#and maybe ghost trick in there somewhere?

[probablygayattorneys]

I was going to make a comment about how that’s another in the books but then I realized… it’s not a just another in the books. It’s the final chapter. I read the last page. I’ve now played every single canon Layton game including his children’s spin-off, watched the movie, watched Kat’s anime… the book is over.

Her and I both need to find something new.

[bloggerspam]

Okay, but what if Danny, in an effort to be less of a liar and more of a cheater, learned sleight of hand and magic and lock picking?

What if, as he gets older and the need to explain how he got in somewhere, or how he got something, or how he got out of something gets to be so abysmally frequent that he just decides: fuck it. I’m gonna be that guy. You know, that guy that just Knows Weird Shit. That guy that just Does Things because he’s a little feral.  

Instead of risking his identity and/or getting shot at as Phantom he just...becomes the delinquent that breaks into random places just to see if he could. Just ‘cause he’s bored. If they coincide with Phantom’s activities? Well. Phantom’s a cool guy. Maybe he’s got taste. 

He’ll break out some card tricks, do a little invisibility, make a little telekinesis happen--just cool little party tricks in the middle of the day. Break into locked closets just to ditch class purely because “fiddling with his magic tricks is better than class” (and totally not because he’s out there fighting ghosts, no sirree). 

Practices incessantly during lunch hours. Starts trying to break out of handcuffs in math class. A little bit of a routine with escape artist tricks applied liberally to get out of English class. Tries to see if a teacher can catch him in the act. (They never can, and it only takes a couple months for it to be purely on his skill, and not with a little help from his powers).

Loudly proclaims he’s trying to hunt Phantom, but not to “rip him apart,” just to hang because Danny thinks he’s really neat. 

Imagine that being Danny’s best fucking cover, cause at this point, whose gonna question why Danny is standing right where Phantom just disappeared to? Danny probably broke in just to stalk the poor ghost. Jesus. He’s been in weirder places for weirder reasons. He once pulled a rabbit out of some kid’s ear. His reason? 

“I just thought the coin trick was so dull. Plus, you know, bunny ears? ...No? Too much of a stretch? Yeah I thought so too. Oh, well. Back to the drawing board I guess.”

[wholoveseggs]

~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~

One-Shot Edition

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

♡A date with Elijah♡

You are at the compound to confess your feelings to Elijah, as your nerves get the better of you, he finds a way to help you relax.

In celebration of getting to one-hundred followers I wrote some smutty one-shots based on my dating the mikaelsons headcanons.

♡ Thanks for all the love and support ♡

Warnings: smut, oral, my bias towards Elijah cannot be tamed ♡♡

{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Two - Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel}

Your heart was beating so rapidly you were sure he heard it before you even entered the compound. As you passed the iron gates you held your hand out, observing how much you were trembling. You took slow, deep breaths, willing yourself to relax. 

You had been nervous before you'd come but nothing like this. When you and Elijah had first met you had felt an instant connection. You could tell the attraction was mutual. His eyes watched you as you moved around the room, scanning your body. But he made no move towards you, that was just his nature, always polite, always a gentleman.

But that had been five weeks ago. The air was alight with tension. You had practically fucked him with your eyes, you had pulled every trick in the book to seduce him, and it seemed as though he was unphased. 

You sighed heavily, and you wondered if he actually did like you. Maybe you had completely misread the situation and were falling for a man that you didn't even stand a chance with.

But today was the day you were going to put yourself on the line. You were going to lay it all out, either he accepted or he rejected you. And hopefully rejected didn't mean get the hell out.

You stood with your hand on the banister, psyching yourself up to make the move and knock on his door. You cursed when you lost your nerve and stepped to the bottom of the stairs, pacing up and down on the landing.

At the fifth round of pacing you stopped and let out a frustrated cry. Even if he didn't feel the same, he wouldn't be cruel, he would be polite and let you down gently and try to not make things awkward. If you didn't just do it now you were never going to be brave enough.

"Hello there," his deep, intoxicating voice interrupted your internal anguish.

"H...hello," you said, standing in shock. He smiled down at you, a true, genuine smile and you suddenly relaxed.

"Are you alright? What are you doing here?" he asked, a little confused at seeing you standing on the compound's staircase looking like you had just seen a ghost.

"Well, I...I came to see you...I, er I wanted to talk to you...can we talk?" you blurted. You chewed the inside of your cheek as you tried to compose yourself, you felt like a teenage girl asking a boy on a date, and the realization made you smile to yourself.

"Is everything ok? Is it Niklaus?" he asked, a little concerned, he moved to the bottom of the steps, slightly closer to you.

"Everything is ok, I promise. Can we talk somewhere private? Privately? Privately...alone..." you babbled. Your nerves were getting the better of you as he had taken you completely by surprise with his sudden appearance.

He laughed a soft, low, melodic laugh and the sound flooded your stomach with butterflies, your hands began to shake again. He noticed you trembling, and took your hands in his, rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs, his actions completely not helping your nerves.

"Your heart is beating quite fast. Are you sure you're feeling quite alright?" he asked with a slight smirk.

You nodded, a little breathless. He was close, so close, too close, you looked down at the floor, finding it hard to meet his eyes, you never realized how intimate holding hands could be.

"Where would you like to go to talk? Somewhere you feel comfortable?" he asked softly, concern creeping into his voice.

"Your bedroom," you blurted again, then wished the earth would swallow you up. You just couldn't help yourself. He seemed to find it amusing, once again letting out the delightful laugh that made your stomach turn backflips, 

"Are you suggesting that I take you to bed?" he asked, teasing you.

You blushed, so thankful that he was flirting and you hadn't fucked everything up. It was reassuring enough for you to look him in the eye and tease him back.

"Are you saying you'd like to take me to bed?" you replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

He watched you carefully for a moment, then suddenly got serious. He took another step closer, your hands still firmly grasped in his. He brought them up to his mouth, kissing the back of your hands, never breaking eye contact. You felt weak, your heart was hammering in your chest and you willed yourself to make a move.

You pulled him in closer, closing the distance between your lips, his hand moved to the back of your neck, gently drawing you in, cradling your head. Your lips barely touched at first, your eyes remained open, studying each others expressions. Elijah brought his lips to yours again, this time, it was gentle, soft, passionate. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling his lips slowly move against yours, his other hand on the small of your back, pressing your body against his.

You parted, your breathing heavy and labored, he rested his forehead against yours, not allowing too much distance. He stroked his thumb over your cheek, looking deep into your eyes, suddenly you weren't worried anymore, not even a little bit. You knew he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

He pressed his lips to yours once more, in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulled away, taking your hand in his, "Come," was all he said, his face tender and loving as he gently led you up the stairs.

You reached his bedroom, he turned to face you, a small, shy smile on his lips. You had never seen him look shy or nervous before. His eyes met yours and he cupped your face, stroking your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

"Is this why you came here today?" he asked, his voice quiet, unsure.

You nodded, a slow smile forming, your hands resting on his chest. "Why did you think I came?"

He shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"Elijah, I've been flirting with you since the first day I met you. I was hoping it would get to a point where you would want to kiss me," you smiled, reaching up and stroking his hair.

He gave you a shy grin and averted his gaze before looking at you, clearly wanting to say something, not sure if he should. 

"You are so beautiful, and my world is not," he said with a gentle sigh.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, "Your world isn't that bad," you said softly.

He smirked a little, but there was still a sadness in his eyes. "Many of my lovers have met unfortunate ends," he let out, still caressing your cheek.

You knew he had a past. And no doubt a lot of blood was on his hands, but he had also saved lives and killed for the sake of life. There was good in him, and a sort of selflessness that was rare in any person.

"You deserve to be happy, Elijah," you said honestly. "You are allowed to love," you looked up at him, hoping that he would understand, that he would believe in himself just like you believed in him.

He didn't say anything for a while, he was used to pushing his feelings down. He seemed to be searching for words, his arms wrapped around your waist, bringing you closer.

You pressed your lips to his in a gentle kiss, and he let out a content sigh, his body losing its tension. You pulled away and glanced at his bed then back to him, desperate for him to finally make a move. He smiled a gentle, almost apologetic smile and kissed you again, more passionate this time.

His kisses were soft yet fierce, driven by need, a hunger that he was fighting to contain. You melted against him, letting him lead the kiss, letting his tongue move over yours as he deepened it.

You moved together towards his bed, never breaking your kiss. You felt the back of your knees hit the mattress and you sat, looking up at Elijah, his eyes gentle, his smile soft as he knelt before you, removing your boots.

It was the sweetest gesture, so sexy and intimate. He kissed your calf as he unzipped one and tugged it off, before moving to your other leg and doing the same, never breaking eye contact. You opened your legs slightly, your skirt riding up your thighs and he moved between them.

He kissed you again, slow and sensuous, you unbuttoned his shirt as his fingers slipped beneath your top. Your eyes closed, feeling his fingertips on your back as he lifted your top over your head.

You finished unbuttoning his shirt, slipping it off him and pulling him closer. Your breasts pressed against his bare chest, his arms wrapping around your body. You ran your fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp before kissing him.

He watched you with nothing but adoration, his hands massaging your back before placing them on your waist. You could tell that he wanted to take his time, he was enjoying the foreplay, teasing and savoring each moment. You desperately wanted him to speed up though, feeling his kisses move from your lips, down your neck, his tongue gently darting over your skin.

A moan escaped your lips and your eyes closed as he reached your chest. You panted a little, breathing heavily and you felt him grin against your skin. A sexy, playful smirk formed on his lips as he unhooked your bra.

Your hands found his chest and slowly ran them down his smooth, muscled torso, coming to his belt, swiftly undoing it, and throwing it to the side. He chuckled as you wriggled from his grasp, scooting back onto the bed. You leaned back, resting on your elbows, admiring the gorgeous man that had knelt before you.

Elijah took his time just watching you, his gaze roaming over your curves, taking everything in. You took the opportunity to take your skirt off, leaving you in just your panties. He crawled onto the bed and up your body, your legs wrapping around his waist as he reached you.

He gently kissed you, reaching his hand behind your head, cradling you as he explored your mouth. You softly moaned, grinding against him, growing more impatient and needy. He seemed content to kiss you for a while, moving his mouth from yours to tease your neck.

"Elijah," you panted, squirming beneath him, begging for more.

He smirked against your neck and stopped his torture, sliding your panties down your legs, his fingers, gently brushing your calves. His mouth moved to your thigh and he pressed his lips to your skin before hovering just above where you wanted to feel him the most.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against your pussy, his hot breath making you tremble. You bucked your hips against him, urging him on, not wanting to beg, trying to keep the upper hand. He seemed to enjoy seeing you squirm, it made him chuckle a little and finally, finally put his mouth where you needed.

He looked up and gave you a devious smirk. His dark eyes pierced yours and your mouth fell open, letting out a deep moan as he slowly flattened his tongue against you and licked along the length of your pussy, swirling around your clit.

You ran your hands through his hair, feeling his tongue begin its torment, slowly licking, sucking, kissing and tasting, taking his time. Your eyes fluttered shut, panting, tugging on his hair when he hooked your leg over his shoulder and began to fuck you with his tongue.

Your whole body was trembling, the pleasure increasing with each flick and thrust of his tongue. When his mouth closed over your clit and he began sucking gently, you knew that it wouldn't be long before he turned you into a shaking, trembling mess.

But he had other ideas.

You opened your eyes, squirming and desperate, as he completely pulled away. He kneeled up, smirking at your disappointed face.

"You look so beautiful like this," he said softly, stroking your thigh. Before leaning over you as he slowly slid his hand up your stomach and over your breasts, stopping to lightly pinch your nipples.

"Enough teasing, Elijah," you whispered breathlessly, bucking your hips, grinding your pussy against nothing.

His smirk grew even wider, the corner of his mouth twisting, taking one of your hands in his. "Soon, darling," he breathed against your ear. He leaned against you, his muscular chest was warm and firm with the light sprinkling of chest hairs tickling your skin.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked quietly, one arm on the side of your head, the other lacing his fingers with yours, pinning your hand above you.

It was sweet and unexpected, and you couldn't resist, leaning up and kissing him softly. "I'm sure," you whispered against his lips.

You reached around to tug on his pants, signaling that you had had enough of his torment. He smirked and leaned back to grant you access, watching you with amusement as you unzipped him.

You slid your hands inside, freeing his already hard cock, biting your lip, feeling the weight of him in your hands. You gently stroked him, his eyes fluttering shut as he enjoyed the feeling, then a small, dark grin graced his features.

He intertwined his hands with yours, settling himself between your legs. He hovered over you, looking deep into your eyes. There were so many things he wanted to say, you could see it in the way his eyes darted over your face, emotions going from lust to admiration to wonderment, hopefulness. But he didn't, he didn't need to, he had his own way with words.

He cradled the back of your head, your faces almost touching as he finally eased into you, watching, waiting for you to tell him that he could keep going. You wrapped your legs around his waist and nodded, causing his entire body to relax as he began to move.

There was nothing rushed, or fast, or driven by animalistic desire. His movements were gentle, slow, considered and loving. He caressed you as he rested his weight on his forearms either side of your head, rocking gently.

"You feel so good," he groaned, capturing your lips in his, with a slow, deep, sensual kiss.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth, each thrust drawing gasps and groans from you both. His arm wandered down to the small of your back, resting the weight of your lower body against him, so the rest of you was pressed into the mattress.

This new angle made everything more intense, hitting the most sensitive part inside of you, each movement of his hips bringing you closer to the edge.

Your fingers ran through his hair, the feeling of him thrusting over and over, in a gentle, rolling motion was overwhelming every sense. You crushed your mouth against his, needy and desperate, hoping that it would convey your feelings you couldn't express with words. 

You couldn't hold on any longer, your cheeks flushed as you buried your face in his shoulder, letting out a soft guttural moan. Every nerve ending flooded with pleasure, your vision began to blur, you were completely overcome by your orgasm.

Elijah softly chuckled, looking pleased with himself, feeling you tense around him. You whimpered slightly, your hands clasping his biceps as you came down from the high. He nipped at your ear, his lips ghosting along your neck, sending a thrill through your body.

"You make such pretty sounds," he murmured, his words turning you on again as he started to thrust a little harder, to the pace he needed.

You avoided his gaze, slightly embarrassed, and he tilted your chin up, bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. You squealed a little, surprised at his sudden passion and force, his thrusts pushing you into bed. You moaned into his mouth, his movements becoming more erratic, harder. You held onto his shoulders for support, wrapping your legs around his hips, feeling him pound into you.

He gripped your thighs, pushing your knees up around your waist, the new position allowed him to penetrate deep, and your whimpers grew louder and higher. He gave you a dark smile, clearly enjoying the fact that he could turn you into a moaning mess.

You buried your face in his shoulder again as he kept pounding you, making you tingly and light-headed. You wanted it to last forever, the way he was fucking you as if his life depended on it. His need for you and the relentless friction as his cock moved in and out of you brought you to the edge once more.

He smirked, his eyes piercing yours, leaning back, his thumb slid between you, gently playing with your clit. You cried out, your nails digging into his arms as your release overwhelmed you.

Your mouth fell open and your body contracted, the moment was so intense, a whole-body experience, Elijah didn't let up, fucking you right through it. Your moans grew louder, he was relentless, his thrusts getting harder and faster. His hands grasped the back of your thighs, gripping and spreading them wide as he buried himself deep inside of you.

His own smirk became strained as he stared down at you in delight. You knew, when he pressed his body against yours, your lips with his, he was about to find his own release.

Elijah let out the sexiest, deepest groan into your mouth, barely moving as he filled you with his cum. You stroked his hair and as he lay on top of you, his eyes closed, enjoying the bliss.

His kiss turned tender, loving and passionate and he laced his fingers with yours, squeezing gently. You smiled, kissing him softly and he rolled over, pulling you to his side, running his hands through your hair.

You intertwined your legs and rested your head on his chest, glancing up at him every now and then. He was enjoying the moment, both of you basking in the glorious glow of your love-making.

"Why were you so nervous?" he asked softly, twirling a lock of your hair around his fingers, a sweet and almost boyish grin spreading over his lips.

You blushed, thinking back to a mere hour ago, when your nerves were absolutely wrecked. "I thought you wouldn't feel the same. I was terrified that I'd scare you away," you explained, burying your face in his chest, embarrassed that you had felt scared.

Elijah gently took your chin, guiding you to look at him. He ran his fingers down your cheek, smiling fondly. "How could I not feel the same? Since the moment I first laid eyes on you, you've set my heart alight."

You felt the butterflies return, how could you have doubted him? Him of all people. He was the most romantic and sincere person you had ever met, he simply refused to express his feelings unless they were true.

"So... That's a yes?" 

"To?" Elijah asked, an amused grin growing on his face as he waited for your response.

"You want to go out sometime?" you asked, only a little shy this time.

He laughed a deep, genuine laugh, wrapping his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"I would like nothing more."

{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Two - Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel}

♡♡ Thanks for reading my a date with... series! please check out the other ones if you haven't already ♡♡

[forestshadow-wolf]

Ghost getting hurt on an op and he goes down. Soap has to drag him to exfil, and the longer it takes the closer ghost gets to falling unconscious. By the time they get to the extract point Ghost is fully unconscious and is not waking up, even with the stims pumping through him.

The helo touches down and soap wastes no time hoisting Ghost aboard. Soap curses his luck when he rips open the medkit only to find it fucking unstocked! What the hell is he supposed to do with that shit! He's got no more gauze, used it all to pack the wound, and Ghost is still bleeding through it.

He makes a decision, shucking his gear, and wadding his shirt up to press into the wound. They're still in hostile territory, a no fly zone no less, but with any luck they'll be out within the hour. Ghost doesn't have an hour, not with the amount of blood he's losing.

When they touch back on base Price already has medical waiting for them. But Ghost is not looking good, he'd already gone way too pale long ago, but now it's getting so thin Soap could trick himself into thinking it's going translucent, and soap can't find his pulse anymore but he's breathing, so he must mean alive.

The doctors shove him out of the way, and he stumbles back as the attch wires and tubes to Ghost. And then they cart him away, and with it, Soap's grasp on reality. Price..... right. Price needs a debrief. So soap follows his captain.

He doesn't remember anything until he looks down at his trembling hands beneath the scalding water. He doesn't remember a lick of it, but it happened, and somehow he made it to the showers on his own. He thinks maybe he tried to go see Ghost, but that someone stopped him.

And now it's just him, and the water. The water's hot. Really hot. Like blood. And pink. Like- oh. Right. The blood. Ghost's blood. It's... that why he was in the shower. Because Ghost was bleeding. And now there's blood on him. It keeps coming. It's so much. Almost... too much. Like... like it's coming from somewhere. But. That's not right. Because Ghost isn't bleeding on him anymore more. He- he- what- it like- the hot water makes it hard to breath and his vision swims.

[moongreenlight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who despite his better judgement lets Soap talk him into picking up a girl for the night.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Apparently Soap knows a guy who knows a guy in the area they’re deployed. They’d been staying at some shithole inn in France for weeks. Driving into the city to stake out some mark day in and day out. Tedious, mind-numbing work. Sitting at cafes and on patios at pubs people watching. Looking for anyone that may or may not match the vague description that had been provided by some mole on the other side.

Simon could sit still and shut up. Johnny was a separate issue. He could dial in for a few hours at a time, but then he’d start to slip. Bored and antsy, he’d try and strike up conversation. Inevitably returning to what must have been his favorite topic, or the one thing plaguing his mind the most. He’s horny. Fucking hell, is he horny.

Bitching and whining about not being able to get any play here because he doesn’t speak a lick of French and even when he tries it comes out so muddied that nobody takes him seriously. And that the inn they’re set up at is years away from town. Paints him out to be a serial killer.

Simon would grind his teeth and endure yet another one-sided talk about how bored Johnny had been getting of his hand. Even the left one wasn’t doing the trick anymore. He’d resorted to calling in some favors he was apparently owed to get the help of some girls in his evenings off.

“Jesus. Lookit the legs on her.”

Johnny had almost fallen out of his chair swiveling his entire body to watch some girl in a short skirt and a long trench coat stride past their spot outside of a cafe.

“Mhm.”

Simon was in a better spot to watch her pass. Eyeing her frame from over the rim of his steaming mug of tea. Fucking dreadful day. Drizzling rain. Bordering on sleet because of how miserable the weather was. Cloudy with a breeze that felt bitterly cold even through his coat. Shit tea, too. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander.

Not like they’d made any progress. Not like they could make any progress being staked out on a side street with no traffic whatsoever. The girl had been the only person other than their server that they’d seen come by in the last half hour. And sure, she had good legs. Better than their server’s at least. Some cranky older woman who’d ignored his attempts to order in French and looked mugged off that she had to deal with them at all, especially sat outside in this weather.

“Hell’s bells. Almost forgot you had a brain in there somewhere.”

Johnny, of course, couldn’t resist making a dig.

“Don’t get carried away.”

Simon grunted.

“Naw. C’mon, L.T. You like girls? They’ve got girls.”

Should have predicted that he was going to run wild with this.

“M’warnin’ you.”

“Loads of girls. Fuckin’ customizable. Send you a preference sheet and everything. Real professional operation.”

Johnny snickered into his paper coffee cup. Given to him along with a nasty look when he’d fidgeted with the ceramic mug he’d first had a bit too much and sent it smashing into the pavement.

Simon wasn’t one to be jerked around cock-first like Johnny, but Jesus. He was wearing thin. Maybe the isolation was getting to him. Maybe a seed had been planted somewhere deep in his mind from Johnny’s moaning. Not to mention, it was impossible to get it up watching French cable porn on a twin bed. He was backed-up and pissed off with the work. And with no end in sight, it could push a man to do strange things.

He shifted his hips forward in his seat, taking a long drink of his tea as he scanned the empty street for the umteenth time.

“Haven’t used up all your favors?”

You would have thought he’d just backhanded Johnny the way his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Gie’s a break.”

“Jus’ a question.”

Simon shrugged, sighing like he was already regretting asking. He was.

“Don’t work me up over nothin’, L.T.”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows and leaning his forearms onto the table. Now completely distracted from the task at hand.

“Johnny.”

“Sure I could work somethin’ out. Only ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous. Ken yer a’right owing me a favor?”

Simon snorted.

“Sure I can manage.”

Johnny’s eyes were glinting something awful. More lively than he’d been in days. Practically laying over the table and kicking his feet. Thrilled to finally have the means to something Simon wanted.

“We’ll see about that’.”

Conversation moved on. Dragged back to the mission with instruction to change location. They spent a full ten hours out in the rain and the cold and the grey for absolutely no payout. Again. Still at square goddamn one. It was arguably worse than combat. Least on a real mission he’d get some release.

Johnny had stepped away in the early evening to make a call. Just before they were tapped out by Price and Gaz. Likely cashing in his favors owed, because he came back with a smug smile and two pints. Saying something about how Simon needed to quit taking himself so seriously. All work and no play or some stupid shit to that tune. Made a comment in passing on their drive back to the inn about how he should get his quarters decent by nine.

Honestly, Simon wasn’t expecting much. It was a bit of a ridiculous concept to him to begin with. He’d regretted saying anything straight after the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to entertain some two-bit whore, even if she just served to curb his boredom. He never sought out things like this. Never felt the need. He wasn’t like Johnny or Gaz where he had to sneak off during missions for a wank or a quick fuck when time allowed. Not like Price where he’d seek a willing nurse or secretary to grope or bend over his desk on a day off. Sure, he’d take the opportunity if it arose, but he was always more focused on the job while he was at work rather than chasing his next high.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken anyone home. Fucked into his hand as much was necessary to keep everything operational. Knew when it was time when he started lashing out on a hairpin trigger. Got lazy on missions. Lost one too many sparring matches during training because he couldn’t focus.

So when nine came and went, he just found himself agitated that he’d requested the woman at the front desk change the sheets on his bed again so late. Ducking out to the balcony for a cigarette when she came in and slipping her a few euros on her way out despite the way her lip curled distastefully. Fucking frogs.

He was sat on the armchair in the corner of his room. Halfway paying attention to whatever channel was on the TV across from him and nursing a tumbler of shit whiskey he’d picked up from the shops their first night in. Swapped his mission clothes for a black tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Tugging his balaclava over his face out of pure habit. Strictly instructed not to wear it out for the sake of keeping a low profile. Though he wasn’t sure how much good that did. He stood out from the crowd with his scars and crooked nose and tattoos without the covering. Whatever. Wardrobe wasn’t his job for a reason he supposed.

The sharp knock on his door grated heavily on his last nerve. Eliciting a low growl, but no movement to answer. It was half ten at this point. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just another group of teenagers lost on their way to a friend’s room.

Another knock, and this time it didn’t stop. A muffled giggle through the door.

“Jesus Christ.”

He grumbled, shoving up and striding over to the door. Jerking the door open and using his hulking frame to cover the small opening he allowed.

Johnny’s fist nearly collided with Simon’s jaw. Distracted by the two girls stood behind him in the hall, giggling at him and batting their lashes. He was grinning like a goddamned devil. Chest puffed-out, shoulders rolled back. Entirely too comfortable.

Simon cocked a brow, giving the group a scornful once-over.

“Aye, L.T.! I come bearing gifts.”

Simon’s brow shot up further, eyes flicking from his friend to each of the girls behind him. Johnny immediately caught on to his confusion and barked a laugh, slinging his arm around the shoulder of the girl on the left. She sunk comfortably into position, leaning into him and giggling like it had been rehearsed.

She was pretty. Both of the girls were. The one tucked under Johnny’s arm had long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bright green eyes. Great smile. Perfectly groomed. Both of them covered conservatively by long coats to protect from the rain that had gradually started to come down harder and colder through the day. Hard to tell they were hooking by looking at them.

They seemed more familiar with Johnny than what Simon could assume was normal. It made his stomach turn if he thought too much into it, so he didn’t. Instead he side stepped, allowing the second girl barely enough room to slip through the door, and jerked his head for her to move.

“S’pose I know better than to expect a thank you.”

Johnny grinned, entirely unbothered by Simon’s glare that was boring through his skull. Arm already wandering down the auburn haired girl’s back at an alarming speed.

“Not as dim as you look, Sargent.”

Simon sighed, snapping the door shut.

“You’re late.”

He said flatly before he’d even finished locking the door. Turning to face the girl who’d already made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Leaned back on her hands, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Throwing off your schedule, am I?”

You said, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. This made Simon recoil slightly. He’d been expecting some trashy, mildly-disgusting woman to come stumbling through the door when Johnny had mentioned he was cashing in favors. Not you. Not by a long shot. You looked, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Expensive. Perfectly styled, glossy hair. A tasteful amount of makeup. Not so much that it marred your features, but enough to make you nearly unapproachably attractive. And relatively covered-up. Expensive looking fur-trimmed coat falling just above your ankle.

Noticeable lack of a French accent. And you weren’t cowering in his presence, which suggested that you’d dealt with worse than him. A thought that sent something strange down his spine. Jealousy maybe? Anger? Sympathy? He wasn’t in the mood to dig further into that.

He crossed the room, lowering himself back into the armchair he’d been stationed in before his night was interrupted.

“You’re an hour and a half late.”

His tone was clipped. His eyes cold and hard. Fixed directly on you in an almost invasive kind of eye-contact. He jerked up his balaclava to his nose to take a deep drink from his glass. Studying you from over the rim. Killing the contents and setting it back on the side table with a soft thud.

You pursed your lips for a fraction of a second, standing from the corner of the bed and pacing across the small room to stand in front of him. Threatening to encroach on his personal space. Smiling tightly in a way that seemed to come with a practiced nonchalance. That same feeling settled in the center of his stomach.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

Your soft, sweet tone did nothing to tame his irritation.

“They couldn’t even send a professional?”

He shot back tersely, folding his arms over his chest. You cocked your head slightly to the side. A fraction of genuine humor peeking through your smile.

“Plenty professional.”

You shrugged, letting the comment roll off of you. Water off a duck’s back. It irritated Simon to no end and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Trying to settle his mind by watching the way your perfectly manicured fingers began to work on slowly undoing the buttons of your coat with careful attention.

He snorted, tugging his balaclava back down over his jaw.

“That your thing, then?”

You gestured to his face covering. Shrugging off your coat to reveal a fucking scrap of a dress. Much more in-line with what he’d imagined a hooker to wear. A tiny, black, strapless thing that hugged your curves like it had been sewn directly onto you. Black lace garter pulled high on your thigh. Knee-height black boots that must have made you four inches taller than you were.

He cocked a brow, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You cracked a true smile at that. Folding your coat neatly in your arms before setting it on the beat-up dresser to his right. Returning attentively to your spot in front of him.

He stiffened. Already perfect posture becoming rigid to the point of snapping. Keeping his hands firmly planted on either arm of the chair. Narrowing his eyes as he looked over your face in much closer detail.

“It’s late.”

Was all he managed. Voice rough as ever.

“And?”

You tilted your head like a confused dog.

“And you were an hour and a half late. It’s late.”

He shot back dryly. Nails digging into the chair.

“Let me make it up to you.“

You sank to your knees just between his legs surprisingly gracefully given how tight your dress was. Falling delicately onto the disgusting carpet. Faded and torn and fraying. Scratching at your bare knees. Didn’t even pull a face. Conditioned to understand that this was normal. Trained to grin and bear it. Another stone added to the weight anchoring him to his seat.

It was horribly cliche. Such a painfully tacky line, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; so he shifted his hips forward and allowed your slender fingers to dance up his thighs and dip under the waistband of his sweatpants. Aided you in tugging them down to his ankles. Grit his teeth together when you began palming him through his underwear. Trying not to catch your eyes that were fixed up on him. Trying to push the nagging voice in the back of his mind away. Reminding him of just how dirty this was. Made him feel fucking pathetic. Calling in the aid of a hooker like he couldn’t bed a girl himself.

And the worst part. The part that brought up the most self-loathing; was how fucking fast the blood was racing to his cock under your touch. How much he truly enjoyed seeing you knelt down and blinking up at him with a look that could have been confused for adoration. Maybe you were a professional.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when you finally sprung his aching cock free from his boxers. Forcing his head back to avoid your gaze. Pressing it hard against the wall to the point of giving himself a headache. Scarring the soft wood of the chair’s arms with his nails when you licked a hot stripe from his base to the tip.

All of his guilt and knotted up emotions seemed to dissolve themselves at least partially when you wrapped your lips around him. He’d almost forgotten just how warm a mouth was. Infinitely better than his hand. Jesus, was it.

He kept his hands to himself. Not needing to guide you like he had so many others. Tried to let himself relax under the feeling of your hand gripping his base and your mouth working his tip. And he nearly did get swept away when you removed your hand and tried to force his stiff cock to the back of your throat. Allowing you to work at choking and gagging around him for longer than was probably polite. But again, he just found himself irritated. Edging himself out of pure goddamn accident because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself from his mind.

He couldn’t understand why you were such a sticking point to him. He’d had one night stands before. Hell, that’s all he’d had. Never cared much about the quality or condition or history of the girls he slept with. Maybe he had a savior complex he was too stubborn to admit to. Maybe his mind had been so warped and addled over the years that he formed some kind of baseless connection with you for God knew what reason. He just couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.

He would have liked to. Would have liked to screw his eyes shut and focus on how good you felt wrapped around him. Mouth hot and wet. Wanted to focus on the ecstasy of your throat struggling to fit him. Listen to your soft, choked whines. Let himself pretend you were no different to the others he’d bedded before, but it was fruitless. He made a low sound, a growl that lodged itself somewhere in his chest, before taking your jaw in his hand and pulling you off of him. Cock still throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

“You need to go.”

He made the mistake of glancing down. Saw the way your perfect makeup had begun smearing around your eyes and down your cheeks just barely. Big eyes rimmed with tears. Nose running, chin and lips glistening. Slick from your own spit. It nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew inevitably he was prolonging his own torture.

“What?”

Your voice was hoarse because of how much strain your throat had been under. Softer than it had been. Less confident. You looked almost hurt. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and sniffing softly. Jaw held fixed in his hand.

“You need to go.”

He repeated, firmer this time. Sucking his teeth. Trying to ignore the way your gentle panting cooled the shining trails of spit running down his shaft and sent a chill up his spine.

Your face twisted in confusion, mouth falling open. Leaning back on your haunches to look him over like he’d suddenly grown another head.

“Is it not good?”

He groaned softly, finally letting go of your head. Not realizing just how much effort it had taken for him to pull you off until he saw the small red marks decorating the delicate skin of your jaw.

“S’fine.”

“Fine?”

You looked properly offended. A little confused. Like this had never happened before- and it probably hadn’t. Of course he’d be the one to stain your perfect record. Of course he’d be the one to warp your pretty face like that. Drove him up the fucking wall.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now he was backed-up, pissed off, and you wouldn’t leave as easily as he would’ve liked. If he was lucky, he’d still have half a hard-on by the time he got you out the door. Maybe coax out a less than satisfying orgasm that would at least put him to sleep.

“Gave myself lockjaw for fine?”

You spoke again, those same nimble fingers now gently massaging the hinge of your jaw. He tried to avoid looking at the way your dress bunched around your hips and revealed your panties. Black lace that matched the garter on your thigh.

“It’s late.”

He huffed a sigh. Leaning down to fumble in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Needing anything else to focus on. It brought him nearly nose to nose with you. Not realizing until he flicked his eyes up. And you didn’t recoil. Sat there half glaring at him, the tip of your nose almost brushing his through the balaclava. You were pretty even this close. Probably more so.

“You’ve said.”

You shot back cooly, brows knit together.

“Have I?”

He pulled back up, hooking his mask up over his nose once more and sticking the cigarette between his teeth.

“Few times.”

You looked wholly unamused. He flicked his lighter open. Lighting the tip and taking a deep drag.

“Meant it a few times.”

He shrugged, speaking through his exhale. Turning his chin up and away from you so the curling smoke didn’t wash over you.

You snorted, pushing up to your feet, putting your hands on your hips and giving him a once-over.

“You’re seriously asking me to leave?”

His teeth sunk into the butt of the cigarette just a fraction too hard. He felt the crunch of the filter bending under the force.

“S’not you, it’s me.”

He offered. A wisp of a dry smile tugging momentarily at the corner of his lips. This earned another smile from you. He caught it even through the way you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“You married?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He almost choked on the cloud of smoke he’d been drawing in.

“No.”

His voice was harsh. Like a string pulled taught to the point of snapping.

“So what is it? You don’t like me?”

You shifted your weight a bit, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were uncomfortable. You still held yourself confidently. Shoulders rolled back, posture straight but not stiff.

“Bloody hell.”

He groaned, rubbing his brow.

“Is that it, then?”

You prodded further.

“No.”

You seemed thoroughly dissatisfied with his answers. But he didn’t know what else he could say. You seemed fine. Pretty girl. Got him closer to an orgasm than he’d come in weeks. He just couldn’t get over the fact that you were hired out to do this. Made him feel too dirty. That and he’d already looked too far into the situation. You seemed like you’d been doing this longer than anyone should have to. Strangely enough he felt some obligation to protect you. Wanted to pull you away from whatever situation that had pushed you to this.

“So what’s the hang up?”

You huffed a sigh.

“Don’t usually do this.”

He grunted out, resigning to the fact that he’d have to drink himself to sleep at this point. Leaning down to jerk his sweatpants back up his legs.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You snarked back. He snorted a humorless chuckle from around the cigarette.

“Nothin’ against you.”

“Yeah, alright.”

You shook your head, a small smile curving your mouth. A mix of confusion and amusement. Like you couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

“I’m not in the business of I.O.U’s.”

You said, looking over your shoulder while you walked over to grab your coat from the dresser.

“S’at so?”

He ashed his cigarette into his empty glass. Trying not to snort when you flashed him a sour look.

“You’re sure? I’m supposed to be here all night.”

You were already fastening the buttons on your coat. Glancing past him to the window on the back wall of the small room. The curtains were drawn, but through the backlight of the street lamps outside you could see rain streaking the glass.

“Mhm”

He hummed his answer. Silently grateful that you were finally moving toward leaving. Least he’d be able to get a few hours of shut eye before having to go back out tomorrow. Hopefully sleep off the guilt and the slightly sick feeling that’d settled itself over him.

You left a few minutes later. After making absolutely certain he was sure. Then it was ‘cheers’ and he was dead bolting the door. He got a fresh glass and downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Not enough to even get him tipsy, but enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep for the few hours he allowed himself.

He should have been expecting that Johnny would give him a fucking earful in the days following. You must’ve said something to the auburn haired girl and it got around. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him shit like he was getting paid to do it. Couldn’t believe that he’d pass up an opportunity like that.

They got shipped back to base about a week later. Simon was thankful for the short break. Slowly working on forgetting the entire mission. The whole ordeal with you. Focused his efforts on training and filling out the endless towers of paperwork that’d gathered on the edge of his desk in his absence.

And then it was months later. And he’d made good progress on forgetting France. Mission was a bust. Wasted time and money and effort for no payout. Turns out their mark had been in Germany the entire time. Tipped off that they were on the lookout for him. Johnny slowly stopped his teasing. Only occasionally bringing it up when Simon dismissed the efforts of an overly eager private. Things went back to normal.

After getting intel on a new assignment, Price had urged the boys to get together at some pub by base for drinks on him. Chat about next steps and do some more of the team bonding he was so keen on. Simon grudgingly obliged. The bar was full of people seeing as it was a Friday, so he was content people-watching and grunting a few words when prompted. Decent way to kill a few hours.

He’d excused himself to go outside for a smoke, pushing through the crowd until he finally reached the side alley next to the pub. Taking a few long moments to work his way through a cigarette and let his head stop pounding from the noise of the inside. He wasn’t focused on anything in particular, at least not until he heard some shouting on the street.

He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing off the brick he’d been leaned against and sidling out to see what was going on. Not usually interested in the commotion, but moving out of some deep-rooted obligation to supervise a situation.

He saw a car with dark tinted windows rolling slowly down the road. The driver leaning half-out his window and shouting something over to a girl who was walking by herself down the sidewalk. Her back was to Simon, but he could tell by how stiff she was that this wasn’t a friendly exchange.

He groaned under his breath, taking a moment to debate on if he should get involved before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. Starting down the street toward the girl.

It didn’t take him long to close the distance between them. The girl was walking slowly, he could see the way her head was on a swivel, searching for an escape. The driver of the car was shouting something crass at her and she was making a point of not engaging.

“Alright?”

He called out through the dim street, rolling his shoulders back and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Puffing out his chest slightly in case his sheer size alone wasn’t enough to impress.

The driver faltered slightly, the girl did not stop to look back.

“Yeah, mate. Cheers.”

The man called back, trying to sound casual. Simon grunted and nodded, staying as friendly as he could. Moving a little closer to the curb to shield the girl from view. Thankfully, this was all the interaction the driver seemed to need to get the hint. Pulling off without much more prompting.

The girl’s posture immediately relaxed. Shoulders dropped, slowing her gait to a stop.

“Thanks. I owe you-“

Her voice cut off like someone had pressed mute when she turned to face Simon. He was stunned. Fucking shocked to see your face. This had to be some cruel trick played on him by the universe.

You looked great. Better than you had in France- if that was even possible. Even with the way your face paled, he could tell. Your eyes were brighter. Shining at him like headlights. He would have been able to convince himself he was hallucinating if you hadn’t had that same look of recognition painted over your face.

“Thought you weren’t in the business of I.O.U’s.”

He broke the silence after a few long moments. Both of you stood rooted to the pavement mere yards apart. Your breathless laugh broke the tension like a stone dropped in the middle of a stilled lake.

“I wasn’t.”

He nodded sharply.

“And now?”

You smiled. Brighter than you had before.

“I could be persuaded.”

He scoffed.

“S’at so?”

[kettlefire]

Kid Flash & the Prison.

Wally West doesn't believe in the supernatural.

Aliens? Sure. Atlanteans? Understandable. Clones? Yes, makes perfect sense.

Magic and ghosts? Party tricks.

It's not real, and it never will be.

That's the only reason he accepted the stupid bet. He knows Robin was just trying to rile him up, but he couldn't help it.

M'gann was so sure it was haunted. Swore up and down that it just didn't feel right, and tried to talk Wally out of it.

He wasn't going to wuss out in front of her. So he went in. He took up the bet and went inside the haunted old prison.

An hour. He just had to survive an hour in the creaky, dark, damp building.

That can't be so hard, right?

He steeled himself, laughed of the concerned looks, and went straight in. Ignoring the looming voice in the back of his head telling him to turn away.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind him, a cold chill filled the air, and...

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Wally could hear the slight dripping of an old pipe somewhere, but that was all.

The prison was just that. An old abandoned prison, falling apart on it's edges. That was it. Nothing more nothing less, and Wally laughed at himself for his stupid fear.

He zoomed through the building, going into every room. Looking at every nook and cranny. Taking pictures so make sure no one could say he stayed huddle at the door.

It wasn't until he reached the Warden's office that something happened.

It wasn't a big deal, Wally was just certain a draft knocked over one of those rotten wooden shelves. That's what the crash was, no need to fret. Wally absolutely didn't jump at the sound.

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob, and pulled...

Nothing happened. The door refused to open. The knob turned, it wasn't locked. Yet it felt like door might be barricaded, so tightly that Wally couldn't even shove it an inch.

It only made Wally want to get in even more. He's been to every other inch of this prison, he wasn't going to let a rotten door stop him.

But then it happened. Translucent glowing green arms shot out of the wooden door, gripping at Wally's skin in an ice cold and bruising grasp.

He didn't scream. No, Wally shouted. That's all he did. It was manly, 100%, he just got a little jump scared that's it.

His comm crackled to life, and Wally could hear the voices of his team through thick static. He could barely make it out, what with trying not to get pulled into the door.

The old rotten door wasn't a door anymore. It swirled a glowing green and purple color, and the presence of it sent a chill down Wally's spine.

This time, as Wally felt the floor slipping from under him, Wally screamed. A blood curdling sound because this wasn't supposed to happen.

The speedster wasn't sure if he had just closed his eyes, or if he passed out. Yet, when he opened his eyes again he was in a prison.

A prison. Not The Prison.

The walls were a sickly purple grey, the sky above him was inky black with the occasional streak of green. And Wally realized very quickly, he wasn't on Earth anymore.

Maybe he should have been more concerned by the green beings dressed in riot gear circling around him. Or the fact that he was now wearing a grey and black jumpsuit, his super suit and mask completely missing.

But no. No the thing that sent a numbing wave of dread through was the man.

The man, who could barely be called a man, that loomed over him. Dressed in white and black suit. Whose skin was a deathly white.

An almost skeletal look to his face, yet Wally didn't doubt he strength and power in that man.

The man who called himself Warden Walker.

Walker wasted no time in listening a startling list of rules Wally had broken. Rules that would lead him to spend much too long trapped in this ghostly prison.

As much as Wally hated to admit it, that's what it was. Ghosts.

And he had no clue how to get free. Even as he was changed, and lead around the prison. To the mess hall. Even as Wally started down at the food that looked absolutely radioactive.

In this moment, Wally realized how screwed he truly was. Terrified of what would happen next. Would his friends try going into the prison after him?

How much time has even passed? Would his friends end up trapped here with him? Would they get worse treatment? How could a human be in a ghost prison?!

His spiraling panic and stressed came to a complete halt when she sat down. Grey skin and firey blue hair, Wally couldn't help but find her beauty enticing.

Her boyfriend, however, looked as if he could snap Wally in two. Looming forming, looking to be a metallic suit and firey green mohawk.

Wally really thought he was going to get the weirdest beat down of his life.

Except the conversation quickly shifter a plan for a riot. Talk of how to get Wally out of there. Leaving the speedster absolutely flabbergasted. Why would they help?

Every time Wally tried to ask the ghosts why, they kept brushing him off. Until finally he got an answer from Ember. Which only left him with more questions.

"Because the dipstick would be a bigger pain if we let a human stay here."

[the-froschamethyst4]

Stuck In The Devils Arms

𖤐Pairing: Price x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, drinking, P in V, kissing/making out, age gap, blind dating, eating out, manhandling, praising, ass smacking, teasing, brat taming (?), groping, nipple play, aftercare,

𖤐Summary: When an Angel and Devil accidentally meet how will they handle each other

————

————

"Price is old," Soap says as him and all of Task Force sat in the mess hell.

"That was so fucking random," Gaz says.

"I mean, the man is single, no kids, lives alone, probably has a cat or something...I mean, have you guys ever hear him talk about his love life?"

"Probably for a good reason, Johnny." Ghost says.

"Does he even date?"

"If he did, we will never know," Graves says, sitting next to Soap.

"What are you poor bastards talking about?" Price asked, sitting between Ghost and Alex.

"Soap, is being nosy about your love life," Ghost said.

"My love life?" Price asked, sounding offended.

"Price, you are a single man, when's the last time you went on a date?" Soap asked him.

"I went on a date not too long ago."

"WITH WHO!?" Soap jumps up.

"Jesus, I'm not telling," Price says. "I don't want you finding her and asking her how I am in bed, you'll never know, Soap," Price smirks as everyone at the table laugh.

As Price was eating his attention was caught by a new recruit, she was young late 20's maybe 26-28? Somewhere around there. Price watched as her dark green shirt showing off her breasts and her pants sitting high on her hips.

The Military's pants were men sizes and didn't fit the ladies, so the only way to get them to fit was buckling them around their waists. She picked this trick up by her dormmates.

She carried a tray, her hair slicked back into a high ponytail. She walks pass the Task Force table sitting with a group of girls, she knows.

Price watches her not in a creepy way or anything, but she was cute, beautiful even.

"Price, I'm going to set you up with someone."

"Fuck that, I'll do it on my own."

"No, let me, I know someone," Soap smirks.

"I don't trust you," Price says.

"Yeah, you do, come on, one time, you will like her."

"Man-"

"Come on, Price, it's one time."

"FINE!"

"YES! I'll let her know, you said yes."

"Why the hell did I just get myself into?" Price asked, putting his hands on his face, dragging his fingers down his cheeks.

----------

That Night (8:00PM)

Price was wearing some dark blue jeans, a black t-shirt with a black and white flannel, this was a casual date, hell, they are meeting at a bar, nothing special.

He has a drink in his hands and was looking at the TV behind the bar watching the football game going on. The bar door opens and the person was greeted by the bartender.

Price turns his head and sees a girl, she had asked for a screwdriver and waited, she looked like she was looking for someone. Price didn't want to bother her just in case it was the wrong girl.

"Are you John Price?" She asked, he turns and looks at her, she was cute, a cute sun dress and her hair curled with light makeup.

"Yeah, I am...are you?"

"Y/n...I'm Soap's friend." She moved a bit closer to John and she put her hand out, he shook her hand.

"Nice to meet you," he says.

"Same."

"How you know, Soap?" Price asked her.

"Our parents know each other," she says with a smile. "He told me a lot about you," she was sweet, Price can tell. She was calm and her voice was like velvet, smooth and soft.

He wanted to hear her talk, he would listen to her forever!

"So, are you and Soap friends?" She asked.

"Kind of."

"What's kind of?"

"I mean, we talk and hang out...so I guess we are," he says. She just gives him a smile. His heart skipped a beat. Price hasn't felt like this about anyone in a long time, his first love cheated on him, and all he's been doing is sleeping around every now and then.

"How come you agreed to meet me, without knowing me first?" she asked. "Was it to get him off your back?" She giggles.

"A bit yeah."

"Yeah, Soap can be a bit much, he's done it to me a couple times," she says.

The night consist of them talking, they forgot about their drinks, and mainly started talking more then worried about their drinks. Y/n had gone to the bathroom and she trusted him with her drink alone.

Price kept the cup in his view and death stared anyone who dared get close to her drink. She came back, her hand touched his shoulders, letting him know she was back and not to freak out.

She sits back down and fixes her dress. "Thanks for watching my drink."

"Of course."

Price and Y/n talked and then he asked her. "Do you wanna...go back to my place?"

"If it's okay with you?" She asked, her fingers circled the rim of her glass.

"Of course, it is, come on," he gives the bartender his card paying for both his and Y/n's drinks.

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

Price opens his front door letting Y/n go in first. She takes off her flats and Price takes off his shoes and flannel.

"You want anything to eat?"

"Oh no, it's okay, you don't need to cook anything," she says.

"It's okay, come on, what do you want?" He asked, leaning over his marble counter as Y/n sat at the stool.

"Umm~ spaghetti?"

"Anything for the pretty girl," he smirks, giving Y/n butterflies.

Price was getting everything ready and Y/n walks to him and she washes her hand and helps Price.

"Can I help?"

"Sure," he smirks. He watches her pour the sauce into a pot and putting some water in the glass bottle shaking it to get the last bit of it and pouring it into the pot again.

He watches her, she was gentle, he stir the pot of tomatoes sauce. He grabs a knife and cutting board and starts chopping up mushrooms, green peppers, onions, and a few other things.

Y/n sat at the counter watching him with a glass of red wine between her hands. She watched at how skillful he was with a knife, she rests her chin on her palm as she was amazed by him and started to make small talk.

"So how long have you been in the Military?" She asked him.

"Since my twenties," he says with a smile.

"Wow...do you think you'll ever retire? Settle down with a family maybe?"

"Are you asking me, to start a family with you, miss Y/n?" Her face was red and she stood up straight.

"Eh-no...that's n-not what I-I meant, I was just wondering if you'll ever retire?"

"I don't have a plan to do so," he tells her.

"I understand...so when you're on your last leg," she cracks a joke on him.

"Wow! I will not. When I get married, and I have kids, then I'll retire till then I'm single, currently on a date with my Sergeants friend, who keeps...staring at me with her beautiful eyes," he says.

"John Price," she turns her head to avoid eye contact.

"They're pretty," he says.

She just shakes her head to try and hide her embarrassment. "You're just saying that," she says.

"I mean, I'm not wrong...Soap didn't say anything about those eyes of yours," Price says, leaning on the counter.

"I think my eyes are just fine," she giggles at him.

"...Can I kiss you?" He asked, bluntly.

"Price!” She was shocked.

“We don’t have to,” he says.

“No, it’s okay…” she gets off the stool and comes around the counter.

Her hand glides over the countertop and she looks up at him, her hand resting on his stomach before standing on her tippy toes to kiss him.

The kiss was soft and gentle, Price pulls away first and then picks up Y/n placing her on the counter, he stood between her legs cupping her face and giving her another kiss.

Her hands rested on his chest as they both hear the water sizzling on the stove top. Price turns and lowers the heat on the stove.

"Should we eat first?" He asked.

"If the old man needs his food first to have enough stamina," she teased him.

"I not that old, I'm 40 years old," he says with a pout.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," she says, cupping his face and getting another kiss from him.

"Fuck it," he pulls the noodles off the stove along with the sauce and picked Y/n back up and took her to the bedroom, she giggles knowing she struck a nerve.

"What are you giggling at?" He asks her.

"Just how you got so mad over a simple comment," she says, Price can feel the smirk from her.

"Oh yeah," he smacks her ass earning a soft squeal from her and her legs bending up. He chuckles at her. "How cute, you got such a bratty attitude but when I manhandle you that all goes away."

"Oh no, sir, this is only a treat," she says, her hands on his back sitting up but then she flopped on the soft mattress.

She giggles when she bounces up a couple times, and Price watched as she was now on her back, elbows propping herself up, and her right knee bending exposing a bit of her panties.

He smirks, crawling up her and kissing her lips. She smiles and kisses his lips. His hands went up her body, holding her waist before his left hand unzipped her dress, she pulls the straps off her shoulders and Price pulls it down off her body.

She giggles when Price starts kissing her ankle and kissing all the way back up to her exposed chest. His mouth attached to her right nipple and his fingers played with her other.

She let's out a soft moan, her hands going into his hair and her back arches against his body. Price sits up and removes his shirt and starts messing with his belt.

Just undoing the belt before going back to kiss her lips. Price's rough, calloused hands held her waist before he starts moving them downward pulling her panties off and then he grabs her thighs and moves them over his shoulders.

It's been a while since someone has done anything like this to Y/n. Soap had known about Y/n never really wanting a relationship but didn't mind a hook-up every now and then, but this...what her and Price are doing is something she could live with.

Price licks his lips before gently kissing her wet folds. His tongue licked between her folds and then soon his tongue was pushing inside of her. She squeezed her thighs together as she felt good from what Price was doing to her.

She looks at Price and made eye contact with the older man. He smirks before sucking on her clit and shaking his tongue back and forth earning a breathy moan from her lips.

Price likes hearing her moans, he soon tasted some pre-cum coming from her lower half, he smirks before removing his tongue which earned him a annoyed groan from Y/n, he taps the side of her butt.

"Flip," he demands, he removes his pants as he stares at Y/n's ass as she flips over. He smirks before bending down and biting at her ass, she looks over her shoulder mouth opened letting out a soft and satisfied moan.

he moves a pillow under her lower half as he positions himself at her entrance and pushing inside of her. She puts her head back, her head hit against his broad shoulder. She looks in his eyes and lets out a few satisfied moans.

He was thrusting fast, he wasn't sloppy, kind of professional in a way, like he knew what he was doing. Y/n felt him hit against her spot a few times.

"You're doing so well," he praises. "You look so cute with your eyes really in the back of your head," he says.

"P-Price-" she was cut off by his lips on hers and she moans into the kiss.

"Those pretty eyes...rolling back...looking at me...they are so fucking intoxicating," he says with a smirk on his face before kissing her neck, he thrusts became harder, rougher even, the loud smacking of skin against each other filled the room.

His tip was throbbing wanting to cum inside of her, she squeezes around him when the feeling of wanting to cum filled her body, Price and her both moaned before they ended up coming together.

Price keeps going, he doesn't want this night to end just yet. he was going to keep going to prove that he isn't just some 'old man'. He smirks when seeing Y/n's face buried into the pillow, her moans muffled and her legs shaking.

price smirks knowing that her little comment is eating her. His hands rested on her waist guiding her to keep going faster, cause he wasn't done just yet.

As he was moving faster, Y/n's lovely moans being muffled and her eyes carrying some hot tears, not of pain but of pleasure. She loves this feeling probably more than Price.

"One more, love. I know you can cum one more fucking time," he demands.

He was sloppy with his thrusts again, and the sound of skin clapping, and sounds of something wet and sticky filled the room. She did what he asked her to do and that was to cum once more and she did.

Price smirks and pulls out of her, cum rushes from her lower half.

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

Price was plating up the food, yes, he reheated it up. Y/n came downstairs in some shorts and a t-shirt that belonged to price.

"John, the shorts," she lets go of the shorts and they immediately drop to her ankles. "They don't fit," she says as Price laughs.

"Okay, you don't have to wear them," she steps out of them and temporarily places them on the back of his couch. She sits at the table as price gave her the plate and then goes back to get her a glass of water.

Y/n and Price ate and talked and by the end of it, she was being carried back upstairs to the bedroom to join Price. He places her on the side facing the closet door and he laid near the door.

"You get some rest okay?"

"Okay...good night."

"Night," he cups her face before holding her close to his chest.

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

"Kids are confirmed," Soap says as he sits next to Price at the mess hall.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Price says.

"Y/n told me what you two did-"

"Is she pregnant?"

"Price, that's not how it works, it'll take time before that happens, and not only that, Y/n's on birth control, she wouldn't stop taking it for a stranger."

"She would for me," Price says, raising his eyebrows and sipping from his tea.

[makos-hotbox]

| brief req. summary :: can I request Ghost and König (separate) headcanons with a s/o (she/they) who has really bad anger issues? Like they will jump over a table just to hit someone? |

LARGE FONT VER.

/ — I’m so sorry that the original ask got deleted 😭😭 and honestly as a fellow anger issues haver; I loved writing this. I hope you enjoy! /

… 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒

`⌁ ◜ 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝟓𝟓𝟓, 𝐢’𝐦 𝟔𝟔𝟔! ◞

𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓

Ghost would be very aware of your anger before you even get in your relationship together. He noticed how it was hard for you to contain yourself when something irked you or someone pissed you off too much.

But that didn’t stop him from falling for you, so obviously, he doesn’t mind. Ghost doesn’t seem like someone who would purposely try and irritate his lover. He’s pretty laid back and relaxed imo, only teasing you or making snide comments if he knows you can handle it. Or not at all if you don’t want him too. Ghost is respectful on that

When you end up physically fighting someone, Ghost’s first reaction is to cheer you on. But since he has to be mature, he will quickly run in and separate you from the other person. Restraining you completely (and quite easily) until he’s sure you won’t attack again.

Shortly after, he will probably ask you what kind of damage you did and idk maybe even give you a few tricks.

It's not out of the norm to see ghost pick you up out of nowhere and take you away to somewhere else. As long as you’re not fighting anyone. He doesn’t want you getting into trouble.

If someone around you is being a dick, (ex. Another soldier) and you start to get upset, Ghost is quick to notice. After being around you for so long, he knows the signs of your irritation. And as soon as he sees you clench your fist, raise your voice, or stiff up; he will do one of two things.

Either A) he will step in and separate you and whatever the issue is. He doesn’t like seeing you upset and he definitely wouldn’t like for there to be trouble if you acted on your anger. Ghost will back up the other person, glaring at them through his mask and sizing up to them.

Once the problem is gone, Ghost will take you back to your room and help you calm down. Allowing for you to rant, thrash around and hit pillows, or to just lay down. Whatever you want, he would be there with you.

Or B) Ghost will push back on the problem even harder. Stepping between you and the person so he can take care of it himself. If the dickhead doesn’t shut their mouth, Ghost will do it himself. He doesn’t usually like to make it physical, but if he needs to, he will. He just doesn’t want you getting in any trouble, or, if things went south, hurt.

If you’re ever feeling upset about how you have trouble containing your anger, he’s there to comfort you. Ghost may not be able to go full therapist with you, but he can listen and hold you. You can rant and wallow in a spot of sadness for a bit, and Ghost will be there the whole time. Quietly reassuring you that it’s going to be okay. How your “issue” is nothing but another reason he loves you.

If Soap or any of his teammates are bothering you and trying to get you worked up, Ghost will probably take the violent route. Smacking them upside the head with a firm “knock it off.” They usually get the hint and leave you be. Over time they adapted to not purposely try and work you up. (Or accidentally)

Here it goes again… another annoying soldier who wants to buck up to you just because he’s insecure about his masculinity. The two of you were at the same shooting range and he started trying to one up you. Failing miserably, he got mad and tried to pick a fight.

“How the hell could a little girl like you be big bad military? You should quit soon darling, we don’t want you getting your pretty face injured.” ‘Montoya’ cocked his head to the side, faking worry for you. It was disgusting. You were just trying to clear your head at the range and now something else has taken that space.

Your chest began to feel heavy, growing ticked off. Mind flooding with ways to retaliate; punch him, yell at him, or walk away? So many options to choose from. In the back of your head you felt a bit guilty for wanting to resort to violence first. A silent reminder of the immediate mood switch.

Ghost had told you many times that you should try and walk away or speak rationally when you’re upset. More so that you don’t get in trouble for starting a fist fight. But, to hell with talking rationally. “Kiss my ass Montoya. I’ll whup your ass here, on the field, or anywhere else. You’re so worried about a girl being better than you that you don’t even notice your own dick shrinking.” You commented quickly, cleaning up your space so you could leave. Not having the energy to deal with something like this.

Montoya didn’t stop following as you started walking to your truck. “Oh really now? You can't even reach the top shelf, you could never amount to me. All that shit back there was pure fucking luck.” You loaded your stuff into the vehicle, clenching your fists as you tried to walk to the drivers side. Instead, Montoya stood in front of you and shoved you back.

That was all it took before you cocked your fist back quickly and popped him right in the jaw. Montoya stumbled back onto the ground with a groan. “Keep your fucking hands off me dickhead.” You grumbled, turning around at the sounds of running footsteps along the dirt.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Holy shit, Y/n!” Soap sped past you to check on Montoya, whose nose was bleeding. Ghost stopped next to you, staring at your glaring expression. Grabbing your arm, he pulled you into a hug.

“Nice job, but how’re we gonna explain this one?” He whispered, Soap was still busy helping Montoya. You rolled your eyes and rested your head against Ghost’s chest. “We won’t, he fucking earned that one by shoving me.”

“Wait, he laid his hands on you?”

You nodded your head. Then without a word, Ghost opened the door of your truck and helped you in. “Wait here.” He closed the door and stomped over to Soap and Montoya.

All you could hear was a muffled, “Pick his ass up Johnny! It’s time for round two for putting his hands on Y/n!” And through the rear view mirror, you watched as Soap’s attitude changed, yanking Montoya up by his shirt. A smile spread across your face as Ghost swung his fist right onto the other side of Montoya’s jaw.

𝐊Ö𝐍𝐈𝐆

Before your relationship with König, he was a bit scared of you. Seeing your outbursts and almost constant glare showed König that maybe it would be the best idea to not work you up.

Over time as you grew closer from team missions, König stopped being afraid of you. Learning about your temper and just you in general. He became used to your hot headed self and knew how to aid you out of your rage moments. And just like that, over time, König began to grow feelings for you.

König is not really someone who would try and irritate you purposely. Or even accidentally. He knows how to make good word and tone choices just to keep it safe. But he also just doesn’t like seeing you upset, especially if it’s his fault.

He is quick to apologize and make it up to you if he does end up setting you off. Feeling bad for the rest of the day, König will do anything for you. Running errands so you could relax, bringing you food, and doing whatever you ask.

If someone is messing with you, König takes full advantage of his size. Stalking up to that person, looking like a complete demon. Threatening eyes staring down at the idiot that dared mess with König’s beloved.

There’s been very few times König had to get physical with someone to leave you be. Usually his large frame is enough to scare anyone off. But when he had to use his fists, it ended with broken noses and tons of bruises.

When König witnesses you getting violent with someone, he doesn’t really do anything to stop it. Maybe he will wait a few moments to step in, but he usually doesn’t. In his opinion, if whatever that person said was enough to make you swing? They deserve it.

Whenever the fight is finally broken up though, König takes you back to his room to check for any bad wounds and let you rant it all out. The night will usually end with the two of you cuddled together playing some sort of game.

If you’re up for it, König will take you to a rage room with him. Giving you an opportunity to let out any bottled up frustrations left. He will happily cheer you on as you demolish an old tv or computer. Expect a nice meal and nap later :)

Storming down the hallway, music blared loudly into your ears. Trying to contain your irritated thoughts about how training went today. Price took you and some of the team members to go train. And you were apparently not on your game today as you missed shots and stumbled around like a drunk idiot during combat training.

It was embarrassing on its own, you’ve never been that sloppy before! Soap and Gaz were constantly reassuring you that it was okay after very loud profanities were yelled. But it didn’t stop there, as you were all leaving to go work on other stuff, you overheard some snide comments coming from a group of soldiers.

They were all about you, seeing as “L/n” was whispered countless times. The group mostly commented about how terrible you were at literally everything. Not only training, but apparently bringing up old mistakes you’ve made while on missions or during important meetings.

“Ultimate shite.” Soap mumbled under his breath, he glared at the other group. After that he had pushed you along to leave before anything could go wrong. In the truck, you were allowed to think about and boil your anger even more.

Leading you to now, bursting into König’s room loudly. He was playing a game on his bed and jumped up at the sudden intrusion. König immediately noticed your upset expression and all his focus was now on you. “Woah- what’s wrong Liebling?” He hopped off his bed and came to your side.

You stood tense for a moment, eventually just leaning onto the tall frame of your boyfriend instead. A long and exaggerated sigh left your lips followed by a loud groan. König’s hands rubbed up and down your back slowly. Trying to give you some sort of comfort, he nudged you.

“Let’s go lay down, and once you’ve relaxed, you can tell me all about it. But I want you to feel better first.” König led you to his bed and allowed you to silently settle yourself on it and get comfortable. The German laid next to you so you could lay on his chest as he held you close to him. Whispering loving compliments and phrases to you in German, König knew exactly what he was doing.

He was practically bringing you back to earth with all of the affection, reminding you that there’s someone who loves you and all your flaws. It felt amazing, and you eventually became completely cooled off in König’s arms. Realizing this, he kissed your forehead. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“Don’t even get me fucking started.”

REQUESTS:: OPEN

» 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 … 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐭

[ghouljams]

seeing fae!ghost mess with love's tethers makes me want liebling to use that against our resident nasty boy. make him suffer!! (in a good way)

In which the worst fae-touched woman in the world is just dying to help Liebling's relationship. Ghost please get a handle on your darling.

There's a low deep rumbling coming from König, he's growling you think. Warning whatever monster is in front of you to stay away. His hands bracket you on either side of the counter, shoulders hunched protectively over you. When you look up at him, you can just peek under his hood at his bared teeth. 

You glance at the door and sigh, great the specter of death is back. Love gives you a smile and a wave. She just about skips over to you while Ghost follows her. 

"Don't worry we're not here for long," she tells you, which you're thankful for. König is always weirder when they're in the shop.

"What's up? What do you need?" You ask, trying to lean out of König's shadow.

“I thought you might want to know a trick I learned," Love lights up gold all over, you've noticed that happening when she's excited. You have also noticed that she gets excited over weird stuff, like dead bugs and slasher movies, you usually try to proceed with caution.

"Hit me," you tell her. She grabs your hand and presses it against your chest, curling your fingers around some phantom thing with Intent. 

"Should be around here somewhere," she mumbles, she frowns and keeps smacking your hand against your chest. You almost feel something brush against your palm and you wrap your fingers around it instinctively. Love pulls back, crossing her arms and screwing her mouth to one side. "Maybe not," She says, leaning back against Ghost, "Damn, boring."

You really don't know what she's so upset about. You curl your fingers tighter into a fist against your chest. König vibrates behind you, still agitated you guess. You settle your fist back on the counter, feeling something pull like a loose string on a sweater. Something unraveling that you didn’t even know was strung tightly.

König's hand slams against your back, forcing you to bend over the counter. He hunches over you, breathing hard and ragged as his hips press against your ass. Your chest heaves against the counter, your eyes wide as you stare at Love's grin. König growls, and you feel his saliva drip wet against the back of your neck. Your fingers tighten around whatever invisible thread you were directed to grab and he grinds against you. 

He is absolutely filthy rocking against you. You try to push yourself up only to be pressed more firmly against the unyielding counter. König’s teeth scrape the top of your spine, possessive, dangerous, you try not to go boneless at the feeling.

"Alright, let's go." Ghost's arms wrap around Love's waist and hoist her up.

"Come on, it's just getting good!" Love groans, kicking against Ghost's hold. Ghost whispers something in her ear and she turns red. “Mmhm, yep, let’s go," she nods quickly, letting Ghost carry her out of the shop.

"König," you gasp, fuck that is- that is his cock sliding against you. God that feels big.

"Out," he snarls, making the other fae in the store jump and run for the exit, he rests his forehead against the counter next to you breathing hard, "Let go Liebling, or bitte-” his voice shakes, “-pull harder."

You don't know what he's talking about. Harder? You're not pulling anything, he pushed you down. You whine, your chest feels hot, and you are starting to get uncomfortably wet between your legs. You want- König's eyes dart to the gold lighting up in your chest -you want more. His stomach jumps, pulse thrumming, you smell so good. All of you so greedy for him, tethers pulling at desires he knows you won't say aloud. You are working him up and he is trying to avoid doing something you will regret.

He cannot get banned from the shop a second time.

You squirm under him, it feels absolutely, pathetically, pointless to try and fight out from under König. You should tell him to get off, that is the smart thing to do. You’re going to do just that as soon as you can think of anything but the desperate way your cunt clenches when he rubs his cock against it.

"You would look so cute on my cock Liebling," he sighs, somewhere between resignation and annoyance, "Ah, but you would be mad if I fucked you here, and I cannot have that."

“König,” You try again and he hums like he’s listening, you don’t think he is, “you need to get off.”

“I am trying, you are not very good at-”

“Off of me,” You specify, but you don’t really want him off do you? Your chest is so pleasantly warm and your fingers buzz with some strange magic that makes König’s hand slide down your back and over your hips.

“Then let go,” His voice is starting to get ragged at the edges, dangerous. You don’t want to let go. You very much want to keep holding on. If you let go he actually will pull away from you, he’ll stop letting you press your hips back against him, his breath won’t pant in your ear. 

You shake your head as his hand closes around yours.

"You are being very naughty, Liebling," he tells you, trying to pry your fingers apart. You squeeze your fist tighter and he growls at you, “Behave.” Funny that’s what you tell him, it’s strange to be on the other end of it, makes your stomach all flippy. You press back against him, away from his hand and the end of this. You feel all of him lurch forward before his teeth clamp down around the back of your neck. You freeze.

Big teeth, big König, you like big, you really like big. 

He pries your fingers loose and the tension snaps, the thread winding back into the sweater. You can’t control your breathing. All your muscles seem to shake and melt against the counter without whatever hold you had. König, fuck, you still want him but it’s gentler now. A low simmer in your stomach, not… whatever it was before that has you absolutely soaked.

“Ich werde diesen Märchenjunges töten,” König spits, and then he’s gone, and you are utterly, painfully, alone in the shop.

[jellyfishloveletterghosts]

Some more thoughts Based on this post where you have your soulmates signature and Steve is a bat by @strangersatellites

I'm putting them in a new post so I don't derail it. I hope to I see several take on the initial concept. It's so fun.

Nancy and Jonathan he knows from back home they moved out here before him and have jobs at the paper. Are they are romantically involved or just friends now 🤷‍♀️ either way they work well together.

And they help Steve in his search. Jonathan knows where most of the murals in the city are and Nancy gives him some tips on getting people to give him information and a list of questions to help him along.

Benny has a deli across from one of them. He won't give up much, things good for business draws a crowd and if Eddie just happens to a regular who always tips good well why would he sell him out. Still he does offer Steve a sandwich and a list of a few murals that are lesser known in the city.

Heather works in the shop across from on and is annoyed in the uptick of customers. They're cutting into her down time. She didn't see anything anyway and she tells Steve he's wasting his time. The Bat is a ghost no one ever seen him. Or so she says.

Steve still has to work so there are days when he makes no progress, gets nowhere on finding his soul mate. Spends sleepless night tracing the bat on his hip and looking at the picture Jonathan gave him hoping somewhere in the is a clue.

So on and so forth skipping ahead.

Then the Robin thing I initially brought up

I can see a Steve running around the city type of thing happening because of this. He’s turning into a real detective, asking about all the murals, folks who live in the area. Steve meeting other characters from Stranger Things as he moves closer to his goal of finding his soulmate. He’s checked every single one he knows of is commiserating at the bar by the latest one. Robin is a bartender, mostly waving off his search until he waxes on about his soulmate and how talented they are. Steve isn’t the usual sort looking for Eddie so she slips him the address for another bar, one that play live music, has art all over, tells him to check it out. CC is of course play in front of the biggest mural Steve’s seen from his soul mate yet.

Steve wants to memorize every aspect of the mural, wants to take in every detail but it's hard with a band playing right in front of it. Harder still when his eyes catch on the lead singer and can look away. Mesmerized for an entire set.

He doesn't even realize he's just been sitting there watching until the band leaves for a break. Then he's turning to the bartender, an older man in flannel, asking about the mural. Wayne chuckles, "you'll have to ask the owner about that but he doesn't usually talk about it."

Steve's a little tipsy form earlier as he accepts the beer Wayne slides to him like a condolence. Sulky over one more obstacle standing between him and his person. "Could you ask him anyhow, please?" Wayne looks him over takes in his downtrodden face and the begging tone of his voice before giving a nod.

Steve’s not very hopeful by the time Wayne slides another beer to him either a shrug. He stays for the band and hopes that maybe if he's persistent he'll get the information. Nancy always insists sleuthing takes persistence.

He's mesmerized all over again and feels like dark eyes are boring into him, like this one's just for him. Which is silly, he's drunk and he's never heard this band, much less met the man singing. No way would he be singling him out, just a trick of the lights and the third beer he ordered.

When the singer climbs down from the stage he trips over a light playing it off as a bow. But what stands out to Steve is dark eyes still hooked on him as Eddie dances through the crowd signing autographs and giving hugs.

Steve turns away, it's a lot, too much and he's still ninety percent sure he's imagining it. All up until there's a sweaty musician's chest brushing against his arm as Eddie leans on the bar next to him, "so I hear you've been asking about our favorite artist."

I dunno I'm sorely tempted to write it write it but I've got so many wips already so I jsut wanted to get out some thought because I found the concept so inspired.

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE HARRY POTTER HEADCANONS

Most definitely a stalker. He'll even use his invisibility cloak to stalk you from time to time, so if you ever wondered what the gentle breeze was around you even when you weren't near any windows and didn't see any ghosts? Well, that's Harry for you. But he won't be doing it so frequently since well... with all the people in the wizarding world trying to capture him and kill him and all that

You'd either be in his class or you'd be on one of the Quidditch Teams, doesn't matter which house or he probably met you through mutual friends between you both like Hermione or Ron or Ginny or even Neville for that matter. Or maybe you might've been there for him when Ron was ignoring him during the Triwizard Tournament and telling him to do his best in a friendly way and not behaving like an over obsessive fan girl like Romilda Vane

Eventually, the 2 of you would meet (Or me might even use the Marauder's map to see what you're up to and then 'coincidentally' bump into you) and become friends and who'd pass the opportunity to become friends with THE Harry Potter?

Will fall for you even MORE if you're not like an obsessive fan or something and you believe him when no one else does. Like the Putting of names in the Goblet of fire in the 4th year and the Dementor attack on him during the summer. He admires you and loves for sticking up for him especially against Malfoy. But he kinda feels ashamed of himself since you're gonna be dealing with Malfoy's wrath as well and that's why he'll do his best to make you avoid Malfoy as much as possible

Best if you don't leave anything of yours behind since he's gonna use the summoning charm to get little souvenirs for himself be it some candy wrapper or ring or whatever it might be. He'll want it and love it if it's belonged to you

He will tell you EVERYTHING that went on in his life to you and besides, that's the first step towards a relationship right? No secrets... oh wait... you guys aren't dating yet. Oops... but he doesn't mind it at all, you'll be dating him soon enough anyways. He'll even tell you about all the adventures Ron, he and Hermione had and his friends might think it's weird and strange. The secretive Harry potter spilling his guts to someone he barely even knows? Yep, definitely not strange. He won't even bother denying that he knows Parseltongue

He is one HELLA PARANOID person and you can't exactly blame him here since he's already lost most of his loved ones. So, if he doesn't see you for a while he'll be getting anxious and he'll snap at any and everyone till he gets the news that you're safe and everything's fine with you. What if you were kidnapped? What if some scumbag Death Eater captured you in your sleep? What if Voldemort was trying to kill you? You could be in severe danger! So, this boi here tends to cause scenes after he sees you be it in the Great Hall during breakfast or at class or even the damn Quidditch Pitch. And if Malfoy sees it, even BETTER since he knows Malfoy has a tiny crush on you and although more better to rub it in his face while he looks at him with a smug AF expression on his face

He'll be a blushing nervous mess if you come to his Quidditch matches but he'll be determined to win and catch the Snitch as fast as possible since he really wants to impress you. And maybe do some really cool tricks with his broom along the way if he can

You'll catch Harry following you in his invisibility cloak one day and after you catch him, you'll confront him about it and he'll tell you that you need protection and he's just making sure you're safe and he loves you and needs you. So, you'll start running but it's gonna be in vain since he'll capture and detain you somewhere. Not in the school since it might be risky but somewhere in the Forbidden Forest most probably

He'll send the most nastiest and scariest glares ever to people who ask him about your disappearance and tell them to drop it. His friends won't have solid and concrete proof that he did something to you and they don't want to accuse him of something they aren't sure of. So, he'll be off the hook

Back to him keeping you locked up in some god forsaken place. If you're being adamant and refusing to love him you better pray he isn't considering wiping your memory and casting a Oblivion charm on you to make you forget things because that's EXACTLY what he's thinking about right now. He might ask Hermione about it and as usual, she'll give him the perfect and most detailed answer and if that doesn't work.... well, the Unforgivable curses are always there

No doubt by now he must have become one heck of a twisted whackadoodle and he needs to protect you and it's for your own good and if he has to hurt you to make you think you'll be safe with him then so be it. He might use the Cruciatus Curse on you for like 10 seconds and every time you scream he feels like crying and holding you and begging for your forgiveness but he HAS to make sure you behave well for him. He'll to the begging and crying part later. And of course, the killing curse is always there for people who get in his way and try taking you away from him

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

hii lovely <3 it’s so good to see you again, i’m glad you’re back and i hope you’re taking good care of yourself. after reading sunshine headcanons 3, where Xie Lian would be the one to spank reader if necessary, it got me thinking, what if lil sunshine reader wanted to get some spicy tips and learned from somewhere to try and be a bit of a brat in bed 👀 ofc that doesn’t end well with his lovers and he gets the spanking and fucking of his life (with love ofc)

Sunshine Part 4

HuaLian x M!reader

It's long guys I hope it's good 🙏🥹

Spanking, edging, bondage, slapping, blowjobs, fingering, handjobs, improper use of Rou'ye, NSFW!!!

After being with Xie Lian and San Lang for so long, you want to try new things! After the recent breakage of vanilla boundaries in the bedroom you want to try something different. . . You're always so well behaved and you're always kind but you kind of wanted to try not doing that. Maybe it was a part of you that wanted to see your lovers be rough with you or maybe it was a part of you that deeply desired to show your lovers a side of yourself no one else gets to see.

The problem is you don't know how! Anytime you even think about trying to be bratty you can't do it. Xie Lian and Hua Cheng are just sweet to you and their praise and treatment make you want to be willing and behaved for them. Sooo you need somebody's help!

You find help through books, and people. You read many, many books and then you ask around ghost city and your good ghost gals if they can teach you some tips and tricks. Which they do of course. Who are they to deny you a fun sex life? So for a while you honestly practice by yourself to be bratty. You don't want to set your plan out and go back on it as soon as your lovers smile at you after all. When you finally think you've got it down your plan is set!

It's nearly night time and your lovers were out on a mission. You usually stay home at your lovers insistence. Soo when it's time for them to nearly be home you decide to start without them. You were never one to be active without your lovers but you wanted to do it tonight. Even though you're alone, you still blush in embarrassment when you spread your legs . You spend some time stroking your cock and fucking yourself with your fingers.

When Xie Lian and Hua Cheng come home, you don't even notice. When they walk into the shared bedroom, you cum at the same time they open the door. You throw your head back and arch against your fingers with a shrill moan. You weren't expecting a hand to clench around your wrist and wrench it away from between your legs. It's Hua Cheng who does this. He slips into bed and pins you down with a kiss to your forehead.

"We were expecting you to wait for us before we got home. Did you get lonely" Hua Cheng purrs in your ear and you bite your lip to hide a whine. He kisses your cheek

"No...", you swallow and glance at Hua Cheng, "I got impatient waiting. You took too long". You huff and look to the side with an angry pout. You squirm out of under Hua Cheng and slip your robes back on. "Anyways, how did your miss-". You get yanked back into bed by Hua Cheng.

"Oh don't be like that Baobei. We didn't mean to make you wait" he kisses the nape of your neck and loosens your robes. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. Xie Lian comes closer and slides gentle hand between your legs to spread them. Usually you would allow this and let them put you in whatever position they want, but not tonight. You blush but snap your legs shut. "I don't wanna." You huff again with an attitude.

Xie Lian hums and tilts your chin up with a nudge. "Do you really not want to?" If one of you doesn't want to have sex usually it's just a no and cuddling instead. However you've got an attitude. Xie Lian's never seen you with one before in bed though. "Or. . . Are you just being a brat?" He hums and his hand holds your jaw, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip.

You blush softly and take his thumb into your mouth before nipping on it. Hard. A slap resounds through the room. Your head snaps to the side and Hua Cheng looks up in surprise. His one eye darting over you and Xie Lian in shock. "Gege!" Hua Cheng cups your face and looks at the red mark left from Xie Lian but he's surprised to find a blush covering your face and a hardness growing between your legs.

Xie Lian slides Hua Cheng's hand away. "It's fine San Lang, he wants this. Right, Y/n? You want to be punished for being a brat, yes?"

You breathe out a shaky breath, "Y-yes". A moment of silence, a chance for Hua Cheng to back out. Hua Cheng nods and goes back to holding you in his lap. Your back to his chest "Well alright" he kisses your shoulder and takes your robes off, allowing them to fall to the floor. Xie Lian smiles and grips your face again. "Good." The scene continues.

You're a little embarrassed, they always embarrass you by forcing your legs open to show off your pretty dick. You blush darkly when Xie Lian gets on his knees in front of you and starts licking at. "Stay still for me Baobei, and maybe I'll let San Lang reward you." He purrs softly and kisses your tip. Still? You could most certainly try, but you're sort of aiming for punishment here.

So when Xie Lian takes you into his mouth, trying to ease you in, you grab his hair roughly and just your hips forward. This causes him to gag and pull off of you, while Hua Cheng takes more caution in holding you down. That kind of felt good treating Xie Lian like that. Hm maybe another time.

Xie Lian coughs and wipes his mouth. There's a tick on his brow and you know he's annoyed. "I thought you were going to be good, that was my mistake" he huffs and stands from the floor. Honestly Hua Cheng was a little worried for you, he holds into you tightly allowing your legs to close. He's not supposed to let you get away with it, but he's biased. Xie Lian reaches behind you and cups Hua Cheng's face. "San Lang", Xie Lian whispers, and leans down to kiss Hua Cheng's forehead, "Move".

Hua Cheng blushes and moves away almost immediately. It's a tone he hasn't heard in a long time. Xie Lian seems to let Hua Cheng's mistake slide but not yours. He fists a hand in your hair and pushes you belly down against the bed. You yelp softly and even try to squirm and 'fight' him back.

All of it is half assed attempts to get away and Xie Lian knows it so with a snap of he fingers Rou'ye shoots out and wraps around your limbs and body keep you stomach down against the bed but ass perked and legs spread. You scrunch your face when you feel the lithe bandage wrap around the base of your cock. That is not what you wanted.

You were expecting to be thrown around a little maybe hit but edging? Dreadful, absolutely dreadful. You whine loudly trying to squirm against Rou'ye and you curse the bandage in your head. Your thoughts are interrupted by a swat to your ass. "Ah! W-what was that for?" You pout, turning your head to look at Xie Lian but Rou'ye wraps around your throat and forces your head back straight.

"Did you think I was just going to leave you wrapped up in the bed for nothing" Xie Lian laughs softly and settles down behind you. He runs his fingers over the plush of your ass and then over your hole. "I imagined you wanted more than that?" He hums. He brings his hand down again, harder this time, but controlled.

Your breath hitches and you whine. "W-well yes but I want to be able to-" cum. But Xie Lian doesn't let you finish your sentence because he spanks you again.

"You think you deserve to after your blatant show of disrespect?" He smiles behind you. "Don't talk, just count for me. You're on three".

Xie Lian spanks you once more. "Mm! F-four" it's embarrassing. To count for Xie Lian's and being forced to look at Hua Cheng while you do it. You get to a steady rhythm and after about ten or eleven- wait which number were you on? You got distracted. Without noticing you had gotten comfortable and fell further into a sub space you hadn't even realized you were trying to rut against the bed. Shit. A harsh swat makes you pay attention again. Your ass stings.

"Y/n number?", Xie Lian hum in question and his fingers rub where he had just spanked you. He's kind of liking how red you're getting, and your cock that's wrapped? The bits of precum desperately leaking from it, he enjoys that too.

You bite your lip and groan softly. "U-uhm I, uh t-twelve?" There's a pause of silence leaving you to become nervous about your answer, then Xie Lian's hand comes down on your thigh, maybe he got bored of hitting just your ass. "That's wrong Baobei, and you had been doing so well too." Xie Lian clicks his tongue and stands up from the bed.

Your body shakes softly and you whine. You were doing fine! You just want to cum. You've been focusing on that for the better part of an hour now. "I didn't m-mean to, please A-Lian." You whimper, pulling against Rou'ye but he's much too strong. Xie Lian rubs a hand through your hair and shushes you. "You'll get something Y/n calm down."

Your mouth literally salivates when Hua Cheng settles in the bed in front of you and you see his cock out and hard. "Please, please, please A-Lang" you whine loudly but Hua Cheng takes mercy on you and scoots closer so that your head can rest on his lap. You however have different ideas and you greedily take his cock down your throat. "Mmh~". You moan around his dick and take him down to the hilt. Hua Cheng trained you how to do that after all. When you try to move up a hand pushes you back down, making you choke on Hua Cheng's cock.

You were expecting it to be Hua Cheng but it was Xie Lian. "Keep him here San Lang." You let out a loud whine when Xie Lian kisses Hua Cheng's cheek. Xie Lian only smiles at you and goes back to sit behind you, leaving you between them both. You take a sharp breath through your nose when, Xie Lian shoves his fingers into your hole and immediately goes to rub at your prostate.

The sting hurts but it feels delicious to you. You moan and slobber around Hua Cheng, and try to roll your hips, but it's hard when Rou'ye has you trapped. Xie Lian laughs softly and bullies your prostate with his fingers, his other hand wraps around your dick and his thumb teases your slit.

You didn't realize you were crying until Hua Cheng is wiping your tears and your snuffling around Hua Cheng's cock desperately sucking air through your nose. Distantly you hear Hua Cheng ask Xie Lian to let you cum and you whine.

Xie Lian smiles and places a kiss on the back of your thigh. "Hm he has been good. . ." Xie Lian juts his fingers into your prostate at the same time that Rou'ye unwraps from your body. Hua Cheng gets to watch your eyes roll back and you choke around his cock when you cum. Your seed covers your tummy and the bed.

Hua Cheng pulls you off of him and lets you rest in his lap. He runs his fingers through your hair while Xie Lian moves away to go grab a warm cloth. You're half asleep by the time Xie Lian has washed you off and all of you are cuddled in bed.

"Y/n did you like it?" Xie Lian blushes and kisses your head. "I hope I didn't treat you too roughly?"

You giggle and smile kissing Xie Lian's cheek. "I enjoyed all of it" you hum softly and cuddle close to both of your lovers.

[sassypossumm]

Ghosts

Art Cred: farevalee9s on Insta

Miguel O'Hara can't seem to escape his past, neither can you it seems, maybe you can help each other chase the ghosts away?

I discovered Cowboy!Miguel and I'm hooked! My first full on smut, hope it meets your expectations!

It didn't matter how much time passed, you time in the Carolina's had softened you, evidenced by the chill that had settled in your bones from the cursed North Dakota cold. Or perhaps, just perhaps that bone deep ache was coming from somewhere deep inside of you. Looking out at the frozen land, you pulled your coat higher against your cheeks and shivered. 

"You should be inside." A deep voice broke through your thoughts, causing you to tense. If the voice hadn't given away who'd come to stand by your side, the insanely long shadow stretching out beside you would have done the trick. 

"Ben was being an ass." You glanced at Miguel before the piercing cry of a hawk turned your attention skyward to watch the majestic bird flying gracefully despite the temperamental winds. 

"When is Ben not an ass?" Miguel's eyes followed the hawk before he glanced at you again. "It's far too cold out here for a southern lady like yourself." 

"I'm every bit at northern as you, Miguel O'Hara." Your tone was as stiff as your posture. 

"Si, but your time in the warm sun seems to have thinned your blood." As if to prove his point, a shiver went through your body as the chill seeped deeper into your bones. He hesitated as if to take a step closer, but clenched his jaw and turned his face to the sky again. 

"Are you still looking for that mountain lion that's been terrorizing the cattle?" You asked, eyes drifting over the smoke rising about the nearby encampments. 

"Yeah." Miguel said simply, flexing his jaw. You hummed, and scanned the horizon. "I don't think it's going to jump out of the trees and attack us right now, Y/N." You pulled a face at his sarcastic tone.  

"You're funny, O'Hara. Real funny."

"Glad you think so." He chuckled tiredly, turning to look at you. You opened your mouth to respond, but a particularly chilling wind knocked the breath out of you and sent a chill whipping down your spine. Covering your face, you felt ice particles hit your skin, and cause tears to prick your eyes. "Stubborn woman." Miguel muttered, pulling off one of his coats and stepping closer to wrap it around you. "You should be inside," You raised your face to meet his eyes, and as your noses brushed, his breath stalled. His fingers tightened around the material as he set it on your shoulders. 

Time seemed to crawl to a stop, as you were drawn into each other's eyes. You into his dark brown, and he into your own piercing eyes. Miguel drew the fur closer around you and subtly pulled you closer to himself. 

"You're cold" He whispered hoarsely, inclining his head closer to yours. 

"I'm always cold." You chuckled shakily, your breath shallowing.  

"You're stubborn." He said, one hand sliding under the layers to your waist, pulling you into his body heat. You shivered, relishing his warmth. 

"When have I not been stubborn, Migs?" His eyes drifted over your face, before returning to your eyes, noting a subtle hardness in their depths. 

"What happened," 

"I survived, Miguel." You cut him off sharply and winced at your own tone. "That was unwarranted." Miguel shook his head slowly. 

"I didn't mean to pry." 

"It was a valid question." You sighed heavily and rested your hands on his chest. His grip on your waist tightened instinctively. "When I close my eyes... I'm chased by ghosts." You said bitterly, an edge clear in your tone. Miguel made a sound deep in his throat. You looked beyond his shoulder vacantly, and your fingers fisted the material of his coat.

He lifted his gloved hand from your shoulder and cupped your jaw, turning your face back to his, tilting your head back slightly to meet his eyes. His heart clenched at the pained look in your eyes. A pain he'd become all too familiar with and hated to see mirrored back at him. "Miguel," 

"Shh," He whispered, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip slowly, eyes tracking the motion. You shuddered at the contact and your heart jumped at the heat growing in his eyes. 

"What are you," He surged forward and stopped just short of kissing you, his warm breath fogging in the cold as his lips hovered over yours. You brushed your nose against his and tentatively closed the gap, brushing your lips against his. Miguel groaned, easily deepening the kiss as his hand slid to the side of your neck.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you clutched at his coat. Miguel was the first to break the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as he breathed in raggedly. You panted lightly, sliding a hand up to his neck, brushing your thumb over his jaw. Miguel's jaw flexed against your touch and a rumble rolled through his chest. "My palomino is a fine horse." You whispered. Miguel's eyes opened in surprise. 

"What?" He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes. 

"You made disparaging remarks about my palomino being a poor horse for this climate." You said calmly. 

"A horse? You really want to talk about a horse right now?" He looked at you incredulously, his thumb lightly tracing patterns over your ribcage. Your brow raised. 

"It's an important discussion, Miguel. I feel personally offended for my poor palomino; you insulted him." Miguel shook his head. 

"I wasn't insulting your horse, a palomino simply isn't built for," you cut him off by slotting your lips against his insistently, stealing his breath. Miguel's eyes widened before shutting as he pulled you tighter against him. You nipped lightly at his lower lip and pulled back looking up at him playfully, your eyes dancing mischievously. Miguel looked at you, speechless. 

"What's the matter, Miguelito, this abysmal cold freeze your tongue?" You whispered, leaning forward to nip at his lower lip again.

"Minx." He growled, pulling you roughly against his body. You squeaked in surprise, your hands coming to rest against his chest. He looked intently at your face and ran a finger down your nose. "That southern sun freckled your nose." He leaned closer to whisper in your ear. "I wonder how much more of you, that sun freckled." He bit down lightly on the shell of your ear. 

"Miguel, really!" You gasped, a thrill running down your spine at his words. A soft chortle rumbled in his chest. You looked at him and your voice grew breathy. "I'd show you..." His eyes darkened with desire. 

"And if I said I wanted to see what else that sharp tongue was talented at?" His voice grew hoarse as his fingers tightened on your waist. 

"I'd say, out here would be a piss poor place to act on those curiosities." You ran your hands over his shoulders. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he seemed to consider something before nodding his head and lacing his fingers through yours and leading you through the structures to his humble dwelling.

Opening the heavy oak door, he guided you inside a hand gently on your lower back. You saw the roaring fire and immediately gravitated towards it, stripping off your gloves and holding your hands over the flames. The sight caused Miguel to pause in the middle of removing his own gloves, transfixed in a memory from the past. You turned to say something and saw the vacant haunted expression on his face. "Miguel," You said quietly, approaching him slowly. 

His hands began to tremble slightly, and his face paled. 

"Miguel, can you look at me?" You said softly but firmly, turning his face to meet his eyes. Miguel's eyes cleared a little and he looked down at you, as if just noticing your presence. 

"Y/N, I," You shook your head and softly covered his lips with a finger. 

"I've heard the stories, Migs." You said quietly, both knowing to whom you referred, but of whom neither dared speak anymore. That was after all, in the past and there was nothing either could do to bring the deceased woman back. His eyes filled with pain. "And it's not my place to judge... anything that happened." You said firmly. "We survived.... and neither of us are proud of how we did that... but we survived." His eyes took on a wistful quality again. It was clear he was struggling to forgive himself. You sighed and rested your forehead against his chest as she slowly removed his gloves and laced your fingers through his. 

"Y/N," His voice cracked as he struggled to contain his emotions. You shushed him and pressed your lips to his forehead. 

"Chase my ghosts... and I'll chase yours." You whispered, brushing your lips slowly along his jaw. Miguel shuddered and his eyes squeezed shut and he nodded hesitantly. "You matter to me, Miguel O'Hara." You cupped his jaw and ran your thumbs over his pulse points. Miguel's heart thudded against his rib cage and his eyes flashed as he pulled you into a rough kiss.

You responded eagerly, running a hand through his hair, gently tugging on the ends. Your teeth clashed and Miguel groaned as you tentatively rolled your tongue over his. His hands found purchase on your hips, and he pulled you flush against him.

You moaned into his mouth as he rolled your hips over his arousal languidly in time with his teasing strokes against your tongue. "Miguel..." You panted, pulling back to catch your breath, shivering in pleasure at the feel of him. He chased after your lips again and made a frustrated sound when you pushed him back gently. 

"Y/N." He grumbled, just before you slowly began unbuttoning his coat. "What are you doing?" He whispered, his voice thick with desire. You met his eyes teasingly and let the coat fall the ground before reaching to undo the buttons on his shirt. 

"Undressing you." You practically purred, running your fingers teasingly along the bit of hair that poked out from the skin you'd already uncovered. Miguel closed his eyes and bit back a groan reaching again for your hips, digging his fingers into the material of your long coat. 

"Let me return the favor, my lady." He said gruffly, pulling you closer to unbutton your coat and push it off your shoulders. Your fingers fumbled momentarily and meeting his eyes and seeing the lust burning into your soul, you felt everything go hazy as you leaned into him, kissing him passionately as you worked on his shirt buttons.

As soon as your lips touched his, he moaned, and you fell into a feverish race to see who could remove the others clothes first. His shirt was the first thing to go, quickly followed by your dress. Miguel growled in frustration when your zipper refused to cooperate and practically ripped the fabric in his rush to remove the offending article. You gasped and jumped pulling back to protest.

"I'll replace it." he whispered against your lips, sliding his hand up your bare thigh. Your mind grew hazy, and you fumbled with the belt holding up his pants, losing concentration as Miguel sucked at your lower lip and slid his tongue sinfully slowly over yours. Your skin grew flushed, and you whined. 

"Miguel."  

"Shh." He whispered, quickly unbuckling his own pants and guided your hands to slide them off. Your eyes widened as you took in his measure, your eyes glazing over appreciatively at his form. You'd always thought him an attractive man, but you'd never have imagined him to have such a tapered waist, or such defined biceps and broad shoulders.

The man put Michaelangelo's 'David' statue to shame. Miguel raised a brow at your scrutiny and propped his hands on his hips. Your eyes lowered to see easily ten inches of arousal already fully erect, and you flushed, quickly looking back up to meet his eyes. 

"You're a work of art." You breathed. Miguel's brow raised at that, and his lips twitched before he slowly stepped closer and rested his hands on your hips pulling you closer, admiring how the cold air had made your breasts more noticeable under your shift. 

"So are you." He whispered roughly, his fingers reaching out to tease first one nipple then the other through your thin shift. You arched into his touch with a gasp. He smiled softly and pressed his lips against your neck, pulling you firmly against his body, your softness yielding to his cattle drive-hardened form. "Your neck is beautiful." He said quietly between nips at the tender skin.

"Thank you." You sighed, tilting your head to give him further access. He nuzzled the skin at the base of your neck and took in your scent before noticing a smattering of freckles over your shoulder. He pulled back slightly to meet your eyes with a wicked look. 

"I see the southern sun liked more than just your nose." His eyes danced as he pressed open mouthed kisses down your shoulder, his lips pausing when he reached the strap to your shift. He tugged gently at the material. "Off." he muttered, trailing his hands down to the hem as he began hiking it up. You lifted your arms, as he slid it over your head and let his eyes roam over your body.

"You're... the prettiest thing north of Virginia." He met your eyes, a reverent awe on his face. You flushed and folded your arms over your chest sheepishly. Miguel gently took your hands and unfolded your arms. "Y/N, you're beautiful." He said softly, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking softly as he rolled the other between his fingers.

You gasped and bit your lip, a broken whimper escaping your lips. Miguel shifted to flick his tongue over the other before taking it into his mouth, never taking his eyes off yours as you succumbed to the pleasure. Kneeling before you, he kissed down the valley between your breasts, and circled your navel with his tongue teasingly before placing one of your legs over his shoulder. 

"Miguel," you sounded hesitant as you braced your hands on his shoulders nervously. Miguel met your eyes, awe and desire shining in his dark eyes. 

"Mi tesoro, let me please you." He kissed the inside of your thigh and then pressed his lips to your abdomen as his fingers traced lightly over your quickly dampening folds. Your legs began to tremble as you bit back a moan and nodded weakly. Miguel returned his attention back between your legs and as his tongue found that sensitive bit of pink between your folds, you cried out and your hand flew to his hair anchoring him in place.

Your heart fluttered wildly, and you felt a roaring in your ears as the pleasure rose to consume you like a tidal wave. Miguel growled and added his fingers, conducting your pleasure like the finest of maestros. You babbled incoherently and began rocking against his fingers as the tidal wave crashed over you and your walls clamped down around his fingers. You gasped and Miguel kissed at the inside of your thigh, muttering soft encouragements in spanish that you couldn't understand. Miguel caught you easily as you began to go limp and brought you down to lay back against the furs by the fire. 

"So good." You mumbled, as he leaned over you, resting on his forearms, caressing your face. He smiled softly and you ran your slightly trembling hands down his biceps. "I like being under you." You whispered, searching his warm eyes. Miguel positioned himself at your entrance and laced his fingers through yours. 

"Are you ready?" His voice had grown gravely. You nodded and squeezed his hand. Never breaking eye contact he slowly slid into you. You winced at the stretch and Miguel stopped and pressed kisses down your jaw and neck. "Are you in pain?" 

"No, Migs, it's just... been a while." You whispered sheepishly, and he groaned. 

"Mierda, You're so tight." He grunted, sliding further in, until your hips met. You sighed at the feeling of being so full. He cupped your face with his free hand and brushed his lips against your damp hair. "You're a goddess." He grunted, struggling not to begin thrusting.

You squirmed, arching slightly and shifting your hips, letting him know he could move. Miguel began languidly thrusting, his eyes squeezing shut at how you squeezed him. You trembled and leaned up to suck a path down his neck as your hands trailed over his back, feeling his muscles ripple under your touch. 

"Miguel..." You whimpered, shaking slightly from the rising heat in your body. Miguel grunted and forced his eyes open to look down at you, tightening his fingers around yours as he buried his face in your neck. 

"I forgot to tell you; how good you taste." He whispered roughly, nipping at your ear. You panted, and as his pace grew rougher you raked your nails down his back. He growled and wrapped one of your legs around his waist, to drive deeper into you. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you buried your face in his shoulder, reveling in being surrounded in just him.

You bit gently at his shoulder as he overwhelmed your senses, replacing every thought and sensation with only himself, until all you could do was moan his name over and over. He groaned and muttered your name gruffly, bracing his weight on his elbows to keep from buckling onto you.

A shudder ran through you as his cock throbbed, signaling he was close, and wrapping your leg tighter around his waist, you dug your heel into his ass.

"Y/N." Miguel groaned and bit down on your shoulder as his release pulsed through him, and his hips stuttered as ropes of cum painted your pulsing walls. You carded your fingers through his hair soothingly and sighed in contentment. He thrust shallowly, riding out his high. Rolling onto his back, he took you with him, his softening cock still keeping you connected. 

"Thank you." He brushed your hair out of your face and kissed your forehead. Smiling tiredly and humming, you rested your head against his chest. 

"You know, Ben has been going around telling everyone that you and I both needed a good f-" He kissed you tenderly. 

"Ben's an ass." He grumbled against your lips, tucking your head into his chest. 

"Agreed." You mumbled, drifting off in his arms, ghosts chased away... at least for now. 

TL: @feyhunter78 (I know we spoke briefly about cowboy Migs!)

[brighttears]

heyy bright 😁 so i’ve been realizing that i think most of your fics are Jackson/ after QZ joel (correct me if i’m wrong though, this is just what i think i’m noticing) and i’m wondering what are your thoughts on QZ Joel? would you ever write for him? (^з^)-☆

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description except female sex organs and having hair, no use of y/n

Word count: 9.7k

Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI), unprotected PiV, dirty talk, pet names (baby, baby girl, sweetheart, angel, good girl), creampie, Joel has a big ol weiner, drinking, mention of violence, blood, mention of prostitution (does not occur, has not occurred in the past), smoking (cigar, cigs briefly), sad!Joel for a minute but happy ending :), Tess doesn’t exist (sorry Tess)

A/n: you are right i’ve been noticing that i lean too much on Jackson so thank u for this request and i’m gonna try not to do that. had no intention of this being this long it just kind of happened lol. i know i didn't explicitly answer your question but i hope this explains some? idk this just came out of me so here it is i hope you enjoy !!!

—

Boston is ugly. It’s impossible to breathe a clean breath, impossible to get clean. Joel’s lungs are black and he doesn't smile. He may sleep, but he gets no rest, and you can see it easily in his eyes. The QZ is full of sickness—lying, cheating, stealing, there's no honor here. It's impossible not to have some of it rub off on you. It's almost impossible to see anything past it. Almost.

The first time Joel saw you he felt like a rat stepping onto a glue trap. He hadn’t realized he had stopped to stare until someone bumped into his shoulder, taking him back into the bustling street, and then you’d disappeared and he honestly wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen that beautiful girl or not. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, dropping dreams or ghosts down just to make things interesting. He mostly shook it off. Still, only half believing that you were even real, he’d catch himself scanning around, looking for you out in the streets. And then he saw you again, and again, minding your business somewhere across the street, painting over Firefly logos while under guard’s watch—never somewhere that he could get to. Every time he saw you felt like taking a hit of you, and he always wanted more. Whenever he found himself with too little to do, he’d set out, treating Boston like a maze to find you, slipping around booths and through speakeasies and alleys. Despite how packed Boston is, goddamn, you were hard to find. He was aware that it wasn’t… normal behavior, but that’s as far as he got in caring about that. It was a frustrating hobby, though, like an itch he couldn't scratch, because he didn’t understand what he was feeling, or what he wanted, or who the fuck you thought you were, doing this to him, or how he was going to get himself out of this one. He had to interrogate himself to figure out that what he wanted was for you to need him. 

He wanted you to be with him, never leave his side, never want to leave, and he’d be so good to you, he’d be the knight to your queen. You had him bad, you were driving him crazy. 

You had burrowed your way into his head. It was nice to have something to daydream about, though—your smile, a smile that he gave you, that’d be for him. He’d daydream about you dancing, you’d be twirling with your eyes closed, arms out, all lit up in orange light like evening sun but holier, and he’d reach out and your fingers would brush his and you’d smile with your eyes closed because you wouldn’t have to open them to know that it’s him. And then he’d spin you into his arms, wrap you up, hold you safe. He’d daydream about his hands on your stomach, holding your back against him, your hair on his face. He would dream about you taking his face in your hands, kissing him, loving him, fucking him. He imagined your voice—put together from small bites of ‘overheard’ conversations—telling him you’re his. 

They used to make rings for this shit. Now all you’ve got is metaphors and sex. What a world to love in. 

The problem with all of this, however, is that he wanted to know you already. Joel doesn’t know how to develop this kind of relationship, with anyone, actually, and he cringed at the idea of actually trying to do it. If he did even end up finding you, what the fuck was he supposed to say? He genuinely could not come up with an answer. So, thank god for Robert—never thought he’d be saying that, but on this day only, thank god for his cheap, dumbass tricks, and Joel’s dumbass for agreeing to trade with him, and being ripped off again, because that’s how you met. 

Being the coward he is, Robert had sent a third party to meet with you and him—apparently buying the same product—that somehow thought you wouldn’t check the goods, and then you spent the whole day together hunting that fucker down. You were the one who threw the first punch once you found him, and Joel liked that because he didn’t feel bad for hitting him, too. And then you got your ration cards back, and you came home with him. 

In just those few hours, a bond had formed, and all those days he’d spent looking for you fell away. Cliches were clicking in his head. He offered you his smuggled jungle juice and somewhere to clean off your bloody fist. 

Now, you’re here in his apartment, the door swinging softly shut behind you. Joel stands frozen across the room from you, a knee sticking out, unsure if you can feel the rope of tension between you or if it’s just him. He wants you here and it makes him uncomfortable. Mind blank and swimming at the same time, he’s not sure what to say. When he does, he can’t find the correct conduct, weakly and awkwardly jutting his chin out in a sort of nod. Finding himself unable to speak softly, his cadence is a mess that rolls through almost incoherently. He can’t believe how silly the sentence that came out of him is:

“Have you been lookin’ for me as hard as I’ve been lookin’ for you?”

You shift your weight. “Maybe.”

Joel barely ever has company. To be frank, the few times he’s had women over, it’s been for sex, and the longest they stay is if they fall asleep, and they’re almost always up and gone before he wakes. So, here is a beautiful woman in his apartment, and he wants you, so his first instinct is to get you in bed. That doesn’t feel right though—not because he doesn’t want to fuck you, but because he wants more than that. He doesn’t want a one night stand. He wants to savor you. He wants to know you. He wants you to stay. 

The unfamiliarity and lack of clarity of what to do here frightens him. 

“So you got a rag I can stain?” You break the silence for him, holding your hand to massage your palm with your thumb. 

“Yeah, uh,” Joel walks into the kitchen, flicking his eyes around. He knows what rag you can use but he forgot that it might be too embarrassing to bring out. There are not many options though, he can’t let you use the one clean rag he does have. 

“If you can’t find one it’s alright, I can use my shirt, I just need the sink.”

Joel turns to you, taken off guard, but catches telling details when he looks you up and down. Your jeans are dark so you can’t immediately see that there are brown stains around the ripped knees, and lines of more old blood are swiped over the side of your thigh, which he knows come from wiping off a blade. Realizing that you do in fact live in the same world as him, Joel opens a crooked drawer and pulls out a rag that used to be white but is now mostly brown with dried blood. Without looking at you, he wets the somewhat stiff cloth in the sink and hands it to you.

You barely pause, taking it casually. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He mumbles, hiking up his jeans and trying to covertly watch you wipe away at your hand. A large part of him wants to take your hand in his, wipe and dab at it himself, make sure it’s clean, and then bandage it, slowly and carefully. He wants to take care of you, show you gentleness and kindness, but, no matter how much he wants to be soft and personal, to connect, he seems unable to actually act on it. His face flashes in self depreciation before he instead goes to the floorboards in his bedroom, fishing around for that drink he promised you. 

A smile spreads over your face as he emerges back with the bottle and Joel almost stops dead in his tracks at it, at him, because of him. Well, because of alcohol, but he was the one providing it, at least. 

He trades you the bottle for the rag and you waterfall it while he scrubs drying blood from between his fingers. Your face twists up as you swallow and you laugh. 

While he watches yours, Joel can feel his lip curling up and he asks, “What’s that for?”

“This shit is pure. I’m used to it being watered down.”

“Oh, yeah. Got that from Robert, actually.” He tells you, motioning towards it. “One of the only times he’s been useful.” 

“What are the other times?” You stay smiling.

Joel mindlessly circles the rough cloth over top his hand and looks down when he answers, “Well, today.” Because he brought me to you. These half–admittances are escapees, like his brain can’t help but be truthful with you. No matter how much one side screams ‘danger’ at the other, he needs to do something to make an attachment, he needs you to know that he wants you around, he can’t let you slip away. He can’t get himself to say that last part, though.

You hum and hold the bottle out to him. He swipes the rag over his hand one last time, then tosses it onto the table and takes the bottle, wishing you’d let your lips around it so he could get a taste of you without taking any risks. 

Risks. What is he willing to do for this? For this feeling? How far is he willing to be taken with it? He can barely grasp the ideas behind it. It’s familiar, but what is it? How much does he care about its definition? He swigs. 

“Have you traded with Robert a lot?”

Joel nods as he swallows with a grimace, then elaborates, “You could say that. More like been ripped off by ‘im a lot.”

“So you’re a chump?” You smirk. 

Joel halfheartedly glares at you and you only smirk further. “No. Just desperate. Not a lot of options.” He passes the bottle. 

“So you’re the kind of guy who takes what he can get.” You say before raising it, to your lips now.

He almost chuckles, watching your mouth, “I didn’ take shit, remember?” 

You shrug and hand him back the bottle. “So what are you gonna do with all those ration cards now?”

Joel focuses on being able to tell what of what he’s tasting is the alcohol and what is you. He licks his lips after he swallows. “Don’t know yet… What’re you gonna do?” 

“I was thinking about buying a really expensive coat. Like a mink's fur coat.” Joel gives you a look like he’s not completely sure if you’re being serious or not. “I’m kidding. I’m getting fucking food. I’ve been skipping a meal a day for the last two weeks saving up for what we didn’t get.”

As he hands you the bottle again, the thought of that pangs Joel’s chest. If you stay with me, you’ll never have to do that again. I can provide for you. “I have food.”

You stare at him as you lift the bottle to your lips, and after you swallow, say “I’m not asking for your food.” Your face is straight and voice bristled.

“No, I know,” Joel stammers, “I was just offerin’—”

“I don’t want your food.” You shove the bottle at his chest and cross your arms once he takes it, leaning back a foot.

An offer like that is no longer simple friendliness, but Joel didn’t think about that before he spoke. Intentions mean less than jack shit and social rules are more like laws to live by these days; you probably think he’s trying to bargain for sex. “I’m sorry,” Joel closes his eyes and shakes his head, “that’s not what I meant.”

“Yeah, ok, well, thanks for the drink, I’ll see you around.”

“No, wait, I’m sorry,” he reaches out for your arm, and even though he lets go as soon as he closes his hand around it, it’s enough to scare you away entirely and you rush out of his apartment without looking back, slamming the door shut behind you. He jerks it right back open, holding himself in the doorway with another “Wait,” as he watches you barrel down the hallway and disappear down the stairs. “Fuck.” He whispers. Joel retreats back into his apartment and slams the door behind him, stopping just inside to rub his hand over his forehead. It’s a fair reaction on your part, he just happened to be the 1% of people to make a move like that not intending to harm you. 

This is the exact opposite of what he was going for. His hand slaps to his side as he lets it fall. 

As Joel’s eyes wander over the table, he catches something in his peripheral, and spots two ration cards. They’re not his, they must have fallen out of your pocket. 

Like a shot, Joel snatches them up and is out the door, bounding down the steps and throwing himself out through the front door. He skids to a stop just outside, turning left and right until he spots you still making haste away from his place. “Wait!” He calls out again as he weaves through the street toward you. When you stop and turn to him his hand shoots up, showing you the cards. 

You shoot daggers and as soon as he’s in front of you, bark, “I’m not a fucking prostitute. I’m not gonna fuck you for food.” 

“No, no, count your cards, these aren’t mine, they’re yours. I swear.”

Still glaring, you pull the stack out of your back pocket and flip through them. When you finish, you bite the inside of your cheek, shove them into your pants instead of your pocket, and hold your hand out for your missing two. You’re staring him straight in the eyes as he hands them over and you add them to the rest, and then your expression softens. Joel takes this opportunity to try to have you give him another chance.

“I swear, I didn’t mean any a that like that. I know how it sounded, I wasn’t thinkin’. I’m not lookin’ for anythin’ like that. I swear.”

You chew on your lip for a moment. “Okay. Fine.” You blink and pull at your waistband. 

Joel takes a deep breath, but his relief is short lived. Shit. Now what? I can’t ask her to ‘come back to my place’, and if I ask to walk her home she’ll probably think the same fucking thing. Joel is not used to trying to gain someone's trust. What would convince him? No answer comes. 

Gravel shifts under your foot as you turn more towards him, resting a hand on your hip and cocking your head. Suddenly, Joel feels pressure under your gaze and readjusts his posture, straightening, but struggles with his gaze. The interaction is one of assessing dominance—more of you checking his. Joel grinds his jaw with his eyes focused down on the hand on your hip. This goes against instinct, which would be to puff out his chest, cross his arms, raise his chain to glare down his nose. He is not afraid of you, you’re not trying to threaten him, and he understands what you’re doing and that he needs to convey a level of submitance; he owes it to you now that he’s made you suspect he’s trying to manipulate you into sex. His throat bobs as he swallows his pride, then shifts his eyes back up to yours. When you relax, he lets out a breath and follows. 

“Okay, look,” you begin, “I’m not helpless just because I’m a woman, I can carry my fucking own, you should know that by now, but… I know Robert’s got guys, and I am aware of the risk of being a woman, and I also respect the buddy system. So, walk with me?” It’s your turn to struggle with your gaze, flipping your eyes between his and the ground.

A confetti cannon goes off in Joel’s head. “Alright.” He nods.

“Alright.” You nod back, take a step backwards, then turn back to where you were heading originally. The two of you fall into an even stride, silently focusing on your death stares as you journey through the loud, filthy, reeking streets of the Boston QZ. Joel thinks he spots a couple suspicious characters as you walk and is grateful that he came after you and that you let him walk you home. 

The sky’s blue is beginning to darken and the crowds are dwindling. Curfew is fast approaching, but Joel doesn’t want to ask you how much further, because, for one, he doesn’t want there to be a whiff of doubt that he’s no less than happy to be doing this, and, if it does get to be too late, maybe you’ll let him spend the night. It’s unlikely that you’ll be having sex, but that’s fine; he guesses you’re right, he is the kind of guy who will take what he can get.

“Okay, you’re free to go.” You snap Joel out of his thoughts, pulling out a bit of disappointment that you’re already here. Your building is short and wide, with graffiti littering the bottom and most of the low windows boarded up or taped over with rustling plastic. A burly and sunburnt young man smokes a daring cigarette on the steps and you exchange amicable nods with him.

Joel pauses, looking around and hiking up his pants trivially. The lack of promise that he’ll ever be able to speak to you again stirs anxiety in him and he searches again for the right thing to say. “Alright, well, it was nice to meet you.” He struggles again with some kind of cordial inflection, nodding and clearing his throat.

“You, too. I’ll see you around.” You nod back, then add a reassuring “Okay?”

Joel nods again, staying to watch you go. Once you’re out of sight, he takes a deep breath. The man on the steps spits and eyes Joel, so he leaves, hustling back to make it before curfew. 

Back in his apartment, Joel returns the alcohol back under the floor and his bloody towel into its drawer. He strips his flannel, removes his boots, and lays back on his bed, the setting sun casting a sheet of orange over his body. Pulling his pillow under his head and folding his arms behind it, Joel sighs loudly and shuts his eyes. Today was fucking exhausting, more for his mind than body. It has been the strangest day he’s had in a long time. Laying with his eyes closed, Joel picks through his mind for explanations and answers. What’s happening inside of him? What is he looking for? What happened today? His brow pinches as he wracks and wracks. 

Friend. When the word surfaces it breaks with panic and Joel jolts into a sitting position. Girl–friend. He forgot that that’s even a word. He rubs his face with his hand until he feels like he knows where he is again. What the fuck going on with him? Does he think, what, that he’s gonna take you on a ‘date’? And go where exactly? One of those slimy speakeasies, stay for five minutes until a fight breaks out and/or FEDRA fucking crashes it? Oh, yeah, how about spending the night sitting in opposite cells? That would allow for a lot of alone time, except for the fully armed and immoral guard. He could take you out past the walls, maybe find an abandoned restaurant and hope neither of you get bit or killed while checking it out so that you can sit down on dust caked chairs to clink glasses full of dirt.

That shit isn’t possible. Joel lets himself fall back into the mattress. 

Maybe a quick fuck will do the trick after all. 

But, still with that thought comes a gust of dread as he imagines then seeing you out on the street in the days following and having to avoid eye contact. Well what if you could just keep having sex? And just, hang out, you know, maybe if you could… come to live with him and then that way—fuck. That’s like dating. 

‘Dating’ sounds so stupid, like you’re going to go sit at a diner sipping the same milkshake with two straws. 

Well what if you’re just as fucked up and broken as he is? Would that make it any better? Then he wouldn’t scare you if he gets night terrors because you get them, too, and you’d understand about the violence and bloodshed. Thinking more on it, though, Joel realizes that all that that would really mean is that you probably have the same amount of fucking issues with ‘friends’. 

“Shit.” 

Joel flips to his side, shoving his arm under the pillow again to press his face into it. He’s lost, and fucked. Maybe the answer will come to him in the morning. Probably not, but he’s fucking tired, so let’s just say it will. 

—

The morning brings no answers, only more confusion and anxiety. His head has become jumbled in the night and Joel’s not sure about any of it anymore. 

Too close. He doesn’t even know you. You could be one of Robert’s guys, for all he knows. No, that makes no sense. If you were going to rob him you would have already. What else could you want? Jesus, did you drug him? He knows the truth, that he has feelings for you, he just really does not want that to be the case.

But, at the same time, there is the brown haired puppy dog that still lives in him, dreaming up how to get you flowers and how much he likes your hair and your eyes and how you talk. You’re a beautiful person, both in the surface level, physical sense, but also as an individual being. Even though you’ve only known each other for a day, he has seen enough to understand that you are, at least to a level, a safe person. Tulips, he needs to find tulips for you. 

Either way, he just needs to find a way to slow this all the fuck down. 

He shouldn’t get involved with you. You shouldn't get involved with him. He shouldn't trust you. You don't know who he is. He could change for you. You’re gonna get him killed. He’s gonna get you killed. The life he wants with you isn’t possible. He’s the kinda guy who will take what he can get. God, he needs to fuck you at least. Goddamnit, he doesn't want you to think that's all you are to him. Can’t you at least just be friends? What does that even mean? He wishes he never met you. He immediately takes that back. Why is this happening to him? Both sides of him can dig that last one. 

Joel groans and rubs his face with his hands. He stands, stretching his arms up and squeezing his eyes shut against the bright yellow morning light. His arms drop down to scratch at his chest over his sleeveless undershirt. Socked feet sweep over the hardwood floor over to the kitchen where he slaps cold water from the tap onto his face. Noticing wisps of blood still on his hands, he scrubs at them with his nails under the water. He forgot to sign up for any work today because he spent all day yesterday dealing with Robert, and… hanging out with you. 

With another whiney groan, Joel swats the faucet’s handle off and plants his hands on either side of the sink, letting water drip from his nose as he stares into the drain. Hanging out? People do that. He’s seen people just kind of sit around somewhere and talk, not doing deals, but, like, on their porches, sitting on side by side folding chairs. Yeah, people hang out. He imagines himself asking you if you want to ‘hang out’; he’s chewing gum with sunglasses and a backwards hat on, you’re in pigtails and reject him and he kicks rocks on his way home. 

He has had friends before, but it was from traveling in a group, trying to survive, when you kind of have to spend all your time together. There’s little choice and little room to decide if you actually like this person, little time to even actually get to know them, and they die a lot. That’s what he’s used to, and that is not what he wants with you. 

“The fuck am I doin’.” Joel mutters to himself, watching trails of water shine as they trickle down towards the drain. 

Soft, fully brown haired Joel swings his legs on one of his shoulders: “Go out n’ see if she’s around.”

Baggy–eyed, forever frowning Joel digs his fingers into his other shoulder: “If you ever see her again, you better walk the other fuckin’ direction.”

Puppy dog Joel furrows his brow and leans over to look at the other: “She’s a nice girl.”

Morose Joel glares back: “No such fuckin’ thing. An’ if she is, we’ll fuckin’ ruin ‘er.”

“Jesus. You’re paranoid. Can’t you just let us be happy?”

“No such fuckin’ thing.”

Joel smacks his hand to his forehead and pushes away from the sink. He lifts the bottom of his white shirt to rub his face dry and goes to sit back down on his bed to pull on his shoes, grabbing his other flannel and finishing buttoning it as he walks down the hall to exit his apartment building. He’s not sure what he’s doing—not admitting that he’s going to end up heading in the direction of your apartment—but he needs to get out of his head, and the QZ offers plenty of distractions. Here’s one now, as soon as he steps outside—

“Hey friend,” 

Joel whips around to the voice at the corner of his building, a man his size but wiry, with saddle brown skin and an overly genial smile. 

“You look lost.”

Joel narrows his eyes.

“Well, if you’re feelin’ lost—”

“Give me a fuckin’ break.” Joel cuts in. “That shit is meaningless. Hope is dead, jackass.” 

The man’s face instantly falls, disheartened, and he leans his shoulder against the brick. Joel huffs and moves on, shaking his head. That look makes a small part of him remorseful, like a thorn in his side, so he decides to stop at a speakeasy. 

He has to squint against the rising sun as he walks, so he doesn’t catch you until you’re right on him, asking, “Where’re you headed?”

Joel freezes, placing his hand on his brow to shade his eyes to see you smiling. Like remedied, all that anxiety and apprehension rolls off of him like water off a duck's back. “For a drink.” He answers, returning a serene smile. 

“Don’t you have that at home?”

“Yeah, well I jus’… wanted to get outta there.” He shifts out of the suns glare. 

You hum and nod. “I get that. What about my place? I don’t have alcohol, but I do have a cigar.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. “A cigar?”

You nod. “Well they didn’t have any mink coats, so I got the second best thing.” Your mouth twists up into a mischievous smile and you swivel your torso back and forth. When Joel’s lips start to curl, you turn, watching him over your shoulder as you walk until he joins you. 

When the two of you get to your apartment, the young burly man is still on the steps; he winks at Joel as he follows you past, and Joel stares back until the door shuts behind him. Inside, as he follows you up the narrow, winding staircase, he spends the entire five-flight journey to the top floor conflicted about where to let his gaze fall. 

“Alright, this is my floor.” You glance over your shoulder at him then grab the door frame to swing into the tight hallway. “End of the hall.”

Your apartment is much smaller than his, and wide. Cracked, off white paint cries uneven, chipped stripes that reach up to the crown molding. Your bedroom is to the immediate right, a narrow room opened by two glass double doors. At the opposite end is another glass door, tall, that opens up to a fire escape. To his left is your kitchen, which is just the wall lined with cupboards, a sink, and white refrigerator. In front of him, a couch is half visible, the rest hidden behind the corner, under a row of three windows. Like his, the curtains are thin torn pieces of fabric. Just before the corner next to the entrance to your bedroom is a gray folding table with three tan metal folding chairs. Walking in, Joel can see in your room a twin bed with rosy sheets and no headboard, its head shoved in the space between the tall glass door and the wall with a thin pillow and singular white sheet. He hopes you have a bunch of other blankets shoved somewhere he can’t see, because it’s only barely summer anymore. The long wall opposite is taken up mostly by bookcases, which hold some books but mostly by all sorts of other things, including clothes. A ragged chair sits next to it, back facing him. Shoved in between the shelves and the tall glass door is a tall lamp, a thin piece of pink fabric laying over a disfigured shade. The carpet is worn and somewhat cluttered; right next to that chair is a pair of lacy black underwear. Joel rips his eyes away from it back to you in front of him, disappearing around the corner for only a moment before reappearing with a fat, half smoked cigar. You twist it in your fingers with a wide smile, flipping open a Zippo lighter in your other hand. 

“How did you get that?” Joel asks, astonished. He hasn’t seen a cigar in years but has dreamt about smoking one more than once. 

“My friend on the steps outside. Don’t tell anyone, though. Come on,” you nod your head back around the corner and he follows you into a cramped, mellow blue and yellow tiled bathroom. You push out a small broken crank window high up on the wall, pull the door shut behind Joel, and light up the cigar. Leaned against the sink, Joel watches you, very aware of the close quarters. The end of the cigar lights up deep orange and crackles. Your brow is furrowed, Joel can see the hairs of your eyebrows and lashes, a tiny scar in the corner of your eye over the bone of your eye socket. When you pull away, dense smoke snakes out of your mouth. You look down at it as you attempt smoke rings, getting one good one but failing at the rest. When you laugh the rest of the gray puffs out of your mouth. 

“Damn it.” you giggle, and hand the cigar and lighter to Joel.

He has to relight it and watches the flame over the end. He sucks in stale, earthy smog; it tastes ancient, but still has some of that discernable cigar flavor. As it fills his mouth, Joel closes his eyes, leans his head back and moans before opening his mouth to let the smoke leave. His eyes are on you as they open, and yours are half lidded, focused on his mouth, a slight smile on your lips. They slowly crawl back up to his eyes, and you look away. Joel takes another puff and makes a sound to get your attention, attempting rings as well, not doing much better than you did. 

You hold your hands out, “Ok, let me try again.” You take your time and Joel watches your tongue working in awe. You make a good three rings. Smoke puffs out of your mouth again when you smile at him and pass the cigar back. 

Joel focuses his efforts on the rings but keeps his eyes on you watching his mouth. As you do, your smile grows, eyes half lidded again, and you lean your back against the window’s wall, turning your head to see him blow four perfect rings. 

“You’re good at that.” You chuckle, staying on his mouth even after he’s done. He takes another puff. 

“Practice, I guess. Even though it’s been awhile.”

You hum and finally tear your eyes away from his mouth. He offers the cigar but you shake your head, “That thing is nasty, I’m afraid I’ll throw up if I take one more puff. You can keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. All yours.”

“Thanks.”

“I got it with you in mind, anyway.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You look like a cigar guy.”

“Well, what did I do to deserve this?” 

Your eyes go back to his mouth. “Nothing, I guess… I knew it’d get you over here.” You look down and smile.

Joel sucks in murky smoke, letting it fill his mouth, and wonders how you taste. He’s never wanted someone's saliva in his mouth so much. He reaches behind him to balance the cigar on your sink to let it extinguish on its own. “I won’t make you watch me smoke that whole thing. I’ll take it home with me.” Turning back, he looks you up and down, admiring you, and says, “Thank you.” Those are another set of words that Joel cringes at, but he means it, and he needs you to know that he is grateful for this. The last gift he got was a box of bullets from Tommy on his birthday—not to say that’s a bad gift, or that he’s ever expecting anything on his birthday, but, you gave him a gift, just because, and it’s a luxury. He can’t believe you’re real, he wants to reach out and touch you just to be sure. 

“Mhm.” You smile, lifting your fist to rest your lip on, laying your other arm over your torso to support your elbow. Joel drifts over the details—the edge of your lip poking out from where it presses on a finger, the muscle and bone structure of your wrist. He fully appreciates the color of your skin as he follows it until its end at what he can see of your collar, how your chest shapes around the position of your arms. He sees you briefly squeeze your arm around yourself and his eyes are on your hips when he hears your foot shift under you and your body moves a little closer to him. 

“Joel?” Your quiet voice brings him back, and you’re blushing.

“Hm?”

Your eyes flutter and you push yourself off from the wall, moving your hand to scratch the back of your head, then face him, though still not looking at him, “Nothing, um, I dunno,” you chuckle nervously. 

“What?” He coaxes, growing a light smile.

You finally look at him, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your head as you ask, “Do you have anything going on today?” 

“No.”

“Me neither.”

Could this be what he thinks? Are you asking him to ‘hang out’?

“Do you wanna… hang out?”

Good lord in heaven, you are. 

“Yeah.” He says, then blinks, shifts, and repeats more enthusiastically, “Yeah.”

“Cool.” You offer a small, twitching smile. “Well, we can get out of this tiny bathroom.”

“I don’t mind it.” The truth suddenly jumps out of Joel and as soon as it’s out, he looks at his feet. Please, please, please, don’t let this be him ruining it, again, because second chances are basically extinct. 

“Why not?” Your tone is light, not angry or affronted. He looks back up, pausing to consider you, how beautiful you are, how much he really does enjoy being this close to you. The more he realizes how few inches are separating you, the more he aches for your body on his. He swallows hard. Is he being sleazy? 

You shift closer and his heart rate picks up. “I mean, I don’t really mind it either.” A light blush blooms over your face and Joel’s lips inadvertently part. When you move closer still, Joel straightens up from the sink, letting his hands rest at his sides, hoping you want them on your hips. “I like being close to you.”

“I wanna be closer.” Joel tells you quietly, then swallows hard again. 

Out of the corner of his eye, while he focuses on your face, Joel sees your hand rising cautiously, then feels it rest on his shoulder. He permits his hands to your hips. 

From there, naturally and easily, you connect. Your lips touch softly when they meet, then promptly conquering more of each other’s, and finally he tastes you, a pure elixir, and hangs onto your lip with his teeth so that he can raise the dose. Joel breathes deeply through his nose as he savors and his hand brushes up your hip, catching under your shirt and pulling it up slowly with it; feeling your skin warm and bare under his touch shoots directly into his veins. You remove your mouth from his to instead purr into his neck and Joel moans, then adds quietly, “Jesus.” You chuckle before refocusing your lips, gently nipping at and skimming over his skin. His hand glides up to the back of your head and he softly moans again. Lazily, Joel allows you to start slowly unbuttoning his flannel, appreciating his contact with your body and your sensitive touch on his neck. The only way he knows he’s not dreaming is because of your pinching teeth. Once his flannel is undone you smooth your hands down the length of his torso, fingers slipping off of him just before his belt, then come back up, slowing on his shoulders for permission to slip the shirt. Joel takes his hands off of you for the three seconds it takes to pull his flannel off, feeling your hot breath on his neck as you pull away with his shifting. Your eyes meet again and Joel’s heart flutters at how large your pupils are. He watches them move down to cross over his shoulders, your hands following your eyes, and then you look back up at him and bite your lip. Like you’ve flicked a switch with this simple movement, Joel takes your mouth with his tongue and grabs your hips to pull against his. Briefly, he regains composure to check, “Is this ok?” and you confirm with a nod back into his lips, slinging your arms around his neck and rolling your hips. “That a girl,” it escapes him, scaring him for only a moment, but you whine an encouraging moan and press yourself into him. The force leans Joel back over the sink and he has to throw a hand back onto it to keep himself steady.

“Shit, ok, this room is too small now.” You chuckle into each other’s lips and then you pull away, keeping a grip on his hand as you turn the knob and take him around the corner into your room. 

Standing just before your bed, you turn back to him and take his face in your hands, sliding your palms over his beard, fingertips on rough skin. They slip into his hair as you bring his face to yours, working back in your welcome tongue. His hands slither around you and then he squeezes you into a hug, relieving his ache for your body, relishing in the pressure of his hold. As you breathe out your head falls back and Joel moves in, licking into a hickey, too absorbed to give a shit about leaving marks. When a hand travels down to your ass and squeezes, you make a sound and hitch your body up. 

“You like that?” Joel purrs, fully loose lipped and glued back on yours. When you ‘mhm’ into his mouth he squeezes again, hiking you up himself. 

“Joel,” his lips force you to mumble.

“What is it, babygirl?”

All you do is whine, but your answer is in the hand that slides between your bodies to cup the stiff bulge between his legs. 

“You want me to fuck you?” He basically growls, sliding the hand up from your ass to grip your side and the other up to your face, stroking his thumb over your cheek and forcing you to meet his eyes. There’s a desperate tweak in your brow that tells him all he needs to know but he waits for you to say it. 

“Yes,” you whimper, and then he walks you back onto your bed, the two of you falling onto it with little pause with mouths and hands. Messily, he licks and nibbles at your lips and paws at your chest. Your hands spread over his thick, bare shoulders and biceps, legs shamelessly widening more than they need to under his hips, then hook and pull when he doesn’t bring them down himself. 

“You’re fuckin’ horny, huh?” He asks with a slight smirk.

“I just want you. I just want you.” You mumble.

Joel’s brow twists up and he kisses you deeper. You want him, you want him, you want him. “I want you so much, baby. God, I need you. I’ve been wantn’ you so bad since the first time I saw you,” the words are doing nothing more than spilling out of him, but he’s gone now, “so beautiful, such a beautiful girl. You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out, tugging his shirt up his back. 

Joel pushes himself up to stand on his knees and pull his undershirt up and off, then stays over you, panting. Slowly, mindfully, his hands smooth up your body, hooking his thumbs under your shirt, lifting it. You watch his eyes and lift your arms when his hands ask. He slips your shirt off carefully and lets it fall on the floor, and then you’re bare underneath him. The adoration is palpable in his touch as he smooths his calloused hands from the V of your waist over your belly, splitting to slide over your sides but meeting again on your chest. He pets your breasts, teasing your nipples with fleeting touch, and then suddenly dips his body down to lick and tenderly nip one of your nipples. Then his wet lips drag up your collar, your neck, and back to your lips, and his mouth and tongue are gentle but passionate. Joel cherishes every touch you share. Then, your hands go back down to the bulge under his jeans, one rubbing over the cup while the other tugs at his belt. He chuckles into your lips and then rises again to undo his belt. When you try to tug down your pants you both understand the trouble and Joel hoists his legs over you to stand beside the bed, letting you up with him so that you can both undress as quickly and easily as possible. For a moment all there is is the sound of belts clicking and fabric brushing against skin. For whatever reason, you both start to laugh breathily until reattaching mouths smother it out. You fall back on the bed, your legs back open, and Joel wastes little time getting his hands on his dick, unable to help himself from a few strokes before he positions himself at your entrance, swiping his tip up and down your wet slit. Laying his forearm on the bed allows him to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

Nearly slurring, Joel asks, “You ready for me baby?” 

“Mhm,” you nod, “I want you, Joel, please,”

“You don’t need to beg, sweetheart, I gothcu,” he kisses you tenderly, but it breaks as he fills you and you both moan. Joel’s forehead rests briefly on your lips when he looks down to watch himself pushing into you, his fingers pinching his base to guide himself, he prizes this picture of him in between your legs, opened wide for him. As he fits his large, stiff member inside of you your fingers comb through and then grip his hair, making him moan. “Goddamnit baby, what a good girl, takin’ me like this. I know it’s a lot. I know.” He assures you as you squeal, toes curling as he plugs you up. Joel swings his head back up, biting his lip as he watches your face, impressed with himself when he sees your pupils almost disappear back into your head. He nips at your lips but your mouth stays open until he stills his cock inside of you. 

You groan, “Oh my god, Joel,”

“Yeah?” He mumbles as he begins to move. You clench around him when you moan and he swears, moving his head down to bite your neck gently as he continues to take himself in and out. He smiles when your hands claw at his back and release his teeth to speak, “Such a good girl for takin’ me like this. You’re a fuckin’ angel.”

“Ok, Joel, I’m good, I’m good, please fuck me,”

Joel growls and links his teeth on your lip again. “Told you darlin’, no need to beg, I’ll give you what you need. How do you want it? You want it hard?”

“I don’t fucking care just fuck me,”

Jesus, if heaven’s real this is what it’ll be. 

Joel trusts your word and starts to fuck you how he wants—deep and hard, pounding your pussy in final satisfaction of the need he’s been pinned with since the moment he saw you. The room is full with the sounds of your moans and skin on skin.

“God, look atchu, pretty girl, god, your pussy’s so fuckin’ tight for me.” The sensation of him bumping your cervix and your cunt enveloping him fully is keeping him going like he’s a quarter operated ride that someone slipped fifty cents into. “That feel good, baby? Huh? Does that feel good?” You slap your hand onto the wall above you to keep your head from hitting it with the force of Joel’s thrust and repeatedly breathe out yeses. Joel groans at how your nails dig into his shoulder. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels,”

“Yes, Joel, it feels so good, you fuck me so good,”

“That’s righ’, baby. Gonna treat you so good. So good. So good baby you feel so good.” Joel leans his head back as bottoms out. When you almost scream, Joel stops, frightened, “Shit, you ok?”

“I’m fine Joel,” you laugh, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. It was—it was good, that felt really good.”

“Oh, alright, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“No, no, I’m fine, Joel it’s good,”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, fuck—ok—” you push Joel up and his heartbeat quickens with anxiety. Unsure, he simply follows your movements, climbing off of you, letting you tug his arm and flopping back on the bed for you to mount him. 

Now sitting up on your knees on top of him, you study him. “You’re so fucking hot, pretty boy.”

A wide smile spreads over Joel’s face, pumping rosy cheeks, and he throws an arm over his eyes modestly. The reaction is spontaneous, Joel being unprepared for such praise. 

“You are!” You giggle, moving his arm and dropping on your elbows to kiss him. One of his hands goes to your hair and he squeezes your hip with the other with eager grip. You rise back up, a line of spit briefly linking you, and your hand trails down over his chest until it comes to his cock, bulging over his stomach. He twitches and breathes out as your hand slides over it and he beholds you above him. 

“Fuck,” you purr when you slip him in. Joel strains his arms down to grip your thighs, breathing out a loud moan. “Shit.”

“Goddamn,” he whispers, then says, “come on, baby, take all of it.” You sit down on him slowly, hands landing over his chest, and he brushes his hands up and down your arms. “Thas’ righ’ baby. So good for me.” Joel moves to your hips, pulling them down and in to start to move inside you, forcing himself to be gentle. Your head flips back as you let out a loud, pornographic moan, and Joel can no longer keep himself reigned in. Gripping your hips, he’s now moving them more than you are, one hand gripping your ass, guiding you to angle down, taking more of him. 

Riding him like a mustang, your fingers skim over his wrists, unable to grasp them. “Fuck,” You whimper, brow twisted up, eyes closed. 

Joel takes his hand off of your ass to grab your face, squishing your cheeks, “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” You moan and obey, he keeps your face in his hand to make sure you stay. “Good girl. Stay with me baby.” He grunts and briefly bits his lips as he begins moving his hips up into you, thrusting his cock even deeper inside of you until he’s bumping your cervix again. You squeak and close your eyes, leaning your head back until he jerks your face, reminding you softly, “Eyes on me.” Your hand slaps on his chest as you adjust your posture, though Joel’s grip stabilizes you enough, holding you in place. He releases your cheeks but keeps his hand on your face, letting his palm and fingers brush over the side of your head as you bounce, his thumb on the back of your neck, supporting your head up when you try to let it fall back. “You’re so beautiful. Bet you look so pretty when you cum.”

“My god, Joel,” you pant, “I knew you would fuck me so good, you’re gonna make me cum,”

Joel’s eyes light up and he inadvertently smirks, “Yeah?” Eagerly, he tells you, “I wanna make you cum, baby, I wanna feel you fuckin’ cum. You’re bein’ such a good girl lettin’ me fuck you so hard like this. God, I wanna make you cum,” His hips bump up into you and he tugs on yours in a tempo that buries him as far as he’ll go inside of you. Prizing his view, Joel notices a bulge, coming and going at a suspiciously similar rhythm as how he’s fucking you, and when he realizes that it’s him, heat spreads through his chest and he only fucks you harder. “Oooooh, baby,” he looks back up at you and your chest and face are flushed. “My angel, look at you. Go ahead and cum on my cock, babygirl, I know you’re ready to.”

Your pipe out desperate moans as you bounce on his cock and your hands shoot up, one twisting your hair behind your head the other on your face, smoothing down over your face and mouth down to massage your breast.

“Does that feel good baby?” He almost whines out the question, desperate for praise, for affirmation that he’s being good for you. 

“Yes, god, fuck me Joel, I need you, oh my god please,” you cry out.

“You gonna cum for me? Cum on my cock like a good girl?”

You close your mouth, whining through sealed lips, then pop them back open to moan almost unrealistically pornographically, but the way your pussy squeezes him proves it unmistakably genuine.  

“Ah, fuck,” Joel lets out loudly as your legs shake and tighten around him, just like your cunt does, and his thrusts are basically out of his control. His mouth falls open and his eyes squeeze shut, almost seeing white, a sweet taste filling his mouth as the euphoric pleasure you provide him trembles to a peak and he groans as he cums in a pussy–drunk frenzy. 

As he comes out of it embarrassment starts to run over him at his gusto, but the look on your face calms it—your brow is furrowed up, eyes closed with your mouth slack like his. Your back is arched with your hands resting on his thighs, panting. 

You let out a loud breath and flip your body back to look at him, smiling, “Shit.” A breathy laugh shakes out of him and you sit back, still with him inside of you. Then you rise up off of him, “Oh, fuck,” you stand, almost tripping, “I gotta go clean myself up. I’ll be right back.” 

Joel basks in the glory of your figure walking away, still fully nude, pattering through your apartment, then disappearing around the corner. He leans back, turning his head to view the sky from the dirty glass door. It’s a picturesque baby blue, dotted with a few puffy white clouds. Fuck the other shoe, if it drops it drops, he just wants to be here right now, with the sun warming his bare chest, nose full of your scent, his lips swollen and dick still wet with your cum. Joel takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s dramatic to say he’d be happy to die here, and it’s not entirely true, but it’s just that he feels content for the first time in fucking years. 

When your padding steps sound again, Joel shifts his upper body up, watching you approach, and then you slip into bed, nudging him so that you can lay side by side facing each other. The top sheet is cast lazily over your bodies and a comfortable silence falls over it. Joel tries to memorize the details of your eyes and admires the way his mouth has plumped your lips. 

Lying in bed with you here in this cramped apartment feels like a dugout, and he wants to go back in time, to any point over the last ten or so years, to tell himself that this is waiting there for him, just to let himself know that it’s gonna be ok. He can’t believe he’s still in Boston.

“Can we stay here for a while?” He asks you. 

You nod, “We still have all day, pretty boy.” Joel smiles and you move to kiss him, long and light. He hooks your lip in his mouth, asking you nearer, and, without breaking the kiss, you lift yourself up, only your chest off of the bed, supporting your body up with your elbow. To hover over him, you reach your hand over to plant next to his head. Joel’s hands slither up your face to the back of your head, assuring your connection. All he wants is your lips.  

“Baby,” He whispers, his voice high. 

“Hm?”

“Nothin’. I dunno.”

You smile, peck another gentle kiss, and then lay back beside him. You shift closer to each other and your legs tangle.

After a couple of still moments, you take a deep breath and address him, worry in your voice, “Joel…”

“What is it?” His brow pinches in concern.

“I’m just worried… maybe I should have waited.” You say quietly, brow slightly furrowed as you gaze into his eyes, raising a loose fist to your lips. 

He pushes his hand out to brush the back of his finger over your wrist, “Why’s that?”

You pause. “Cause… I don’t want… I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to have… you know, a one night stand. I mean, for this to be a one time thing and then I never see you again.”

Joel’s brow furrows as he assures you, “Me neither, no, no baby, I wanna see you again. I want you to stay. I wanna stay. I wanna know you.”

You uncover your mouth to smile and your eyes twinkle, “You want to know me?”

“Wull… yeah.”

“That’s such a nice thing to say.”

“I mean it.”

“Well, I wanna know you, too.”

Joel’s contentedness pauses. He didn’t think about that part and he’s not sure if he wants you to know him. Yes, desperately, god yes he does, but, no, his soul is covered in soot. You shouldn't, he doesn’t want you to see him, know him, because he’s bad. 

“What’s that face?” You ask.

“What face?” 

“That face you just made. You don’t want me to know you?”

How did you read him like that? He’s not sure which side he should take with this so he says nothing. 

You sigh and blink, then place your hand on his cheek, stroking it with your thumb once. It’s warm and solid against his skin and flowers bloom in his chest. 

“If I’m gonna let you know me, you gotta let me know you. That’s the deal. I think we’re pretty similar, Joel.” You take another deep breath, “I haven’t had someone in this bed with me in a long time. I haven’t touched someone like this in… forever. I don’t like to let people get this close. I’m letting you get close, though. Because I really, really want to. But part of me really, really, doesn’t. For some reason, I trust you. I hate saying that. But I just do. I really like you, Joel. Maybe you’re gonna break my heart. I decided that that’s ok. I just really want to know you.” Your hand slides down to his neck, over his shoulder, then down to the middle of his sternum. “So, that’s the deal. If I’m gonna let you in, you gotta let me in.”

Joel isn’t sure why there are tears wetting his eyes. He wasn’t ready to be spoken to like this, to be cared about. The longing to hear words like these has long been buried and he never expected any of that to be fulfilled. He blinks the tears back, swallows hard, and murmurs a tender “Ok.” 

Your hand slides back up to caress his cheek. The affection in it floods him and he melts into the bed, eyes falling closed. When he opens them again, it’s like this is all there is; he can’t see anything else except for you, and those pink sheets, and the light behind you coming through the window. 

He can’t help this feeling of safety with you. He smiles. You smile back. 

You can’t make Boston any better, but now, Joel is taking his first clean breath of air, and it smells like you. The world is ugly, but love makes it bearable. And now you’re here, and he’ll wait to tell you, but he figured it out, he’s sure he loves you. 

…Metaphors and sex, sex and metaphors. 

[stayteezdreams]

Haunted

Plot: You swear your new house is haunted, but Hongjoong doesn't believe you. So you make him sleep over to prove a point

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x Gn!Reader (established relationship)

Request: “I’m telling you, I’m haunted.” Requested By: @yourfatherlucifer

Warnings: General creepy ghost stuff. Suggestive Content (kissing) but only for a moment.

Words: ~2.1k

You were humming to yourself as you unpacked various dishes and cooking utensils. It was the first time you were alone in your new place after moving all of your stuff over the last few days.

The bed finally arrived, so you would be staying your first night as well. The house was eerily quiet, and you had an odd feeling in your gut whenever you were alone. But you convinced yourself it was just because it was a new place. You weren't used to it yet, it didn't quite feel like yours yet.

You had been lucky when finding the place at all. Your last landlord didn't allow you to renew your lease due to them selling the building, so you panicked trying to find somewhere to live.

This place came up on your search, and you were surprised no one had snatched it up yet. The rent was reasonable, and the house itself was roomy and nicely built. It was a bit old, but had been remodeled. The landlord had a few houses for rent, but this one was by far the best price.

You thought it was a bit odd, but the landlord seemed pleasant enough, so you didn't question it much, you just felt too relieved too. But as the night would go on, you would start to regret not asking more questions.

Staring down the dimly lit hallway, where you swear you had just heard someone speak, you listened intently. Slowly, you tip toed down the hall, before peering into the rooms. Seeing and hearing nothing, you let out a soft hum of confusion.

Maybe it was just a neighbor, maybe the house isn't soundproofed very well.

It was an excuse that comforted you. Until other things began to happen.

A door that you swore you closed was suddenly open. The light in the living room flickering any time you entered the room. The sound of footsteps when you knew there was no one else in the house.

The most frightening thing to happen though, was when you were putting your stuff away in the bathroom. As you set your toothbrush holder on the counter, your eye caught on something in the mirror. From the corner of your eye, a black figure was standing in the room across the hall behind you.

You gasped as you spun around, only to be left dumbfounded when the room was empty. Without thinking you ran into the room and looked around, half-expecting someone to be there. But when there was no sign of anything or anyone, your heart pounded painfully in your chest.

Walking back into the bathroom, you looked in the mirror, before trying to recreate how you had seen the reflection. Maybe it was just a shadow, or a trick of the light.

No matter how many times you tried, you couldn't seem to see the same thing you had before.

You were officially unsettled, but you tried your best to stay calm. Texting Hongjoong about when he was coming over you hoped he could help you figure out what to do.

What you should have expected however, was not Hongjoong comforting you, but teasing you.

Hongjoong chuckle after you recounted the various things that had been happening.

"You're getting too worked up! It's only because you aren't used to this place yet, and it's still pretty empty so it makes sense that it feels off."

"But I swear I saw someone! And what about the footsteps?"

"It's an old house! Its just the old floorboards."

"The whole place was remodeled, it shouldn't be making those noises."

He grabbed your face as he stared into your eyes. "The house is not haunted, you are just a chicken."

You smacked him on the chest and he laughed before he pulled you into his arms as you leaned back on the couch.

"I'm kidding! But I promise it's not what you think! Its just your overactive imagination."

Even with Hongjoong's confident skepticism, you were still unsettled.

"Can you stay tonight? Until I feel better about this place?"

Hongjoong smiled as he peered down at you. "Hmm? You just want me all to yourself huh? You could have just asked, no need to make up ghost stories."

You pulled away from him as you pouted angrily at him, "I'm not making it up!"

He chuckled before grabbing your face and kissing you. "I'm sorry, I'm just teasing."

You glared at him before you got up, playing your own game.

"It's fine, you don't have to stay."

Hongjoong quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you back to the couch and into his arms.

"Baby!" He whined, "I was just kidding."

You repressed a smile as he started pressing kisses to your face. "I'll stay with you as long as you want me too."

You met his eyes and he pouted. You gave in as a small smile crossed your face. "Promise?"

He nodded, "Yes, I promise."

"Good." You smiled as you hugged him, making him chuckle.

Grabbing your face, he kissed you again, but this time you reciprocated. The kisses were slow and soft, as you held onto each other, getting lost in yourselves.

Just as Hongjoong started pulling at your clothes, a loud bang from down the hall made you both jump in shock.

You and Hongjoong stared at each other for a moment before he rose and slowly walked down the hall.

You watched with bated breath until he came back and smile softly at you. "A box fell over."

"How?" You asked with piqued confusion.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "Was probably not on the table fully."

You knitted your brow and he chuckled as if reading your mind, "It wasn't ghosts!"

"You don't know that." You mumbled and he sighed dramatically before plopping down on the couch again.

He hugged you close to him, "I'm sure it was really nothing okay?"

You met his eyes and he smiled, making you feel a bit better.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before smirking. "Now where were we?"

A few hours later as you and Hongjoong were getting ready to go to bed, you had begun to relax. Nothing had happened since the box fell over, and you were starting to take Hongjoong's words as reality.

Until, your eyes caught on a shadow in the hall. You watched it until it slowly disappeared around the corner.

You called out in curiosity. "What are you doing Joon?"

"What?" You heard Hongjoong's voice call out, from the opposite side of the house.

You froze, your heart racing as you realized it had not been him. You swallowed before slowly walking to the door. You peered down the hall where the shadow had come from before running to the kitchen where you had heard Hongjoong's voice.

When you appeared in obvious distress Hongjoong was quick to approach you. When you told him what happened, he told you to stay in the kitchen before he walked back towards the bedroom.

You stood impatiently as you twiddled with your hands, looking around for something heavy in case it was a thief.

Hearing footsteps a few minutes later, you watched as Hongjoong came back with a furrowed brow.

He shook his head. "There's nothing in the house."

You groaned, "Then what was it!"

"Maybe someone passing by outside. Let's make sure all the windows and doors are locked."

You nodded as you did as he said, checking everything thoroughly. Your mind raced as you wondered which would be less frightening. Someone outside the house, or some thing inside.

As you finally lied down in bed, Hongjoong could see your mind racing as you stared at the ceiling.

Facing you, he gently stroked your cheek. "Baby."

"Hongjoong. I'm telling you, I'm haunted."

He almost laughed but repressed it. "You are not haunted."

"Fine. The house is haunted."

He let out a soft laugh this time before he pulled you into his arms. "The house isn't haunted either. You're just scared."

As he cradled you in his arms for a while, you were gently lulled to sleep, though a nervous tension sat in your chest, and even though he wouldn't admit it, Hongjoong was feeling it too.

As Hongjoong's eyes fluttered open, he tried to figure out what had woken him. Glancing at his phone, he noted it was nearly two in the morning.

Turning over, he noticed you were no longer in the bed and something in his stomach twisted.

Sitting up, he heard a soft creak in the hall. His eyes moved to the bottom of the door, where he saw the subtle movement of a shadow underneath. He frowned as he climbed out of bed and towards the door.

As he pulled the door open, he saw your figure move around the corner of the hall and into the living room.

"Baby?" He called out softly, not wanting to scare you.

When you didn't reply he followed after you, worried something had happened. Did you hear something again? Could you not sleep?

As he rounded the corner, he felt his heart jolt as the house was empty. Looking into the kitchen, you were nowhere in sight. He walked to the front door, seeing it was still locked.

Feeling uneasy, he was about to call out for you when your voice came from the hall, "Hongjoong?"

His eyes darted towards the bedroom, and he rushed to the hall, spotting you peering from the bedroom with a confused look.

"What are you doing?" You asked softly.

He stared at you for a moment as he tried to figure out what happened.

"How did you do that?" He asked dumbfounded as he walked back to you.

"Do what?"

As he explained what happened, your expression slowly became more scared, only making him freak out more.

You shook your head. "I was in the bathroom, I didn't come out here."

He swallowed, as his chest grew tight and his heart pounded. Had you been right? Was there really something in this house?

"I told you!" You said with a forceful whisper.

He shook his head, "No, there's gotta be an explanation."

As Hongjoong walked around the house turning on the lights and checking everything you watched him in silence.

When he found nothing he sighed and you shook your head. "What were you hoping to find exactly?"

He sighed as he rubbed his face, "I don't know."

The moment of silence between you was suddenly filled with the sound of the door at the end of the hall creaking open. You and Hongjoong stared at it with silent shock.

Slowly, you reached out and grabbed his wrist in fear as you both held your breath.

In the dark room, you could just make out what appeared to be a person standing in the darkness.

"Hongjoong?"

The voice that called out from the room was your own, or at least an echo of it. Ice ran through your veins as you felt your breath hitch.

"Y/n?"

It was Hongjoong's voice this time, calling out your name, as the figure took a step closer to the door, a creaking floorboard announcing its movement.

Suddenly, Hongjoong grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the front door. No words were spoken as he grabbed his keys and pulled you out of the house. You ran to the car with no other thought than escape.

You didn't know who or what that was lingering in the darkness and there was no way you were going to find out.

It wasn't until you and Hongjoong were heading down the street that you seemed to find your words.

"What the fuck was that!" You said with an exasperated fear.

Hongjoong shook his head as his hands shook with adrenaline and fear.

Reaching over he took your hand. "I don't know, but you are not going back to that house, not alone, and not until it's daytime. We need to find out what the fuck is going on."

You sighed as you leaned your head back, letting the adrenaline and fear course through you.

"My landlord has some explaining to do. There is no way in hell they didn't know something was wrong with that house."

Hongjoong nodded his head as his mind raced. "You're staying with me until we figure this out okay?"

You nodded your head as you squeezed his hand, grateful that he had been with you tonight.

After a few tense moments passed, you peeked over at him.

"Is it too soon to say 'I told you so'?"

xx End xx

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @thunderous-wolf

[piratekane]

7! Ava telling Bea that🫠🫠

seven: look at me. just breathe.

Ava looks small. She always has, despite feeling larger than life. But in a wide hospital bed with wires running from her body to the various beeping machines, she looks smaller than she did before she slipped through the Arc.

Before you sent her through it.

Beatrice stands at the edge of the doorway, wringing her hands as Jillian flutters around Ava with purposeful hands. Ava looks tired, but impossibly cheerful as Jillian puts another electrode pad on her exposed skin. She keeps stealing glances at the doorway, keeps ducking her head to meet Beatrice’s eyes, and always frowning a little when Beatrice gives nothing away. 

She’s afraid to step forward, afraid to meet Ava’s eyes. What if this is a dream? What if she’s fallen asleep and woken up in a dream world where everything has magically fallen into place? Ava escaping Reya’s realm the moment Beatrice crosses the threshold of Cat’s Cradle? It’s too… perfect. It slots together too neatly. 

She can’t cross the threshold because she might wake up in a hotel room somewhere - Cinque Terre, Faro, Lisbon - and this has all been a trick of the mind, a quiet torturous place her mind has found.

“Beatrice?”

Jillian touches her arm gently, trying not to startle her. Beatrice holds onto herself, a sharp inhale the only thing that gives her surprise away. But either Jillian doesn’t hear or she’s too kind to bring attention to it. She simply gives Beatrice a kind smile and slight tilt of her head. A quiet, she’s asking for you.

Beatrice searches for the part of her that’s always stood tall in the face of adversity. It wasn’t always there, grown out of a necessity, but it activates now as she takes that first step into the room on feet that feel steadier than her heart does. The live wire edge in her chest fizzles a little when she sees the way Ava’s face lights up as she moves closer and her hesitation simply vanishes.

Ava smiles wider. “Hi.”

Hi feels too small. Hey feels too informal. I’ve been thinking of you every minute of every day for the last nine months and you’re a ghost haunting all of my waking moments and sleeping ones too and I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life feels too big.

She settles for a quiet, “Hello.”

Ava’s nose wrinkles. “Hello,” she echoes, pitching her voice slightly deeper. A clumsy attempt at mimicking her accent. She blinks up at Beatrice expectantly. “Anything else?” she asks after a moment.

“You’re back.” Everything else she wants to say sticks in her throat.

“I am.” Ava tips her head curiously, keen eyes studying her. Beatrice wonders if she sees the new highlights in her hair, the added years Beatrice sees when she looks at herself in the mirror. “I mean, I wasn’t expecting a party, or anything. Maybe a banner or a cupcake. Though, I get that it was kind of an impromptu arrival and there wasn’t a lot of time to plan. I mean, it’s not like you guys have a ‘Welcome Back to Earth’ banner on hand, right?” She pauses again. “I was expecting more than hello, though.”

Restraint, Beatrice, her mother used to tell her. Show some restraint. When she spoke out of turn, became too excited - it was always whip-sharp eyes in her direction, reminding her to practice some self-discipline. Ava, on the other end of the long spectrum between what is expected and what isn’t, is the least restrained person Beatrice has ever met.

Beatrice, months separated from Ava’s influence, struggles to find a middle ground. 

“Seriously.” Ava laughs. She sounds nervous. “They didn’t, like, replace you with a pod person or anything, did they?” Her eyes widen. “Is this some kind of alternate reality where people are different? Are you really Beatrice? Or are you her evil twin? Is this world run by toads? I had a dream once where there was a toad king who demanded we all speak in ribbits. Or is it croaks? Hey, can you look up the sound toads make? I think I missed that science lesson.”

“Ava,” Beatrice breathes. Fond exasperation is easy to fall into.

Ava grins rakishly. “Ah, there she is.”

Beatrice opens her mouth to scold her, to tell Ava that she’s not as funny as she thinks she is, but she’s horrified when a single sob loosens from somewhere in the back of her throat and explodes into the space between them. 

They both look startled at the sound, but Ava recovers quicker than she does. She curses softly when she tries to move, wires tangling up around her wrists. She starts to try and move them out of her way, her legs swinging over the side of the bed as she starts to inch towards Beatrice. She looks up, forehead pulled together in frustration. “Hold- just hold on.”

Beatrice claps her hand down over her mouth, trying to stop the next horrible sound that comes out of it. She holds out her other hand, trying to tell Ava to stay back. No, no, no. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

Ava curses again, louder and in Portuguese this time, as another wire comes undone and loops its way around her arm instead. “I swear to fucking God and all her shitty decisions that if this thing doesn’t- Ha!” She wiggles out of one wire, then a second. She smiles triumphantly at Beatrice but that wrinkle in her forehead hasn’t faded away.

Something starts beeping as Ava disconnects the next wire. There’s a moment where they both stand, suspended as they wait for Ava to suddenly collapse onto the floor, that one wire the only thing keeping her up. But nothing comes and Ava must decide that it’s the all-clear; she starts pulling at wires until they disconnect, creating a cacophony of noise that feels like a mis-paced symphony.

“Hold on, hold on,” Ava is muttering as she pulls the last wire free. She’s suddenly in front of Beatrice, hands out in front of her carefully. “Hey, Bea.”

Beatrice’s eyes dart around the room. It’s starting to narrow to a pinprick, the lights spinning around. Ava is the only thing staying still, her focal part as the rest of the room rushes in on her. Another sob starts to build in her throat but it gets stuck there, forming into a hard knot that makes it hard to swallow around.

Breathe, she tells herself. Just take a breath.

“Look at me. Just breathe,” Ava says quietly. She takes a hesitant step forward. “I think- Bea, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

Beatrice tries to shake her head. She tries, but she’s not sure that she does. Her body feels far away, like she’s swimming underwater from one end of an endless pool to the other. The beeping of the machines distorts into a heartbeat, but that might just be the blood rushing in her ears. She tries to inhale and chokes on that knot.

“Okay, just follow my voice.” Ava sounds closer, but Beatrice can’t quite say how close she is. The room is starting to stretch out like a funhouse mirror. “Bea, uh, okay. Okay. I’m going to touch you. I know, you might freak out. But I’m going to put my hands on your hands, okay? Just like… just like this.”

She feels something cool and soft land on the wrist of her outstretched arm. It becomes a focal point. She focuses all of her energy there, all of her remaining senses rush to the spot where Ava’s fingertips curl around her pulse point.

Ava makes a noise that sounds like a hum just under the hot whistle of air in Beatrice’s ears. “Good. Now the other hand.”

Another cool hand touches hers, pulling it away from her mouth. She lets her world dial down to just the feather-light touch of Ava’s hand tangling with hers, lets herself focus in on the soft pads of Ava’s fingers running over the silvery scars on her hands. Each brush against her knuckle breaks down the knot in her throat until she can take in a ragged breath, then another, then one more.

The world begins to expand again - light filtering back in, the beeping stretching out into its asynchronous rhythm, the slightly sterile smell of clean cotton on the hospital bed. She focuses all of her attention on Ava, though. On the soft soothing noises Ava is making, the heat coming off her body as she gets closer, the strange patterns Ava is rubbing into her wrist.

“Hey,” Ava says quietly in the spaces between the beeping. “Hey, there you are.”

“I’m sorry,” she croaks, graceless.

Ava’s eyes are wide, but kind as they come into focus. Beatrice could count the inches between them on two hands. “You don’t need to apologize. I don’t think either of us expected this.”

“I should have.” She inhales again, the exhale a little steadier. “I should have been expecting this.”

“Beatrice, I mean this in the nicest way.” Ava ducks her head just a little, meeting her gaze directly. “This is a compliment, okay? You are not perfect. You cannot anticipate everything. And you shouldn’t be expected to do that. So it’s okay, alright? It’s okay that you didn’t anticipate some scientific marvel spitting me back into reality. I think I can forgive you for that, hmm?”

“Okay,” she whispers, not believing it entirely. But Ava looks so convincing, she lets the idea sit and tries to believe it could be true. “I’m-”

“Don’t apologize,” Ava says quickly. “This is a no-sorry party. Apologies department is closed for… the rest of eternity. No need to leave a message.” She strokes her thumb against the back of Beatrice’s hand before her eyes widen in mock-surprise. “Maybe this is an alternate reality where I’m not funny anymore.”

“Your jokes were always mediocre at best,” she manages.

Ava grins. “She speaks. And she lies.” Ava’s expression softens and she pulls until Beatrice can count the inches on one hand now. They’re nearly nose to nose and Beatrice can see the thin skin over Ava’s collarbone, just a little more pronounced this close up. “You’re okay.”

Beatrice takes in a slow, measured breath. “You’re here,” she exhales.

“All 238 bones of me.” Ava’s mouth falls into a serious line. “I’m including teeth, of course.”

She can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from her unexpectedly. Get control of yourself, her mother’s voice hisses. But Ava is looking at her, pleased. It sends her mother to the back of her head, back behind Ava’s smile.

“You had your wisdom teeth removed,” she reminds Ava gently.

Ava’s mouth falls open slightly. “How did you-” Her eyes narrow, but she’s smiling. “No stone unturned for you people, hmm? I bet Sister Frances kept those teeth, too. You know, Diego and I always thought she had some kind of creepy collection of, like, teeth and hair. She seemed the type.” Her fingers start working over Bea’s hands and up towards her elbows as she carefully starts to guide them around her back.

“Ava,” Beatrice tries.

“I don’t know about you,” Ava says quietly. “I don’t know how long it’s been since-”

“Too long,” Beatrice breathes. Eight months, twenty-three days, and somewhere around three hours, she doesn’t say out loud.

“But it’s been even longer for me,” Ava finishes. “And, I’ll be honest, okay? I really missed Mother Superion and Camila and, yeah, okay, parts of Lilith. But you were the only thing that kept me going. So I’m going to hug you and you’re going to hug me and then I’m going to pass out, if that’s okay with you?”

Beatrice startles a little, their forehead nearly knocking as she grabs Ava tightly and holds her against her body. Ava seems to sigh into the hug, her forehead dropping into the curve of Beatrice’s neck, her hands gripping the back of Beatrice’s shirt tight enough to crease the carefully ironed fabric. She grows heavy nearly instantly and Beatrice almost sways under the sudden weight.

“I’m-”

“Shut up,” Ava murmurs. Beatrice feels the words more than she hears them. “Just, be quiet, okay? I’ve been imagining this for years.”

Years, she thinks. But she goes quiet again, pressing her lips to Ava’s hair. She breathes in something bleach-like, like the ozone burning. She carefully inches forward, Ava’s abandoned bed her destination. She can hear her heart beating against her rib cage, but Ava’s own heart seems to be answering in its own language.

She starts to loosen her grip on Ava, intending to convince her that she should lay back down, let Beatrice reattach all of the wires monitoring her vitals, let Beatrice go and find Jillian to make sure they didn’t mess everything up. But when she goes to loosen her grip, Ava hangs on.

“Don’t,” Ava whispers. “Don’t let go yet.”

Beatrice holds on tighter; doesn’t tell Ava she has no intention of ever letting go again.