the top of your head to your scuffed leather boots and back up again, stopping at the blush on your cheeks, he smirks, and meets your eyes again. He steps closer to bump your shoulder with his teasingly, and stays there, close enough that your arm brushes his.

“But no my dear, I’m not waiting for a thank you. I’m waiting for a story.” 

“Oh yeah? Keep waiting.” You growl, and he tosses his head back, a genuine laugh bursting out of him. The sound of it is contagious, and you fight the urge to grin yourself. You nearly manage it, save for a slight twitch of your lips that he of course notices.

He tsks, shaking his head at you “I saw that. No use hiding that smile from me, love. The damage is already done.” 

You glare, this time with much less hostility. 

“Who are you? I’m morose and drunk on purpose, elf, and I will not let you wrestle me from it.”

“My name is Astarion” he says with a wink and a mock bow before he leans in, so close you can feel his breath on your skin, “and I’ll wager you’ll let me do a lot worse than that before the end of the night.”

Your breath catches, your pulse picks up, and you’re about to lose yourself in those strange eyes of his when a loud creeeeeaaak and a crash causes both of you to leap away from one another. The dwarven barkeep’s old step stool seems to have finally given in. He lay sprawled on the floor behind the bar, his foot caught in between the split wood.

“GODS DAMMIT” He howls, kicking off the stool. He sighs and hobbles up to you and your new… companion. You can see nothing but his angry eyes and the flushed red tips of his ears as he pours your drink and reaches up to hand it to you. When you grab for it he pulls it out of your grasp and stares at you with a threat in his eyes.

“You didn’t see that.” He snarls at both of you.

“See what?” Astarion feigns ignorance, looking around the room dramatically for whatever the dwarf could possibly be talking about. The barkeep rolls his eyes and hands the drink to you before limping off to find a chair to stand on.

You breathe slowly through your nose.

In.

Out.

In.

You will not laugh.

You have self control.

You take one glance at the pinched “I’m trying not to laugh” look on Astarions face, one that probably mirrors your own, and you explode in a fit of giggles so intense they make your stomach ache.

Astarion can’t hold it in either and slaps the table in his silent gasping laughter, the two of you making quite a scene, but somehow you really don’t care. 

You wipe tears from your eyes and sigh once your laughing fit subsides, your sour mood a distant memory despite your best efforts to cling to it.

“How dare you,” You whine half-heartedly. “I was so committed to my bad mood and you had to go and ruin it.”

Astarion’s eyebrows lower in confused amusement.

“Awww you poor sad little thing. I’d apologize, really I would, but unfortunately for you I’m not sorry.”

You take a swig of the drink he bought for you. It tastes of cherry and currant, and you have never had something so delicious from such a tiny little tavern.

“You should be” you murmur, hanging your head, the humor fading as you’re reminded of why you’re here in the first place.

Astarion notices your shift in demeanor and reaches down, lifting your chin with a cool finger and bringing your gaze to his.

“About that story,” He smiles encouragingly, and you give in.

The alcohol must really be getting to you now, there was no other explanation for the warm, safe feeling that hummed under your skin. Astarion was sweet, and attractive. His attention felt good, and before you could even make the decision to trust him you were already talking. You told him how you were a magistrate in the lower city, complained how the court system was broken and corrupt, and how the judge only appoints magistrates that unthinkingly obey his preferences, never allowing them to make their own judgements. You had tried for months to get on his good side but you think all you did was obliterate any meager scrap of respect he did have for you, and now every interaction you have with him he barks orders at you like you’re his dog and then dismisses you. You were thinking of finding a new profession altogether, but the lower city was plagued with crime, good people died every day because of it, and you had the power to help at least a little if only your boss wasn’t such an asshole. To your embarrassment you began to tear up as you finished your story.

Astarion for his part never interrupts you. He listens with rapt attention to your woeful tale, an indiscernible look on his handsome face. You try to turn your head away as a tear escapes your eye but his grip on your chin tightens, forcing you to stay right where you are. He wipes it away with his other hand and stares at you for a moment, seemingly deciding something.

He reaches up and drags a hand through his hair, releases a held breath, and plucks the glass from your hand, drinking what was left of its contents in two gulps. He brings the glass back down to the counter, a drop of the crimson wine dripping down his chin. The image gives you an odd feeling, like you’re missing a revelation that is only just out of your grasp. He glances behind you, and you turn and follow his gaze to another rather pale looking elf, this one with darker hair but similarly colored eyes watching the two of you with rapt attention. Goosebumps rise on your skin and that fight or flight instinct is back in full force. Your heart begins to pound against your chest, understanding the danger that you’re in even if you do not. 

“Smart girl” Astarion murmurs, and you whip back around to face him.

He wipes his face with his sleeve and grabs you by the hand, pulling you off the bar stool.

“W-what are you-” He places a hand on your lower back and begins deftly guiding you through the raucous crowd of drunk Baldurians. One stumbling wizard in the crowd pats his pockets down and cries,

“Has anyone seen my coin purse? It’s blue!”

“Walk faster” Astarion says into your ear, his warm breath whispering across your neck. You do as he says.

After what feels like a lifetime of dodging drunk elbows and slipping through temporary openings in the crowd you reach the exit, and Astarion rushes you soberingly into the cold night air. 

“You stole that guy's money didn’t you?” You accuse.

He doesn’t even have the decency to deny it,

“What are you going to do darling? Arrest me?” is his reply.

He doesn’t slow down for a single second, ushering you into a dark alley near the tavern.

“Astarion what are we doing? You can’t just wander into abandoned alleyways at night! This is how people get kidnapped.”

His startled gaze clashes with yours in the dim light for a moment before he laughs. Not an amused genuine laugh, but a pained, choked sound that claws its way out of his throat involuntarily. He runs a hand through his hair once again and then turns away from you, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“It is indeed, darling,” He whispers so quietly you have to lean towards him to hear it. 

“You have no idea.”

You don’t have time to react, the alcohol slowing your reflexes, before his hand is around your throat and your back is against the brick wall of whatever building is behind you. You reach up and grab his wrist, eyes widening in panic. For a flash you see in your mind your body lying asphyxiated in the revealing light of morning, another victim to the merciless city of Baldur’s gate, and you prepare to fight like hell, when Astarion lunges for you and…

Kisses you?

Your brain short circuits, all thoughts drifting away with the sensation of Astarion’s mouth on yours. His hand around your throat gentles, his long fingers drifting over your skin until they press into your pulse point, feeling your racing heartbeat. 

You fist his shirt sleeve in your hand. Maybe it's because you’re smashed, maybe it’s because you can’t remember the last time someone kissed you, maybe it’s because you know no one that’s ever kissed you has been as good at it as this man- whatever the reason may be, you kiss him back. 

He tilts his head and deepens the kiss, stepping closer until his body is pressed against yours. You reach up to do what you’ve been dying to do since you first saw him and feel the soft strands of his hair.

He leans into your touch and it emboldens you to kiss him deeper, your tongue scraping against something… sharp?

He gasps and pulls back, just a few inches, staring into your eyes. He seems to be searching for something, almost desperately.

You stare back, equal parts terrified of and enraptured by this beautiful stranger.

Finally, he drops his hand from your neck and steps back, the cold air assaulting you once more as you crash back down to reality. You gaze at Astarion, confusion written all over your features.

“I can’t do this” He laughs. It sounds just as pained as the last one.

“Can’t do what?”

“I can’t bring you to him”

His head snaps up to the sky, studying the stars.

“I still have time to find another. Petras saw me with you, he’ll tell Cazador if I come back with someone else. But I can lie. I can say you knew what I was, escaped before I could lure you back. Maybe he won't question it. I’d spend a few weeks in the kennels but it could be worse. I can’t tell him I changed my mind, I can’t spend another year in that tomb.” He’s rambling now, not to you but to himself. 

He rubs his face in his hands and takes another stumbling step back.

“Go” Is all he says.

“Go? Go where?” You mumble, feeling cold and strangely a little hurt by his retreat into the shadows.

You don’t have dark vision, in the dim torch light much of his face is now hidden from you, but his eerily red eyes seem to glow like a cat’s now in the dark. The sight fills you with dread. Pieces begin to connect, the hundreds of unsolved missing person cases, the handful of eyewitness accounts claiming they saw the missing leave with someone. The descriptions varied, but a few details remained constant. The unknown person was always charming, flirtatious even, they tried to get their victims intoxicated in some way, and they always had a pallid complexion, red eyes, and sharp canines. Sifting sluggishly through your muddled memories you can even recall a couple of accounts of victims leaving taverns on the arm of a white haired pale elven man.

Astarion was a vampire.

“Go back to the courts,” He begins, “and never apologize to Judge Eruien. Stand up to him when he’s being an ass, he’ll never respect you otherwise. Go back home and lock your doors safely behind you. Never invite anyone in unless you trust them implicitly. Go back to your life in the sun, make Baldur’s gate a little better just by being in it, and if you ever-” He leans toward you, his face inches from yours once more. Now that you know what to look for, you catch glimpses of his uncomfortably long canines with every word that he speaks. 

“See anyone with eyes like mine again… run.”

With that he steps back into the shadows. They seem to swallow him whole, and you do run, a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you never told Astarion the name of that judge you were lamenting about.

In the years that follow you take his advice, and your work life drastically improves. Enough so that you feel comfortable asking the old elven judge about his former magistrates, a tear dripping down your cheek as he tells you what he can recall about a white haired elf with golden eyes and a promising future that was ripped away when he was murdered almost two centuries ago by a gang of Gur that didn’t appreciate his final ruling.

A month later you wake up in a nautiloid.

[shitsndgiggs]

Hey. Request for kenan here.

I was thinking something in the lines of kenan and reader being in the same big friend group and kenan having a major crush on her like started off as a small crush and ended up practically in love with her and it just kept getting worse with being around and all that. Anyways and i imagine like everyone in the group knowing but the reader being absolutely cluless.

So thats like the build up but then maybe reader starts seeing this guy who treats here badly but she keeps seing him and the group gets to know and idk kenan just explodes and confesses cos he gets carried away. Idk like just a bunch of angst and stuff but i want it to end cute.

Maybe reader used to like him but shot it down long ago cos she thought he would never go dor soemone kike her

A/N: Not a lot of angst but I still hope you enjoy it

HOPELESSLY DEVOTED TO YOU - KENAN YILDIZ

When Kenan sees you being treated horribly by your ‘boyfriend’ he just has to do something about it

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Being in the same friend group meant I saw Kenan all the time. I always enjoyed his company — his easy smile, his endless wit, the way he seemed to always be looking out for everyone. But I never let myself think of him that way.

I mean, why would I? Kenan was charming, confident, and the kind of guy that seemed to be out of my league.

Besides, I’d moved on. I was dating someone else now. Even if that someone else was… complicated.

Tonight, we were all out at a local bar, and for once, our entire friend group was together. Kenan sat across from me, his eyes always drifting over, like he was checking on me.

I would catch his gaze from time to time, and he’d quickly look away, as if he’d been caught. I didn’t think much of it.

But I could feel the tension tonight — and I knew it wasn’t just in my head. Things were off. Maybe it was because I had brought him — the guy I’d been seeing, who was charming one minute and cold the next.

Tonight, he was on one of his cold streaks, barely looking at me, responding with clipped words, and finding every excuse to make a passive-aggressive comment.

The group had met him before, but this was their first time seeing how he really was. I could feel their eyes on us, like they were waiting for something to happen. I tried to pretend I didn’t notice.

“Why did you even pick this place?” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for everyone to hear. “It’s dead in here. You could’ve at least picked somewhere fun.”

I bit back a retort, trying to keep things civil. “I just thought it would be nice to hang out with everyone,” I replied, keeping my tone light.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, next time, maybe actually pick something good."

I felt my cheeks flush, embarrassed and frustrated, but I forced a smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan's expression darken as he watched the exchange.

“Maybe you should just leave if you’re so unhappy,” Kenan commented, trying to sound casual, but there was an edge to his voice. I looked at him, surprised by the boldness in his tone.

The guy glared at him. “No one’s talking to you, man. Mind your business.”

Kenan’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything more, his gaze flickering back to me with concern. I felt a surge of something — gratitude, maybe — but pushed it down. I didn’t need anyone to fight my battles.

Still, his words left me feeling more flustered, more aware of the tension in the air. Trying to escape, I stood up. "I’m going to the bathroom," I announced, hoping to find a moment of peace.

I’d barely made it halfway down the hall when I felt a hand on my arm, pulling me into a quiet corner. I turned, startled to find Kenan standing there, his expression serious, eyes burning with intensity.

“Kenan, what the hell?” I asked, confused by his sudden urgency.

He didn’t let go, his grip tightening slightly. "Why are you with him?” he demanded, his voice low and angry.

I frowned, taken aback by the sudden confrontation. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that guy,” he snapped, glancing back toward the table. “He’s treating you like crap, and you’re just… letting him.”

“Kenan, it’s not that simple,” I protested, though his words hit closer to home than I wanted to admit.

“It is that simple,” he argued, stepping closer, his voice rising in frustration. “He doesn’t deserve you! He doesn’t even care about you; it’s like you’re some accessory to him, just someone to have around!”

My heart pounded in my chest, my emotions swirling. “Why do you even care, Kenan?” I shot back, my voice sharper than I intended. “Why are you so worked up?”

“Because I… because I care about you!” he exclaimed, his hands flying up in exasperation. “You deserve so much more than some guy who makes you feel like you’re not enough!”

“Then who deserves me, huh?” I challenged, my voice breaking. “No one?!”

Kenan’s expression changed, something snapping in his eyes. “Me!” he almost shouted. “I deserve you! I could treat you better than him—better than anyone!”

Before I could even process his words, he stepped forward, his hand slipping behind my neck, and he pulled me toward him.

His lips crashed against mine, urgent and desperate, his kiss filled with all the frustration, all the longing that had been building between us for so long.

I froze for a second, my mind going blank, then melted into the kiss, every inch of my body responding to him, to this. His fingers tightened against my neck, anchoring me to him as if he was afraid I might slip away.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine, his eyes searching my face. “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, his voice raw and vulnerable. “I’ve been trying to hold back because… because I thought you’d reject me.”

“Kenan,” I murmured, my hands gripping his shirt, “I wanted you too, but I didn’t think you’d ever see me like that.”

His lips curved into a small, disbelieving smile. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been in love with you since forever.”

And just like that, the world around us seemed to fade, everything narrowing down to just this moment, just him. Maybe I’d been blind, or maybe I’d just been scared, but now I could see it so clearly.

I smiled back, my heart full. “Well, now that you’ve finally confessed, what are you going to do about it?” I teased, my voice light but my heart heavy with emotion.

He laughed, a sound filled with relief and happiness, and pulled me into another kiss. “Oh, I’ve got plenty of plans,” he murmured against my lips. “And they all start with you.”

[nyxiswrites1200]

Could you maybe do a guilty pleasure Sebastian (or Elliot) post? I’m not sure I have any specific ideas in mind. I really like slight possessiveness (not outright yandere) so maybe something like whoever you chose getting jealous of another bachelor/ette getting attention from the farmer and being a bit possessive of them? Lots of “you’re mine and I hope you know it” and giving hickies to mark territory type stuff. I also would like you to just have fun with it, you know? I’d like you to enjoy the writing process too, I know how much it sucks to not have ideas to write. Indulge yourself :)

"𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔"

AAAAA I didn't expect someone to respond so fast?? But I literally love this <33 Indulge I will, love. I hope you enjoy it <3

----

Sebastian x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFT, MDNI, OOC(??), Jealousy, Possessive bf, Established Relationship, Oral sex, PDA, Marking/Hickeys, Praise, Aftercare

Mentions: Reader enjoying coffee/hot chocolate, Sam (Stardew), drinking/alcohol, Use of nicknames (Precious, Sebby)

AO3 Link

----

Sebastian was always an amazing lover. Ever since you two started dating in Pelican Town, he was rough around the edges at first, but that seemed to be just your thing. 

The saloon was bustling with activity tonight. You and Sam were playing pool in the corner while Sebastian refilled his drink. Sam had missed the ball by a long shot, tripping onto the pool table. You couldn't help but laugh as you went over and helped him compose himself. 

Sam chuckled in response to his idiocy and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. The interaction was so simple and innocent, yet it had Sebastian overtaken with a burning sense of jealousy from across the bar. Maybe it wouldn't bother him so much if you weren't so open and nice with Sam, even if he is his best friend. 

When Sebastian returned, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as he kissed you deeply. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue as he searched your mouth. You gasped softly into his mouth, and his grip on your waist tightened. When he finally pulled away for a breath, you spoke with a pant. “What was that for-” you asked curiously, but Sebastian just shrugs. 

The night went on, and Sebastian seemed more aloof than usual, which had you concerned. Along with the passing glares and the clingy antics. Eventually, everyone was starting to head home for the night. Despite Sebastian's feelings, he still took your hand as you two began to walk back home. 

“Sebby, what's wrong with you?” You ask, genuinely concerned. “Mm…you know you belong to me, right?” He rasps as he stops walking and drags you close to him. Chest to chest as he meets your gaze. 

Oh so that's what this was, he was jealous.

“Ah- of course, I'm all yours” you respond reassuringly, but it was also completely honest. 

Sebastian cracked a bit of a smile at that, and it seemed to do him in until you two made it back home. He wasn't much for public inquiries and while your words did mean something. He needed a different type of relief from this situation.

As soon as the door shut behind you both, Sebastian dropped onto the couch and pulled you into his lap. 

“Sebby-” you tried to inquire, but were cut off by a small gasp as he began kissing your neck, his hands firmly holding your hips. 

“Why you gotta be so fucking charming, huh?” He growled as he pulled you in closer. He began roughly sucking on your neck as he groaned in content. 

“What are you talking about?” You struggle to get out as you tangle your hands in his messy hair. But you knew how jealous he got. How possessive he was over you—he wanted the most of your attention. 

“Sam. Always being so fucking nice to everyone and letting him touch you…” he sighed against your neck, his lips moving to another spot. “Guess I'm gonna have to mark this pretty neck as mine; mark you as mine.” He rasped. 

Sebastian sucked on your neck, leaving kisses and hickeys in the wake of his lips. You didn't mind at all. If anything, his possessive attitude had you grinding your hips into his crotch. Seeing the obvious tent start to form in his pants. 

“Yes, please baby~ I'm all yours, you know that” you reassure as a moan leaves your lips. “Good” he responds softly. 

“On your knees, my precious” he asks rather gently. You slide off his lap and onto the floor, sitting on your knees in front of him. You lay your head on his thigh as you reach and free his aching cock from its restraints. 

“So good for me, all fucking mine” he says, placing a hand on the back of your head as he urges you to fill your mouth with him. You have no problems with it. 

You take all of him down your throat with a gag, his long, pretty length with a distinct vein down the underside. It had you gagging already. 

You began sucking on his cock, drool slipping down his shaft and onto his balls as you moaned onto him. 

Sebastian let out moans and grunts; eventually, he pushed your head down and held you there. “So good for me, choking on my cock. You belong to me, you're my precious little thing and I won't let anyone else have you.” he held the back of your head as he began fucking into your mouth, using you to get himself off.

You felt tears threaten to spill from the feeling of gagging on him, but a soothing rub to the back of your head reassured you from his end. 

“Don't cry, precious. Just showing this pretty mouth who it belongs to.” 

That sentence alone had your tight and aroused hole clenching around nothing in anticipation. A part of you wishes he'd just bent you over on the pool table in the saloon and fucked you senseless. Oh god, your thoughts were awful. 

It doesn't take long for Sebastian to become a moaning mess, his cock twitching as he gets close to release. 

He pulls out of your mouth, and you lick up the underside of his cock as you look up at him. “Fuck…finish me off, let me cum on your face. Show you who you belong to” he groans. 

You wrap your hand around his cock as you continue to edge him closer to his release. Your tongue slips over that prominent vein again, causing your boyfriend to moan. 

“I'm gonna cum, precious-” he groans before a deep moan leaves him as he cums onto your face. You swallow what you can manage. 

Sebastian panted as he looked down at you. Neck covering his purple-ish marks, your face splattered with his cum, and eyes teary from him fucking your throat. 

“Good” he praised “I love you, precious” he smiled as he cupped your cheek “I love you too” you smiled. 

Sebastian took extra care to bathe with you and make you coffee/hot chocolate in the morning. Kissing you softly as he praised you. You definitely don't mind being his. 

[artyandink]

𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙵𝙰𝚂𝙷𝙸𝙾𝙽𝙴𝙳 | bartender!dean winchester

Summary: Dean Winchester needs a job after his little brother left for Stanford, and he’s good at mixing drinks. You happen to work at Harvelle’s Roadhouse, which is the place he chose to work at. He finds a family. He finds a new life. But he also finds you. But you have problems of your own.

A/N - My first reader series, do make sure to comment and/or reblog feedback. Set with S1/2 Dean cause I love our baby boy 😁 and pretend group chats exist on old phones lol

A/N - Sorry guys again, posting’s gotten erratic! But here’s chapter four!

four - cosmopolitan

The sun had begun its slow descent below the horizon, casting long shadows across the road as Sam Winchester drove through the seemingly endless stretch of rural America. The familiar hum of his car’s engine was a comforting constant amidst the turmoil of his thoughts. The message from Dean had been cryptic enough to stir his concern. It had been a while since Sam had seen his brother, and the Roadhouse, a legendary haven for hunters, seemed an unusual place for Dean to spend his time.

Sam had left behind more than just academic life; he had temporarily stepped away from the normalcy he had fought so hard to achieve. The quaint college life, with its predictable routines and its bubble of safety, was a stark contrast to the unpredictable and often dangerous world of hunting that he had grown up in. As the miles slipped by, he found his mind drifting back to those times — the thrill of the hunt, the camaraderie with Dean, and the constant struggle against forces that most people didn’t even know existed.

The Roadhouse itself was something of a legend in hunter circles. He had heard about it from Dean and their father, John Winchester. Run by Ellen Harvelle and her daughter Jo, it was a sanctuary where hunters could find rest, resources, and most importantly, a sense of community. Sam’s curiosity was piqued, and he found himself wondering what had driven Dean to this place. Dean had always been the more steadfast of the two, embracing the hunting life with a fervor that Sam had never fully shared. For him to seek refuge here suggested something deeper was at play.

As Sam pulled up to the Roadhouse, the building’s rustic charm was immediately apparent. It stood proudly against the backdrop of the fading light, its wooden exterior weathered but sturdy. Neon signs flickered in the windows, and the sound of classic rock music wafted through the air. Sam’s heart quickened with a mix of anticipation and anxiety as he parked the car and stepped out.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door, the creak of the hinges announcing his arrival. The interior was dimly lit, filled with the scent of aged wood, spilled beer, and the faint aroma of fried food. A jukebox played softly in the corner, and a few patrons were scattered around, engaged in hushed conversations. Sam’s eyes quickly scanned the room, landing on a familiar figure hunched over the bar. Dean.

Dean Winchester, with his rugged good looks and perpetual aura of confidence, looked strangely out of place in his solitude. His shoulders were slumped, and his usually bright eyes were shadowed with fatigue. Sam felt a pang of concern; it was rare to see his brother so visibly weighed down.

“Dean,” Sam called out, his voice cutting through the ambient noise.

Dean’s head snapped up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Sammy?” He slid off the barstool, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he approached his younger brother. “What are you doing here?”

Sam returned the smile, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. “I got your message. Thought I’d come see what’s going on.”

Dean’s expression flickered with confusion. “Message? I didn’t send you a message, Sam.”

Sam frowned, pulling out his phone to show Dean the text he had received. It was brief, but enough to raise his suspicions: Need to talk. Roadhouse.

Dean stared at the screen, his brow furrowing. “I didn’t send this. But since you’re here, it’s good to see you, man.”

Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at Dean’s characteristic nonchalance. “Yeah, it’s good to see you too. But seriously, what’s going on? Why are you here?”

Dean shrugged, his smile fading slightly. “Just needed a break. Figured the Roadhouse was as good a place as any to clear my head.”

Sam didn’t buy it for a second. He knew his brother too well. Dean was evading, deflecting. “Come on, Dean. You don’t take breaks. What’s really going on?”

Dean sighed, glancing around the room before motioning for Sam to follow him to a quieter corner. They settled into a booth, the worn leather seats creaking under their weight. Dean took a deep breath, his gaze fixed on the table.

“It’s Dad,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “We had a fight. A bad one.”

Sam’s heart ached for his brother. He knew all too well the strain their father’s relentless drive had put on them both. “What happened?”

Dean ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, frustration evident in every movement. “Same old story. He’s obsessed with finding the demon that killed Mom. And he expects me to be right there with him, every step of the way. I just… I needed some space, you know?”

Sam nodded, understanding all too well. Their father’s obsession had been a constant shadow over their lives, dictating every decision, every move. “I get it, Dean. I really do. But you know you don’t have to carry this burden alone. We’re in this together.”

Dean’s eyes softened, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “Thanks, Sammy. I just… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like it’s all on me. Keeping us together, keeping Dad from going off the deep end.”

Sam reached across the table, gripping his brother’s shoulder firmly. “We’re family, Dean. We look out for each other. Always.”

Dean gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile. “Yeah, I know. It’s just hard sometimes.”

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the bond between them a palpable force. Sam felt a surge of protectiveness towards his older brother. Despite Dean’s tough exterior, he was still just a man carrying the weight of their family’s legacy.

“So,” Dean said, breaking the silence, “how’s life at Stanford? Still planning on marrying that girl of yours?”

The question brought a genuine smile to Sam’s face. “Jess is great. She’s been really supportive, even with all the craziness. And yeah, we’re still planning the wedding.”

Dean’s smile widened, a rare moment of unguarded happiness. “That’s good, man. I’m happy for you. You deserve it.”

Sam’s heart swelled with gratitude. Despite everything, Dean had always been his biggest supporter. “Thanks, Dean. It means a lot coming from you.”

As they caught up on each other’s lives, the Roadhouse continued its quiet hum around them. Ellen Harvelle moved behind the bar with practiced ease, her sharp eyes taking in the brothers’ reunion. She had seen many hunters come and go, each with their own stories, but the Winchesters held a special place in her heart. She knew the weight of their family’s mission and the toll it took on them.

“Hey, Ellen,” Dean called out as she approached their table. “Two beers, please.”

Ellen nodded, her expression softening. “On the house, boys. It’s good to see you two together.”

Sam smiled gratefully. “Thanks, Ellen. We appreciate it.”

As Ellen brought over the beers, she lingered for a moment, her eyes flicking between the brothers. “You boys take care of each other, you hear?”

Dean nodded, raising his bottle in a silent toast. “Always do, Ellen.”

With a final, approving nod, Ellen returned to the bar, leaving the brothers to their conversation. Sam took a sip of his beer, savoring the cold, bitter taste. It had been a long journey, both literally and figuratively, to get here. But as he looked at Dean, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. No matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asked, leaning back in his seat.

Dean’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Well, I was thinking we could have a few, get wasted.”

Sam laughed, shaking his head. “You never change, do you?”

Dean’s grin was infectious. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, Sammy.”

For a brief moment, it felt like they were kids again, dreaming of adventures and making plans that defied the expectations of their reality. The Roadhouse, with its walls steeped in history and its patrons seasoned by life’s battles, seemed to embrace them in a cocoon of camaraderie and understanding. Here, amidst the shadows and the flickering lights, they found a sense of normalcy, however fleeting.

The jukebox in the corner switched to a familiar tune, and Dean’s face lit up. “Remember this one?” he asked, tapping his foot to the beat.

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, Dad used to play it all the time on those long drives.”

Dean’s eyes took on a faraway look, as if he were back in the Impala, driving down endless highways with their father at the wheel. “Those were the days, huh?”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, though his memories of those days were tinged with a longing for something more. “But we’ve got a lot of good days ahead of us too.”

Dean clinked his bottle against Sam’s, a silent agreement passing between them. Whatever the future held, they would face it side by side.

As the evening wore on, the Roadhouse filled with more hunters seeking respite. The conversations grew louder, the laughter more boisterous. Sam and Dean remained in their corner, catching up on lost time and revelling in the simplicity of being together.

When Dean was mid whiskey and mid conversation, you came back from a supply run, swinging the keys to your car on your finger. His attention was immediately caught by your infectious smile, his lips parted as he took you in, the halo he always saw around your head contradicted by the sinful amount of beer he knew was in the shopping bag you carried.

Sam’s eyes followed Dean’s, and his foot tapped his older brother’s with a smirk. “Who’s that?”

Dean snapped out of it, licking his lips and his eyes briefly followed your heavenly, sinful ass in those jeans before contradicting himself. “Who’s who?”

“Yeah, you heard me.” He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re looking at her like she’s God’s gift to men.”

“She’s no one. I mean, she’s someone, but not like that.” Dean swollen, then smirked slightly. “She’s hot.”

“Knew it.”

“Look, can we change the subject? Don’t want anyone sharing my secrets like we’re in Mean Girls.”

Eventually, the topic turned back to their father, and Sam felt compelled to ask, “Do you think Dad’s okay?”

Dean’s expression grew serious. “Honestly, I don’t know. He’s been so focused on finding the damn demon that I think he’s losing sight of everything else. But we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

Sam nodded, though he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. Their father’s obsession had driven a wedge between them more than once, and he feared what might happen if it continued unchecked. But for now, he chose to focus on the present, on the fact that he was here with his brother, and that they had each other’s backs.

As the night deepened, the Roadhouse’s patrons began to thin out. Ellen and Jo moved through the room, tidying up and exchanging friendly banter with the remaining hunters. Sam and Dean finally stood, stretching their legs and preparing to call it a night.

“You got a room here?” Sam asked, following Dean towards the back.

“Nah, I’m hooked up with a friend,” Dean replied. “I’ll see if Ellen’s got one for you.”

Ellen appeared at that moment, as if summoned by their conversation. “Need a room, Sam?”

He nodded gratefully. “If you’ve got one, that would be great.”

“Of course,” she said with a warm smile. “Anything for a Winchester.”

As she handed Sam a key, she added, “You boys get some rest. Tomorrow’s another day.”

Sam and Dean thanked her, then made their way to their respective rooms. As Sam closed the door behind him, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. Despite the uncertainty and the challenges that lay ahead, he knew they would face them together. And that made all the difference.

Lying on the bed, Sam stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting back to Stanford, to Jess, and to the life he had momentarily left behind. He missed her, missed the normalcy of their life together, but he also knew that this was where he needed to be right now. With his brother, navigating the complexities of their family and their shared destiny.

He closed his eyes, the sounds of the Roadhouse fading into the background. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, he allowed himself the luxury of rest. He was home, in a sense, and that was enough.

As the night stretched on, the brothers drifted into a restless sleep, their dreams filled with memories of the past and visions of the future. The Roadhouse stood as a silent witness to their reunion, a testament to the enduring strength of family and the bonds that could never be broken.

The Roadhouse buzzed with the usual hum of conversation and clinking glasses, but in a quieter corner, Ruby and Meg were engrossed in a conversation that had nothing to do with hunting or the supernatural world. Their connection, an unexpected development in the turbulent lives of hunters and demons, had grown stronger over time, becoming a source of intrigue and tension for both.

Ruby, known for her badass demeanor and sharp tongue, was an enigma to many. She exuded confidence and danger, her presence a stark reminder of the dark world they lived in. But beneath the tough exterior was a complexity that few had the opportunity to see. Her interactions with Meg had begun to reveal layers of vulnerability and conflict that she usually kept well hidden.

Meg, on the other hand, was a stark contrast. With her flirtatious and friendly nature, she had a way of making even the most hardened hunter feel at ease. Her playful banter and mischievous glint in her eyes masked a depth of cunning and intelligence that was not to be underestimated. To Ruby, Meg was a puzzle—one that she found herself increasingly drawn to, despite her better judgment.

They sat at a small table, the ambient light casting a warm glow on their faces. Meg’s laughter, a light, musical sound, filled the air as she recounted a humorous story about a hunt before she got to the Roadhouse.

“And then,” Meg said, her eyes sparkling with amusement, “the guy actually thought he could outrun a werewolf in those ridiculous shoes. Can you believe it?”

Ruby smirked, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. “People are idiots.”

“Yeah, but it makes our job more interesting,” Meg replied, leaning back in her chair, her gaze fixed on Ruby. “So, what’s your story, Ruby? Why does a badass like you hang out in a place like this?”

Ruby shrugged, trying to maintain her usual air of indifference. “Maybe I’m here for the company.”

Meg’s lips curved into a teasing smile. “Is that so? And what kind of company are you looking for?”

Ruby felt a flush creep up her neck, caught off guard by Meg’s directness. She wasn’t used to feeling this way—unsure, off balance. “Good company,” she said evasively, taking a sip of her drink.

Meg’s gaze softened, a hint of genuine curiosity replacing her playful facade. “You know, Ruby, you don’t always have to be the tough one. It’s okay to let your guard down sometimes.”

Ruby’s eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—surprise, uncertainty, and something deeper that she couldn’t quite identify. “And what makes you think I have my guard up?”

Meg leaned forward, her expression earnest. “Because I see it. You act like nothing can touch you, but I know there’s more to you than that.”

Ruby’s heart pounded in her chest. This was territory she wasn’t accustomed to navigating. Feelings, emotions—they were dangerous, unpredictable. But something about Meg made her want to take that risk, to explore the unknown.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Ruby said, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

“Maybe not,” Meg conceded. “But I’d like to.”

The sincerity in Meg’s eyes was disarming. Ruby looked away, struggling to keep her composure. She was Ruby, the demon with a mission, the one who always had a plan. Yet here she was, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

“Why?” Ruby asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why do you care?”

Meg’s smile was gentle, devoid of her usual flirtatious edge. “Because I see something in you that’s worth knowing. Something real.”

Ruby’s mind raced, her internal conflict intensifying. She wanted to push Meg away, to protect herself from the potential pain and complications. But a part of her also longed for the connection, for the possibility of something more.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” Ruby warned, her eyes darkening with intensity.

Meg’s gaze remained steady, unflinching. “Maybe not. But I’m willing to find out.”

The weight of Meg’s words hung between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities. Ruby felt a surge of emotions—fear, hope, desire—all clashing within her. She had spent so long guarding herself, building walls to keep others out. But Meg was chipping away at those walls, and Ruby wasn’t sure if she wanted to stop her.

Their conversation was interrupted by Jo Harvelle, who approached their table with a knowing look. She had been observing the growing bond between Ruby and Meg with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Hey, Ruby, Meg,” Jo greeted, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. “Mind if I join you?”

Ruby glanced at Meg, who gave a slight nod. “Sure, Jo,” Ruby replied, her voice neutral.

Jo pulled up a chair and sat down, her gaze shifting between the two women. “I couldn’t help but notice you two seem to be getting along pretty well.”

Meg grinned. “We’re just having a little chat, Jo. Nothing to worry about.”

Jo raised an eyebrow. “Right. Well, Ruby, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”

Ruby hesitated, glancing at Meg. “Sure,” she said finally, standing up.

Jo led Ruby to a quieter corner of the Roadhouse, away from prying eyes and ears. She turned to face her, arms crossed. “What’s going on, Ruby?”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked defensively.

“You know what I mean,” Jo said, her tone serious. “You and Meg. What’s going on there?”

Ruby sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t know, Jo. I really don’t.”

Jo’s expression softened slightly. “Look, Ruby, I know you’re tough and all, but feelings are complicated. And they can get messy if not handled properly. Look at Dean and our golden girl, he can barely keep a lid around her.”

The Roadhouse had long emptied of its usual patrons, the last lingering traces of conversation and laughter dissipating into the night. The dimly lit interior was a stark contrast to the darkness that enveloped the world outside. It was after closing time, and only a few stragglers remained, lost in their own thoughts or nursing their drinks in solitude.

You sat at a table in the corner, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Dean Winchester, the enigmatic hunter with a devil-may-care attitude, had captured your attention from the moment you had met. His rugged charm and unwavering determination had drawn you in, despite the dangers that lurked in his world.

Tonight, however, there was a tension in the air that you couldn’t ignore. Dean’s usual easygoing demeanor was tinged with unease, his eyes darting towards the door with a mixture of anticipation and dread. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding, a gut feeling that something was about to happen.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching, the familiar creak of the door signaling an unexpected arrival. You turned to see a figure silhouetted against the dim light of the entrance—a figure you recognized all too well.

John Winchester.

Dean’s father, a man shrouded in mystery and shadow, stood in the doorway, his presence commanding attention. His eyes scanned the room, settling on Dean with a mixture of disappointment and frustration.

“Dean,” John said, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “We need to talk.”

Dean tensed at the sound of his father’s voice, his shoulders stiffening as he rose from his seat. “Dad,” he said, his tone guarded. “What are you doing here?”

John stepped further into the room, his gaze never leaving Dean’s face. “I came to talk some sense into you, son. You can’t keep running away from your responsibilities.”

Dean’s jaw clenched, his fists balling at his sides. “I’m not running away, Dad. I’m just… taking a break.”

“A break?” John’s voice rose with incredulity. “This isn’t a vacation, Dean. We have a job to do—a duty to our family.”

Dean’s eyes flashed with anger. “I know that, Dad. But I can’t do it anymore. Not like this.”

John took a step forward, his expression hardening. “You think you can just walk away from this life? From everything we’ve fought for?”

Dean squared his shoulders, his gaze unwavering. “I’m not walking away, Dad. I’m choosing to live my own life, on my own terms.”

The tension in the room was palpable, a silent battle of wills playing out between father and son. You watched, your heart pounding in your chest, unsure of what to do. Dean’s infatuation with you had been evident from the start, but you had never imagined it would lead to a confrontation of this magnitude.

As the argument escalated, John’s frustration boiled over. In a sudden burst of anger, he lunged towards Dean, his hands outstretched as if to grab him. Instinctively, you sprang into action, placing yourself between them with a forcefulness you didn’t know you possessed.

“Stop!” you shouted, your voice echoing through the room.

John froze, his eyes narrowing as he regarded you with a mixture of surprise and disdain. “And who the hell are you?”

“I’m someone who’s not going to let you lay a hand on Dean,” you replied, your voice dripping with anger. “He’s had enough of your controlling bullshit, and I’m not going to stand by and watch you bully him into submission.”

Dean’s eyes widened in surprise, his gaze flickering between you and his father. He had never seen you like this—fierce, unyielding, and utterly fearless. In that moment, he felt a surge of gratitude and admiration, mixed with a newfound sense of protectiveness.

John’s expression hardened, his fists clenched at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. This is between me and my son.”

“No,” you said, stepping closer to John until you were mere inches apart. “This is between you and me. And if you think for one second that you can intimidate me, you’ve got another thing coming.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as the standoff continued, the air thick with tension and uncertainty. You refused to back down, your eyes locked with John’s in a silent battle of wills. But you won, and John turned on his heel, walking straight out without a word.

You now knew why Dean was such a lost soul.

I’d appreciate a like, comment and/or reblog! Make sure to do this for all your favourite writers so they get inspiration!

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[thewulf]

Skies of Concern || Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Summary: Request -may i request for top gun maverick with husband!mickey 'fanboy' garcia x civillian maverick's daughter!reader please? when you heard that mav called mickey to join a mission, you kind of mad to your dad cause it is dangerous for mickey (worried)... Read Rest Here

A/N: Eeeeek! This one was fun to write. Super cute and fluffy. Memories are in italics. Hope you enjoy anon!

Pairing: Mickey Fanboy" Garcia x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.6k +

T/W : General TGM warnings

The sun dipped below the horizon casting a warm, golden glow across the tarmac of the Naval Air Station as you waited for the aircraft carrier to arrive back on base. You stood near the water as the anticipation built with each passing minute. You were anxiously awaiting the return of your father, Maverick, and his trusted wingman and your beloved husband, Mickey Garcia.

But even in the middle of the tension and worry that gripped your heart your mind wandered back to a warmer memory. A moment of serendipity that had brought you into the orbit of the charismatic WSO who would later become your husband much to your fathers dismay. Although he eventually came around and loved Mickey as his own son.

It was a balmy evening at the Hard Deck as you waited for your father to return from a training mission. He’d asked you to meet him there against your better judgement. Although you didn’t frequent the bar that often anymore you had sought solace in the familiar surroundings of the bar, the chatter of fellow Navy personnel providing a comforting backdrop to your thoughts. As you nursed a drink at the counter trying to push aside the nagging worry that always accompanied your father's missions, you noticed him.

Mickey Garcia, with his effortless charm and magnetic presence strode into the bar. His flight suit a testament to the adrenaline-fueled world he inhabited. His gaze briefly met yours and in that fleeting moment, something sparked between you—a connection born in the anonymity of the crowded room. You should’ve run far, far away after the smirk grew on the pilot’s face. But you couldn’t. It’s like that one look had you rooted right into the bar stool.

Unbeknownst to Mickey he had just caught the eye of Maverick's daughter. You had planned to keep your identity hidden. More than content to observe from the shadows as he approached with a casual confidence that belied the danger of his profession.

"Hey there," he greeted you. His smile as warm as the fading sunlight outside. "Haven't seen you around here before. I’d remember a pretty face like yours. You can’t be a regular, no?"

His words were laced with genuine curiosity with a playful demeanor drawing you in despite the weight of your worries. Little did you know that chance encounter would set the stage for a journey fraught with danger and adventure but so much love. Oh, so much love.

As Mickey leaned casually against the bar with that signature mischievous twinkle in his eyes you couldn't help but return his flirtatious banter. "Well,” you replied with a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Maybe I like to keep things interesting. You never know when a new face might turn up." He was right. You often avoided the Hard Dec as it was your father and Penny’s spot.

Mickey chuckled. The sweet sound sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. "I like the way you think," he said. His gaze lingering on you with unmistakable interest. "Name's Mickey, by the way. Mickey Garcia." You nodded. You knew that. Hell, you knew most of your dads pilots even if you hadn’t formally met them. But you had to play dumb to keep up your charade.

You extended your hand. A coy smile playing on your lips. "Nice to meet you, Mickey. I'm... just a girl trying to enjoy her night."

His handshake was firm, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. "Well, just a girl, if you ever need someone to show you around this place… you know who to call," he spoke with a confidence only pilots seemed to have.

Before you could respond to him the familiar sound of your fathers voice cut through the air, drawing your attention to the entrance of the bar. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched your father stride in. He looked to be in one piece. Your concern washed away in an instant. His presence commanded the attention of everyone in the room. When he spotted you chatting with one of his pilots at the bar he made a beeline right to you with a less than thrilled look on his face.

"Hey there, sweetheart," Your dad greeted you. His voice was warm with affection as he pulled you into a quick hug. "You holding up okay?"

You nodded. A small smile tugging at your lips as you leaned into his embrace. "Yeah, Dad," you replied oh so grateful for the familiar strength of his arms around you. "Just glad to see you back in one piece."

But as Pete pulled away his gaze fell on Mickey, and you felt a knot of tension coil in the pit of your stomach. There was a shift in the air. A subtle change in your dads demeanor that set your heart racing with apprehension.

"Fanboy," Maverick spoke with an icy tone as he turned his attention to the charming pilot beside you. "Fancy seeing you here."

Mickey's easy grin faltered and was replaced by a look of uncertainty as he met Maverick's gaze. "Hey, Maverick," he replied. His voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "Didn't expect to run into you here. You’re not usually here after missions."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence between them. The air thick with unspoken tension as Maverick's gaze bore into Mickey with an intensity that made you squirm in your barstool. Finally, Pete spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "No funny business with my daughter, Garcia," he said. His words a thinly veiled warning. "Or you'll answer to me."

Mickey swallowed hard. The weight of Maverick's stare bearing down on him like a leaden weight. "Yes, sir," he replied. His voice was barely above a whisper as he nodded in silent acquiescence.

And as Maverick turned away with his arm slipping around your shoulders in a protective gesture. You couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for you with Mickey. The chemistry between the two of you was something you’d never experienced before. There had to be something more. You felt caught between the love of a father and the allure of the skies.

It had been years since that fateful meeting at the Hard Deck, years filled with adventure, love, and the occasional heart-stopping moment as you watched your husband and father take to the skies together. But through it all you had remained steadfast in your support for both of them.

As you stood there the memories of that first encounter with Mickey came flooding back. A bittersweet reminder of how far you had come since that chance meeting. Now, as you awaited their return, your heart swelled with a mixture of pride and worry. You knew all too well the dangers that lurked beyond the clouds. But despite the nagging fear that gnawed at your insides you refused to let it consume you. You had learned to trust in Mickey's skill and your dads experience.

Your thoughts then took to earlier on in the week when you father broke the news he was taking your now husband with him to go fly a mission in Russia. He couldn’t tell you the details, but you knew it was going to be risky. Anything overseas always was. A pit formed in your stomach at the thought of the two most important guys in your life putting their lives in danger once again.

Unable to contain your fears any longer you turned to your father with a pleading look in your eyes. "Dad, you can't do this," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You can't take Mickey on this mission. It's too dangerous dad!"

Maverick's expression hardened. His jaw tightening as he met your gaze with a steely resolve. "I have to, sweetheart," he replied with a sorrowful look as his voice firm but tinged with regret. "We're the best chance they've got and Mickey's one of the best damn WSO’s I know."

You shook your head. The frustration and fear bubbling up inside you like a tempest ready to burst. "But it's not fair," you cried out as the words tumbled out in a rush. "Both of you don’t need to go. How about just you? Or him? Not both of you! I can't take it dad. Please" You knew the pleading would likely fall on deaf ears, but you had to try.

Your voice cracked with emotion. Tears welling up in your eyes as the weight of your fear threatened to crush you. You had spent countless nights lying awake dreading this exact moment when the call would come. One that summoned your father and husband into the heart of danger once again but farther away than you thought possible.

This time felt different, the stakes higher than ever before. And as you stood there with anger and despair boiling over inside you, you knew that you couldn't bear the thought of losing them both, not now, not ever.

Maverick's expression softened. A rare flicker of sympathy crossing his features as he reached out to pull you into a comforting embrace. "I know, sweetheart," he murmured. His voice gentle against your ear. "But we have a job to do, and we'll come back to you, I promise."

You clung to him like a scared five-year-old but you really couldn’t care. You were terrified. The weight of his words offering a sliver of solace amidst the storm of uncertainty you prayed with all your heart that his promise would hold true. That both your father and husband would return to you unscathed once more.

The anticipation was palpable as you stood on the base. Your eyes fixed on the horizon where the carrier would soon appear. It had been over a week since you last saw your husband, and your father depart on their mission. Each moment of their absence had felt like an eternity.

But now as the massive silhouette of the carrier emerged from the vast expanse of the ocean your heart leaped with relief. They were back. They were safe. You knew it because you hadn't received that dreaded call. The one that brought news of tragedy and loss. Still, despite the reassurance a knot of anxiety tightened in your stomach as you waited for them to disembark. You couldn't shake the lingering worry, the fear of the unknown that had plagued you since the moment they left.

And then, finally, the gangplank descended, and a surge of relief washed over you as you caught sight of familiar figures making their way down onto the dock. Your heart raced as you scanned the crowd searching for the faces you longed to see.

And there they were.

Your father emerged first with his iconic aviator shades shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun. Beside him, Mickey walked with a confident stride. His tattered flight suit a testament to the adventure they had just returned from.

Without a second thought you rushed forward ignoring the protests from the officers guarding the walkway. Your heart pounded with a mixture of joy and apprehension. They were here. They were safe. But still you needed to see them with your own eyes. To feel the reassuring warmth of their embrace. His embrace. Your husband and beloved.

Without hesitation you rushed forward to you husband. Your arms outstretched as you leaped into his embrace wrapping your legs around his waist. "Babe!" you exclaimed while happily peppering his cheeks with kisses. "Are you okay? You're not hurt, are you? I missed you so much! Don’t go for that long again, please." Your eyes scanned his frame for any sign of distress.

Mickey laughed while wrapping his arms tightly around you and returning your kisses with equal fervor. "I'm fine, honey," he reassured you, his voice filled with affection. "Not a scratch on me. I missed you more than you know pretty lady." He gave you a squeeze as he held you in his arms as the both of you ignored the bewildered captain beside you.

Your attention wholly focused on the man holding you in his strong arms. But when you finally pulled back you couldn't help but notice the grin spreading across your fathers face as he watched the reunion between his daughter and son-in-law.

"Looks like someone's glad to see her husband and not so much her old man," he remarked with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

You flushed with embarrassment realizing you had been so caught up in your reunion with Mickey that you had all but forgotten all about your father. But as you glanced back at him you found nothing but warmth and understanding in his expression.

"Sorry, Dad," you said sheepishly. "I was just... really glad to see Mickey. It’s good to see you too." As you attempted to slip down from Mickey's hold expecting to stand on your own feet again, you felt him tighten his grip around you. He wasn't willing to let you go just yet and a warm sense of contentment washed over you as you remained enveloped in his embrace.

Maverick chuckled. His eyes had a knowing amusement in them as he watched the scene unfold. "I can see that," he replied. His voice tinged with pride. "I see I’ve officially been replaced."

You grinned with your cheeks flushing with affectionate embarrassment at your father's teasing remark. "Well, Dad," you spoke playfully jabbing his shoulder from Mickey’s hold. "I think there's enough love to go around for both of you."

Pete laughed. "I suppose so," His voice filled with warmth as he spoke. "Just don't forget who taught him everything he knows."

You smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude for the two most important men in your life. "I could never forget.”

As Maverick chuckled, shaking his head, and walked away he left just the two of you there to continue on. Mickey still held you close in his arms. His embrace filled with a longing that mirrored your own. With Pete out of sight he seemed to pull you even closer. His touch igniting that usual fire within you.

Feeling his warmth enveloping you, you melted into his embrace. Your body fitting perfectly against his. His lips found yours in a hungry kiss. A silent declaration of his desire and his longing for you. The kiss deepened becoming more passionate as if he couldn't get enough of you after being apart for too long.

When he finally pulled back his breath came out in ragged gasps. He pressed his forehead against yours with eyes dark full of desire. "God, I missed you," he murmured. His voice husky with emotion. A mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes as he winked suggestively. His lips curling into a playful grin. And as you stood there wrapped in his embrace surrounded by the sights, and sounds of the base, you knew that the reunion you had been longing for was just beginning.

With a shared smirk Mickey held you a as tight as he could without squeezing you completely. His gaze was filled with promises of the passion to come. "Let's get out of here my love," he whispered. His voice low and intimate. "I want to show you just how much I missed you." The earned a giggle out of you as you knew he meant business when it came to that look.

And with that he carried you effortlessly towards your car. Each step filled with anticipation and desire. With a thrill of excitement coursing through you, you knew that the night ahead held endless possibilities. And you couldn't wait to explore them all with the man you loved.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @hiireadstuff @kenn-spencerswifey @abbersreads @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

[sky-kiss]

For the prompts: I’ve been thinking non-stop about your professor/barista au and would LOVE to see the date/the aftermath of said date 👀

A/N: Dude, I’m so glad to hear people like this dumb universe. Have a second prompt coming in for the same verse later. 

_____

Raphael x Tav: You Cannot Invite Her to Italy Yet, My Guy

_____

The temperature has dropped low enough to warrant a coat when they leave the restaurant. Tav shoves her hands into her pockets, turning her face up to feel the breeze on her skin. It’s fresh in a way you rarely experience in the city. Her head is pleasantly swimmy off good wine, food, and better company. 

Tav smiles to herself. Raphael lingers on her left. The wine has left a flush of color in his naturally tanned cheeks. She reaches out without thinking to adjust the hang of his scarf. He stiffens momentarily before relaxing, allowing her to smooth nonexistent wrinkles from the lapel of his jacket. “Well, I’d call that a successful first outing.”

“How gratifying to hear. Haarlep would never have let me live it down otherwise.” He holds out his arm. “Come, the night is young.”

“Oooh, a secondary location. I am doing well.” She tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow. 

“Exceeding all expectations, my dear, I assure you.” He sighs, angling down the street. She relaxes, hugging her guide's arm to her chest. Heat radiates through his jacket, much needed. The material smells pleasantly of him, a touch of spicy bleeding into the cherries and musk. A little creepy to go around smelling your date, but she won't apologize. Most men didn’t smell half as nice. Raphael continues, his movements and voice looser. He’s in his element, rarely liquid; it’s charming. “You read, you brew, you’re well-spoken…what more could I ask?” 

Tav snickers. “My, I’m uniquely qualified.” 

He tips her a wink. “Almost as if we were made for one another” 

It’s a terrible line. Raphael is attractive enough to make it work. Tav rolls her eyes, shrugging under his arm and dragging it over her shoulders. If he’s going to make his moves, she'll try hers. The barista winds her arms around his waist. “Look at that. We fit, too.” 

He stiffens, staring at her in a mix of amusement and wonder. It’s too open for the typically confident man. Tav fears she overstepped. Raphael chuckles, bringing her free hand to his lips for a kiss. “Wonders never cease.”

They wander for a while. He angles them towards a park. They talk about books they’ve read and the places they have traveled. Tav has never been to Italy. Raphael spent a decent portion of his childhood on the Mediterranean coast. 

“Do you get back often?” 

“Less than I’d like. But I am always looking for a new excuse to visit.” He glances down at her, eyes glittering. “In the dark heart of winter, Italy, Spain…they seem like a dream.” Raphael purses his lips. A real mischief crosses his face. “If you require a guide one day…” 

Oh, she shouldn’t. It’s the magic of the evening; it’s the chemistry and the company. She can't stop from saying, “I’d like that.”

They walk a little longer. When it comes time to part, Tav lingers by the door, chewing her lip between her teeth. It’s too early in the relationship, but she’s still chasing the high. “You could come up?”

Raphael chuckles. The professor leans over her, curling a finger under her chin, tipping her head up. He brushes his lips across hers, more delicate than she’d like, still tasting the rich cabernet they had with dinner. “Expectation will make such things all the sweeter, pet. Perhaps next time.” He kisses her knuckles and turns to go. 

Tav just stares after him like a love-sick idiot: a little disappointed and a little giddy. 

Before she drifts off to sleep, she sends him a text. Dinner, Saturday. There is a tapas bar near her apartment, and it only seems fair to continue their faux Mediterranean tour. 

She hates that his response makes her blush: he is, as ever, delighted to serve as her guide. 

[kenzirr]

The bar buzzed with life, its energy palpable as patrons mingled, danced, and enjoyed their drinks. Amid the vibrant atmosphere, Spencer Reid found himself unable to take his eyes off of you. There was something about your presence that captivated him entirely. Your confidence and grace stood out, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to you.

As the night wore on, Derek Morgan noticed Spencer's fixed gaze. He leaned in with a teasing grin. "Come on, pretty boy. You've been staring at her all night. Go talk to her."

Spencer hesitated, clearly nervous. "I don't know, Derek. What if she doesn't want to talk to me?"

Derek laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll never know unless you try. Besides, you’ve got more charm than you realize."

Spencer took a deep breath, mustering his courage. He made his way through the crowd, his heart pounding with each step. As he approached you, the words he'd rehearsed in his head seemed to scatter. "H-hi," he stammered, his voice barely audible above the music. "I'm Spencer. I, um, couldn't help but notice you from across the bar."

You turned to him, a warm smile spreading across your face. "Hi, Spencer. I'm Y/N. It's nice to meet you."

Relief washed over him at your friendly response. "It's nice to meet you too," he said, his confidence bolstered slightly. "I don't usually do this, approach people, I mean. But there’s just something about you that made me want to take a chance."

Your eyes sparkled with amusement. "Well, I'm glad you did. It's not every day someone like you comes up to me."

Spencer's cheeks turned a faint shade of red, but he pressed on. "So, um, what brings you here tonight?"

"I’m out with friends," you said, glancing towards a group that was deep in conversation and laughter. "We needed a night out to unwind. What about you?"

"Same here," Spencer replied, feeling a bit more at ease. "We just wrapped up a tough case, and this seemed like a good way to relax."

You nodded, interested. "A tough case? What do you do?"

Spencer's eyes lit up, his passion for his work shining through despite his nerves. "I'm with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. We profile and catch serial offenders. It’s challenging but rewarding."

"Wow, that sounds intense," you said, genuinely impressed. "And here I thought my job was stressful. You must have some fascinating stories."

Spencer chuckled softly. "It has its moments. But enough about work. What do you do?"

"I work in psychology," you replied. "It's a different kind of challenge, but I enjoy it. It’s creative and always changing."

"That sounds interesting," Spencer said, his curiosity piqued. "I’ve read a bit about psychology strategies. It’s impressive how you can understand and influence people's behavior."

You smiled, appreciating his genuine interest. "It’s definitely an art. So, do you come to places like this often?"

Spencer shook his head, laughing lightly. "Not really. I'm more of a homebody. I like researching a lot. What about you?"

"Same here, actually," you admitted. "But it's fun to go out every once in a while and let loose."

The conversation flowed easily between you two, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. As the night progressed, you realized you wanted to see him again.

"Spencer, I’d really like to continue this conversation another time," you said, pulling out your phone. "Can I have your number?"

Spencer's face lit up with a mix of surprise and happiness. "Of course," he said, handing you his phone. You quickly entered your number and gave it back.

"I’ll be looking forward to your call," you said with a smile.

"I will definitely call," Spencer replied, his smile widening.

As he returned to his friends, Derek shot him a thumbs-up, clearly pleased. Spencer couldn’t suppress his grin for the rest of the night.

[elizabethwritesmen]

The Devil Wears Lace

chapter 5 : July 4, 2023

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x reader

summary: it’s 4th of july and your favorite soldier shows up at the firework show. you spend a little time with him and get a little drunk, resulting in some bad decision. everything is ok though, as long as he’s there with you.

warnings: 18+ for eventual smut, pining, no use of y/n, reader is almost forced into a pool, angry simon, possessive simon, fireworks, someone flirts with reader, i think that’s all but let me know if i missed anything!

series masterlist

July 4, 2023

A year had passed since my kidnapping.

It was surreal, really. I liked to brush off the experience like it had been nothing but it took a week in the hospital to detox me from all the drugs those guys had pumped in me and two months for my leg to completely heal. It wasn’t the kind of thing you just… forget about. The trauma was gone, though, mostly, but what was left creeped in once I realized it was the anniversary of it.

And then the worst thought crept in. What if they came back? One failed attempt so they try again?

I shrugged off those thoughts, returning to my outfit search. I’d tried on a million options, and upon seeing them on me, decided they were awful and should burn. Because of this what can only be described as character flaw, most of my clothes were strewn across my bed and floor haphazardly after being ripped violently and angrily from my body. I sighed, accepting defeat, and found my safe choice. A cream colored American flag sweater, just thin enough to wear on the beach, and a pair of light wash daisy dukes with rips and exposed pockets. I yanked on my birk style sandals and called it a day.

I rushed out the door with my hair pulled messily into a white claw clip and my makeup done in a rush, mascara just barely smeared and a thin layer of lip balm. I jumped into my car, speeding to the beach where the firework show was to be held.

Normally, I would’ve had to work, but Sabrina’s husband’s family just happened to be the owners of the bar and he decided to close for the night so everybody could enjoy the holiday. This was mostly due to pestering from Sab and I, but that was fine, considering we got what we wanted in the end.

Once I got there, I parked right beside her husband, Dylan’s truck. Once they saw me, they climbed out and we all walked to find a spot together.

“There are a lot of people here already,” I commented as we found a free space at the end of the pier, right in front of the water.

“Probably trying to get good spots like the one we just got,” Sabrina wiggled her eyebrows.

“You know who might be coming?” Dylan asked me with a smirk that made me nervous. I stood, waiting for him to tell me, and he bit, “Connor.”

Connor worked with me when I first started at the bar, but he’d quit after a few months to take a job offer in another city. He was nice, adorable and likable. He was never immune to my charms but he was much more respectful than any of the other men I used them on. We’d hung out and, well, made out a few times before he moved away. I never really cared about him or anything, so his leaving was fine with me, but I did miss having a man around that wasn’t creepy or strange or icky in the slightest. Of course, now I had Ghost, but was he really around? Not much. So what harm could flirting with Connor for the evening do?

“You invited him?” I asked, brows furrowed, “I knew you guys were friends but I didn’t realize you kept in touch.”

“Yeah, he has plans with his family today and came here for them, but he said he’ll probably be done early and head here.”

“Interesting,” Sabrina grinned, “Sounds like a good chance for you to get laid.”

I threw my water bottle at her, “Not everything is about sex, Sab!”

“Well it sure hasn’t been for you lately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve been stuck on Ghost for a year, flirting around with him and waiting for him like an army wife or something. And in that time, have you had sex or even done anything with anyone at all?” I cast my eyes downward, the truth in her words hitting me like ice water. “Exactly. I’m just saying, you need to get out of this rut or you’re gonna be hung up on a man you’ll never have for the rest of your life.”

Sabrina was always one for tough love. She never lied, and she only ever said exactly what she thought a person needed to hear.

“You know, I never really slept around even before I met Ghost,” My contradiction was weak against her words.

“I know. But I also know that’s the only thing that might get him off your mind and turn you back into a man’s worst nightmare.”

“Fine. You’re right. Hopefully Connor will stop by.”

“Atta girl!” She grinned, high fiving me with both hands as we settled into the chairs Dylan had carried out for us.

“Not to, uh, ruin this moment for you ladies or anything, but who is Ghost?” Dylan asked, seeming thoroughly confused.

“The guy I told you about, that always wears the mask. The one who saved her last year.”

“Oh!” recognition flashed on his face, “Somehow I’ve missed him every time he’s been here.”

“Well then you’ve also missed the googly eyes she makes at him.”

“I’m sitting right here!” I huffed, crossing my arms.

We hung out there for a couple hours, chatting and drinking a little more than we really needed to. I was nice and buzzed by the time night fell, and I looked around, surveying all the people there.

What I wasn’t expecting to see was Ghost and his three buddies a little ways away from us. They hadn’t noticed me yet, and I didn’t know whether that was a blessing or a curse. Did I have it in me to ignore him and just have a good night with my friends?

Of course I didn’t.

“Sabrina!” I hissed, smacking her on the arm until she paid attention to me. When she finally looked up from whatever she was doing on her phone, I gestured aggressively with my head to the guys in question.

“Fuck, who’d have thought? You gonna go say hi?”

“I don’t know, they haven’t seen me yet. It would be weird for me to just-“

“They see you now,” she raised a brow and gave them a slight finger wave, and I turned to see that they were, in fact, looking at me. Even him.

“Do you think they even want me to walk over there?” I asked.

“Of course they do, stupid, those boys are wrapped around your finger. Go!”

“No,” I sighed, “If he wants to talk to me badly enough he’ll come over here.”

“You and your dumbass hoe rules,” she rolled her eyes at me.

“They’re not dumb and I’m not a hoe!”

“Wait,” Dylan furrowed his brows, “That’s the man? The myth? The legend?” I nodded, giggling. “He’s fucking huge!”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Hell no, I’m guy crushing. Now I don’t resent Sabrina for telling me he’s hot.”

“You told your husband you think Ghost is hot?” I snorted at her, and she shrugged.

“He told me he thinks Angelina Jolie is hot. It was only fair.”

“So you guys just… share your gay crushes with each other? Any more you want to tell me about?”

“Well we’ve both agreed we’d have a threesome but only with you-“ Sabrina didn’t finish her statement, but I heard enough and reached my hand up to shut her up.

“I want to forget you told me that.”

“Fuck,” she gasped, “He’s coming over.”

“Really?” my tone was pathetic, too excited for my own good.

“You were right, I was wrong. Your hoe rules are not dumb!”

Before I could respond, he cleared his throat from behind me. I turned slowly, feeling his presence before I even saw him.

“Hey,” I grinned, and almost looked like he did too, under the mask.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said, his voice the same rough melody as always.

“Well… I live here, and basically the entire town showed up, so..”

“That’s true.”

“What’s more weird is you being here. Considering this is a day to celebrate the US ditching England and you’re English.”

He shrugged, “I like American Independence Day. It’s interesting.”

“Interesting how?”

“Right now, the interesting part is you.”

I fought off the butterflies. Really and truly, I did, with everything I had in me.

“If you just came over here to flatter me, you can go ahead and go back to your friends,” I smirked, eyes narrow.

“Actually I came over to see if you’d wanna come say hi to them.”

“Awwww, so they sent you over here? And I thought you came over because you like me.”

Sabrina and Dylan had amused expressions on their faces, but neither said a word as they watched the exchange.

“They were just gonna wave you over but I told them I wanted to come ask you. Does that answer satisfy you?”

“I’m never satisfied,” I clicked my tongue, but I stood from my seat anyway, lightly grabbing his arm and letting him lead me away. “Be right back!” I called as I left, and my two friends waved goodbye to me, laughing.

“There she is!” Soap cheered as I approached, and a grin broke out over my face. “We started to think you didn’t wanna talk to us!”

“Was just waiting for Lieutenant Dan over here to notice me is all,” I hummed jokingly, getting on my tiptoes to pat Ghost on the head.

“Lieutenant… Dan?” he furrowed his brows, staring down at me, confused as ever.

“You’ve never seen Forrest Gump?” I practically shouted, mouth hanging open stupidly, and he shook his head. “That’s it, you guys are coming over to my place one of these days and we’re gonna watch it.”

“Fine with us,” Gaz shrugged, taking a sip of the drink in his hand.

Ghost still looked apprehensive and confused, so I told him in the sweetest voice I could manage, “Lieutenant Dan is super cool. I had a little crush on him the first time I watched the movie.” At that, his features relaxed, but they tensed again when the boys around us whistled.

“I think she’s got a little crush on you, Ghost,” Price laughed, and Ghost glared but I just giggled.

“I never said I didn’t,” I shrugged with a wink and the whistles got worse. “But I never said I did, either.”

We caught up, they told me as much as they could about what they had been up to but it wasn’t a lot at all. I noticed the more I saw them, the comfier they got speaking to me.

Then, I noticed Connor walking up the pier out of the corner of my eye, his own eyes already on me. A bright smile lit up his face and he picked up his pace to get to my side.

“Connor!” I squeaked as he pulled me into a huge hug, spinning me around in a circle and then waiting an extra second to let me go.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” he winked, “You look good.”

“I look the same,” I scoffed.

“I know,” his voice was coy and I rolled my eyes, stepping back to put a tiny bit of distance between us, hyper aware of Ghost’s eyes burning into me.

“I can’t believe you made it,” I spoke, more tense than I normally would’ve been but I don’t think anyone picked up on it. I felt so awkward. I’d started the day with the intention of flirting with him, and doing anything I could to make him want me, and now I was a puddle for another man I didn’t even expect to see.

“Of course I made it,” he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “You’re here. I’d never miss a chance to see you while I’m in town.”

“I seem to have that affect on men,” I snorted, sparing a glance to Ghost and instantly regretting it. His eyes were hot, and they just about set me on fire, making my whole body feel tense and preyed upon.

“You always have,” Connor looked me up and down then, clearly liking what he saw, “Where are the lovebirds?”

“Over there,” I pointed to the end of the pier and he nodded.

“You gonna come join us anytime soon?” he asked.

“If you stay on your best behavior, I’ll consider it,” I smirked and he laughed all the way down to Dylan and Sabrina.

“You two seemed familiar,” Soap hummed, tone playful but eyes wary.

“He used to work with me but he moved away. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a couple years or so.”

“Guess time didn’t make him like you any less.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Why don’t you guys come down to the end, with us? The view is better, and I don’t wanna leave you but I can’t ditch them.”

“Fine by me,” Price shrugged, and the others agreed. Ghost didn’t want to, but they talked him into it, saying it was either hang out with me or stand there alone.

“Finally decided we were worth your time?” Sabrina jabbed as we approached, and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re always worth my time, baby girl,” I leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, “I was just having a chat.”

“Get a room, you two,” Dylan joked at our girly display of affection.

“Can’t, you married her before I had the chance,” I pouted, and they both laughed. I was straight as they come, but I still liked to joke about being gay for her. She was my best friend. What girl doesn’t do that?

“If anyone is getting a room with this one, it’s gonna be me,” Connor leaned around me to kiss me on the cheek and I all but cringed, shying away from him.

“‘This one’ isn’t getting a room at all, so don’t go getting your hopes up,” I was stern, but tried to be nice and protect the peace. I’d expected him to flirt with me. It’s not his fault I have a very angry looking Ghost watching over me and making me feel dizzy with need, my tummy a little sick from all the butterflies in there flying against my rib cage.

“See your mouth hasn’t changed much,” he just laughed, turning back to the side of the pier and leaning on the railing.

I approached Ghost, opting to root myself by him instead of by Connor. I wanted him to know that he was the one I’d rather have. It was silly, really, I shouldn’t have cared, but I did. I wouldn’t risk doing anything that would make him not want to see me again. I needed him to want to see me again.

This action didn’t go unnoticed by everyone else, their eyebrows raised but they stayed silent. Ghost just grabbed my arm and pulled me half an inch closer, satisfied with my choice, and I half smiled.

“Hey hot stuff,” Sabrina began speaking to me, “After the fireworks we’re going back to mine and hanging out by the pool. You down?”

“Are we all invited?” I gestured to the four men beside me and she nodded.

“Of course! I wouldn’t leave anyone out,” her tone of voice was the same as all the times she joked about Ghost and I.

“Then yeah, that sounds good. You guys wanna come?”

“I’d rather hang out there than some crowded bar,” Gaz shrugged, and the others nodded. Once again, all except Ghost.

“Come on, Ghosty, you’re not gonna let me go all alone are you?” I spoke, only loud enough for him to hear.

“You’ll have Connor with you.” He spat the name out like it disgusted him.

“I don’t want him with me. I want you. Besides, all your boys are coming. Please?” That one word did him in, his eyes meeting mine in a heated gaze.

“I’ll come.”

I smiled victoriously as we all settled in to watch the fireworks that were about to start. He placed his hand on the small of my back and lead me to the edge so I’d have a better view, which was shockingly sweet for the gruff man.

An hour or so later, we were all doing our thing by Dylan and Sabrina’s pool. I was laying in a lawn chair, drink in hand, on the border between tipsy and drunk, a giggling mess. At some point, everyone became comfortable with each other. Or at least, everyone but Ghost. He sat right beside me in the other lawn chair, watching over me carefully.

“You’re weird,” I hummed out, reaching out to tap him.

“You’re drunk,” he countered.

“That’s why you’re watching me so close? Cause I’m drunk?”

He cast his eyes downward, “Guess so.”

I let out a laugh, the embarrassing kind that I would inevitably regret the next day, attempting to stand up but wobbling on my legs. I just about fell but he steadied me.

“I’m gonna go get another, you want anything, silly little Ghost?” the sentence came out a slurred string of words, but he understood.

“No thank you, love,” he sounded kind, like he thought it was nice I asked, “Are you sure you need another?”

“One more won’t hurt me,” I shrugged, turning away to stumble over to the cooler and pull out yet another bottle. I found my way back beside him and plopped back down.

I couldn’t manage to get the cap off, and it was making me increasingly angry. Finally, Ghost grabbed it from me with a chuckle and took it off for me.

“So sexy when you do stuff for me,” I hummed, taking it from him and taking a long sip.

“That needs to be your last one,” he ordered and I giggled again.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“If you’d make the right choice on your own, I wouldn’t have to.”

I rolled my eyes, throwing the bottle back again. When I put it back down, Connor was in my line of sight, chuckling about something with Sabrina.

“Hey sweet cheeks, I got a real question for you,” he smirked at me, and I groaned.

“Oh God help me, what is it?”

“Will you jump in the pool with me like old times?” he implored, voice hopeful and I snorted.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on, you love bad ideas. You always have. Every time we’ve been here, we’ve jumped in the pool, don’t let this be the first time we don’t!” I still looked hesitant, and I was hesitant. I didn’t want to do it. Especially not with Simon right there, watching my every move, looking for any reason not to want anything to do with me. “Unless you’re scared?” Connor kept going. “You weren’t scared of anything when I knew you. Guess you’ve changed.”

His voice was a challenge and I knew it was a trap, but I fell right into it, indignantly arguing, “I am not scared.”

“Prove it, then. Strip.”

We got locked in a stare down before I huffed, standing from my seat, still wobbly but my determination giving me a boost. Simon helped steady me once again, still looking at me, assessing the situation.

“Fine,” I shrugged as I yanked my sweater over my head then unbuttoned my shorts and pulled them down, leaving a trail of clothes on my way to the pool. Once I got there, all I had on was my lace bra and underwear, cute and purple. I didn’t even think before going for it, jumping haphazardly into the deep end, the rush of water hitting me like a train. I felt it shift around me and knew he’d jumped in right after me as I fought to get to the surface.

I finally broke through, and took a deep breath in, laughing the loudest I had all night. Sabrina and Dylan cheered for us, mumbling on about how familiar it was to see us in their pool. I risked a glance at Ghost. He was expressionless. Well, from what I could tell.

I made my way to the side of the pool, crossing my arms there and laying my head on them.

“You’re staring,” I hummed.

“You look fucked out. You need to go fix your makeup.”

I blushed, and I knew he saw it because his eyes perked up.

“Help me out, then,” I pleaded, reaching one hand out towards him and he stared at it for a moment before making his way towards me and grabbing it. He used it to tug me up while simultaneously wrapping his other arm around my middle and pulling me out.

“You’re not gonna swim with me?” Connor pouted from the pool, and I shrugged.

“I proved my point. Swim alone.”

Ghost’s glare shut him up after that, and we headed inside to the bathroom. He left the door open behind us but we still had a sense of privacy that had never been there before.

“Here,” he sighed, opening the bag of makeup wipes that Sab had on the counter and retrieving one then using it to wipe my face. “You feel good about what you just did?”

“Well I don’t feel bad about it, if that’s what you’re asking.” He grunted. “Everyone enjoyed it but you, Ghost.”

“Yeah because everyone out there wanted to see you half naked.”

“What, you didn’t? You don’t like what you see or something?”

“I didn’t say that,” his voice was deadly, as if he was chastising me. “That wasn’t smart. You’re drunk.”

“And you’re jealous.”

“I’m telling you that you made a dangerous decision and you’re accusing me of being jealous?”

“It wasn’t dangerous, first of all. I’ve done worse than that while I was drinking. And second of all, yeah. You’re jealous. You can admit it.” He stayed quiet, finishing up my face and going to walk out but I grabbed his wrist, tugging him back. “I’ve been rejecting him in the nicest way possible all night long.”

“Why?”

“Because I was scared if I didn’t, you’d decide I wasn’t worth coming back for again.”

“You can do what you want, it’s none of my business.”

“I know.”

“You can flirt back. You can damn near fuck him right in front of me and I’ll still seek you out the next time I’m here. You don’t have to worry one bit about that.”

“Is that a promise?” I asked, and he nodded, hand cupping my cheek. “I don’t wanna flirt with him. It’s pathetic is what it is. He came here tonight for me, thinking he was gonna get in these little lace panties, and the second I saw you he was an afterthought.”

His gaze was hotter than it ever had been, pupils a little wider when I risked those words. His voice was husky, going straight through me, “How rude of you.”

“You like me pathetic, huh? You like that I’m a little desperate?”

“You’re not desperate,” he chuckled.

“I am for you.”

He groaned, his masked face falling into the crook of my neck as his hands ghosted over my hips.

“Come on, let’s get back out there,” he pulled himself away and walked out, and I made no attempt to stop him that time, still trying to catch my breath.

A moment later I managed to compose myself, and I followed outside, laying back in my lawn chair. I was still a bit wet so I didn’t bother putting my clothes back on yet, but I was shivering slightly from the cold.

“Took you long enough,” Ghost mumbled from beside me and I rolled my eyes at him, leaning even further back, my eyes shutting. All the alcohol was getting to me, making me a little sleepy.

“You’re going to sleep?” The voice was Connor’s, and it was close. Before I could even respond, I was being picked up and held tightly in arms that didn’t feel like Ghost’s. My eyes shot open to see Connor carrying me towards the water.

“What’re you doing?” I asked loudly, squirming to get away. He just chuckled, clutching me tighter.

“Waking you up,” his voice was breathless as he laughed and I started struggling harder against him.

“Let me go! Please, let me go, fuck, God-!” I was full on wrestling him now to get away, not wanting to go back in the water. Thinking how wrong it was for him to throw me in there. He always used to do stuff like that when he’d lived close, and I hadn’t minded then, but I was drunk and it was late and-

My thoughts cut off there as he was yanked back from the edge by his shoulder.

“She said she wanted to be let go.” Ghost was standing there, looking as angry as ever.

“Chill, dude, this is our thing. We’ve always done stuff like this together, she’s fine,” Connor huffed incredulously.

“Does she look fine to you?”

They looked down at me, my lip trembling, fully uncomfortable in Connor’s arms.

“Connor, please put me down,” I tried one last time, “I don’t wanna be thrown in the water. I’m cold and drunk and-“

“Give her to me.” Ghost’s tone was not a playing one, sending shivers even down my spine and I could not imagine how Connor wasn’t cracking under that pressure. “Now.”

Connor sighed, nodding, setting me down next to Ghost who pulled me close into his chest, hand stroking my wet hair and wiping my cheeks where I hadn’t realized tears were falling.

“I’m sorry,” Connor looked at me and it sounded like he really meant it. “I just - we used to do shit like this all the time. I didn’t think you would care.”

“It’s ok,” I sniffled, snuggling closer into the broad expanse of man I was leaning against, soaking up the warmth for all it was worth.

“I’m gonna take her home, I think she’s had enough for one night.” I nodded as Ghost spoke, his arms even tighter than they’d been to begin with. “Get your clothes, come on,” he whispered into my hair and I did as asked, grabbing my shirt and shorts and slipping my shoes on. I gave Connor a quick goodbye hug and waved goodbye to the rest of my friends and his, who opted to stay for a while longer. They said they’d come pick Ghost up from wherever he needed, and he nodded as we left for the night.

He opened the passenger side door of my car for me and helped me in, frowning as I shivered against the biting night air. “Put your clothes on, sweetheart,” he suggested and I shook my head.

“Don’t feel - hiccup - like it,” my voice was practically a whine and he nodded, walking over to the driver’s side. On his way, be noticed a blanket in the back seat, and when he was situated in the car, he grabbed it and placed it over me. I cuddled into it, appreciating the gesture.

“Are you okay?” he asked me, as serious as I’d ever seen him.

“‘m fine,” my voice was weak, and I didn’t really understand why I was so upset. I’d been thrown into the water before. I never enjoyed it, but it never made me cry.

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I don’t know why I’m so bothered,” I shrugged, “Guess with everything that’s happened to me I just felt scared. I don’t like… I don’t like feeling like I can’t get away from someone. Not if I don’t trust them.”

“You said you’ve known him for a long time, you don’t trust him?”

“Not like -“ I paused, wondering if I should say the next part, “Not like I trust you.”

He chuckled darkly, hand falling down to my stretched out knee and rubbing.

“You don’t know me at all,” he pointed out.

“I know you a little better than you think,” I huffed, “You’ve saved me three times now. You wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

He clicked his tongue, turning the car on and pulling away, following my directions to my house. He was gentle with me the entire time until my tears stopped and I was half asleep in the seat, head slumped and eyes hazy.

He pulled in the driveway, slipping out of the car and picking me up, leaving the blanket and my clothes behind.

Once we got to the door, he took one arm off of me just long enough to unlock it with my key and walked me inside, barely caring to get a look at the place at all as he walked to the hallway in search of my bedroom.

“It’s the one at the end,” I offered and he nodded, finding it and letting himself in, laying me down on my bed.

“I’m sure you wanna get out of your wet…. clothes,” he vaguely gestured to me, “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t leave me here,” I gasped out, reaching desperately for his hand, “Don’t leave me here alone. I’m not ready for you to go yet.”

His eyes widened and he leaned back into me, crowding me and promising, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, just leavin’ the room to give you privacy to clean up.”

“Oh,” I hummed, relief settling in.

“You could say please, though,” his voice had that husk in it again, and I grinned.

“I don’t think I have to, you’re gonna stay either way.”

He tutted, “Doesn’t mean I don’t wanna hear it.”

I thought for a moment. “Fine,” I smirked, then, in the most seductive voice I could manage, I leaned up and drawled, “Please.”

His pupils blew wide and he nodded, his hand exploring my face, cupping my cheek, squeezing my chin and making my lips pucker, and then it drifted into more dangerous territory, resting around my throat. My breath hitched and he chuckled, giving one small squeeze before his touch disappeared. He walked out of the room, laughing all the way.

I rolled my eyes, going to my dresser to get clothes. I was still too sleepy to shower or anything but I at least wanted to wear something that covered me and didn’t smell like chlorine. I pulled on a T shirt and a fresh pair of panties, not bothering with more. Ghost had already seen me in just my undies, why did it matter? Then I went to the bathroom and thoroughly cleaned my face and brushed my damp and stringy hair.

Once I was done, I left my room and searched for him, finding him in the living room, lounged back on the couch like he belonged there. Wordlessly, I sat beside him, and he hummed, pulling me into his side and tucking me there comfortably.

He was so warm, I couldn’t help but sigh, sinking into him. My mind drifted to places it shouldn’t be, imagining sinking into his arms all the time. Imagining having his warmth forever. I pushed that away. Those were not feelings I needed to unpack.

Finally, I glanced up at the TV to see he’d found Forrest Gump and it was ready to play.

“Really?” I asked, the ghost of a smile on my lips.

“Wanted to see what this Lieutenant Dan was all about,” he shrugged, clicking the button and starting it.

I couldn’t pay much attention, I was much too content to just relax into his hold. I checked my phone, seeing a few missed texts from Sabrina asking if I was okay, apologizing for Connor, and of course, some innuendos about Ghost and me.

“You two have an interesting friendship.” I looked up at him as he said it and laughed.

“How so?”

“Doesn’t seem like you like each other very much.”

“That’s just how we are,” I shrugged, “She’s my best friend, we just like being mean to each other.” He grunted in response, prompting me to turn back to the movie. It didn’t take long for me to drift off, snuggled deep into him and feeling more safe and taken care of than I ever had.

I woke up to the feeling of being carried and opened my eyes slowly just as Ghost laid me in bed.

“The team is here to pick me up. I’ve got to go.”

I pouted, not ready to let him go just yet.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave.”

“You shouldn’t drink so much, sweetheart, it makes you sappy,” he chuckled, but the look he gave me was pitiful and it only made me want him to stay more.

“I’m not being sappy, I’m being honest. I don’t do that a lot, be grateful for it.”

He sighed, sitting down beside me and stroking my hair. “I’ll be back. I don’t know when but I promise I will.”

I nodded, trying hard not to drift back to sleep, wanting those last few moments with him.

My eyes widened as he lifted his mask to his nose, exposing the stubble on his chin and cheeks. He leaned down, taking my cheeks in his hands and kissing my forehead.

Oh, I was fucked.

His lips felt so good, I was addicted and he hadn’t even kissed me properly. I felt myself getting a little closer to the edge of the cliff I was bound to fall off of.

He pulled away slightly, still close enough for me to feel his warmth, and I sighed, eyes on his lips.

“You gonna give me a real kiss, soldier?”

“Not when you’re all tired and drunk like this,” he shook his head, brushing his thumb across my lips then pulling away.

“Ghost,” I called as he made his way to the door, “Goodbye.”

“Bye, sweetheart. Get some sleep.”

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Nine

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Part Nine!! Hope you lot like this one! Thank you so much for all the love its been shown, means a whole lot xx

Warnings: Scene that involves a lot of sudden panic and themes of possessive violence (Nothing too graphic, promise!), drinking but it's to be expected tbh

Masterlist

The pavement outside of the bar was grounding. A solid presence beneath my unsteady feet. 

I let that feeling engulf me as I wandered a little further down from the club doors to press my back against the outer wall. The brick became a tether, I felt the grain of its grit against the leather of my jacket, the way its chill pooled across the back of my head, its rough ridges latching onto the hair that fell there.

It had been the briefest of seconds, a startled glance shared between us both before I had ripped myself away. Knowing that I’d only somehow lose myself in those eyes of his if I lingered a second too long.

But Matty had been all too bashful and almost completely unaware of my presence, so over the top in his greetings to everyone else that he had virtually made it too easy for me to slip straight past his guard and out into the night.

Now, alone, I dragged in a ragged breath. The feverish wisp of the evening air swirled around my tongue, only to then wind its way down the back of my throat. It helped to somewhat still my trembling hands.

Then, almost frantically, I moved to rifle through the pockets of my jacket in search of a pack of fags, or perhaps a lighter- practically desperate to find another means of escape. My mind wouldn’t stop its endless spinning.

I didn't get the chance though, not when the person I'd all but bolted from came tumbling out of the doorway a few feet away, dazed smile paired with a pair of sharp cutting eyes.

"There she is!"

I swallowed thickly just as my head snapped left to meet Matty, who was now making his merry way over, hands tucked in his trousers as he grinned amiably at me. Like everything was fine. Normal.

"Was beginning to think you'd done a runner!"

He didn't look much different from the last time I had seen him, which oddly felt so long ago now. That day in the cafe and then by the tube station. But still, there was something unfamiliar about the jaunty way he now held himself. It was a little too confident, arrogant almost. I wasn't sure how to interpret it. If I was even supposed to.

"No. Just needed some air." I replied, a breath of relief escaping me when my fingers finally wrapped around the familiar feel of cardboard. I pulled the carton out to distract myself from his overwhelming presence and plucked a cigarette from its contents before then extending it outwards. It felt impolite not to offer.

Matty only bared his teeth at me in a grin, as charming as ever, before he leant forward to snag another from the casing. I fumbled then for a lighter, patting myself down in search of it. 

I needn't have bothered though because I blinked and then there was a flame, unwavering in the wind as Matty dangled it carelessly just under my nose. 

My eyes sought his and I wet my lips before making room for the filter.

Matty leaned in closer and I hunched slightly so that I could burn the cigarette’s end, but as I did I continued to observe Matty, his stance, the mask he wore, whilst the fancy chrome lighter worked its magic.

I didn't know exactly where my heart was in that precise moment, but it definitely wasn't in my chest. It was climbing up my throat, pounding against my skin, hammering in my ears. 

I hadn't really noticed it before but now, just being around Matty- especially when not entirely sober- was a somewhat difficult task for me to endure. The man was every sort of red flag rolled up into one being, the kind of person I knew I was better off just staying away from. 

Because people like Matty tended to lure the likes of me in, with their charming smiles and cutting eyes. 

The perfect sort of trap that left you helpless, stranded.

Right then, it almost seemed as though Matty had the power to read every insulant or incriminating thought that had ever crossed my mind. As though all of it was written as clear as day across my face.

Matty took a long drag of his cigarette and propped himself up against the wall beside me, a little too close for current comfort but I couldn't really find it in myself to pull back now.

"Seemed like you couldn't get away fast enough." 

He said it so nonchalantly that I was a little unsure on how best to answer, whether Matty was honestly offended or not by my sudden departure. But before I could even think up a reply, Matty was already striving on.

"But, I can only imagine- must've been more than awkward to see the object you've been ignoring for, well fuck knows how long, standing right there. Within reach."

Matty turned his infamous grin on me then, but my breath had already been caught by the unbidden emotion in the man's eyes. 

"I-" I tried but Matty merely shrugged me off, cigarette ash flailing as he did.

"Don't need an excuse, babe. I get it. I can be a bit much at times- clingy, I reckon’s the right word."

I choked a little on my next drag but immediately started to shake my head. "No, no- honestly, Matty. It wasn't like that."

Matty levelled me with an odd look, but said nothing more.

"Look, I promise. Alright? It’s just- I've had a lot on recently. Everything's been fucking stressing me out, more so than usual, and it's all just. Well, it's all just sort of gotten on top of me." 

Knuckling the side of my eye in frustration, I tugged a hand through my hair, hating myself for the way I couldn't even seem to worm my way out of this one. For the dejected look that sat so blatantly on Matty's face. 

"I am really not saying this right." I huffed out unhappily before I dropped my fag and stamped the remaining cherry out.

Matty merely snorted and I pressed my lips together to keep from biting and instead took a breath, turning to him.

"I'm sorry." Is what I apparently decided on, and felt almost as surprised as Matty looked when the words bypassed my lips. But in truth, I found that I really was sorry for making Matty feel as though he was to blame here. And for whatever other idiotic thing Matty might've told himself as to why I’d been acting like a right bitch lately.

Matty looked at me for a long pause, his hand stilled in midair between us, and I really wasn't very sure how to take the small smile that tugged at his lips a moment later.

"No need for apologies. Honestly. Well, only if you're planning to continue ignoring my messages after all this." Matty quipped and he laughed lightly when he caught my expression, blowing a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth.

I felt looser having heard his reply though, and tried for a smile.

"No. No, I wasn't planning on it."

"Good." Matty nodded and I really appreciated the way his face brightened when he did so. But I knew I’d never tell him. "Now! Are you going to buy me a drink for all of my troubles, or am I going to have to bribe that grumpy ginger mate of yours? Who’s even that sodding tall anyway?"

A startled laugh bubbled up from my chest and I couldn't for the life of me even think to decline the ask when Matty was looking at me like that, eyes shining under the streetlamp light, cheeky smile brightening his entire being.

"I'd like to see you try."

I quietly waited for Matty to finish the remnants of his cigarette before I followed the singer back inside, feeling the humidity of the cramped club pool over me the moment we bypassed the entrance.

Matty grabbed at my hand just as we slid by the highly intoxicated hen-do party who were crowding the doors. The action was done without merely a second thought, which wedged that heart of mine up into the walls of my throat and left me almost unaware as Matty continued to lead me through the rest of the crowd. 

His fingers wrapped effortlessly around my own and I clung to them like an anchor to the ocean floor. Struggling greatly to suppress the bubbling urge to play with the large metal ring that adorned Matty’s index finger.

"Oi, I thought you'd left!" Came a booming voice from over my left shoulder, it resonated around us once Matty and I had finally reached the bar.

It was on impulse that I glanced over in its direction and gaped at the sudden appearance of Auley, who's blue eyes were keen but playful, taking the situation in. It was Matty though, who replied, face turned up into a cocky grin as he subtly observed the incoming target.

"It seems,” He said, “That Squeaks here cannot say no to the likes of me."

Matty’s fingers were still grasping mine, I noted then, and was merely grateful for the way the bar's dim yellow lights were able to cover up the faint blush that had crawled up my neck. That statement had only strengthened it though, it seemed. Because, in all honesty, it felt like more than just a partial truth. 

The laughter that followed from Auley was brash and unavoidable, and he made sure to catch my gaze.

"Ah, I see!" Auley winked at me as he went to grab at the large tray of drinks the barman passed him. "Must be those devilishly good looks of yours, mate."

I hated feeling so wrong-footed so I shot back, "Or, maybe his charm."

Auley smirked just as I ducked my head. "I'll let everyone know you're stickin' around then, Mouse. Join us, yeah?"

Before I could dissuade him, to rewrite the picture he’d decided on in his head, the tall ginger had already dived back into the crowd, his head bobbing along to the song playing overhead as he sailed his way through. Everyone back at the table would know that I’d stuck around soon enough.

"What're you drinking then?"

Blinking, I spun back to face Matty and found a busty barmaid waiting on his reply. She was a pretty thing, propped up against the sleek counter, lips quirked high enough to contradict her sultry eyes. 

"Uh," I fumbled slightly before I simply shrugged, "Whatever you're having is fine."

Matty smiled, teeth glinting with the extremity of it, then leant in closer to order, close enough to the barmaid that I struggled to hear their exchange.

The woman flashed him a flirty smile before she finally slipped away, leaving me alone with the likes of Matty once again. I couldn’t for the life of me decide on how I felt about that.

"You been out long then?" I asked as a way of conversation, eyes flitting around the rest of the room, my voice raised just enough to be heard over the music.

"Depends on who you're asking."

My forehead pinched at that, and so Matty laughed.

"Jamie doesn't know I'm out."

I gave a slow nod. "Right. But won't he find out though? You know, come morning, when your mug's plastered all over Twitter and The Times."

Matty’s smile soured ever so slightly at that but he still chirped right back, pressing further into my space, arm brushing mine. “That’s the fun of it, Squeaks. Gotta live a little, yeah?”

The barmaid came wading back over before I could over-analyse his response, settling down an expensive bottle of Belvedere alongside two glasses. "Hope you enjoy it."

Matty dipped his chin at her, one side of his mouth tugging its way up before he hip-checked me into motion.

"Come on then, lead the way!"

--

Strobe lights danced in his peripheral vision, blinding and eccentric enough to cast shadows and beams out over the room. The bass of the current song being played overhead resonated deep within his chest, thudding alongside his erratic heartbeat. But Matty couldn't seem to concentrate on any of that, not when the girl swaying beside him stood so close, a breath away.

"DJ tonight is really going for it!" She declared as she tossed her head back carelessly, laughing up at the ceiling. 

Matty couldn’t find it in him to reply, too busy staring. Mouth agape as his eyes raked over the length of her body. The moisture that clung to the line of her throat, the way that the shorter hairs that framed her face curled in the humidity, how her body just moved. As though she didn't even have to try. Like she was just dancing to dance, not caring who was watching.

Briefly, Matty wondered how hot she must have felt wrapped up in that tight leather jacket of hers, but couldn't for the life of him bring himself to ask. Not when she looked so carefree, so buoyant. Plus, the leather only added to the image Matty had honed in on.

She was grinning still, almost madly now, when she turned her head to catch his keen gaze. She leant in close, so close that Matty could breathe in the scent of her all too easily, the same sweet fragrance that surrounded her constantly and had been filling up his head for days since he’d first smelt it.

"Listen to this riff coming up! Just after the bridge." She instructed him, bright eyes hidden behind drooping lids as her lips brushed against the shell of Matty’s ear. 

He forced back a shiver at the feeling and tried his very hardest to follow the order, straining to focus on the song instead of the girl’s proximity.

She continued to bop her head languidly and her eyes finally fell completely shut just as a guitar sounded. The chords of it flowed so fluently, edging closer and closer towards a finale. 

She looked so serene whilst she listened, so carefree. As though the only language she'd ever been able to truly understand was the sound of music.

They fell into rhythm without even thinking, the two of them, he dropped his head against her neck so that his hips could sway with hers, a drink loosely gripped between the pads of his fingers. And she seemingly allowed it, even as they stood in a crowd so full of onlooking people. 

It was strange though. All of his thoughts were centred around her, the way she moved, the rise and fall of her chest. The three freckles perched on the bone of her collar. But just as that realisation settled in and they continued to dance, Matty felt the sudden sensation of air forcing its way back into his lungs. The action was so apparently clear that he realised, momentarily, that he'd forgotten just how imperative it was to simply breathe. 

He wasn't sure whether it was down to the alcohol, or something other, but he revelled in the sharp chill of it, the rushing of his blood. The way it made him dizzy with adrenaline. It was akin to something he hadn’t felt in a long while.

--

"Mouse."

I hummed noncommittally in response, not paying the voice behind me much mind as I approached the bar again. Matty wanted something fizzy this time around and I didn’t mind sharing.

"Mouse!" It came again, louder.

The crowd seemed to have tripled in the short time it had taken me to weave my way off of the dance floor, it was buzzing now, hands and faces and drinks everywhere. My gaze flickered back over my shoulder momentarily to see if I could still make Matty out in the heaving mass, just so that I could reassure him that I'd soon be back, that I was already at the bar.

"Mouse!" There it was again, that voice, only this time it was accompanied by a grabbing hand. 

I startled at the sensation and whipped around, frowning when I saw it was Ronan standing there, my confused gaze now peering up into his storming blue. I shrugged the hand off, then rubbed at the wrist it had seized.

"That'll leave a bruise." I mumbled with a pinched expression.

Ronan's lips only thinned as he stared down at me, not saying a word. 

I huffed unhappily, "What did you want, Ro?"

Ronan’s sharp scoff cut through the noise, sounding as though I should have already known the answer to that one. "You're bladdered." He practically spat.

"Thanks for the insight, Sherlock." I countered with a mocking salute, and went to turn away again but there was that hand.

"Jesus, Ronan! Can't I just enjoy a night out? Thought you'd be the first person to egg me on!" I found myself exclaiming, only growing annoyed by the unnecessary exchange, by his rough touch.

I saw his jaw tick, the muscles work beneath the grit of his teeth, and instinctively took a deep breath.

With an exaggerated sniff, Ronan cut his eyes at me again, and even in my drunken haze, I knew that I’d made a mistake somewhere.

"Look, I'm sorry." I tried to backpedal, pulse quickening, "I'm just a little tipsy. Didn't mean to go off on you like that."

"Save it." Ronan grunted out, his hand grabbing at my arm once again, this time it was a lot harsher, heavier. So much so that I couldn't hide my wince, nor the sharp inhale. "We're leavin'."

My tongue fell slack as I attempted to swallow the weighty feeling in my throat, sobering up quickly just as Ronan began to tug me through the hordes of bustling clubbers.

It had been a long while since I had first walked away from the redhead. A drunken one night stand which had progressed into a recurring bad habit during my last year at uni, when I'd still been struggling to wrap my head around everything. Fighting back and forth with the idea of being with somebody, of allowing them to see me completely. Of learning how to trust.

In truth, I’d been at my lowest, and the first few times Ronan and I had slept together, I wasn't so sure that I'd been able to walk, much less jump into bed with someone I considered a mate, when I woke up the next morning. 

But I had brushed it aside, figuring that my inebriated mind had only gone after what my sober self had tried its best not to want.

I couldn't really recall the many people I'd got with during that odd period of time, I honestly hadn't wanted to remember much. But Ronan had been mixed in with a throng of others- bartenders, waiters, boys from my classes. And somewhere amongst them all, there had also been Teddy's dad. But the redhead had been a constant. Somewhat of a regular seeing as though I’d had a tiny crush on him way back when.

Then Teddy had obviously come along and I’d been forced to face the facts.

Ronan, as grand as he could often be, was jealous as the best of times, and sadistic at the worst. He didn't much like to share and the man tended to swing towards the belief that the people he had in and out of his bed were his to keep. 

And I wasn't demented enough to think that I'd deserved the treatment, but no one else had noticed back then, no one else could have understood. Then with the arrival of Teddy, Ronan hadn't been much interested in the likes of me anymore. And although I'd been adamant that we’d remain friends, I really hadn't seen much of anyone after leaving uni. And I’d been more than content with that fact for a long while now.

In a panicked breath, I fought for my mind to catch up with the rest of me just as I tore my arm from Ronan’s overbearing grip, causing me to stumble backwards into a large group gathered around a tall table. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

Came Ronan's heated voice, it was all that I could really focus on as I struggled to continue backwards, desperate to get away but not wanting to cause a scene. I whispered apologies under my breath without even thinking, tripping over my own feet in my haste.

"Mouse!"

The redhead was hot on my tail though, calling out to me again and again as he forced his way through the overlapping crowd that bustled between us. 

I continued with my sorry’s, murmuring to the people around me as I started to shove and push.

But I had been so focused on the voice coming towards me that I’d all but jumped right out of my skin when I heard my name echo in my ear. A quick flash and hands were settling themselves on my shoulders to still me. 

Impulsively, I jolted away, springing around to meet Alice's wide eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Alice. Alice, where's-" I struggled to get enough oxygen into my lungs as I fumbled for words, any words. The blinding fear and panic I should've been feeling only moments ago convulsed through me now like a tornado ripping effortlessly through a city.

"Mouse!" 

Was that Ronan again? 

My head throbbed with the thought, desperate now.

"Please, Alice."

I could feel the shortness of my breaths as they came out in huffs, my startled eyes flickering every which way as I searched for a way out. An escape.

"Mouse, what's happened? Mouse?" And oh, did I wish that she'd stop saying my name. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to catch a sight of familiar red.

Alice was hesitant to get any closer now after how I'd so violently flinched, but even through the foggy panic I felt I could see her evident worry.

"Mouse! Alice!"

I watched as Alice's troubled gaze trailed somewhere over my left shoulder, to a space just behind me, and I couldn't help the aggressive way I started to shake my head. Hoping she’d somehow understand. I was overreacting sure, but trembling so hard it almost hurt. It should’ve hurt, I thought.

"Matty." Was the first word that spewed out of my mouth, and I started repeating it like a prayer as I felt the walls of the bar begin to close in. And so, a more than concerned Alice nodded hurriedly at me before she cautiously draped an arm around my waist and started to lead me away.

I was almost certain that Ronan was still calling out, but I couldn't quite hear his voice anymore over the pounding in my ears and so I tried to focus on where we were going. I thought Alice was talking, too. But her voice was so gentle that I struggled to read her lips. 

People were flashing by and I noticed a familiar face pass us by then, but they looked far too alarmed and hurried on without a greeting smile, their arms stretched outwards to catch something behind us.

Alice stumbled on, only sparing a single glance backwards as she veered me out from the overwhelming crowd.

I could honestly think a little clearer now, eyes shuttered, flickering back and forth between everyone and everything. Though it all still felt too much.

"Just up here, okay, lovie?" Alice murmured, her presence soothing, safe.

I licked at my lower lip and dipped my head in acknowledgment. "Sorry." I replied breathlessly, voice faint.

Alice blinked at me owlishly and then frowned, before she then squeezed me closer to her side. "Had me worried there, babe, but you don't have to apologise. No need, alright?"

Before I could even think up a response, Alice was speaking again- only, not to me. I dragged my head back up upon hearing a familiar lilt and was bombarded with the sight of a staggered looking Matty. The bright smile he'd been wearing upon our arrival had been wiped away the second he’d gotten one good look at my face. 

"What the hell happened to you?"

The question made me think and my forehead furrowed at the sound of the unknown voice. I peered around slightly to find another man seated right beside Matty, he was of a similar build and with hair just as dark. Matty, who had jumped up to meet Alice and I as we drew closer to the booth, reached out for me.

The expression he wore confused me to no end but I couldn't question it, not when Alice was already handing me over to him, albeit with a bit of hesitancy.

"Is she okay?" Matty asked her briskly, his eyes never once leaving mine. I’d never seen them go so wide.

"She honestly came out of nowhere, practically on the verge of a panic attack and looking as though she'd just seen a ghost." Alice explained wearily, whilst Matty ushered me into the nearest seat. His seat.

He jerked his head at the man sitting opposite as he slid in after me, "Go get us some water, will you!"

The man, put on the spot, looked both alarmed and perplexed at the sudden order, but nodded at Matty all the same before he ducked quickly out of the booth.

"Who-" But my inquiry was cut off.

"Danny, mate of mine. Ignore him." Matty answered, somehow already knowing my question, as a careful hand came up to cup my chin, it guided my face closer so that I could get a better look at him. As gentle as Matty was whilst handling me though, I could see the venomous anger in his eyes, the emotions that warred there. "Who was it?"

I blinked slowly but didn’t look away. "What d’you mean?"

He inhaled slowly, so calm it would’ve been intriguing any other time. "It's obvious that something happened, Squeaks. So who was it?"

Squeaks. Squeaks. Squeaks.

I focused on the way my name curled around Matty’s soft spoken tongue.

"Babe." Matty tried to regain my attention and I felt a soft hand tap my shoulder before it dropped itself. "I can't make you tell me what happened but I want to know who to avoid when I try to get you out of here. You hearin’ me?"

I gaped slightly before hurrying to shake my head in return.

"No, no, it's fine, Matty. Honestly. I didn't, I didn’t mean to scare everyone. I'll be fine. I’m okay."

He levelled me with a look, and for some reason it made me feel as though we were the only two people in the room.

"Please don't lie to me. Not right now." 

Was what Matty came out with, his voice so steady that I truly did wonder whether he'd actually had a drop of alcohol tonight.

"I was raised by liars, can't stand lies." He added and I swallowed thickly.

Matty just sighed.

"Look, I can probably get us out the back door, alright? I'll get Danny to deal with anyone else." He told me, but only continued to ramble on as he pulled his mobile out from his front pocket, and then he was rambling down the phone to somebody else. 

I watched him all the while, still a little dazed from the blinding panic I’d just felt and the idea of Ronan still not being too far. My eyes wouldn’t leave Matty though, even with those thoughts, even though my body craved to search him out, to see if he was near. Head screaming with the intensity of it.

Matty gave me a tiny smile when he hung up and his hand came to rest over my forearm, a vast contradiction to the harsh grip I’d felt there earlier.

"I've got a car waiting outside, you okay with me dropping you home?"

My mum had always claimed I’d been far too proud, hated having other people take care of me, hated them doing the things I could easily do myself. But at that moment all I wanted was my bed. Was to be home. 

And so, taking a big leap, I jerked my head in a quick nod, if anyone could even call it that, and it felt like Matty understood just how much power I was giving up then when the man slid out of the booth and offered up a hand.

Still, I took it.